by R S Surtees
WASHING
country people take their cue a good deal from the Londoners, whose tariff may be gleaned from that of the Great Western Laundry at the Manor House, Paddington: —
These are often bones of contention in lodgings, the people of the house generally trying to put them upon the poor over-worked servant by whom they are sure to be wretchedly done while you are charged a price that ought to ensure a superior polish; 6d a day or 3s. 6d a week for boot cleaning and clothes brushing is what they usually try for, but 2d for boots and Id for shoes is the right thing. A prudent man will brush his own coat rather than let it descend to mop up the slops in the area and brought back “nicely folded,” which is generally all that is done. In bachelor’s lodgings boot-cleaning, &c., is very well managed by men who do it for the inmates of a certain number of houses. It is the family lodging-letters that always make the trouble and declare there is no one to be got. Lord Shaftesbury’s shoe-black brigade might be usefully extended to the lodging house streets; or it would be a good speculation for green-grocers (who are mostly old servants) to combine the business of valets. They should proclaim it in their windows, for the lodging-letters would never let their existence be known.
PLATE
as a rule is a purely imaginary article in London lodgings. Take up a dozen or two of forks and spoons with you, and be sure you take them back.
If you want more for any particular occasion you can hire them at Gunter’s or any of the large dinner-serving confectioners, who, indeed, will supply you with everything you need — plate, linen, china, glass, wine, dinner, dessert, waiters, guests and all, if you like. People in general, however, do not like lodging-house hospitality; and you had better make any return for what you receive by inviting your hosts to visit you in the country, the railways affording them the same facility of getting at you that they do you of getting at them. That is the true reciprocity system.
With regard to
RENT.
First, or drawing-room floors, are always the most expensive; though there is often little to choose in absolute comfort between a first floor and a second. Many people object to a second floor in lodgings who think nothing of climbing up to a third floor in a fashionable hotel. Remember, if you have noisy people in the house it is better to have them below than above. A second floor is preferable to the parlours or ground floor, as you have better air and less noise and dust.
Whatever rooms you take it may be well to stipulate that things are to remain as they are; or, on taking possession, you may find that the ornaments have taken flight, and druggets and chintzes covering the attractive carpets and chairs.
As there is always a final fight about dilapidation it may mitigate the severity of the engagement if, on entering, you point out and note the cracks, stains and repairs. We have heard of a skilfully mended, skilfully cushioned easy-chair that was a regular annuity to a lodging-house keeper — each fresh occupant of the rooms breaking it down almost immediately.
If on taking rooms the people ask you for a reference it gives you the opportunity of asking to see their last half-year’s rent and tax receipts, which will secure you against Doe and Roe taking liberties with your wardrobe. The deposit of a sovereign answers every purpose of a reference — though a cab-load of luggage is as good as either.
TERM OF TAKING.
It is not advisable to take lodgings for more than a week certain, though by taking them for a longer time you may get them a little cheaper. The best plan is to engage them with liberty to leave at the end of the week; but if you continue for, say, a month, to have them at something less. Reduce the bargain to writing as well as you can, and get the party to sign it. The following may be some assistance in drawing it out: —
“MADDOX STREET,
June 14th, 1851.
“I agree to let Mr Jolly Green my first and second floors with a servant’s bedroom above for one week from this date for £5, with the option of staying on for a month at the rate of £4, 10s. Od a week for the whole time. The above to include cooking, attendance, plate, bed and table linen (Mr Green paying for washing it), and kitchen fire; Mr Green paying 6d a day for sitting-room and 3d a day for bedroom fires when he has them.
(Signed) JOHN BADTOBIND.”
The sooner after taking you enter the better, as you will most likely say when you get the hotel bill. Forthwith write your new address in your pocket-book, so that, if you get your pocket picked, you may have a chance of getting the book at least back.
ENTERING.
We will now suppose you have effected an entry — got your trunks unpacked, and your hands washed with a piece of your own old Windsor soap instead of a piece of gingerbread-looking lodging-house stuff, charged fifty per cent profit. The latter reflection leads us to say the bane of lodgings is that the majority of letters want a profit upon everything you have — bread, meat, fish, cheese, butter, milk, vegetables; and will often change or spoil articles that are supplied by other than their own pliant trades-people. The best plan is to specify, when you take the rooms, that you mean to be supplied by your own tradesmen, and if there is any demur about it, have nothing to do with the lodgings.
Locking things up with lodging-house keys is quite a work of supererogation. The best plan is to convert a good strong railway box of your own into a temporary store-room.
Italian warehouses are a great convenience to country people in lodgings, as from them can be drawn at short notice an immense assortment of goods that formerly lay scattered through a varie y of shops. Fortnum & Mason, 181 Piccadilly, is perhaps the largest establishment of the sort in London, and the following list of things may be useful as a reference to heads distracted with the noise of travelling and the turmoil of London: —
Wines and spirits of all sorts, from a single bottle upwards. No reference is required; a note by post will in a few hours bring the things, which will not be left without the money. All large London tradesmen have vans constantly traversing the streets delivering goods.
LETTERS.
Having now a local habitation and a name, you can send or write to the Post Office for your letters. If they have been directed to —
“John Tomkinson, Esq.,
London,”
they will be sent out by the letter-carrier for delivery at the address with which you furnish the authorities, thus: —
“To the General Post Office, St Martin’s-le-Grand.
‘Please send my letters to No. — Cambridge Street, Hyde Park Square.’
John Tomkinson.”
If they are directed to —
“John Tomkinson, Esq., Post Office, London,” they will be delivered between the hours of 10 A.M. and 4 P.M. at the window of the office in St Martin’s-le-Grand; but the former is the simpler way, and effected by a note through the nearest Post Office to your lodgings.
There are ten deliveries of letters daily in London.
We will now proceed to the subject of eatables: —
BUTCHER MEAT.
The following were the prices as furnished by an ordinary west-end butcher last summer (1851):-
POULTRY
is about double the price in London that it is in the country, therefore you had better lay off poultry until your return, or have your own up by goods train which is very cheap carriage.
FISH.
Every locality has its two or three fishmongers, who send in their bills of fare of each day with prices attached. Fish is excellent in London; and if the lodging-house fishmonger does not supply you, well there are plenty who will.
BUTTER, CREAM AND EGGS
are to be had as good in London as anywhere else.
FRUIT AND VEGETABLES
will be got at the nearest green-grocer’s; and as there is abundant competition you can change as often as you like till you get a shop to suit. It is well to pay all the tradesmen a visit.
Get in your bills the day before the expiration of the week; this will enable you to judge the style of the people with whom y
ou are lodging; and if you resolve upon leaving be prepared to go out by 12 o’clock, or they may charge you for the full day, or perhaps raise a question whether you are not bound to stay another week, though we believe the law is that when lodgings are taken for a term certain, no notice is necessary, the tenancy expiring with the term. You will do well, however, not to try the point.
Anticipating your departure, we may here say that it is usual to give the poor servants of the house something, and it is desirable to give it to them personally. They are generally terribly overworked and wretchedly paid. The amount must depend upon the length of time you have been there, the trouble you have given and the disposition they have shown to oblige. Any master or mistress can judge for what wage they can get such a servant by the year, and calculate accordingly.
CHAPTER III.
MAP OF LONDON — SOCIETY, SIGHT-SEEING, &C. JOB BROUGHAMS — FOOTMEN — COUNTRY SERVANTS — HACK HORSES — BOX OF AN OMNIBUS — RIVER STEAMERS — A FISH DINNER — CHOP HOUSES — SHOPPING — LADIES’ SHOPPING — MILLINERS — LACE — DUFFERS — TICKETING SHOPS — FOR TOYS — HAIRDRESSERS — MAN’S SHOPPING — CARRIAGE BUYING — COPERS OR HORSE CHAUNTERS — TATTERS ALL’S — MOCK AUCTIONS — REGULAR AUCTIONS — MEDICAL ADVICE — WALKING THE STREETS.
HAVING NOW GIVEN the best directions we can to guide you in the lottery of lodging-taking, we will suppose you sallying forth in quest of amusement. First buy a MAP OF LONDON; and, as showing the universal tendency to cheapness, we may mention that maps which fifteen or twenty years ago could not be had under 2s or 3s may now be had at almost any price from a halfpenny upwards. A 6d one without a back or case will best answer your purpose and not take up too much room.
SOCIETY, SIGHT-SEEING, ETC.
It would not do in a work calculated to be read during the limits of a railway ride, to say much on society or the sights of London. Outdoor sight-seeing is the best, and that society pleasantest which involves neither trouble nor obligation.
Passing by Her Majesty’s Balls as out of our reach, we come to Almack’s, held weekly during the full season at Willis’s Rooms in King Street, St James’s. These are presided over by certain ladies of rank with some one or other of whom an applicant must be personally acquainted; a note requesting admissions for so many persons, naming them, is addressed to the Lady Patroness and left with Mr Willis; this will either procure tickets or it will not (most likely not) on the Wednesday. These balls are in sets of three each, called subscriptions, admission to the three, one guinea each person; but parties merely wishing to see the style of thing had better apply for single tickets, which are charged half-a-guinea each, as a lady patroness, especially about election times, might be able to accommodate them with tickets for one night, and yet not be able to give them a subscription.
The time, however, is now come, we think, when Mr Willis “with his accurate knowledge of London, aided by ‘Who’s Who’ and similar publications, might organise open balls accessible by payment at the door, either having a master of ceremonies to introduce people, or leaving it to chance, as it is at Almack’s, for acquaintances to meet and arrange partners. His rooms will not hold above a certain number, and if double that number want admission to Almack’s it stands to reason that half the applicants must be disappointed, while sometimes the lateness of the hour at which you learn whether you are to receive tickets or not greatly mars the pleasure of the thing.
Thousands would go to open balls who object to the trouble of seeking, or laying themselves under obligations for tickets. Why should not the great London clubs patronise a ball apiece dining the season at Willis’s? Or, better still, give them in their fine over-furnished drawingrooms?
The Caledonian and other large charity balls are conducted on the compression principle, the rooms being made to hold double the number that can dance. Few, with a guinea to spare, need have any difficulty in getting vouchers for tickets from any lady patroness (lists of whom are published in all the papers), who may never have heard of them, or of any one belonging to them.
Invitations to private balls, of course, can only be obtained through the medium of a mutual friend, or previous acquaintance with the giver.
Dinner-parties — set dinner-parties at least — do not pay. They spoil your day, and according to the present absurd forms of society, no introductions and no asking to take wine, people return pretty much as they go. Balls are far better things.
The Opera or the Exhibition of pictures is the safest conversational ice-breaker with a stranger on the solemn occasion of a set dinner-party.
Do not persecute your local M.P.s. They have enough to do without entertaining their constituents in London. Do not make pleasure calls before three or four o’clock in the afternoon. If you wish your call to be returned be careful to leave your address as well as your name.
Kensington Gardens on band days is one of the most enjoyable places in fine weather. Richmond, by water, is another. The Chiswick and Regent’s Park Horticultural fêtes throw all country flower-shows far into the shade. Keep to the great sights and shows; the little ones are only for people who have exhausted the large ones, or who go for the sake of saying they have been there.
The Stranger’s Column in the Morning Post indicates everything that is going on, and tells how to get tickets, &c. The neighbouring newsman will supply any paper at your own time for a penny an hour.
We will next address ourselves to London locomotion.
JOB BROUGHAMS
are among the modern luxuries of railway introduction. Formerly there was no choice between a hackney coach and a glass coach which might be merely a hackney with the plate taken off, and these could often only be had by the day. Now people can get neat one-horse vehicles for an hour, or for as much longer as they wish. The charge for the first hour is generally 3s with, say, Is for the driver, and 2s. 6d for each subsequent hour, when the fee to the driver generally falls to the uniform rate of 6d an hour. To prevent wrangling, however, go to a respectable job-master and get him to charge for the driver in the bill; which, we may observe, you will perhaps have some difficulty in doing as the men object to it, hoping of course to get more from you. As there are always equipages of various degrees of merit, it is well to bespeak one overnight if you want a brougham or clarence for the day. In hiring for a day, compare your ideas of a day with the job-master’s, or you may find that two of his days go into one of yours. The best vehicles are generally jobbed by the month, but you will be more independent, and perhaps come off more cheaply if you just hire them when you want them. A shilling or two to the ostler or head man of the yard may not be thrown away in procuring you a respectable turn-out.
All job-masters will do well to remember that, as neatness and utility are the only recommendations of broughams, there is little to choose between a dirty job brougham and one off the stand.
The drivers are usually the weak part of these vehicles. They are mostly men vacillating between gentlemen’s service and the cab-stand — and our readers will know what to expect of men in that transition state. We once suggested to a job-master whose carriages were otherwise unexceptionable, the propriety of having a plain undress livery for the driver, and were told that he had tried it, and what with their bolting with, or pawning, the clothes, the system had been found perfectly impracticable. Finding themselves in clothes the men are often sad guys — a sort of mixture of groom, gardener and gamekeeper. Some of them are so nearly ready for the cab-stand that they cut through all the back streets and places to save distance, whereas a stranger wants to see as much of the best parts of London as he can. If you find you have got a genius of this sort, stop him and tell him the way you want to go; and make him drive at a moderate pace instead of scuttling along as if he were going to catch a railway train.
A sort of hybrid cab haunts the Euston and other hotels, neither street cab nor brougham, but combining the disadvantages of both. A friend of ours, wanting to summons the ragged-coated driver of one of them found it had neither n
ame nor number, and was told by the ruffian that his name was “We R.,” pointing to a hiero-glyphieal “V.R.” on his panel. The proprietors of these hotels do their best to protect the public against these impostors; and We R, on being reported, was immediately dismissed; but we may suggest that it would be a great convenience to strangers if the cab-fare were charged in the hotel bill. Of course it would be well for the party to make the driver admit being paid before starting. Street hansoms with the driver stuck up behind, and close cabs or broughams, are the same price, viz eightpence a mile, nominally; but as much more as the drivers can extort, in reality.
We wonder cab-drivers do not find out that their ruffianly misconduct drives people into the omnibuses. We never get into a street cab by any chance if we can help it. A friend of ours when, in a passage of politeness with a cabman, he receives the usual assurance that he is “no gen’leman,” replies “Perhaps, sir, you are no judge.” You had better put up with a slight overcharge than employ Mr Mogg to measure the distance, as his “trifle” for doing it will by some be thought a good deal. A gross case will speak for itself. At the same time the public is much indebted to gentlemen who will take the trouble of curbing the lawlessness of these fellows. The magistrates, we are glad to see, show every disposition to assist.
It is a singular fact; but there is scarcely to be jobbed in London such a thing as a decent open carriage in which an invalid can take the air. Some coachmakers will accommodate you with them for a month or so, when perhaps you only want them for a day or two. Why should there not be stands for open vehicles such as they have at Brighton, Leamington and all the large watering-places, in the neighbourhood of the parks, in which parties may drive; if not in the parks, at all events into the suburbs for a mouthful of fresh air? But this is leading us to “fresh fields and pastures new”; our business is with the great Metropolis.
