CHAPTER VII.
OF THE GENT WHO GOES TO THE RACES.
The Gent who goes to the races must not be confounded with the Sporting Gent, of whom we may speak by-and-by. He knows nothing in the world about the running, nor indeed does he care much about it, beyond the manner in which it may affect a chance he has in a “Derby Sweep.” But he thinks the fact of being seen there gives him a position in society, and he would not miss the races for any thing.
As the Gent who goes to the races is closely allied to the Gent we saw at the night taverns, we will describe him in the same fashion.
He buyeth a “D’Orsay blouse,” which he believeth to have been made under the Count’s own eye; a blue cravat, spotted with white wafers; a whip, and a pair of short patent boots, to produce an effect; in which he mounteth a “fast four-horse coach” from the “Garrick’s Head.” At the “Elephant and Castle,” being called “my noble sportsman” by the vender of the cards, he buyeth one, and conceiveth that he is taken for Lord Chesterfield. He asketh the vender, with a severe look, “if it is Dorling’s?” to show that he is “a downy cove,” and not to be done. He also hath a glass of pale ale. On Clapham Common he seeth a ladies’ school, and boweth to the tall pupil; whereupon the tall pupil receiveth a chiding from the English teacher for unseemly levity, and the tall pupil accuseth the half-boarder of being the true culprit. At Mitcham he hath another pale ale, and delighteth in being recognised by a man on a pony, whom he sayeth is “Bob Croft;” after which, he winketh or kisseth his hand to all the housemaids, who, on the Derby Day, invariably take two hours and a half to make the front-room bed; swinging his legs over the side seat of the roof, that his boots may dazzle the rustics. At Sutton he hath another pale ale. This fully openeth his heart, and he carolleth lustily until he reacheth the Downs, when he hopeth to be taken for one of the Guards. A gipsy woman telleth him that he hath a wicked eye, and that his company is agreeable to various female Christian names; whereon he giveth her a shilling and the tail of a lobster, the large claw of which he putteth to his nose, and in his imagination doeth the “fast thing.”
After the race (than which he sayeth he never saw a better, albeit he hath seen but few) he thinketh it “nobby” to throw at the sticks, and insisteth that the merchant do set up a bell, a feathered cock, and a pear that discourseth music most unhappily, by pulling out the stalk, and blowing through it. He seeth Lord ——, whom he knoweth by sight, next to him, laden with crockery, dogs, and Napoleons, pincushions, money-boxes, and soldiers in remarkable uniforms, partaking of the Grenadier’s, Highlander’s, and Turk’s; and he striveth to knock down more things than the patrician. But in this he faileth, and intruding on the other’s aim, is called a “snob,” which, in the kindness of his heart, he resenteth not, but carrieth his winnings in his hat back to the coach, after which he walketh about “to see the fine women.” Next he hath more lunch, until his heart openeth wider than ever, and he thinketh, “This is life rather; what a fast one I am, and can’t I do it when I choose! Hurrah!” He then challengeth strange men on the roofs of distant vehicles to take wine, because he knoweth “they are the right sort,” and finisheth by trying a hornpipe on the roof of his own, in all the enthusiasm of ale, sun, lobster salad, dust, champagne, and a post-horn.
Going home, his humour knoweth no bounds. He tieth his handkerchief to his stick for a flag, until he loseth his hat, when he tieth his handkerchief round his head. He sitteth on the post-horn, and causeth it to resemble a ram’s. He pelteth old gentlemen driving four-wheeled chaises with snuff-boxes, and distributeth pincushions to the domestics, breaking windows withal. He liketh to know who any one is who upsetteth him by offensive speech; and tumbleth to the ground at Sutton, where he wisheth for several pale ales while the coach stoppeth to cool the wheels, which follow the example of the passengers, and begin to smoke. Here he danceth a lively measure in the road before a landau, and smileth wickedly at the occupants. Getting troublesome, he is put in the inside, with the helper, the hamper, and the dirty plates, where he remaineth until he reacheth London, when he sayeth, “Let’s make a night of it.” But the manufacturing process is scarcely worthy the reader’s attention. The next day he sayeth, “I must dine at Berthollini’s for two months to come, and give up suppers.”
