Real Life In London, Volumes I and II | Page 9

is his
favourite author."
"And what said the critics--'to be, or not to be'--I suppose he repeated
the character?"
"Oh! Sir, it was stated in the play-bill, that he met with great applause,
and he was announced for the character again; but, as the Free List was
not suspended, and our amateur dreaded some hostility from that
quarter, he performed the character by proxy, and repeated it at the
Little Theatre in the Haymarket."
"Then the gentlemen of the Free List," remarked Bob, "are free and
easy?"
"Yes--yes--they laugh and cough whenever they please: indeed, they
are generally excluded whenever a ~14~~full house is expected, as
ready money is an object to the poor manager of Drury-lane Theatre.
The British Press, however, is always excepted."
"The British press!--Oh! you mean the newspapers," exclaimed
Tom--"then I dare say they were very favourable to this Amateur of
Fashion?"

"No--not very--indeed; they don't join the manager in his puffs,
notwithstanding his marked civility to them: one said he was a
methodist preacher, and sermonized the character--another assimilated
him to a school-boy saying his lesson--in short, they were very
ill-natured--but hush--here he is--walk in, gentlemen, and you shall
hear him rehearse some of King Richard"--
"King Richard!" What ambition! thought Bob to himself--"late a Prince,
and now--a king!"
"I assure you," continued Mr. Mist, "that all his readings are new; but
according to my humble observation, his action does not always suit
the word--for when he exclaims--' may Hell make crook'd my mind,' he
looks up to Heaven"--
"Looks up to Heaven!" exclaimed Tom; "then this London star makes a
solecism with his eyes."
Our heroes now went into the barn, and took a private corner, when
they remained invisible. Their patience was soon exhausted, and Bob
and his honourable cousin were both on the fidgits, when the
representative of King Richard exclaimed--
"Give me a horse----"
"--Whip!" added Tom with stunning vociferation, before King Richard
could bind up his wounds. The amateur started, and betrayed
consummate embarrassment, as if the horsewhip had actually made its
entrance. Tom and his companion stole away, and left the astounded
monarch with the words--"twas all a dream."
While returning to the inn, our heroes mutually commented on the
ambition and folly of those amateurs of fashion, who not only sacrifice
time and property, but absolutely take abundant pains to render
themselves ridiculous. "Certainly," says Tom, "this cacoethes ludendi
has made fools of several: this infatuated youth though not possessed of
a single requisite for the stage, no doubt flatters himself he is a second
Kean; and, regardless ~15~~of his birth and family, he will continue

his strolling life
Till the broad shame comes staring in his face, And critics hoot the
blockhead as he struts."
Having now reached the inn, and finding every thing adjusted for their
procedure, our heroes mounted their vehicle, and went in full gallop for
Real Life in London.
CHAPTER III
"Round, round, and round-about, they whiz, they fly, With eager
worrying, whirling here and there, They know, nor whence, nor whither,
where, nor why. In utter hurry-scurry, going, coming, Maddening the
summer air with ceaseless humming."
~16~~OUR travellers now approached at a rapid rate, the desideratim
of their eager hopes and wishes: to one all was novel, wonderful, and
fascinating; to the other, it was the welcome return to an old and
beloved friend, the separation from whom had but increased the ardour
of attachment.--"We, now," says Dashall, "are approaching Hyde-Park,
and being Sunday, a scene will at once burst upon you, far surpassing
in reality any thing I have been able to pourtray, notwithstanding the
flattering compliments you have so often paid to my talents for
description."
[Illustration: page16 Hyde-Park]
They had scarcely entered the Park-gate, when Lady Jane Townley's
carriage crossed them, and Tom immediately approached it, to pay his
respects to an old acquaintance. Her lady-ship congratulated him on his
return to town, lamented the serious loss the beau-monde had sustained
by his absence, and smiling archly at his young friend, was happy to
find he had not returned empty-handed, but with a recruit, whose
appearance promised a valuable accession to their select circle. "You
would not have seen me here," continued her ladyship, "but I vow and
protest it is utterly impossible to make a prisoner of one's self, such a
day as this, merely because it is Sunday--for my own part, I wish there

was no such thing as a Sunday in the whole year--there's no knowing
what to do with one's self. When fine, it draws out as many insects as a
hot sun and a shower of rain can produce in the middle of June. The
vulgar plebeians flock so, that you can scarcely get into your barouche
without being hustled by the men-milliners, linen-drapers, and
shop-boys, who