“If it be true” (remarks old John Mistletoe, in his little known _Life
of Edmund Hoyle_) “that a happy life leaves behind it little material
for the biographer, and only those whose careers have been marked by
the pangs of ambition and the wearinesses of achievement offer maxims
for the moralist, then there is little to be said of Edmund Hoyle. And
yet it is odd that a man whose name has become proverbial, who lived to
the age of close upon a century (1672–1769), and who standardized and
codified the chief social amusement of his age into an etiquette which
remained unchanged for six generations--it is odd, I say, that this
great peaceful benefactor has left so slight a trace in biographical
annals. For I ask you, which of Hoyle’s contemporaries conferred a
more placable and sedentary boon upon the world than he?”
“Hoyle” (continues Mr. Mistletoe) “was a man of very speechless humour.
It was his wont to say that he had been lured into the study and
metaphysic of whist because it was a silent game. As is well known,
the game was originally called _whisk_; it was Mr. Hoyle who, by his
continual utterance of the imperative and hushing monosyllable _Whist!_
when gaming with those whose tongues were apt to wag irrelevantly,
caused the diversion, at first only in sport, and then in genuine
earnest, to be rechristened. It was a sight not to be forgotten, by
contemporary account, to see the Master (as he was known) sitting
down at the Three Pigeons tavern for his afternoon rubber. The
mornings he spent in tutoring wealthy ladies in the rudiments of the
fashionable game, this being the chief source of his income. He was
very particular, moreover, as to the standing and rank of his pupils;
he was much in demand, and could afford to take only such students
as satisfied his fastidious taste for youth and beauty. In fact, he
anticipated the doctrine announced many years later by John Keats, who
remarked, ‘I intend henceforth to have nothing to do with the society
of ladies unless they be handsome. You lose time to no purpose.’
“It was, I repeat, an agreeable spectacle to witness the Master
driving up to the Three Pigeons about the hour of (as we would now
say) luncheon, in his white hackney coach with his emblem--the Ace
of Hearts--blazoned on the panel. Before the gaming began he would
always take a leisurely meal; indeed, it was his habit to say that no
gentleman would ever spend less than three hours at the table. One
of his humours was to insist that warm weather was dangerous to his
constitution, and that in summer it was desirable to eat sparingly
and with deliberation. On days that had, as someone has put it, the
humidity of Uriah Heep, this was an example of his menu, which I have
found filed in the old papers kept in the vaults of the Three Pigeons:
_Service to Mr. Edmund Hoyle, this 28th July 1730, on acct_:
_A capon broth, with toasted bread_
_A flagon of small ale_
_Fricassee of sweetbreads, with currant jelly_
_A flask of cool Canary_
_Rosted wild ducks, with cheesecake and parsnips_
_A jugg of malmsey, from the special butt_
_A sallet of shrimpes and candyed cherries_
_A hot rabbit pye, with buttered pease and a pottle of mulled
claret_
_Rhubarbe pasty, with barley wine to ease Mr. Hoyle’s digestions_
_Plague water for the hott weather_
“Having done suitable homage to this judicious nourishment” (Mr.
Mistletoe proceeds), “Mr. Hoyle would have brought to him his own yard
of clay, which he would leisurely fill with the best pure Virginia
leaf, gazing about him the while upon the impatient faces of his
friends who were anxious to get to the cards. ‘Never indulge the carnal
appetites immoderately in hot weather,’ he would say, blowing out a
long blue whiff into the cool twilight of the old taproom, panelled in
magnificent dark walnut. This was the last word uttered, for when the
Master took his seat at the card table no man dared speak. A sacred
quiet filled the place as he reached for the pasteboards and deftly
cut for the deal, tossing back his lace cuffs over his lean yellowish
wrists, the colour (he was something bilious) of old piano keys. The
rest was silence, with only the fall of the cards and the occasional
clink of a bottle when Mr. Hoyle refilled his vase of Burgundy, which
he always drank while gaming. A life of abstemious control, he said,
was needful for one who must keep his wits alert.”
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