PICCADILLY

A FRAGMENT OF CONTEMPORARY BIOGRAPHY

BY LAURENCE OLIPHANT

WITH EIGHT ILLUSTRATIONS BY RICHARD DOYLE

ELEVENTH EDITION

WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS
EDINBURGH AND LONDON
MDCCCXCII

This Work originally appeared in 'Blackwood's Magazine,' and has been since revised and altered by the Author.

"Faithful.—'I say, then, in answer to what Mr Envy hath spoken, I never said aught but this, That what rule, or laws, or customs, or people, were flat against the Word of God, are diametrically opposed to Christianity. If I have said amiss in this, convince me of my error, and I am ready here, before you all, to make my recantation.'"—Bunyan's 'Pilgrim's Progress.'

PREFACE.

Five years have elapsed since the following pages were penned, and periodically issued, under an impulse which seemed at the time irresistible. I found myself unable, by any conscious act of volition, to control either the plot or the style. Nor from my present point of view do I particularly admire either the one or the other. At the same time, I have reason to hope that the republication of this sketch now, with all its defects, is calculated to do more good than harm to the society it attempts to delineate.

This conviction must be my apology for again forcing upon the public a fragment so hostile to it in tone and spirit. I would reiterate the observation made elsewhere in the work, that none of the characters are intended to represent any members of society who were then, or are now, alive.

CONTENTS.

PREFACE.
PART I. LOVE
PART II. MADNESS
PART III. SUICIDE
PART IV. THE WORLD
PART V. THE FLESH
PART VI. THE "——"
CONCLUSION—MORAL

PICCADILLY.

PART I.

LOVE.

In a window, a few doors from Cambridge House, the following placard some time since invited, apparently without much effect, the notice of the passers-by,—"To let, this desirable family mansion," After a considerable period the "desirable family" seem to have been given up in despair, and the words vanished from the scene; but the board in the window, beginning "to let" remained, while the "mansion" itself was converted upon it into "unfurnished chambers."

As, in the words of that "humble companion," whose life was rendered a burden to her by my poor dear mother, "Money was not so much an object as a comfortable home," I did not hesitate to instal myself in the first floor, which possessed the advantage of a bay-window, with a double sash to keep out the noise, together with an extensive view of Green Park, and a sailor without legs perpetually drawing ships upon the opposite pavement, as a foreground. My friend Lord Grandon, who is an Irish peer with a limited income, took the floor above, as I was desirous of securing myself against thumping overhead; moreover, I am extremely fond of him. When I say that the position which I enjoy socially, is as well adapted for seeing life as the locality I selected for my residence, most of my more fashionable readers will intuitively discover who I am; fortunately, I have no cause to desire to maintain an incognito which would be impossible, though, perhaps, I ought to explain the motives which induce me now to bring myself even more prominently before the public than I have been in the habit of doing.

Sitting in my bay-window the other evening, and reading the 'History of Civilisation,' by my late lamented friend Mr Buckle, it occurred to me that I also would write a history of civilisation—after having seen the world, instead of before doing so, as was the case with that gifted philosopher. Having for many years past devoted myself to the study of my fellow-men in all countries, I thought the time had come when I could, with profit to myself and the world, give it the benefit of my extended experience and my quick observation. No sooner had I arrived at this determination, than with characteristic promptitude I proceeded to put it into execution; and singular though it may appear, it was not until then that I found myself quite incompetent to carry out the vast project I had undertaken. The reason was at once apparent—I had seen and thought too much; and was in the position which my predecessor had failed to reach, of experimentally discovering that the task was beyond the human power of accomplishment. Not easily vanquished, I then thought of subdividing it, and dealing exclusively with a single branch of civilisation. Mr Thomas Taylor Meadows, thought I, has written a very elaborate chapter upon the progress of civilisation as regarded from a Chinese point of view, why should not I look upon it from a purely Piccadillean?—so I immediately looked at it. The hour 11 P.M.; a long string of carriages advancing under my windows to Lady Palmerston's; rain pelting; horses with ears pressed back, wincing under the storm; coachmen and footmen presenting the crowns of their hats to it; streams running down their waterproofs, and causing them to glitter in the gaslight; now and then the flash of a jewel inside the carriages; nothing visible of the occupants but flounces surging up at the windows, as if they were made of some delicious creamy substance, and were going to overflow into the street; policemen in large capes, and if I may be allowed the expression, "helmetically" sealed from the wet, keeping order; draggled women on foot "moving" rapidly on. The fine ladies in their carriages moving on too—but not quite so fast.

This Piccadillean view of the progress of civilisation suggested to me many serious reflections; among others, that if I intended to go to