CHAPTER XXI.

DRURY-LANE. THE RAINBOW.

A mighty mass of brick, and stone, and shipping,
Dirty and dusky, but as wide as eye

Could reach, with here and there a sail just skipping
In sight, then lost amidst the forestry

Of masts, a wilderness of steeples peeping
On tiptoe, through their sea-coal canopy:
A huge, dun cupola like foolscap crown

On a fool's head-and there is London town!

Don Juan.

Fire and faggots, sir, if you are not Lord Foppington, who the devil are you? Trip to Scarborough.

It was a lovely evening in the latter end of April, when I was set down from a Shrewsbury coach, at Hatchett's, in Piccadilly. Now, indeed, I was fairly launched upon the world: landed in the metropolis of Britain, master of my own actions, with a full purse, a light heart, the benefit of a recent escapade, and of Aylmer's example. True, my time was limited to a few days, and in that brief space a military outfit must be completed. I did not dally; discussed my dinner “in doublequick;" set off to visit tailors and boot-makers, to whom I had been especially recommended; and having given necessary directions to these important functionaries, I called a coach, and was driven to Drury-lane Theatre.

I felt like a greyhound in a leash, dying to slip the couple, see life in London, and "run riot" for the few short days allowed me. But I looked suspiciously around; Aylmer was before my eyes: here I was, and here he had been ruined. Forewarned by his experience, I determined to steer a clear course amid the dangers and temptations of the modern Babylon. Against the purse, rather than the person, hostile demonstrations were to be apprehended; and I therefore limited the contents of my pocket to a small sum for sights and coach-hire, with a ten-pound note as a corps de reserve," should any exigency require a fresh supply.

66

Hackneyed as I am now in London spectacles, the night on which I entered the undress circle of Drury-lane will never pass from my memory.

The second act of a very splendid melodrame had commenced. The matchless singing of Braham and Stephens,

then in their zenith; the scenic beauty of the stage; the action of the pantomime; the splendour of the processions; the dancing of the corps de ballet-were to me perfectly fascinating; and till the curtain fell, I was rapt in wonder and delight, and never took my eyes from the business of the drama for a moment. Nor with the conclusion of the play did my astonishment terminate; the house was fashionably crowded, and the dress-circle presented a blaze of beauty-a galaxy of "sparkling eyes," on which I thought I could have gazed

for ever!

You are a stranger to the London stage," said a gentleman, to whom during the course of the performance I had frequently applied for information, which with great politeness he supplied.

I am not only to the stage, but to the town, for I arrived from Ireland but this evening."

Indeed!" replied the stranger; "is not this piece most interesting? It is one of the most delighful dramas I ever witnessed. The scenery so beautiful, the illusion so perfect, that it looks reality. If to me, to whom the stage for years has been familiar, it appear so, how much more forcibly must it strike one who for the first time has entered a London theatre ?"

Of course, I could not but express my admiration warmly. "You have much to see in this mighty capital," continued the stranger; "and at your years, young gentleman, objects of curiosity are sought after with avidity. You have, no doubt, some cicerone, some friend, to use the common parlance of the world, 'to show the lions." "

No, sir," I replied, "I am alone in the metropolis. My visit is a hurried one, for in three days I leave London for the continent, to join my regiment at Brussels."

"Then will you pardon me?" said my companion, "I am about to take a liberty; it is, however, kindly meant, and I trust it will be as kindly received. Let me entreat you to be cautious; look on every woman with distrust, on every stranger with suspicion. Recollect the myriad of dangers to which youth, in this overgrown city, is exposed. All that can excite the fancy and the passions will be lavishly presented. Vice and villany here are masked under the most flattering appearances; knavery assumes the garb of fashion; and, believe me, much experience, and far more prudence and selfcontrol than fall commonly to the lot of one so young, will be required to protect you from the dangerous and besetting

allurements of this splendid and most profligate metropolis."

I felt the kindness of the unknown. He spoke with the warmth of a parent, the wisdom of a philosopher-and his words were the very echo of Aylmer's parting admonition. I looked at the stranger; he was scarcely past the meridian of life, plain and grave, but gentlemanly in his dress. He might, from external appearances, be a parson, a physician, a professor. My guess was wrong: before we parted he obliged me with his card, and on it was engraven, "Lieut.colonel Edwards, 4th Dragoon Guards, 8, Portman-square."

Need I say, that I expressed my gratitude to the gallant colonel warmly? I told him, however, that I had been duly prepared for a début upon town; mentioned my friend Aylmer, and assured him that his advice was treasured, and his misfortunes had left a permanent impression on my memory.

"You were indeed fortunate, my young friend, in coming here fortified with good counsel, and better still, a firm resolution to profit by it. But the bell rings, and now for the farce."

During the remainder of the entertainment, I felt how particularly fortunate I had been in making the acquaintance I had done. The colonel knew everything and everybody; he was a moralist; but he was a man of the world; pointedout peers and peeresses in the private boxes, and Jews, bankers, and stock-brokers in the dress circle; showed me the performers, and favoured me with their biographies; named the chief actresses, and obliged me with a list of their keepers, past and present in truth, as Ophelia says, he was good as a chorus."

The curtain dropped. The colonel apologized for not bringing me home, but his lady was an invalid; and, though it was not "his wont," he hinted that we might have some supper at a tavern. The proposition was delightful; I willingly consented, and we left the theatre arm-in-arm. My Mentor proposed a quiet house in Covent Garden. Off we set; and when under the piazzas encountered two gentlemen, who recognized my gallant friend.

Ha! Bill! How goes it, my tight'um? alive, old boy?"

Anything

"What a rattle you are, Jack!-Friend of mine—Mr. Blake, 95th-Lord John Rumble, Sir Francis Bramble;" and in due form, I, a poor lieutenant of Rifles, was presented to these specimens of the English aristocracy.

"Will you join us?" said Colonel Edwards, we are going to have an oyster or broiled bone quietly at 'The Rainbow.'"

"The Rainbow be d

!" said Lord John: "come, go

it, Bill; I say The Finish !'"

But my companion sturdily dissented. "No, my Lord. This gentleman," pointing to me, "has never been in London till this evening, and I will never consent to introduce him to a place where the most profligate of both sexes congregate."

"Now, away with this gammon!" rejoined the baronet, "I hate The Rainbow!' Come, toddle to the Saloon; that's a slap-up thing! and we'll look in for an hour."

But the colonel was immovable; and Lord John and his companion good-naturedly consented to yield for once, and promised to rejoin us without delay.

There was a brusquerie in the manners of both the colonel's friends—a total absence of everything aristocratic, that astounded me. That men of high family should use language decidedly vulgar, and partially unintelligible, was astonishing. Sir Francis was a married man-none in Britain stood higher in public estimation; and would he venture to figure at "The Finish!" I was certainly surprised, and I expressed it to the colonel; of course, with due caution.

He sighed heavily. "Indeed, my young friend, your remarks are just and natural. In the upper classes of society, a consciousness of high station, and the prevailing fashion of the day, have produced an ease of manner bordering upon vulgarity. The coach-box is tenanted by the owner, while the driver sits within. Boxes are the familiar favourites of the nobility. The ring, the stable, and the race-course, are the only schools now; and even senators affect the slang of society, that it is surprising by what contingency they could have ever known.--But here we are ;" and as he spoke, we entered a very unpretending coffee-room, and seated ourselves in the most retired box, while the colonel pulled the bell, and ordered supper directly.

"My friends," said the polite commander, "will be here immediately, and I must give you a hint, which I know you will excuse. Persons like Sir Francis and Lord John, when on rambles like the present, sink their titles. They fancy they are unknown;" and the colonel smiled at the absurdity; "but we must gratify this folly, and address them simply by

their sur-names. We will fall into their humour; although, between you and me, the waiter will certainly detect them; and, before we part, penetrate their incognito; ay, and know them as well as you or I."

Almost immediately the friends of Colonel Edwards joined us. I looked at Lord John. He was a common-place sort of a personage, in no way remarkable, but for an immense display of rings, chains, and brooches. "Ay," thought I, "there is the overweening wealth of the English nobility. Still something shows the man.” I turned to Sir Francis; and he, indeed, surprised me. He was ungraceful, yeomanlooking. I whispered my disappointment touching his friends to the colonel, while our companions were otherwise employed; but he assured me, that nothing was more likely to lead to a wrong notion of men, than to be influenced by

mere manner.

Indeed, notwithstanding his kindness to me, I felt that Sir Francis had sunk immeasurably in my estimation; and I lamented that he should bow to fashion's ordinances, and for a moment descend from his high and palmy state to join in vulgar conviviality. Aylmer had torn away much of the tinsel from high life, but for this exposé I was unprepared; and, with disgust, I admitted how faithful the picture of my ruined friend had been, when he described the littleness of nobility. Upon Lord John I looked with pity; he was young, just starting into life, and might reform; but, upon my soul! I regarded Sir Francis with feelings bordering on contempt.

Supper ended, the colonel reminded his friends that there was that night a ballot at Brookes's, at which they were expected to be present. Accordingly, a bill was called for, and I, finding my stock of silver almost exhausted, produced my ten-pound note. The colonel was similarly circumstanced; and when the waiter answered the bell, he handed him a bank-note for change, and returned mine, peremptorily declaring that on this occasion he must be paymaster. I remonstrated to no purpose; he obliged me to pocket my purse, and all I could effect was a compromise, by which it was stipulated, that, on the following night, I should accompany the party to Covent Garden Theatre, and play the host afterward if I pleased.

A coach was called; we embarked; I was set down at Hatchett's, and my companions proceeded to their club.

Here I was, safe and sound in purse and person, my first