At the sight of Dashall, he recovered himself from his embarrassment, and descended with him to the breakfast-parlour.
“Did you send to Robinson's?” enquired Tom of one of the servants, as they entered the room. “Yes, Sir,” was the reply; “and Weston's too?” continued he; being answered in the affirmative, “then let us have breakfast directly.” Then turning to Bob, “Sparkle,” said he, “promised to be with us about eleven, for the purpose of taking a stroll; in the mean time we must dress and make ready.”—“Dress,” said Bob, “Egad! I have dressed and made ready twice already this morning.” He then recounted the adventures above recorded; at which Dashall repeatedly burst into fits of immoderate laughter. Breakfast being over, a person from Mr. Robinson's was announced, and ushered into the room.
A more prepossessing appearance had scarcely met Bob's eye—a tall, elegant young man, dressed in black, cut in the extreme of fashion, whose features bespoke intelligence, and whose air and manner were indicative of a something which to him was quite new. He arose upon his entrance, and made a formal bow; which was returned by the youth. “Good morning, gentlemen.”—“Good morning, Mr. R——,” said Tom, mentioning a name celebrated by
Pope in the following lines:
“But all my praises, why should lords engross? Bise, honest Muse, and sing the man of Boss.”
“I am happy to have the honour of seeing you in town again, Sir! The fashionables are mustering very strong, and the prospect of the approaching coronation appears to be very attractive.” During this time he was occupied in opening a leathern case, which contained combs, brushes, &c.; then taking off his coat, he appeared in a jacket with an apron, which, like a fashionable pinafore of the present day, nearly concealed his person, from his chin to his toes. “Yes,” replied Dashall, “the coronation is a subject of deep importance just now in the circles of fashion,” seating himself in his chair, in readiness for the operator,{1} who, Bob now discovered, was no other than the Peruquier.
1 The progress of taste and refinement is visible in all situations, and the language of putting has become so well understood by all ranks of society, that it is made use of by the most humble and obscure tradesmen of the metropolis. One remarkable instance ought not to be omitted here. In a narrow dirty street, leading from the Temple towards Blackfriars, over a small triangular-fronted shop, scarcely big enough to hold three persons at a time, the eye of the passing traveller is greeted with the following welcome information, painted in large and legible characters, the letters being each nearly a foot in size:— HAIR CUT AND MODERNIZED!!! This is the true “Multum in parvo “—a combination of the “Utile et dulce,” the very acme of perfection. Surely, after this, to Robinson, Vickery, Boss, and Cryer, we may say—“Ye lesser stars, hide your diminished heads.” The art of puffing may be further illustrated by the following specimen of the Sublime, which is inserted here for the information of such persons as, residing in the country, have had no opportunity of seeing the original. “R—— makes gentlemen's and ladies' perukes on an entire new system; which for lightness, taste, and ease, are superior to any other in Europe. He has exerted the genius and abilities of the first artists to complete his exhibition of ornamental hair, in all its luxuriant varieties, where the elegance of nature and convenience of art are so blended, as at once to rival and ameliorate each other. Here his fair patrons may uninterruptedly examine the effects of artificial tresses, or toupees of all complexions, and, in a trial on themselves, blend the different tints with their own!” The strife for pre-eminence in this art is not however confined to this country; for we find an instance recorded in an American newspaper, which may perhaps be equally amusing and acceptable:— “A. C. D. La vigne, having heard of the envious expressions uttered by certain common barbers, miserable chin-scrapers, and frizulary quacks, tending to depreciate that superiority which genius is entitled to, and talents will invariably command, hereby puts them and their vulgar arts at defiance; and, scorning to hold parley with such sneaking imps, proposes to any gentleman to defend and maintain, at his shop, the head quarters of fashion, No. 6, South Gay Street, against all persons whomsoever, his title to supremacy in curlery, wiggery, and razory, to the amount of one hundred dollars and upwards. As hostile as he is to that low style of puffery adopted by a certain adventurer, 'yclept Higgins, Lavigne cannot avoid declaring, in the face of the world, that his education has been scientifical; that after having finished his studies at Paris, he took the tour of the universe, having had the rare fortune of regulating the heads of Catherine the Second, and the Grand Turk; the King of Prussia, and the Emperor of China; the Mamelukes of Egypt, and the Dey of Algiers; together with all the ladies of their respective Courts. He has visited the Cape of Good Hope, India, Java, Madagascar, Tartary, and Kamschatka, whence he reached the United States by the way of Cape Horn. In England he had previously tarried, where he delivered Lectures on Heads in great style. He has at last settled in Baltimore, determined to devote the remainder of his days to the high profession to which his des-tiny has called him; inviting all the literati, the lovers of the arts and sciences, to visit him at his laboratory of beauty, where he has separate rooms for accommodating ladies and gentlemen, who desire to adorn their heads with hairudition. “Can France, England—nay, the world itself, produce such another specimen of puffing and barberism?
"And pray,” continued Tom, “what is there new in the haut ton? Has there been any thing of importance to attract attention since my absence? “Nothing very particular,” was the reply—“all very dull and flat. Rumour however, as usual, has not been inactive; two or three trifling faux pas, and—oh!—yes—two duels—one in the literary world: two authors, who, after attacking each other with the quill, chose to decide their quarrel with the pistol, and poor Scot lost his life! But how should authors understand such things? The other has made a great noise in the world—You like the Corinthian cut, I believe, Sir?”
“I believe so too,” said Tom—“but don't you cut the duel so short—who were the parties?”
“Oh! aye, why one, Sir, was a celebrated leader of ton, no other than Lord Shampêtre, and the other Mr. Webb, a gentleman well known: it was a sort of family affair. His lordship's gallantry and courage, however, were put to the test, and the result bids fair to increase his popularity. The cause was nothing very extraordinary, but the effect had nearly proved fatal to his Lordship.”