Part 25

When a Londoner of the lowest class receives his employer's permission to relax from the labours of his profession, he endeavours to obtain the company of several of his acquaintance. Observe them assembled, and mark their _costume_: they wear a round hat, like those of Men of fashion, placed far back on the head, covering a collection of long lank hair, which shades the features composed of vacancy and impudence; the neck is clothed in a coarse muslin cravat folded in ungraceful lines over a monstrous stiffener, which, defying compression, leaves a great opening between the _poma Adami_ and it, from which the chin emerges and retires forty times in an hour. The coat is generally of dark blue or brown lapelled, the waistcoat of white or printed cotton, and the legs are covered either by pantaloons or breeches and white cotton stockings. Their progress through the streets is marked by impetuosity and a constant exertion of strength, making the peaceable Citizen with his wife and children retire to the entrance of a house, or cross the kennel, in order to avoid being hurried forward with them, or overturned. Their conversation consists of violent disputes and execrations, often degenerating into whimsical effusions of retort, peculiar to this branch of the great human tree, accompanied by occasional observations on the Females who unfortunately pass them. I must acknowledge myself more than once to have been surprised into risibility by this species of wit, for which the speaker deserved a horse-whip. The constant exercise of obscenity and gross allusion prevails when a neighbour's female servant, or a sister of one of the party, is present. We will not follow them across the Fields, but meet them seated at one of those inviting scenes which may be found on every side of London called Tea-gardens, where Tea indeed seldom makes its appearance. A few miserable bushes tortured into arbours veil in some degree the hateful exhibitions at these places, the licensed receptacles for mental degradation, receptacles for young men and young women, who are seated on benches before tables covered with _liquor and tobacco-pipes_! What can be expected from these assemblages but the inevitable consequences, drunkenness and debauchery? Their effects are observable whenever any public occurrence assembles the people of London; the whole Civil Power of which cannot restrain many enormities committed on those occasions. Under an idea of whim and pleasantry they perpetrate many scandalous actions, amusing themselves by throwing some filthy thing into the thickest part of a crowd, or driving forward till they half suffocate those before them, or hurt others by severe falls. Whenever an illumination takes place, their turbulence becomes seriously mischievous by the firing of pistols and throwing of squibs and crackers; but the latter practices, I hope, are now entirely subdued by the Magistracy.

This class is fond of Theatrical amusements; and numbers may be observed waiting on an evening before the doors of the Theatres impatient and crowding for admission. The Pickpocket is always ready; but his operations are often frustrated by the Peace-officer's constant exclamation of "Take care of your pockets." When the door is opened, a dangerous trial of skill ensues: every person endeavours to enter first; the space is clogged; and pushing, screams, and execrations follow. If we enter the One-shilling Gallery, we witness constant disputes often terminating in blows, and observe heated bodies stripped of the outward garments, furious faces, with others grinning horribly, hear loud and incessant talking and laughter, beating the floor with sticks, hissing, clapping the hands, and the piercing whistle, with exclamations for "Musick."

This motley collection are, however, generally attentive spectators and patient auditors during the representations; and I have remarked that any generous sentiment from the characters on the stage never fails to receive the loudest tokens of applause from the One-shilling Gallery; but this Gallery becomes a very troublesome appendage to the Theatre, when their highnesses divide into two parties, one for, and the other against the repetition of a pleasing song. This is particularly felt in the performance of a favourite Opera or Musical Farce.

The next stage is that of Journeymen; thousands of whom have been steady well-behaved youths, in the practice of passing their evenings and holidays in rational pursuits with parents or friends, and who enter upon their profession determined to render themselves respectable, and their connexions happy. With such I have nothing to do; there is too much still-life for description in the man who rises at six in the morning, and works without cessation till six in the evening. His intervals of amusement may be directed to the same objects, Tea-gardens, public Exhibitions, and the Theatres; but his conduct is so properly governed, that Temperance and Pleasure dance in his features.

Those whose characteristic outline I have traced before work, perhaps, three days in the week. Sunday they appropriate to the same species of relaxation to which they accustomed themselves in apprenticeship: Monday is sainted with them. And who will work on _Saint Monday_? Not the idle Journeyman and Labourer of London. Unfortunately the votaries of this Saint celebrate his name with libations of Beer and Gin, the fumes of which render them unfit for work on Tuesday. On Wednesday they begin the week; not by a close attention to their business, as their employers find to the extent of vexation and disappointment, but by repeated potations of beer, which a boy brings at stated hours all through the day; by retiring at twelve o'clock to dinner, and frequently returning at four, and going again to _tea_ at four, if they should _accidentally_ get to work at one. The excessive use of the former soporific beverage renders the Journeyman stupid, fretful, and quarrelsome, which any person may perceive by passing a public house at almost any period of the day. At the close of the week necessity compels this description of madmen to work; for, Saturday arriving, he must procure the means of redeeming his own and his wife's clothes from that _most respectable member of society_ the Pawnbroker. And this is the labouring life of at least thirty thousand persons at present in London!

Their domestic _amusements_ chiefly consist in disputes with a Wife, who finds herself and children sacrificed to the brutal propensities of Drinking and Idleness; and the scene of contention is intolerable, if the lady possesses a high spirit; so entirely so to the husband, that he fixes himself for the evening with a party at the public house, where he is at first entertained, and entertains in turn, on the thriving subject of Politicks, culled from the delightful themes of so many thousands massacred in one place, and as many in another. As the night advances, the Journeyman becomes whimsical; one of the company is requested to sing, the rest join in chorus; and another hour elapses in a chaos of sounds equally insulting to the general quiet of the publick and the neighbourhood. By this time the Wife peeps through the windows, hoping to find a favourable opportunity of getting the sot to bed; which if she accomplishes without a kicking, she may be pronounced a lucky woman for that evening. A sober inhabitant of London cannot but be shocked at the staggering fellow-citizens he meets with late on a summer evening, labouring under a voluntary St. Vitus's dance, when returning to their homes. I saw a man of this description in Russel-square, who had placed his hat on the pavement, and danced round it. To this ludicrous exhibition all eyes were directed. "Ah!" said an old female to another, "that man would never drink again could he see himself with our sensations."

There are thirty-six public-houses in Old-street between Goswell-street and the City-road. Can they be supported by the population of that neighbourhood without endless excesses? And there are other districts where those curses to society are equally numerous? Shame on our thoughtless conduct in permitting a trade calculated only for human destruction! If comfort, health, and pleasure can arise from quaffing gallons of beer, let the lower classes be compelled to drink it at home with their friends and families; and no longer suffer that promiscuous mixture of folly and vice which results from thieves drinking with honest men. It is from this cause alone that men are brutalized. Difference of opinion will arise between members of the most polished classes: those become quarrels in the lower; and hence the petty actions for assaults which are tried in every direction. Examine the Old Bailey causes; and if Public-houses and Dram-shops are not found to be the general theatres of thieving plots and murders, let me receive no farther credit.

London and the environs are overwhelmed with population. Every description of the inhabitants of the Country watch for favourable opportunities of removing to this enormous magnet; or, if that cannot be accomplished, they send their offspring of both sexes. Hundreds of servant girls and apprentices are thus prepared annually for prostitution and thoughtless marriages; every room in numbers of streets becomes the residence of Apprentices, Journeymen, their wives, and multitudes of children, who starve away existence year after year in hopeless sameness, and are often separated from Vice only by a deal or lath and plaster partition. The consequences of this crowded state of the City are so well known, that it is hardly necessary to point them out. I shall however venture to direct the Reader's attention to the Alms-houses, Work-houses, Charity Schools, Hospitals, and Prisons, which surround us; and ask whence they are filled? Who turns his attention to the second-floors, the garrets, the back-rooms, and the cellars of this Metropolis? It would be wrong to say no one; but who relates the result of his research? It may be imagined Hogarth has given us a true picture in his Distressed Poet: that print may serve as a foundation; a few additions of the _sombre_ cast would furnish thousands of real scenes.

The next class of crowded residents are persons with small incomes, who are compelled by great rents and heavy taxes to occupy furnished and unfurnished first and second floors. Those are generally healthy, and comfortably situated; but their eternal removals indicate that discontent and altercation exist but too frequently between the landlord's family and the lodger. Kitchens used in common by both parties are sources of discord; the cleansing of stairs ascended by all the inhabitants of the house is another; and the late hours of the latter a third. It is therefore common to see the streets almost obstructed every quarter-day with cart-loads of furniture.

The usual time of rising with the class of Journeymen is between five and six in the morning. At the latter hour they commence their daily labour, and work till eight; an hour is then allowed for breakfast, and from twelve till one for dinner; and the business of the day concludes at six; but some industrious men work many extra hours. Public-houses are opened in sufficient time to furnish those who choose it with pernicious liquids; and the keepers will either send tea and bread and butter to the Journeymen for breakfast, or provide it for him at the house. This innocent meal is most commonly preferred; but I am sorry to say numbers never drink any thing so weak. The Journeyman and Labourer sometimes eat bread and cheese, or salted meat and bread, on the spot where they work; others return to their homes to dine; and others eat at the Cook's-shop, at which they may have what quantity they please of baked and boiled meat, and flour and pease-puddings, at a very reasonable rate. Tea, and bread and cheese or meat, conclude the meals of the day. Large potations of beer, allowed by the employer in some instances, and clubbed for in others, fill the intervals of labour. When two labouring men meet accidentally in the streets, the second word after the usual salutation is _What will you drink?_ or, _Let us have a glass, or a pint_; and it frequently happens that neither can muster halfpence sufficient.

A Gin-shop may generally be _scented_ as the passenger approaches; but he cannot mistake it, as an assembly of the drivers of asses with soot, brick dust, cats'-meat, and vegetables, with a due proportion of _low_ ladies of pleasure, always besiege the door. Thanks to the Distiller and Brewer, liquor is much less powerful in its operations at present than it was fifty years past: hence the improvement in the conduct of the votaries of Geneva. Those people very seldom exceed low wit, a little noise, and abuse of each other: indeed, our streets are wonderfully quiet, and riots and quarrels are very rare.

The Tradesman and his Lodgers generally rise about the same hour, from six to nine o'clock, and often from the same description of _turned-up_ bedsteads, and beds inclosed in resemblances of chests of drawers and book-cases. These unwholesome contrivances originate from the necessity of accommodating many persons in a space calculated for very few: they are to be found in most lodging-houses; but four-post bedsteads and elegant curtains are constantly provided in _furnished_ lodgings.

Tea, coffee, cocoa, rolls, toast, and bread and butter, form the breakfasts of this class of the community; and the hours of dining vary from one till half past four. Plain joints baked, roasted, and boiled, and potatoes, and other vegetables, are standing dishes; some exceed in fish, fowls, rabbits, &c. &c.; and many make their meals from veal-cutlets, beef-steaks, and pork and mutton chops, with potatoes, and very little bread. Fruit-pies and puddings are much used; table-beer, ale, and porter, are the most common beverage. Ardent spirits and hot water mixed too often follow; but wine seldom appears. Invitations of friends on Sundays and holidays produce many luxuries distributed by neat servant-maids.

Tea, &c. succeeds from five to six o'clock, and a slight supper at nine. The evening is variously spent, in Visits, at the Playhouse, or with the eternal use of Cards. Conversation and Reading are greatly neglected; consequently numbers of this class speak very incorrectly.

The opulent Tradesman, he that has retired from business, and the Merchant, live much in the above manner in many respects; but, as the family never do any thing themselves, a Cook, a House-maid, a Nursery-maid, and a Foot-_boy_ or Foot-_man_, become necessary; to which may be added in many cases a second establishment for a Country-house, a Groom, and even a Coachman; but the latter is frequently hired by the year, and then the Coachman is not always a domestick.

The man of business and the Merchant generally sleep in the _country_, or if you please--_near London_, and come to town after breakfast. The family may either breakfast with him, or the ladies may indulge at their pleasure. Shopping in Hackney or other coaches in the morning, Visits, Musick, or Reading, occupy the space from breakfast at nine, ten, and eleven, till four, five, or six o'clock, the various hours for dining of the latter, when several friends are probably assembled to partake of a variety of viands of the best quality, followed by a handsome dessert and excellent wines.

The hour of relaxation is now arrived; the cares of the world and business are dismissed; little more is said besides observations on the goodness of the provision, &c. and "Shall I help you to this or that?" Shall I add that too great repletion in this class often produces apoplexy? Several hours elapse in drinking wine; and Bacchus almost always usurps the place of the Ladies, who retire to cards till the Gentlemen are summoned to tea, sometimes not in a state to enjoy rational conversation. Supper ensues, and the bottle finishes the scene at a late hour.

The reader must recollect that, when a family is without visitors, it is governed by greater regularity. Many Merchants and rich Tradesmen pass much of their leisure time at coffee-houses; and dinners are commonly given at those places. Reading the papers and conversation are strong inducements, exclusive of the bargains and consultations between strangers conveniently made and held at these places.

The Ladies of the class now under notice have almost universally been educated at boarding-schools, and possess a general knowledge of the usages of fashionable life. Drawing, Musick, Dancing, Fancy-works, the French language, &c. are alternately employed, with Vauxhall, the Winter and Summer Theatres, walking in the Park at a particular season of the year, Cards, &c. &c. to kill time--and a little trip to a Watering-place is delightful beyond measure, where, it is necessary to observe, _every body_ goes, from the Oilman's lady to the Princess, either in the Hoys, the Stage-coaches, Post-chaises, Glass-coaches, or their own coaches. Novels, those fruitful sources of amusement, are welcome besides to all descriptions of _Citizenesses_ and _some_ Citizens.

Libraries are to be found in the houses of many rich Traders and Tradesmen; and there have been instances of most valuable works issuing from their studies. _Circulating_ Libraries are of infinite use to the avaricious, and those of moderate incomes, and are very numerous; they produce a taste for reading, which cannot be excited in any other way, and should be encouraged by the Legislature under proper regulations. Many persons have associated, and composed Book Societies: the annual subscription of each individual is small; but the aggregate sum thus obtained enables the members to nominate expensive works, which are read in rotation; and, as it is a rule to sell the least approved of, the stock is farther maintained. The above means, and the additions to vast libraries both public and private continually making, has encouraged Literature to a most honourable extent in London, where numerous Authors are constantly employed in composing books of every possible description, which, richly embellished with engravings, generally sell rapidly.

The next and last class consists of persons of antient families possessed of large incomes, and the Nobility. Their manner of passing the day may soon be described. Early rising is neither _necessary_, nor is it _universally_ practised. Breakfast often makes its appearance at the Tradesman's hour of dining; though in some well-regulated families there is far more rationality. Novels, Newspapers, Magazines, Reviews, and little articles contrived to attract the fancy, are spread abroad in the breakfast-room, and afford amusement and conversation, while the languid operation of eating is performing. Suppose the Gentlemen of the family set forward on their morning equestrian ride; the Ladies read, work with their needle, or play on the Piano; nay, little childish games sometimes engage their attention till the hour for Visiting and Shopping arrives. Then the streets resound with the hoofs of fiery steeds, and thunder from the hands of the footman announces on the door of a friend ---- a card containing the visitors name; but there are instances, I believe, on record of Ladies alighting.

The hours of five, six, and seven o'clock reassemble the family to dinner, for which the party dresses in the most elegant manner, and frequently partake with their friends around them of the richest _made_ dishes, joints of meat, fish, poultry, confectionary, &c. &c. served in two or three courses by a butler, and footmen stationed behind each chair of the company present. Tea and coffee generally make their appearance before the wine and fruit are removed; but there are some who retire to the drawing-room for the use of those refreshments. The supper hour cannot be named with precision; it may be introduced from ten o'clock till two in the morning.

The amusements of the Rich and Noble consist of every possible enjoyment: birth-days, levees, breakfasts at _private_ houses attended by two or three hundred persons at three or four o'clock in the afternoon, dinners, card-parties, suppers, and _routs_. The reader _not yet born_ will, perhaps, thank my memory for adding that which may then be forgotten.

A fashionable and opulent inhabitant of Westminster often occupies a house calculated for the reception _conveniently_ of the Master, the Mistress, two or three Children, a Nursery-maid, a Groom, a Coachman, a Butler, three Footmen, a Cook, and two or three House-maids, governed by a House-keeper; and we will finish the groupe by a Governess _who speaks French_. So far all is right; now, future Reader, comes the essence of my information. See this house confined to an ichnography of twenty-five feet by forty prepared for a _rout_: the floor is painted in graceful figures and flowers with coloured chalks for dancing; girandoles and lustres of splendid cut glass with numerous wax-candles lighted exhibit the lady in her jewels ready to receive her guests equally resplendent. Ay, but the number--what say you to an _hundred, two hundred_? There is pleasure, there amusement, and the inexpressible delight of languor, even fainting through exertion, heat, and suffocation! The company endeavour to compress themselves for obtaining a space to dance in, and afterwards they crowd to the supper-table sparkling with polished plate, and loaded with every delicacy; there the _amusements_ of Tantalus are renewed. Can we wonder that Aurora often lights our fashionables home, when we reflect on these fascinating inducements to keep late hours? But those to whom Fortune has been more propitious, in presenting them with vast mansions, have entertained as many as eight hundred persons through the night in a far less crowded state. Other amusements of the great consist in riding through Hyde-park; the Ladies in their coaches, and the Gentlemen on horseback in an adjoining road. He that would judge of the population of London should attend in the Park on any Sunday at three o'clock, from February till May: he must be astonished at the sight. The coaches, the horses, the populace of every rank who toil against the bleak East winds, are wonderfully numerous. Nor should he omit a visit to Kensington-gardens in May, to view the beautiful pedestrians that form our fashionable world; or a winter excursion to the Serpentine-river and the Canal in St. James's-park, where numbers skait, or attempt to skait.

It would be useless to more than mention the additional pursuits of the Rich, who visit the annual exhibitions of Paintings and other attractive objects with eagerness, the Playhouse, Vauxhall, &c. &c.; but, alas! London becomes a mere blank after the 4th of June. _Nobody_ remains in _Town_; it is too hot, too suffocating! _Every body_ therefore retires to their seats, _if they have them_; and _the rest_ fly to _Margate_, _Ramsgate_, and _Brighton_, those _capacious_ receptacles.

Such are the follies of many: but, thanks to Heaven! there are numbers of our Nobility and Gentry who live and act for the general benefit of mankind.--And now,

VALE, LONDINIUM!

INDEX.

A.

Abel, Mr. concert by, ii. 123.

Accession of George III. celebrated, i. 339.

Accident, dreadful, at Covent Garden Theatre, ii. 190.

---- fatal, in Westminster, i. 253.

Actors, scale of merit of various, ii. 254.

Advertisement by Lord Vane, i. 431.

Ætna, mount, eruption of, represented, ii. 275.

Allen, W. jun. shot, ii. 74.

---- description of his tomb, ii. 81.

---- W. sen. his petition to the King, ii. 82.

Almanac John, and his sigils, i. 97.

Ambassador, riot at the house of the Morocco, ii. 66.

Anne, Queen, communication of, to the Lord Mayor, ii. 13.

Apollo Gardens, account of, i. 332.

Apprentices, turbulence of, ii. 88.

Archers, entertainment for, i. 302.