———— “If a better system’s thine,
Impart it freely, or make use of mine.”
Early in the career of the publication of Life in London, there seems to have been some adverse criticisms by at least a section of the Press on the slang of the Author; and the somewhat highly coloured and spicey Plates of the Brothers Cruikshank, as in Chapter VI., page 84, Part III., there is the following apology, or, explanation printed as a foot-note thus:—
—“I am aware that some of my readers of a higher class of society, may feel, or seem to think, that I have introduced a little too much of the slang; but I am anxious to render myself perfectly intelligible to all parties. Half the world are up to it; and it is my intention to make the other half down to it. Life in London demands this sort of demonstration. A kind of cant phraseology is current from one end of the Metropolis to the other: indeed, even in the time of Lord Chesterfield, he complained of it. In some females of the highest rank, it is as strongly marked, as in dingy draggled-tail Sall, who is compelled to dispose of a few sprats to turn an honest penny: and while the latter, in smacking her lips, talks of her prime jackey, an out-and-out concern, a bit of good truth, &c., the former, in her dislikes, tossing her head, observes, it was shocking, quite a bore, beastly, stuff, &c. The Duchess, at an Opera, informs the Countess of a ‘row’ which occurred on the last evening with as much sang-froid, as Carrotty Poll mentions to a Costardmonger the lark she was engaged in, at a gin-spinner’s, and, in being turned out of the panny, got her ogles taken measure of for a suit of mourning. Therefore, some allowance must be made for an author who is compelled to write under a subdued tone of expression—in order to keep his promise made to the public in the Prospectus issued by him prior to the publication of the work. In fact in many instances, the language of real Life is so very strong, coarse, and even disgusting, that, in consequence of keeping the above object in view, the points of many a rich scene are in great danger of being nearly frittered away; nay, of being almost reduced to tameness and insipidity. My ingenious friends, Robert and George Cruikshank, whose talents in representing “the living manners as they rise” stand unrivalled in this peculiar line, feel as strongly impressed with the value of delicacy as I do. But if some of the plates should appear rather warm, the purchaser of ‘Life in London’ may feel assured, that nothing is added to them tending to excite, but, on the contrary, they have most anxiously, on all occasions, given the preference rather to ‘extenuate’ than to ‘set down aught in malice.’ All the Plates are the exact representations, as they occurred of the various classes of society.”
The Prospectus alluded to at page xi., was after the following form.
—“The grand object of this Work is an attempt to portray what is termed ‘Seeing Life’ in all its various bearings upon Society; from the high mettled Corinthian of St. James’ swaddled in luxury, down to the needy Flue-Faker of Wapping, born without a shirt, and destitute of a bit of scran to allay his piteous cravings. ‘Life in London’ then, is the sport in view; and provided the Chase is turned to good account. ‘Seeing Life’ will be found to have its advantages. No leaning upon the elbows is necessary to imagine scenes, after the manner of the ‘Mysteries of Udolpho,’ neither has it been deemed expedient to have a fairy stationed upon a Lake, during the thunder and lightning of some dreadful night, in order to work up the mind of the Writer to depict what he has seen, with a touch of the terrific.
“The Designs have been sketched, as they occurred, and the Artists, in conjunction with the Writer, have booked the ‘Glowing Scene, fraught with fun, gaiety, style, anecdote, and character,’ at the moment it presented itself, and which, if once lost sight of, perhaps, could never have been retraced;—instead of trusting to their recollection at an after period, which has too often been the cause of giving a sort of insipidity and dulness, characterizing ‘STILL’ instead of the fire and animation that hovers over ‘Real’ LIFE.
“It will, also, be found that ‘Jerry’ had higher objects in view, than breaking a Watchman’s lantern, and agitating a tinkler to queer the Roosters, or, that his energies and talents existed only in a Row. It is not necessary, however, to dilate on the merits of a Work that affords such an inexhaustible scope, as ‘Life in London;’ neither, perhaps, is it too much to conclude, that it will be a production, at which the Grave may smile, the Gay feel delight, the Comical laugh heartily, and the Pathetic have occasion for a wipe. The Modest it is trusted, will not have occasion to turn aside with disgust, nor the Moralist to shut the book offended. The Corinthians likewise, will have no occasion to be ashamed to acknowledge ‘Tom’ as one of their party; the Universities not the slightest complaint to expel, or even rusticate ‘Bob Logic,’ nor the large Family of the Hawthorns to disown—poor Jerry, for his Sprees and Rambles in the Metropolis.”
During the periodic publication of Life in London it was generally supposed that the character-parts! of Tom, Jerry and Logic, were portraits of particular individuals, and there was much speculation and ink-slinging in respect to “Who is Who?” In the House of Lords it was whispered that the gallant and daring Tom represented his Grace the Duke of Wellington; Jerry, his Grace the Duke of Buckingham; and Logic, no less a personage than the Lord Chancellor. In the House of Commons it was said that Tom was intended for that worthy legal bibliophile, Mr. Butterworth, the pious member for Coventry; that Mr. Martin of Galway, pleaded guilty to Jerry; and the acute and knowing Mr. Hume sat for the all-awake leary Logic. On the other hand it was positively asserted at the West-end that Tom type-ified the elegant and spirited Colonel Berkeley; that the unsophisticated hopeful sprig of rurality, Jerry, was drawn, ad vivum, from Mr. Pea-Green Hayne,[11] while Logic absolutely personated that notorious modern Greek scholar, the learned, larking, laconic, Parson Colton.[12]