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his fevered brow may 'repose in almost apoplectic sleep. The journeyman mechanic, yawning, proceeds to his place of daily labour ; and the muck-covered scavenger is cleaning away the pitchy filth of the preceding day from the almost deserted pavement. Here and there, the slipshod apprentice appears at his master's door, opening the shop-windows, or preparing for the business of the risen day by cleaning the glass, and exhibiting in neat array the goods which are designed for entrapping the eye of the passenger, labelled to deceive, or priced to decoy a customer by their surpassing cheapness. The dapper servant-girl, with the slumber of the preceding night upon her eyes, is sweeping the steps at the door, coquetting with the footman in the next area, or looking vacantly up and down the street, leaning upon ber besom, and thinking, mayhap, of some far-off lover.

Such is " Morning in London,” as it strikes the eye of the beholder, and as it is most obvious to the senses ; but morning carries with it to thousands of bosoms there, on every rising sun, a very different aspect. How many are there who meet it with unclosed eyes, whom care and misery have made sleepless, or who see with its return the last dawning of cherished hope expire! It is the last morn that the man of business will be in odour with the world; in a few hours he must meet his creditors, and his ruin will be declared. It is the morning when the criminal must die. It is the period when happiness will take leave of a thousand bosoms, and the remainder of life's journey be travelled over, serrated with furrows, and broken up by misery. It is the day-spring of hope to many, who have eagerly looked forward to its dawning a long time previously. New projects await execution by the man of successful enterprise ; and the business of the day, displacing sleep and spurring the sides of his intent, as he leaves his bed, awakens a thousand new schemes. To-day, the virgin will be the bride; the heir come to his possessions; the ambitious man revel in the fruition of his desires, and the gay and giddy enjoy new pleasures. Yet, of all these, ere a few hours, many will be disappointed, and many who rejoiced at the morn, before evening arrives, will be silent in their last, long sleep!

But this is getting serious Hogarth has given a capital delineation of “ Morning in London,” which is familiar to all lovers of his pictures ; but then it is satirical. Swift, too, has touched upon it. The cries, which are heard in this part of the day in rapid multiplicity, have long formed a distinguishing character of London with country people. Many of them, indeed, are not easily understood, except by the practised ear. They differ according to the season, and the various wares that happen to be in fashion; and some of them have been set to music. Indeed, it is by no means uncommon to hear a solitary hawker of wares sing his goods in musical cadence; but then he happens to be one of ten thousand whose voices are any thing but harmonious. In ancient times, it is probable, they were drawled out with a nicer attention to what was supposed to be harmony. The goods thus sold at different times, or the “ cries of the city,” are curious, in showing the changes of the fashions. At one period, “rosemary and bays;" "maribones! maid's maribones!” “ fine felt hats and spectacles ;" “mats for beds;" “ small coal, a penny a peck;" “handkerchief buttons ;" “ hot sheep's feet;" "a tanker-bearer," &c. &c. mingled with many of those at present heard in the streets during the morning.

The numerous stage-coaches, which pour into London early in the day, assist to distinguish the hour. The mails and night-coaches, almost numberless, as the watchmen retire, mark not only the period of the day, but remind the beholder of the vast intercourse of the country with the metropolis. In 1662, there were only six stage-coaches in constant employ throughout the whole kingdom; and they were greatly opposed by the lovers of ancient usages, who wrote against their use, prophesied the ruin they would occasion; and one writer* said respecting them, as a great objection to their introduction, " Those stagecoaches make gentlemen come to London on very small occasion, which, otherwise, they would not do but upon urgent necessity; nay, the convenience of the passage makes their wives often come up, who, rather than come such long journeys on horseback, would stay at home. Here, when they have come to town, they must presently be in the mode, get fine clothes, go to plays and treats, and by these means get such a habit of idleness and love of pleasure, that they are wrong ever after." How this poor man's hair would have stood on end, could he have watched for half a day from the top of the new triumphal arch at Hyde Park Corner, the entrance of the hundreds of the dangerous vehicles that pass in that space of time! How would he have grieved over the ruin that must inevitably follow such portentous innovations !

In the morning the merchant, whose accumulations bave enabled him to take a house at the west end of town, or (if he be a Quaker, or a little straight-laced in religion,) at Camberwell, may be seen, neatly and trimly dressed, driving his one-horse chaise to his city countinghouse, over which bis frugal fathers lived content with honest gains, There was then no Stock Exchange. The counting-house and the rooms of the paternal dwelling, (now converted into warehouses,) were then wont, at the early hour of seven o'clock, to witness the wholesome breakfast with its ponderous cold chine. The various stages come in loaded with the inmates of the city warehouses and their employés ; a vast mass through every avenue of London flocks to the rendezvous of bustle and toil, accumulates round the Exchange, and for some hours afterwards changes the late scanty-peopled Cornhill into a hive of busy industry. The immense weight of mercantile affairs transacted in the day is generally completed in the morning, and speedily brought to a conclusion by the admirable method which habit has introduced. But while commerce and traffic have not neglected the more precious part of the day for their concerns, the west end of the town has almost ceased to recognize the existence of such a portion of time in the twenty-four hours. Formerly, even Parliament met at eight o'clock in the morning. To meet as late as ten was deemed a corruption of manners, and a debate prolonged until four in the afternoon was deemed a most extraordinary thing, and one which could scarcely have occurred if it had not involved in its important issue the question of a monarch's crown and a nation's liberty. How times are changed !

But the hot water has been brought up, the operation of shaving has been gone through ; let us descend to the breakfast-room, which in London differs from the country, in many and various arrangements,

* John Cresse:, of the Charterhouse.

but in none more than the introduction of the morning newspaper, without which breakfast would be imperfect, and the stock of know ledge required throughout the day be found lamentably deficient. There is nothing more wonderful, nothing that sets in a higher light the power of man's intellect and industry, than the production of a daily morning newspaper at the hour of breakfast. Custom makes it a thing too familiar to many to be wondered at; they who do not think or reason (and it is astonishing how many among mankind are of this stamp) may judge lightly of it, but not so those who are accustomed to reflection. In the “ Times,” for example, are renewed every day the pages of a closely-printed volume. Intelligence from all parts of the world, the wants, the virtues, the crimes, the luxuries, the miseries of society in the last twenty-four hours are displayed there, and universal man concentrated, as it were, into one focus. There is in such a printed sheet, a perfect map of society, on which may be found laid down every hue which tinges the motley civilization of the country and age. Were a man banished to a solitary island in the Atlantic, with such a newspaper reaching him, he would not lose his knowledge of the affairs and business, of the manners and politics, of his native land, but would progress with them. A newspaper of this species brings the individuals of a country, no matter how scattered, into one centre ; it combines and keeps fixed to the land of their birth the affections of wandering thousands ; it carries over the world the glory and greatness of the country whence it emanates, in its very form and outline; it is, in short, the representative of national intellect, and the great vehicle of general knowledge. The wet morning newspaper is the great glory of a London breakfast-table, and its reading, seasoned with highly-flavoured bohea, is one of those things which gives the sooty atmosphere of the metropolis an advantage which the glorious freshness of a country morning can scarcely outrival. The advertisements are indispensable to sellers and purchasers, and even match-making advertisements afford amusement. Newspapers are not of older date than Charles I. though it appears Cromwell made the most effective use of them. His penetrating mind saw how well they might be made to turn to account in his service, and disdained not their aid. The following forms a curious contrast to a modern teacher's advertisement. “ About forty miles from London is a schoolmaster has bad such success with boys, as there are almost forty ministers that were his scholars. His wife also teaches girls lace-making, plain work, raising paste, sauces, and cookery, to the degree of exactness. Her price is ten pounds or eleven the year, with a pair of sheets and one spoon, to be returned if desired. Coaches and other conveniences pass every day, within balf a mile of the house ; and it is but an easy day's journey to or from London." 1691.

But we make a digression from our subject. If the morning star is rarely seen in London, and day comes on in clouds heavily, it brings with it all the enjoyments of artificial life, all the improvements which the intellect of man has accumulated from the experience of ages, to render life agreeable. The picture gallery, the concert, the promenade the first of intellectual enjoyments await a London morning. Refinement spreads before the Londoner all the elegance of her charms, and whets the appetite by the new forms she puts on ; fashion attracts, gay equipages glide along, as the morning call, and the exchange of names on the glazed pasteboard, give an opportunity for compliment, and the pleasant, though perhaps too insincere, addresses of conventional politeness. - Next comes evening. Thousands of lamps, in long chains of fire, stretch away to enormous distances. The display of the shops, lighted up with peculiar brilliancy, and filled with valuable merchandise, which, to decoy the customer, are rendered oftentimes more brilliant by the reflection of numerous mirrors, is most striking in effect. The streets are thronged with people, and thousands of elegant equipages roll along to the appointed dinner-hour party, or to listen to the strains of Pasta. The night-watch, too, is going on, headed by some modern Dogberry; two and two they set out for their beat from the parish watch-house, well-coated, lanterned, and cudgelled ; big with their brief authority, and full of ferocious determination to keep the King's peace among all peaceable persons, but to avoid hard blows, and not to see a nightly depredator if he “come down" to them handsomely. Their rattles—which succeeded the horns anciently carried by watchmen to obtain assistance or raise an alarm-proudly slung over their shoulders ; formidable to friends, valiant only where cause of fear is not; and sage in their knowledge, and firm in their own interpretation of night-constable law, they go to protect what needs not their protection, and to neglect all that craves it in sober earnest.

The evening, when the bustle of business is over with the tradesman, is the time when he seeks that relaxation which he imagines is necessary after the fatigues of the day. This unbending from the sober duties of life, too often consists in attending the smoking-room, and breathing an atmosphere little calculated to repair the effects of labour. The home is exchanged for the glass of ale and dish of politics, and bed follows before the noon of night. It is to this practice of (miscalled) "recreation” after daily labour, that so many bloated and apoplectic persons are found in one class of citizens. . The habits of the London tradesman are, after all, sedentary; and active exercise should constitute the counteracting resource to keep him in health, not fat ale and the fumes of tobacco. In the evening, every coffee-house and ale-shop is filled with those whose constitutions are too inflammatory already, and who lay the foundation of disease by these miscalled enjoyments. In this respect, the higher orders manage better. The dance, even in a crowded ball-room, affords strong exercise, and is, beyond all comparison, more beneficial to the constitution.

The theatres, which used to hold out so much attraction on a London evening, have lately fallen off; but they may still be seen with the useless parade of a military guard, and the officious link-boys receiving their quota of the auditors on the shut of day. It is incredible how much of vice is attached to the evening public entertainments of this most religious nation. Our theatres are thronged with degraded women, and the streets filled by them in a way seen in no other capital in Europe. While masquerades in private houses are deemed immoralwhere, in fact, they might be made to constitute a very rational amusement-public masquerades are permitted, which are followed by the low and infamous only, where unblushing prostitution leads the van, and the most profligate of the other sex congregate. In these places boxes

Aug.--VOL. XXVI. NO. CIV.

M

are let out to persons, many of them pretending to respectability, who go to see only and to contemplate the scene of profligacy. What effect such sights and characters must have upon those who only go as spectators, it is easy to imagine. Accustomed to contemplate infamy with horror, a repetition of the sight lessens the disgust felt, until at last it is tolerated, and ultimately puts on even an agreeable aspect.

On a fine moonlight evening, London, with the additional splendour of its gas-lamps, (that is, provided the atmosphere be tolerably free from clouds, which is not often the case,) and the moving crowds in the streets, presents a very charming aspect. Regent-street, in particular, with its different-fronted edifices, and its ample breadth of pavement, seems almost a fairy scene. Such a street, in a milder and more agreeable climate, where night might be enjoyed with safety, would be deemed one of the most charming promenades in the world; its fame would be sounded far and near. As it is, the “comeatability beauty'' of the thing—to use a phrase of Peter Pindar's prevents that admiration, to which, as a moonlight promenade, it is justly entitled. We are accustomed to take little pleasure in those things which are most within our reach, however worthy they may be in themselves.

I fear the reader is by this time heartily tired of a London “ Morning and Evening,” but my design is only to catch the general features of things, and not to go into particulars ; there is a vast field open, one so large that the labour of a life would not be adequate to view all it contains, much less to describe its infinity of objects. London is itself a phenomenon in size and wealth, with its million and quarter of people. Whether so vast a capital be beneficial or not to an empire like that of Great Britain, whence the country must take its tone, corrupt or otherwise, is a question which it would be difficult to solve; but it may be confidently affirmed, that no modern nation of the earth but England will leave behind in its decay a city of such vastness, connected with associations of greater import, or recollections more proudly linked with the destinies of universal man.

THE WEST INDIA INTEREST. The human body, under the excitement of a severe fever, is typical of the condition of this empire during the late contest. Every branch of industry was unnaturally exerted; and those who gained largely by the fever of the body politic, are surprised that they cannot now make profits as rapidly as they did when the unparalleled events that the war gave rise to were in progress. The ship-owner considers himself oppressed, because he cannot make so large an income from his trade as at the time when the Government was almost constantly in the market hiring transports, and when the delays attendant upon convoys rendered a double complement of vessels necessary for the conveyance of freight to and from every quarter of the globe. The land-owner deems protection essentially necessary to his interest, to enable him to keep up his rents at the point they had attained when Great Britain was, in fact, the ark of the world, into which the inhabitants of all nations rushed to save themselves from the political inundations which swept away, in a greater or less degree, all the institutions of their respective countries. At that period, the British empire was the only point of safety. An influx of strangers was the consequence, which, with other circumstances, brought the produce of the land so readily into demand, as to render the rents of landowners and the profits of landholders inordinate ; and although the country is

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