We have been amused with a light pattering paper in Nos. 1. and 2. of
Sharpe's London Magazine--entitled "_Illustrious Visiters_." Its only
fault is extreme length, it being nearly thirty pages, and, as some people
would say, "all about nothing." But some will think otherwise, and smile
at the sly shafts which are let fly at our national follies, of which, it
must be owned, we have a very great share. We ought to premise that the
framework of the satire is a visit of the Court Cards to our metropolis, a
pretty considerable hit at some recent royal visits. Of course, they see
every thing worth seeing, and some of their remarks are truly piquant. The
spirit, or fun, of the article would evaporate in an abridgment, so we
will endeavour to give a few of the narrator's best points:--
_The Arrival_.
"On the day of their landing, the town of Dover was in a state of general
excitement; bells were ringing, colours flying, artillery saluting; and
the loyal inhabitants crowded forth to peep at the illustrious potentates.
Often and often, even from our earliest years, have we heard of the fame
of these kings and queens. Their pictures have been familiar to every eye;
_dealers_ transmitted them into every _hand_; their colourless
extraordinary faces, their shapeless robes of every tint in the rainbow,
and their sky-blue wigs, are as well known to every Englishman, as the
head of his own revered monarch on a two-and-six-penny piece. Whenever
there is any thing to be seen, an Englishman must go and see it; and, in
the eager warmth of excited spirits, he will run after any vehicle, no
matter whether caravan or carriage; no matter whence it comes or whither
it goes; no matter whether its contents be a kangaroo or a cannibal chief,
a giraffe or a Princess Rusty Fusty. He hears of an arrival from foreign
parts, that is sufficient; a crowd is collected, and the 'interesting
stranger' is cheered with enthusiasm, and speeds from town to town, graced
with all the honours of extemporaneous popularity."
"I have already hinted that I consider it no business of _mine_ to inquire
_why_ these potentates came to England; perhaps it was no business of
_theirs_ that brought them, but rather a party of pleasure; one of the
results of a general peace, which is very far from producing general
_quietness_; for when the sovereigns of remote countries become upon
visiting terms, hospitality throws wide her gates, and loyalty is
uproarious. They came, no doubt, like all our other royal exotics, from
the unfortunate sovereigns of the Sandwiches down to the Don of yesterday,
to see and to be seen; so, whilst the inhabitants of Dover shouted round
their carriages, they condescendingly acknowledged the greetings they
received, and proceeded on their journey towards the metropolis."
_Visit to the Theatre_.
"Precisely at seven o'clock the party entered their box, which was
tastefully fitted up for their reception. They were received by the
proprietors, and managers, and acting managers, with the customary
etiquette, backing most adroitly up stairs, and holding wax candles in
their hands (which circumstance was properly stated in the papers the next
morning, for fear it should be supposed that tallow had been used on the
occasion.)
"Far be it from ME, their most humble chronicler, to speak slightingly of
their Majesties of Hearts and Diamonds; on the contrary, I would maintain
a paper war with any one who dared to insinuate that these honours were
not dealt most fairly: but, on _some_ occasions, I cannot help thinking
that these distinctions have been lavished rather injudiciously, and that
royalty has been made too common. I have seen our own beloved monarch in
public received with acclamations, ay, and with more than mouth honour--
with waving handkerchiefs, and full hearts, and eyes that overflowed. The
enthusiasm of such a welcome is honourable to the monarch who receives it,
and the subjects who bestow it; and let levellers say what they will, the
best feelings of our nature are brought into play on such occasions. There
is a _meaning_ in such a welcome; and long, very long, may our monarch
live to witness proofs of attachment, which his heart well knows how to
appreciate. But there is no meaning whatever in placing a tattooed chief,
or a Hottentot Venus of the blood royal, on the same eminence: it is
_infra dig_.--can answer no good purpose, and brings the genuine
enthusiasm of loyalty into contempt. There is too much of the Dollalolla
in such an exhibition. When his majesty squats uneasily, as if he
considered his chair an inconvenience, and the queen wipes her ebony nose
with her illustrious white satin play bill. When the royal party entered,
the people seemed unable to contain their rapture, and God save the King
was called for. This is the established custom: whenever we look upon the
king of _another country_, we always stand up and sing, God save
_our own_!"
_Club-House Comforts_.
"Far more cheap, and far more commodious than hotels _used to be_, they
assuredly are; and country curates, poor poets, and gentlemen who live on
very small means, may now take a slice off _the_ joint, with a quarter of
a pint of sherry, for next to nothing at all; sitting, at the same time,
with their feet on a Turkey carpet, lighted by ormolu chandeliers,
surrounded by gold and marble, and waited upon by liveried domestics, with
the additional glory of walking away, and 'giving nothing to the waiter.'
Nay, the more dainty gentleman may order his _cotelette aux tomates_ and
his _omelette soufflé_, at a moderate expense."
"Men, in most countries, owe what they possess of suavity of manners to
their intercourse with female society; after the drudgery of a
professional morning, young men used to brush themselves up for their
evening flirtations; but now few feminine drawing-rooms can tempt them to
leave their luxurious palaces, where evening surtouts, and black
neckcloths, and boots, may be freely indulged in. The wife takes her chop,
and a half boiled potato at home, while her husband, who always has some
excuse for dining at his club, is sure to enjoy every thing, the best of
its kind, and cooked _à merveille_. The unmarried ladies lack partners at
balls; the beaux fall asleep after dinner on the downy cushions of the
sofas at _the_ Club, or vote it a bore to dress of an evening, when they
are sure to meet pleasant fellows at the Alma Mater. As to the young
gentlemen who reap the advantages of these cheap and gilded houses of
accommodation, it may be questioned whether they are thus enabled
hereafter properly to appreciate the comforts of a home, the decorations
of the farm-house residence of a curate, or the plain cookery of the
farmer's wife, who dresses his dinner without even _professing_ to be a
cook."
* * * * *
"The King of Spades went his rounds, accompanied by the most eminent
architects and engineers of the day. He dug deeply into the secret
histories of the foundations of our national buildings, saw through the
_dis_orders of the egg-shell school of architecture, kept clear of the
tottering lath and plaster of some of the new buildings, acknowledging
that if such materials _did_ ever tumble down, it was a comfort to know
that they were considerably lighter than stone and cast iron. He felt a
great respect for such persons of rank as professed to be _supporters_ of
the drama, trusting that they would keep the ceilings of the theatres from
tumbling into the pits. He spent great part of his time in the Thames
Tunnel, and if he ever felt a doubt respecting the ultimate success of
that _under_taking, he did justice to the enterprise and skill of its
projector, that illustrious mole, and sincerely wished that zeal and
talent might ultimately be crowned with success. He took shares in many
mining speculations, and, in many instances, lived to repent it; for he
got into troubled waters, and sought for his _ore_ in vain. He attended
agricultural meetings, and endeavoured to comprehend that debatable query,
the corn question; he argued the point, like other great people, as if he
_did_ understand it, and got into repute with the leading Chiropodists, or
corn cutters, of the day. He went to Cheltenham, and became proprietor of
an acre of ground, on which he dug a score wells, and professed to find at
the bottom of each of them, a spring of water sufficiently saline to
pickle the constitutions of all valetudinarians. He was horticultural to a
most praiseworthy extent, offering prizes to the ingenious young Meadowses
who bring forth gigantic gooseberries, supernatural strawberries, and
miraculous melons. He went into the country, and endeavoured to penetrate
beyond the mere surface of things, listening to the speeches of county
members, and dining diligently in warm weather with mayors, and people
with _corporations_. He endeavoured to detect the root of all evil,
investigated the ramifications of radical reform, and exposed the
ephemeral bulbous roots of speculation. Prejudice he found too deeply
rooted to be dug up very easily, whilst the fashions and follies of the
day seemed to him to lie so entirely on the surface of the soil, and to be
so shortlived, that to throw away any manual labour in an attempt to
eradicate them, would be absurd."
_"Impossible" Amusements_.
"At many of your amusements, the chief attraction consists in the extreme
bodily peril in which the exhibiter is placed. You took me to see a man
walk up a rope, to an immense height, and had his foot slipped, he must
have been dashed to pieces: the place was crowded with persons who were in
raptures; yet had the man been dancing on level ground, he would have
danced far better; and the merit of the dancer seemed to consist in his
giving the audience a _chance_ of seeing him break his neck or dash his
brains out! If a foreigner were to announce that he would dance on a
pack-thread, he would ruin the ropedancer; because, as the thread would in
all probability break, his danger would be greater, and therefore his
exhibition would be incomparable! Then you all delight in distortions; if
a man can bend his back bone, or sit upon his head, you are in raptures,
and seem to think it a good joke to see a fellow creature shortening his
life. Then if any man will ride a dozen horses at once, without saddle or
bridle; or go into an oven and be baked brown, or eat a fire shovel full
of burning coals, or drink deadly poison, or fly off a church steeple, or
thrust a pointed instrument down his throat, or walk on a ceiling with his
head downwards, or go to sea in a washing tub, you would not lose the
sight for the world; you clap your hands, shout with delight, and hold up
your little children, that they may share papa and mamma's rational
amusement! and yet you tell me your national characteristic is humanity!"
_A Man of Honour_.
"Is Mr. Rabbitts a man of honour?"
"In the strictest sense of the word."
"Living at the rate of thousands a year, when his income is just so many
hundreds! furnishing his house magnificently without ever intending to pay
for a pipkin, and at last making a sudden disappearance, which closely
resembles what I have heard described as an Irish 'moonlight flitting,'
where a tenant, who is unable to pay his rent, departs at dead of night
with his wife and other _movables_, having previously thrashed his grain,
and left the straw in its place _to keep up appearances!_ The flittings of
some of your 'leading stars in the hemisphere of fashion' are very similar;
yet afterwards you may see them at some watering-place, as gay and as
expensive as ever! Have they mislaid their bills, and forgotten the names
of their creditors? If so, let them call for the Gazette, and look over
the list of bankrupts. _Such_ is the honour of Mr. Rabbitts!"
_To want Style_.
"It is difficult for me to explain, because your majesty has not seen
specimens of that class of the community which is devoid of style, tact,
and taste; but we have them in town, and we meet with them at
watering-places; _there_ indeed it is less in our power to keep quite
clear of them. They are to be seen all day and all night; if the sun
shines, they are promenading in its beams; if a house is lighted up, they
will enter its open door; if a fiddle is heard, they are dancing to its
squeaking; if petticoats are worn short, theirs are up to their knees;
they are never out of sight, never in repose; summer and winter, day and
night, they seem in a state of fearful excitement, flirting, philandering,
raffling, racing, practising, and patronizing; they are great people in a
small way, and only considered great because nothing greater is at hand;
they prefer reigning in hell (excuse the word, I quote Milton) to serving
in heaven; in London they would be nothing, at Hogs Norton Spa, or
Pumpington Wells, they are every thing; making difficulties about
admissions to Lilliputian Almack's."
_To have Style_.
"To _have_ style is to be always dressed to perfection, without appearing
to care about the fashion; and to take the station and precedence which
you are entitled to, without seeming to be solicitous about it. I have
seen dowagers at watering-places in a fever of anxiety about their rank
and their consequence! patronizing puppetshows, seizing conspicuous seats,
and withholding the sunshine of their smiles from commoners allied to
older nobility than their own! How I should enjoy seeing them lost in a
London crowd, where not an eye would notice their aristocracy unless they
wore their coronets on the tops of their bonnets!"
_The Popular Complaint_.
"I am afraid of catching the popular complaint: all the professedly sane
people in London are so evidently mad, that I am led to conclude that all
the supposed lunatics are in their sound senses.
"For instance, your gay people, who toil through nominal pleasures,
dressing by rule and compass, lacing, bracing, patching, painting,
plastering, penciling, curling, pinching, and all to go out and be looked
at: going from party to party in the middle of the night, pretending not
to be sleepy, suppressing each rising yawn, and trying to make the lips
smile and the eyes twinkle, and to look animated in spite of fatigue: and
all this for no earthly purpose--too old to care about lovers, and without
daughters to marry. Why should an ugly old maid of sixty-six take all
these pains, or leave her own snug fireside, if she had not a touch of the
popular complaint.
"Then your man of pleasure, risking his life at every corner in a cab,
with a restive horse; wearing all his clothes painfully tight to show off
his figure, confining his neck in a bandage, pouring liquids down his
throat, though he knows they will give him a headache, sitting up all
night shaking bits of bone together for the mere purpose of giving
somebody a chance of winning all his money, or offering bets on racehorses
to afford himself and family an opportunity of changing opulence for
beggary! He has the popular complaint of course.
"Then your man of business: your public servant, toiling, and striving and
figetting about matters of state, sacrificing health, and the snug
comforts of a private gentleman, for the sake of popularity! _His_
complaint _is_ popular indeed. Then your physician, courting extensive
practice, and ambitious of the honour of never having time to eat a
comfortable meal, and proud of being called out of bed the moment he is
composing himself to sleep! _He_ must be raving. Then your barrister,
fagging over dull books, and wearing a three-tailed wig, and talking for
hours, that his client, right or wrong, may be successful! All these
people appear to me to be awfully excited: the popular complaint is strong
upon them, and I would put them all into the straightest waistcoats I
could procure."
_Patriotic Follies_.
"It is delightful to hear English men and women talk of their dear country.
There is nothing like Old England, say they; yet paramount as their love
of country appears to be, their love of French frippery is a stronger
passion! They will lament the times, the stagnation of trade, the scarcity
of money, the ruin of manufacturers, but they will wear Parisian
productions. It is a comfort, however, to know that they are often
deceived, and benefit their suffering countrymen without knowing it--as
lace, silks, and gloves have frequently been exported from this country,
and sold to English women on the coast of France as genuine French
articles. How little does Mrs. Alderman Popkins dream, when she returns to
her residence in Bloomsbury, that her Parisian pelisse is of Spitalfields
manufacture, and that her French lace veil came originally from Honiton."
* * * * *