April 28th.
Never did I see or hear less of a play than this evening, and yet I must confess never did one appear to me shorter. Spite of the presence of a ‘gouvernante,’ and a visit from Mr. Kemble between the acts, there was scarcely a pause in our conversation, which so many reminiscences of home rendered doubly interesting.
This agreeable ‘excitement,’ too, lasted, on my side, during the ball which followed at the fashionable Lady Tankerville’s; for I felt less ‘ennuyé’ than usual at these heartless wooden parties. Forgive me if I write only these few words, for Helios is leaving his bed, and I must go to mine.
April 29th.
Everything here is in colossal dimensions, even the workshop of my tailor, which is like a manufactory. You go to ask about the fate of a coat you have ordered; you find yourself surrounded by hundreds of bales of cloth; and as many workmen;—a secretary appears with great formality; and politely asks the day on which it was ordered. As soon as you have told him, he makes a sign for two folios to be brought, in which he pores for a short time. “Sir,” is at last the answer, “to-morrow at twenty minutes past eleven the ‘frac’ will be so far advanced that you can try it on in the dressing-room.” There are several of these rooms, decorated with large looking-glasses and ‘Psyches,’ continually occupied by fitters, where the wealthy tailor in person makes a dozen alterations without ever betraying the least impatience or ill-humour.
As soon as justice was done to the ‘frac,’ I continued my walk, and came to a butcher’s shop; where not only are the most beautiful garlands, pyramids, and other fanciful forms constructed of raw meat, and elegant vessels filled with ice give out the most delightful coolness, but a play-bill hangs behind every leg of mutton, and the favourite newspapers lie on the polished tables.
A few houses further on, a dealer in sea-monsters competes with him, and sits, like King Fish in the fairy tale, between the marble and the fountain. He would however find it difficult to rival his celebrated colleague Crockford, who understands how to catch something better than common fish.
This person is a man of genius, who has raised himself from the estate of a poor fishmonger, to that of the scourge, and at the same time the favourite, of the rich and fashionable world. He is a gambler, who has won millions,[86] and with them has built a gaming palace on the plan of the ‘salons’ at Paris, but with a truly Asiatic splendour almost surpassing that of royalty. Everything is in the now revived taste of the time of Louis the Fourteenth; decorated with tasteless excrescences, excess of gilding, confused mixture of stucco painting, &c.,—a turn of fashion very consistent in a country where the nobility grows more and more like that of the time of Louis the Fourteenth.
Crockford’s cook is the celebrated Ude, practically and theoretically the best in Europe. The table and attendance are in the highest perfection, combined with ‘un jeu d’enfer,’ at which twenty thousand pounds and more has often been lost in one evening, by one man. The company forms a club; admission is very difficult to obtain; and although games at hazard are illegal in England, most of the Ministers are members, and the Duke of Wellington, the Premier, one of the managers of this gaming club.
May 2nd.