Where now are the Pewter Pots, and the pot boy with his strap of “pewters?”—we would have to search for them now. Long
cut glasses have taken their place. Where, too, is the invariable Porter, drunk almost exclusively in Pickwick? Bass had not then made its great name. There is no mention of Billiard tables, but much about Skittles and Bagatelle, which were the pastimes at Taverns.
Then the Warming Pan! Who now “does trouble himself about the Warming Pan?”—which is yet “a harmless necessary and I will add a comforting article of domestic furniture.” Observe necessary, as though every family had it as an article of their “domestic furniture.” It is odd to think of Mary going round all the beds in the house, and deftly introducing this “article” between the sheets. Or was it only for the old people: or in chilly weather merely? On these points we must be unsatisfied. The practice, however, points to a certain effeminacy—the average person of our day would not care to have his bed so treated—with invalids the “Hot Water Bottle” has
“usurped its place.” We find this superannuated instrument in the “antique” dealers’ shops, at a good figure—a quaint old world thing, of a sort of old-fashioned cut and pattern. There only do people appear to trouble themselves about it.
“Chops and tomato sauce.” This too is superannuated also. A more correct taste is now chops au naturel, and relying on their own natural juices; but we have cutlets, with tomatos.
Again, are little boys no longer clad in “a tight suit of corduroy, spangled with brass buttons of very considerable size:” indeed corduroy is seldom seen save on the figures of some chic ladies. And how fortunate to live in days when a smart valet could be secured for twelve pounds a year, and two suits; [24] and not less.
Surprising too was the valet’s accustomed dress. “A grey coat, a black hat, with a
cockade on it, a pink striped waistcoat, light breeches and gaiters.” What too were “bright basket buttons” on a brown coat? Fancy Balls too, like Mrs. Leo Hunter’s, were given in the daytime, and caused no astonishment. Nor have we lodging-houses with beds on the “twopenny rope” principle. There are no “dry arches” of Waterloo Bridge: though here I suspect Boz was confounding them with those of the Adelphi.
Gone too are the simple games of childhood. Marbles for instance. We recall Serjeant Buzfuz’s pathetic allusion to little Bardell’s “Alley Tors and Commoneys; the long familiar cry of ‘knuckle down’ is neglected.” Who sees a boy playing marbles now in the street or elsewhere? Mr. Lang in his edition gives us no lore about this point. “Alley Tors” was short for “Alabaster,” the material of which the best marbles were made.
“Tor” however, is usually spelt “Taw.” “Commoneys” were the inferior or