decorations and furniture, not omitting the costly sideboard of
richly-chased plate, I can only say it rivalled any thing I had ever
before witnessed, and was calculated to impress the young mind with the
most extravagant ideas of the wealth and magnificence of the members or
_committee_. The Honourable Mr. B----, one of the brothers of the Earl
of R----, was the _procureur_ to whom, I found, we were indebted, for
the present _honour_--a gay man, of some fashionable notoriety, whose
fortune is said to have suffered severely by his attachment to the
_orthodox orgies_ at the once celebrated Gothic Hall, when Parson John
Ambrose used to officiate as the presiding minister. "Here he is a
member of the committee," said Crony, "and, with his brother and the
old Lord F----, the Marquis H----, Colonel C----, and the Earl of G----,
forms the _secret directory_ of the New Club, which is considered almost
as good a thing as a Mexican mine; for, if report speaks truly, the
amount ~332~~of the profits in the last season exceeded one hundred
thousand pounds, after payment of expenses." A sudden crash in the
street at this moment drew the attention of all to the window, where an
accident presented a very ominous warning to those within _(see plate)_.
"A regular break down," said Echo. "_Floored_" said Transit, "_but
not much the matter_." "I beg your pardon, sir," said a wry-mouthed
portly-looking gentleman, who stood next to Bob; "it is a very _awkward_
circumstance to have occurred just here: I'll bet ten to one it spoils
all the _play_ to-night; and if any of those newspaper fellows get to
hear of it, _Fishmongers' Hall_ and its members will figure in print
again to-morrow;" and with that he bustled off to the street to assist
in re-producing a _move_ with all possible celerity. "Who the deuce was
the queer-looking _cawker_?" we all at once inquired of Crony.
"What, gentlemen! not know the director-general, the accomplished
commander-in-chief, the thrice-renowned Cocker Crockford? (so named from
his admirable tact at calculation): why, I thought every one who
had witnessed a horse-race, or a boxing-match, or betted a guinea at
Tattersall's, must have known the _director_, who has been a notorious
character among the sporting circles for the last thirty years: and,
if truth be told, is not the worst of a bad lot. About five-and-twenty
years since I remember him," said Crony, "keeping a snug little
fishmonger's shop, at the corner of Essex-street, in the Strand, where I
have often betted a guinea with him on a trotting match, for he was then
fond of _the thing_, and attended the races and fights in company with
old Jerry Cloves, the lighterman, who is now as well _breeched_ as
himself. It is a very extraordinary fact," continued Crony, "and one
which certainly excites suspicion, that almost all those who have made
large fortunes by the turf or play are men of obscure origin, who, but a
few years since, were not worth a guinea, ~333~~while those by whom
they have risen are now reduced to beggary." How many representatives of
noble houses, and splendid patrimonies, handed down with increasing care
from generation, to generation, have been ruined and dissipated by this
pernicious vice! --the gay and inexperienced nipped in the very bud of
life, and plunged into irretrievable misery--while the high-spirited and
the noble-minded victims to false honour, too often seek a refuge from
despair in the grave of the suicide! Such were the reflections that
oppressed my mind while contemplating the scene before me: I was,
however, roused from my reverie by Crony's continuation of the
_director's_ history. "He bears the character of an honourable man,"
said our Mentor, "among the play world, and has the credit of being
scrupulously particular in all matters of play and pay. For the
fashion of his manners, they might be much improved, certainly; but for
generosity and a kind action, there are very few among the _Greeks_ who
excel the old fishmonger. He was formerly associated with T--l-r and
others in the French Hazard Bank, at Watier's Club House, corner of
Bolton-row; but T--l-r, having purchased the house without the knowledge
of his partners, wanted so many exclusive advantages for himself, that
the director withdrew, just in time to save himself from the obloquy of
an affair which occurred shortly afterwards, in which certain persons
were charged with using false dice. The complainant, a young sprig of
fashion, seized the _unhallowed bones_, and bore them off in triumph to
a stick shop in the neighbourhood; where, for some time afterwards, they
were exhibited to the gaze of many a fashionable dupe. The circumstance
produced more than one good effect--it prevented a return of any
disposition to play on the part of the detector, and closed the house
for ever since." After the dinner, which was served up in a princely
style, we were invited by the Honourable to ~334~~view the upper
apartment, called the Grand Saloon, a true picture of which accompanies
this, from the pencil of my friend, Bob Transit, and into which he has
contrived to introduce the affair of the cogged dice _(see plate)_, a
licence always allowable to poets and painters in the union of time and
place. The characters here will speak for themselves.
[Illustration: page335]
They are all sketches from the life, and as like the originals as
the reflection of their persons would be in a looking-glass. By the
frequenters of such places they will be immediately recognised; while
to the uninitiated the family cognomen is of little consequence, and
is omitted, as it might give pain to worthy bosoms who are not yet
irrecoverably lost. By the strict rules of _Fishmongers' Hall_, the
members of Brookes', White's, Boodle's, the Cocoa Tree, Alfred and
Travellers' clubs only are admissible; but this restriction is not
always enforced, particularly where there is a chance of a _good bite_.
The principal game played here is French Hazard, the director and
friends supplying the bank, the premium for which, with what the
box-money produces, forms no inconsiderable source of profit. It is
ridiculous to suppose any unfair practices are ever resorted to in the
general game; in a mixed company they would be easily detected, and must
end in the ruin of the house: but the chances of the game, calculation,
and superior play, give proficients every advantage, and should teach
the inexperienced caution. "It is heart-rending," said Crony, whom I had
smuggled into one corner of the room, for the purpose of enjoying
his remarks free from observation, "to observe the progress of the
unfortunate votaries to this destructive vice, as they gradually proceed
through the various stages of its seductive influence. The young and
thoughtless are delighted with the fascination of the scene: to the more
profligate sensualist it affords an opportunity of enjoying the choicest
_liqueurs_, coffee, and wines, ~335~~free of expense; and, although he
may have no money to lose himself, he can do the house a _good turn_, by
introducing some _pigeon_ who has _just come out_; and he is therefore
always a welcome visitor. At Crockford's, all games where the aid of
mechanism would be necessary are cautiously avoided, not from any moral
dislike to _Rouge et Noir or Roulette_, but from the apprehension of an
occasional visit from the police, and the danger attending the discovery
of such apparatus, which, from its bulk, cannot easily be concealed. In
the space of an hour Echo had lost all the money he possessed, and had
given his I O U for a very considerable sum; although frequently urged
to desist by Transit, who, with all his love of life and frolic, is yet
a decided enemy to gaming. One excess generally leads to another. From
Tattersall's we had passed to Crockford's; and on quitting the latter it
was proposed we should visit Tom Belcher's, the Castle Tavern, Holborn,
particularly as on this night there was a weekly musical muster of the
_fancy_, yclept the _Daffy Club_; a scene rich in promise for the
pencil of our friend Bob, of sporting information to Echo, and full of
characteristic subject for the observation of the English Spy--of
that eccentric being, of whom, I hope, I may continue to sing '_esto
perpetua_!'
Life is, with him, a golden dream,
A milky way, where all's serene.
Wit's treasured stores his humour wait,--
His volume, man in every state,--
From grave to gay, from rich to poor,
From gilded dome to rustic door.
Through all degrees life's varied page,
He shows the manners of the age.
The Daffy Club presents to the eye of a calm observer a fund of
entertainment; to the merry mad-wag who is fond of _life_, blowing his
_steamer_, and drinking _blue ruin_, until all is blue before him, a
~336~~source of infinite amusement; the convivial finds his antidote
to the rubs and jeers of this world in a rum chaunt; while the out
and outer may here open his mag-azine of tooth-powder, cause a grand
explosion, and never fear to meet a broadside in return. The knowing
cove finds his account in looking out for the green ones, and the
greens find their head sometimes a little heavier, and their pockets
lighter, by an accidental rencontre with the fancy. To see the place
in perfection, a stranger should choose the night previous to some
important mill, when our host of the Castle plays second, and all the
lads are mustered to _stump up_ their blunt, or to catch the important
_whisper_ where the _scene of action_ is likely to be (for there is
always due caution used in the disclosure), to take a peep at the
pugilists present, and trot off as well satisfied as if he had partaken
of a splendid banquet with the Great Mogul.
The long room is neatly fitted up, and lighted with gas; and the
numerous sporting subjects, elegantly framed and glazed, have rather an
imposing effect upon the entrance of the visitor, and among which may be
recognised animated likenesses of the late renowned Jem Belcher, and
his daring competitor (that inordinate glutton) Burke. The fine
whole-length portrait of Mr. Jackson stands between those of the
Champion and Tom Belcher; the father of the present race of boxers, old
Joe Ward; the Jew phenomenon, Dutch Sam; Bob Gregson, in water colours,
by the late John Emery, of Covent Garden theatre; the scientific contest
between Humphreys and Mendoza; also the battle between Crib and Jem
Belcher; a finely executed portrait of the late tremendous Molineux;
portraits of Gulley, Randall, Harmer, Turner, Painter, Tom Owen, and
Scroggins, with a variety of other subjects connected with the turf,
chase, &c, including a good likeness of the dog Trusty, the champion of
the canine race in fifty battles, and the favourite ~337~~animal of Jem
Belcher, the gift of Lord Camelford--the whole forming a characteristic
trait of the sporting world. The long table, or the ring, as it
is facetiously termed, is where the _old slanders_ generally perch
themselves to receive the visits of the swells, and give each other the
office relative to passing events: and what set of men are better
able to speak of society in all its various ramifications, from the
cabinet-counsellor to the _cosey costermonger_? Jemmy Soares, the
president, must be considered a _downy one_; having served five
apprenticeships to the office of sheriffs representative, and is as good
a fellow in his way as ever _tapped a shy one_ upon the shoulder-joint,
or let fly a _ca sa_ at your goods and chattels. Lucky Bob is a fellow
of another stamp, "a _nation good vice_" as ever was attached to the
house of _Brunswick_. Then comes our host, a civil, well-behaved man,
without any of the exterior appearance of the ruffian, or perhaps
I should say of his profession, and with all the good-natured
qualifications for a peaceable citizen, and an obliging, merry landlord:
next to him you will perceive the _immortal typo_, the all-accomplished
Pierce Egan; an eccentric in his way, both in manner and person, but not
deficient in that peculiar species of wit which fits him for the high
office of historian of the ring. The ironical praise of Blackwood he has
the good sense to turn to a right account, laughs at their satire, and
pretends to believe it is all meant in _right-down earnest_ approbation
of his extraordinary merits. For a long while after his great
instructor's neglect of his friends, Pierce kept undisturbed possession
of the throne; but recently competitors have shown themselves in the
field _well found_ in all particulars, and carrying such witty and
weighty ammunition wherewithal, that they more than threaten "to
push the hero from his stool."{1} Tom 1 The editors of the Annals of
Sporting, and Bell's Life in London, are both fellows of infinite wit.
~338~~Spring, who is fond of _cocking_ as well as fighting, is seen with
his bag in the right-hand corner, chaffing with the Duck-lane doss man;
while Lawyer L----e, a true sportsman, whether for the turf or chase, is
betting the odds with brother Adey, Greek against Greek. Behind them
are seen the heroes Scroggins and Turner; and at the opposite end of the
table, a Wake-ful one, but a grosser man than either, and something of
the _levanter_: the bald-headed stag on his right goes by the quaint
cognomen of the _Japan oracle_, from the retentive memory he possesses
on all sporting and pugilistic events. The old waiter is a picture every
frequenter will recognise, and the smoking a dozer no unusual bit of a
spree. Here, my dear Bernard, you have before you a true portrait of the
celebrated Daffy{2} Club, done from the life by our
2 The great lexicographer of the fancy gives the following
definition of the word Daffy. The phrase was coined at
the mint of the Fancy, and has since passed current without
ever being overhauled as queer. The Colossus of
Literature, after all his nous and acute researches to
explain the synonyms of the English language, does not
appear to have been down to the interpretation of Daffy; nor
indeed does Bailey or Sheridan seem at all fly to it; and
even slang Grose has no touch of its extensive
signification. The squeamish Fair One who takes it on the
sly, merely to cure the vapours, politely names it to her
friends as White Wine. The Swell chaffs it as Blue Ruin,
to elevate his notions. The Laundress loves dearly a drain
of Ould Tom, from its strength to comfort her inside. The
drag Fiddler can toss off a quartern of Max without making a
wry mug. The Costermonger illumines his ideas with a
flash of lightning.' The hoarse Cyprian owes her existence
to copious draughts of Jacky. The Link-boy and Mud Larks,
in joining their browns together, are for some Stark Naked.
And the Out and Outers, from the addition of bitters to it,
in order to sharpen up a dissipated and damaged Victualling
Office, cannot take any thing but Fuller's Earth. Much it
should seem, therefore, depends upon a name; and as a soft
sound is at all times pleasing to the listener--to have
denominated this Sporting Society the Gin Club would not
only have proved barbarous to the ear, but the vulgarity of
the chant might have deprived it of many of its elegant
friends. It is a subject, however, which it must be
admitted has a good deal of Taste belonging to it--and as a
Sporting Man would be nothing if he was not flash, the Daffy
Club meet under the above title.
~339~~mutual friend, Bob Transit (see plate), in closing my account of
which I have only to say, we were not disappointed in our search after
variety, and came away high in spirits, and perfectly satisfied with the
good-humour and social intercourse of our eccentric associates.
[Illustration: 339]
The sad, the sober, and the sentimental were all gone to roost, before
our merry trio sallied forth from the Castle Tavern, ripe for any sport
or spree. Of all the bucks in this buckish age, your London buck is the
only true fellow of spirit; with him life never begins too early, or
finishes too late; how many of the west-end _roues_ ride twenty miles
out, in a cold morning, to meet the hounds, and after a hard day's run
mount their hack and ride twenty miles home to have the pleasure of
enjoying their own fire-side, or of relating the hair-breadth perils and
escapes they have encountered, to their less active associates at
Long's or Stevens's, the Cider Cellar, or the Coal-hole! The general
introduction of gas throws too clear a light upon many dark transactions
and midnight frolics to allow the repetition of the scenes of former
times: here and there to be sure an odd nook, or a dark cranny, is yet
left unenlightened; but the leading streets of the metropolis are,
for the most part, too well illuminated to allow the _spreeish_ or
the _sprightly_ to carry on their jokes in security, or bolt away with
safety when a charley thinks proper to set his _child a crying_.{3} We
had crossed the road, in the direction of Chancery-lane, expecting to
have met with a hackney _rattler_, but not one was to be found upon the
stand, when Bob espied the broad _tilt_ of a _jarvey perched_ upon his
_shop-board_, and impelling along, with no little labour of the whip, a
pair of _anatomies_, whose external appearance showed they
3 Springing his rattle.
~340~~had benefited very little by the opening of the ports for oats, or
the digestive operation of the new corn-bill. "Hired, old Jarvey?" said
Echo, fixing himself in the road before the fiery charioteer. "No,
but tired, young Davey," replied the dragsman. "Take a fare to Covent
Garden?" "Not if I knows it," was the knowing reply; "so stir your
stumps, my tight one, or I shall drive over you." "You had better take
us," said Transit. "I tell you I won't; I am a day man, going home, and
I don't take night jobs." "But I tell you, you must," said Echo; "so
round with your drag, and we'll make your last day a long day, and give
you the benefit of resurrection into the bargain." "Why, look ye, my
jolly masters, if you're up to a lark of that 'ere sort, take care you
don't get a floorer; I've got a rum customer inside what I'm giving a
lift to for love--only Josh Hudson, the miller; and if he should chance
to wake, I think he'll be for dusting some of your jackets." "What, my
friend Josh inside?" vociferated Echo, "then it's all right: go it, my
hearties; mount the box one on each hand, and make him drive us to the
Finish--while I settle the matter with the inside passenger." Josh, who
had all this time been taking _forty winks_, while on his road to his
crony Belcher's, soon recognised his patron, Echo; and jarvey, finding
that all remonstrance was useless, thought it better to make a "virtue
of necessity;" so turning his machine to the right about, he, in due
time, deposited us in the purlieus of Covent Garden. The hoarse note
of the drowsy night-guard reverberated through the long aisle of
the now-forsaken piazzas, as the trembling flame of the parish lamp,
flittering in its half-exhausted jet, proclaimed the approach of day;
the heavy rumbling of the gardeners' carts, laden with vegetables for
the ensuing market, alone disturbed the quiet of the adjoining streets.
In a dark angle might be seen the houseless wanderer, or the abandoned
profligate, ~341~~gathered up like a lump of rags in a corner, and
shivering with the nipping air. The gloom which surrounded us had, for
a moment, chilled the wild exuberance of my companions' mirth; and it is
more than probable we should have suspended our visit to the _Finish_,
at least for that night, had not the jocund note of some uproarious
Bacchanalian assailed our ears with the well-known college chant of old
Walter de Mapes, "_Mihi est propositum in taberna mori_," which being
given in G major, was re-echoed from one end to the other of the arched
piazza: at a little distance we perceived the jovial singer reeling
forwards, or rather working his way, from right to left, in sinuosities,
along, or according to nautical phrase, upon __tack and half tack,
bearing up to windward, in habiliments black as a crow, with the
exception of his neckcloth and under vest; but judge our surprise and
delight, when, upon nearer approach, we discovered the _bon vivant_ to
be no other than our old friend Crony, who had been sacrificing to
the jolly god with those choice spirits the members of the Beefsteak
Club,{4} who meet in a room built expressly
4 This Club, which may boast among its members some of the
most distinguished names of the age, including royalty
itself, owed its origin to the talents of those celebrated
artists Richards and Loutherbourg, whose scenic performances
were in those days often exhibited to a select number of the
nobility and gentry, patrons of the drama and the arts, in
the painting-room of the theatre, previous to their being
displayed to the public. It was on one of those occasions
that some noblemen surprised the artist cooking his beef-
steak for luncheon in his painting-room, and kindly
partaking of the _dejeune a la fourchette_, with him,
suggested and established the Beef-steak Club, which was
originally, and up to the time of the fire, held in an
apart-ment over the old Theatre Royal, Covent Garden; but
since that period the members have been accommodated by Mr.
Arnold, who built the present room expressly for their use.
In page 216 of this work, allusion will be found by name to
some of the brilliant wits who graced this festive board,
and gave a lustre to the feast. In the old place of
meeting the identical gridiron on which Richards and
Loutherbourg operated was to be seen attached to the
ceiling, emblematical of the origin of the society, which
may now be considered as the only relic left of that social
intercourse which formerly existed in so many shapes between
those who were distinguished for their noble birth and
wealth, and the poorer, but equally illustrious, of the
children of Genius. It would be an act of injustice to the
present race of scenic artists to close this note without
acknowledging their more than equal merits to their
predecessors: the Grieves (father and sons), Phillips,
Marinari, Wilson, Tomkins, and Stanfield, are all names of
high talent; but the novelty of their art has, from its
general cultivation, lost much of this peculiar attraction.
~342~~for them over the audience part of the English Opera House. The
ruby glow of the old boy's countenance shone like an omen of the merry
humour of his mind. "What, out for a spree, boys, or just bailed from
the watch-house, which is it? the alpha or omega, for they generally
follow one another?" "Then you are in time for the _equivoque_, Crony,"
said Echo; "so enlist him, Transit;" and without more ceremony, Crony
was marched off, __vi et armis, to the _Finish_, a coffee-house in
James-street, Covent Garden, where the _peep-o'-day boys_ and _family
men_ meet to conclude the night's debauch _(see plate)_; "_Video meliora
proboque, Deteriora sequoi_;" you will exclaim, and 'tis granted; but
"_Lusus animo debent aliquando dari,
Ad cogitandum melior ut red eat sibi_,"
says Phodrus, and be the poet's apology mine, for I am neither afraid
or ashamed to confess myself an admirer of life in all its variegated
lights and shadows, deriving my amusement from the great source of
knowledge, the study of that eccentric volume--man. The new police act
has, in some measure, abated the extent of these nuisances, the low
coffee-shops of the metropolis, which were, for the greater part, little
better than a rendezvous for thieves of every description, depots both
for the ~343~~plunder and the plunderer; where, if an unthinking or
profligate victim once entered, he seldom came out without experiencing
treatment which operated like a severe lesson, that would leave its
moral upon his mind as long as he continued an inhabitant of the
terrestrial world.
[Illustration: page343]
The attempt to describe the party around us baffled even the descriptive
powers of old Crony; some few, indeed, were known to the man of the
world as reputed sharpers,--fellows who are always to be found lingering
about houses of such resort, to catch the inexperienced; when, having
sacrificed their victim either by gambling, cheating, or swindling,
they divide the profits with the keeper of the house, without whose
assistance they could not hope to arrive at the necessary information,
or be enabled to continue their frauds with impunity; but, thus
protected, they have a ready witness at hand to speak to their
character, without the suspicion of his being a confederate in their
villany. Here might be seen the woman of pleasure, lost to every sense
of her sex's shame, consuming the remaining portion of the night by
a wasteful expenditure of her ill-acquired gains upon some abandoned
profligate, bearing, indeed, the outward form of man, but presenting a
most degrading spectacle--a wretch so lost to all sense of honour and
manhood as meanly to subsist on the wages of prostitution. One or two
characters I must not omit: observe the fair Cyprian with the ermine
tippet, seated on the right of a well-known _billiard sharp_, who made
his escape from Dublin for having dived a little too deep into the
pockets of his brother emeralders; here he passes for a swell, and has
abandoned his former profession for the more honest union of callings,
a pimp and playman, in other words, a finished _Greek_. The lady was the
_chere amie_ of the unfortunate youth Hayward (designated as the modern
Macheath), who suffered an ignominious death. He was betrayed and sold
to the ~344~~officers by this very woman, upon whom he had lavished the
earnings of his infamy, when endeavouring to secrete himself from the
searching eye of justice. The unhappy female on the other side was early
in life seduced by the once celebrated Lord B----, by whose title, to
his lasting infamy, she is still known: what she might have been, but
for his arts, reflection too often compels her to acknowledge, when
sober and sinking under her load of misery; at other times she has
recourse to liquor to drown her complicated misfortunes; when wild and
infuriated, she more nearly resembles a demon than a woman, spreading
forth terror and destruction upon all around; in this state she is often
brought to the police-office, where the humanity of the magistrates,
softened perhaps by a recollection of her wrongs, generally operates to
procure for her some very trifling and lenient sentence.{5}
5 THE LIFE OF A WOMAN OF THE TOWN.
Ah! what avails how once appear'd the fair,
When from gay equipage she falls obscure?
In vain she moves her livid lips in prayer;
What man so mean to recollect the poor?
From place to place, by unfee'd bailiffs drove,
As fainting fawns from thirsty bloodhounds fly;
See the sad remnants of unhallow'd love
In prisons perish, or on dunghills die.
Pimps and dependents once her beauties praised,
And on those beauties, vermin-like, they fed;
From wretchedness the crew her bounty raised,
When by her spoils enrich'd--deny her bread.
Through street to street she wends, as want betides,
Like Shore's sad wife, in winter's dismal hours;
The bleak winds piercing her unnourish'd sides,
Her houseless head dripping with drizzy showers.
Sickly she strolls amidst the miry lane,
While streaming spouts dash on her unclothed neck;
By famine pinch'd, pinch'd by disease-bred pain,
Contrition's portrait, and rash beauty's wreck.
~345~~We had now passed from the first receptacle to an inner and
more elegant apartment, where we could be accommodated with suitable
refreshments, wine, spirits, or, in fact, any thing we pleased to
order and were disposed to pay for; a practice at most of these early
coffee-houses, as they are denominated. The company in this room were,
as far as appearances went, of rather a better order; but an event
soon occurred which convinced us that their morality was perhaps more
exceptionable than the motley group which filled the outer chamber. A
bevy of damsels were singing, flirting, and drinking, to amuse their
companions,--when all at once the doors were forced open, and in rushed
three of the principal officers of Bow-street, the indefatigable Bishop,
the determined Smith, and the resolute Ruthven (see plate), all armed
and prepared for some dreadful encounter: in an instant their followers
had possessed themselves of the doors--flight, therefore, was in vain;
and Bob Transit, in attempting it, narrowly escaped an awkward crack on
the crania from old Jack Townshend, who being past active service, was
posted at the entrance with the beak himself, to do garrison duty.
[Illustration: page345]
"_The traps! the traps!_" vociferated some one in the adjoining room;
"_Douse the glims! stash it--stash it!_" was the general exclamation in
ours: but before the party could effect their purpose, the principals
were in safe custody: and the reader (i.e. pocket-book) containing
all the stolen property, preserved from the flames by the wary eye and
prompt arm of the _indefatigable_ Bishop. Before any one was allowed to
depart the room, a general muster and search took place, in which poor
Bob Transit felt most awkward, as some voluptuous sketches found in his
pocket called forth