Real Life In London, Volumes I. and II. Egan Pierce
swear; till at last my brother looked frightened, and d—— me that was good fun. At last, he lifted up his hands and eyes to Heaven, and calls out O tempora, O mores! But I was not to be done so. Oh! oh! Brother, says I, what you think to frighten me by calling all your family about you; but I don't care for you, nor your family neither—so stow it— I'll mill the whole troop—Only bring your Tempora and Mores here, that's all—let us have fair play, I'll tip 'em the Gas in a flash of lightning—I'll box 'em for five pounds, d—— me: here, where's Tempora and Mores, where are they? My eyes, how he did stare when he see me ready for a set to— I never laugh'd so in my life—he made but two steps out of the room, and left me master of the field. What d'ye think of that for a lark, eh?—Keep it up—keep it up, d—— me, says I—so I sets down to the table, drank as much as I could—then I mix'd the heel-taps all in one bottle, and broke all the empty ones—then bid adieu to Tempora and Mores, and rolled home in a hackney-coach in prime and plummy order, d—— me.”
“Coming along Piccadilly last night after leaving you, I was overtaken at the corner of Rupert-street by our old college-companion Harry Hartwell, pursuing his way to the Hummums, where it seems he has taken up his abode. Harry, you remember, never was exactly one of us; he studies too much, and pores everlastingly over musty old volumes of Law Cases, Blackstone's Commentaries, and other black books, to qualify himself for the black art, and as fit and proper person to appear at the Bar. The length of time that had elapsed since our last meeting was sufficient inducement for us to crack a bottle together; so taking his arm, we proceeded to the place of destination, where we sat talking over past times, and indulging our humour till half-past one o'clock, when I sallied forth on my return to Long's, having altogether abandoned my original intention of calling in Golden-square. At the corner of Leicester-square, my ears were assailed with a little of the night music—the rattles were in full chorus, and the Charleys, in prime twig,{1} were mustering from all quarters.
“The street was all alive, and I made my way through the crowd to the immediate scene of action, which was rendered peculiarly interesting by the discovery of a dainty bit of female beauty shewing fight with half a dozen watchmen, in order to extricate herself from the grasp of these guardians of our peace. She was evidently under the influence of the Bacchanalian god, which invigorated her arm, without imparting discretion to her head, and she laid about her with such dexterity, that the old files{2} were fearful of losing their prey; but the odds were fearfully against her, and never did I feel my indignation more aroused, than when I beheld a sturdy ruffian aim a desperate blow at her head with his rattle, which in all probability, had it taken the intended effect, would have sent her in search of that peace in the other world, of which she was experiencing so little in this. It was not possible for me to stand by, an idle spectator of the destruction of a female who appeared to have no defender, whatever might be the nature of the offence alleged or committed. I therefore warded off the blow with my left arm, and with my right gave him a well-planted blow on the conk,{3} which sent him piping into the kennel. In a moment I was surrounded and charged with a violent assault upon the charley,{4} and interfering with the guardians of the night in the execution of their duty. A complete diversion took place from the original object of their fury, and in the bustle to secure me, the unfortunate girl made her escape, where to, or how, heaven
1 Prime twig—Any thing accomplished in good order, or with
dexterity: a person well dressed, or in high spirits, is
considered to be in prime twig.
2 Old Jiles—A person who has had a long course of
experience in the arts of fraud, so as to become an adept in
the manouvres of the town, is termed a deep file—a rum
file, or an old file.
3 Conk—The nose.
4 Charley—A watchman.
only knows. Upon finding this, I made no resistance, but marched boldly along with the scouts{1} to St. Martin's watch-house, where we arrived just as a hackney coach drew up to the door.
“Take her in, d——n her eyes, she shall stump up the rubbish{2} before I leave her, or give me the address of her flash covey,{3} and so here goes.” By this time we had entered the watch-house, where I perceived the awful representative of justice seated in an arm chair, with a good blazing fire, smoking his pipe in consequential ease. A crowd of Charleys, with broken lanterns, broken heads, and other symptoms of a row, together with several casual spectators, had gained admittance, when Jarvis entered, declaring—By G——he wouldn't be choused by any wh——re or cull in Christendom, and he would make 'em come down pretty handsomely, or he'd know the reason why: “And so please your Worship, Sir”—then turning round, “hallo,” said he, “Sam, what's becom'd of that there voman—eh—vhat, you've been playing booty eh, and let her escape.” The man to whom this was intended to be addressed did not appear to be present, as no reply was made. However, the case was briefly explained.
“But, by G——, I von't put any thing in Sam's vay again,” cried Jarvey.{4} For my own part, as I knew nothing of the occurrences adverted to, I was as much in the dark as if I had gone home without interruption. The representations of the Charleys proved decisive against me—in vain I urged the cause of humanity, and the necessity I felt of protecting a defenceless female from the violence of accumulating numbers, and that I had done no more than every man ought to have done upon such an occasion. Old puff and swill, the lord of the night, declared that I must have acted with malice afore-thought—that I was a pal in the concern, and that I had been instrumental in the design of effecting a rescue; and, after a very short deliberation, he concluded that I must be a notorious rascal, and desired me to make up my mind to remain with him for the remainder of the night. Not relishing this, I proposed to send for bail, assuring him of my
1 Scouts—Watchmen.
3 Stump up the rubbish—Meaning she (or he) shall pay, or
find money.
3 Flash covey—A fancy man, partner or protector
4 Jarvey—A coachman.
attendance in the morning; but was informed it could not be accepted of, as it was clearly made out against me that I had committed a violent breach of the peace, and nothing at that time could be produced that would prove satisfactory. Under these circumstances, and partly induced by a desire to avoid being troublesome in other quarters, I submitted to a restraint which it appeared I could not very well avoid, and, taking my seat in an arm-chair by the fire-side, I soon fell fast asleep, from which I was only aroused by the occasional entrances and exits of the guardians, until between four and five o'clock, when a sort of general muster of the Charleys took place, and each one depositing his nightly paraphernalia, proceeded to his own habitation. Finding the liberation of others from their duties would not have the effect of emancipating me from my confinement, which was likely to be prolonged to eleven, or perhaps twelve o'clock, I began to feel my situation as a truly uncomfortable one, when I was informed by the watch-house keeper, who resides upon the spot, that he was going to turn in,{1} that there was fire enough to last till his wife turn'd out, which would be about six o'clock, and, as I had the appearance of a gentleman, if there was any thing I wanted, she would endeavour to make herself useful in obtaining it. “But Lord,” said he, “there is no such thing as believing any body now-a-days—there was such sets out, and such manouvering, that nobody knew nothing of nobody.”
“I am obliged to you, my friend,” said I, “for this piece of information, and in order that you may understand something of the person you are speaking to beyond the mere exterior view, here is half-a-crown for your communication.”
“Why, Sir,” said he, laying on at the same moment a shovel of coals, “this here makes out what I said—Don't you see, said I, that 'are Gentleman is a gentleman every inch of him, says I—as don't want nothing at all no more nor what is right, and if so be as how he's got himself in a bit of a hobble, I knows very well as how he's got the tip{2} in his pocket,