31 Prick bills—at Christ Church, junior students who prick with a pin the names of those gentlemen who are at chapel. Immediately after the service, the bills, with the noblemen and gentlemen commoners' names, are taken to the dean; those with the students and commoners' names, to the acting censor for the week; and the bachelors' bills to the sub-dean, who generally inform the prick bills what impositions shall be set those gentlemen who absented themselves from chapel: these are written upon strips of paper and carried to the gentlemen by the prick bill's scouts.

Copy of an original imposition.

"Sp 259 particular M M C. P. B."—Signifies translate No. 259 Spectator to the word "particular" by Monday morning at chapel time.—Prick bill.



THE EXCURSION TO BAGLEY WOOD.

Oxford Scholars and Oxford Livery Men—How to insure a good Horse and prevent Accidents—Description of Bagley Wood—A Freshman breaking cover—Interview with the Egyptian— Secrets of Futurity unveiled—Abingdon Beauties—Singular Anecdote and History of Mother Goose.

~157~~ The ride to Bagley Wood introduced me to some new features of a college life, not the least entertaining of which was the dialogue before starting between my friend Eglantine, the livery-stable keeper, and his man, where we went to engage the horses.

Eglan. (to the ostler) Well, Dick, what sort of a stud, hey? any thing rum, a ginger or a miller, three legs or five, got by Whirlwind out of Skyscraper? Come, fig out two lively ones.

Dick. I mun see measter first, zur, before I lets any gentleman take a nag out o' yard. It's more as my place is worth to act otherwise.

Eglan. What coming Tip-street over us, hey, Dick? ~158~~ frisking the freshman here, old fellow? (pointing to me). It won't do—no go, Dick—he's my friend, a cawker to be sure, but must not stand Sam to an Oxford raff, or a Yorkshire Johnny Raw.

Dick. I axes pardon, zur. I didna mean any such thing, but ever since you rode the grey tit last, she's never been out o' stall.

Eglan. Not surprised at that, Dick. Never crossed a greater slug in my life—She's only fit to carry a dean or a bishop—No go in her.

Dick. No, zur, measter zays as how you took it all out on her.

Eglan. Why, I did give her a winder, Dick, to be sure, only one day's hunting, though, a good hard run over Somerset range, not above sixty miles out and home.

Dick. Ay, I thought as how you'd been in some break-neck tumble-down country, zur, for Tit's knuckels showed she'd had a somerset or two.

Eglan. Well, blister the mare, Dick! there's half a bull for your trouble: now put us on the right scent for a good one: any thing young and fresh, sprightly and shewy?

Dick. Why, there be such a one to be zure, zur, but you munna split on me, or I shall get the zack for telling on ye. If you'll sken yon stable at end o' the yard, there be two prime tits just com'd in from Abingdon fair, thorough-bred and devils to go, but measter won't let 'em out.

Eglan. Won't he? here he comes, and we'll try what a little persuasion will do. (Enter Livery Man.) Well, old fellow, I've brought you a new friend, Blackmantle of Brazennose: what sort of praxis can you give us for a trot to Bagley Wood, a short ride for something shewy to lionise a bit?

Livery M. Nothing new, sir, and you know all the stud pretty well (knowingly). Suppose you try the grey mare you rode t'other day, and I'll find a quiet one for your friend.

~159~~ Eglan. If I do, I am a black horse. She's no paces, nothing but a shuffle, not a leg to stand on.

Livery M. Every one as good as the principal of All-Souls. Not a better bred thing in Oxford, and all horses here gallop by instinct, as every body knows, but they can't go for ever, and when gentlemen ride steeple chases of sixty miles or more right a-head, they ought to find their own horse-flesh.

Eglan. What coming crabb over us, old fellow, hey 1 Very well, I shall bolt and try Randall, and that's all about it. Come along, Blackmantle.

My friend's threat of withdrawing his patronage had immediately the desired effect. Horace's judgment in horse-flesh was universally admitted, and the knowing dealer, although he had suffered in one instance by hard riding, yet deeply calculated on retrieving his loss by some unsuspecting Freshman, or other university Nimrod in the circle of Eglantine's acquaintance. By this time Echo had arrived, and we were soon mounted on the two fresh purchases which the honest Yorkshireman had so disinterestedly pointed out; and which, to do him justice, deserved the eulogium he had given us on their merits. One circumstance must not however be forgotten, which was the following notice posted at the end of the yard. "To prevent accidents, gentlemen pay before mounting." "How the deuce can this practice of paying beforehand prevent accidents?" said I. "You're fresh, old fellow," said Echo, "or you'd understand after a man breaks his neck he fears no duns. Now you know by accident what old Humanity there means."

Bagley is about two miles and a half from Oxford on the Abingdon road, an exceedingly pleasant ride, leaving the sacred city and passing over the old bridge where formerly was situated the study or observatory of the celebrated Friar Bacon. Not an object in the shape of a petticoat escaped some raillery, and scarcely 160~~ a town raff but what met with a corresponding display of university wit, and called forth many a cutting joke: the place itself is an extensive wood on the summit of a hill, which commands a glorious panoramic view of Oxford and the surrounding country richly diversified in hill and dale, and sacred spires shooting their varied forms on high above the domes, and minarets, and towers of Rhedycina. This spot, the favourite haunt of the Oxonians, is covered for many miles with the most luxuriant foliage, affording the cool retreat, the love embowered shades, over which Prudence spreads the friendly veil. Here many an amorous couple have in softest dalliance met, and sighed, and frolicked, free from suspicion's eye beneath the broad umbrageous canopy of Nature; here too is the favourite retreat of the devotees of Cypriani, the spicy grove of assignations where the velvet sleeves of the Proctor never shake with terror in the wind, and the savage form of the university bull dog is unknown.

A party of wandering English Arabs had pitched their tents on the brow of the hill just under the first cluster of trees, and materially increased the romantic appearance of the scene. The group consisted of men, women, and children, a tilted cart with two or three asses, and a lurcher who announced our approach. My companions were, I soon found, well known to the females, who familiarly approached our party, while the male animals as condescendingly betook themselves into the recesses of the wood. "Black Nan," said Echo, "and her daughter, the gypsy beauty, the Bagley brunette."—"Shall I tell your honour's fortune?" said the elder of the two, approaching me; while Eglantine, who had already dismounted and given his horse to one of the brown urchins of the party, had encircled the waist of the younger sibyl, and was tickling her into a trot in an opposite direction. "Ay do, Nan," 161~ said Echo, "cast his nativity, open the book of fate, and tell the boy his future destiny." It would be the height of absurdity to repeat half the nonsense this oracle of Bagley uttered relative to my future fortunes; but with the cunning peculiar to her cast, she discovered I was fresh, and what tormented me more, (although on her part it was no doubt accidental) alluded to an amour in which my heart was much interested with a little divinity in the neighbourhood of Eton. This hint was sufficient to give Tom his cue, and I was doomed to be pestered for the remainder of the day with questions and raillery on my progress in the court of Love. On our quitting the old gypsy woman, a pair of buxom damsels came in sight, advancing from the Abingdon road; they were no doubt like ourselves, I thought, come to consult the oracle of Bagley, or, perhaps, were the daughters of some respectable farmer who owned the adjoining land. All these doubts were, however, of short duration; for Tom Echo no sooner caught sight of their faces, than away he bounded towards them like a young colt in all the frolic of untamed playfulness, and before I could reach him, one of the ladies was rolling on the green carpet of luxuriant Nature. In the deep bosom of Bagley Wood, impervious to the eye of authority, many a sportive scene occurs which would alarm the ethics of the solemn sages of the cloistered college. They were, I discovered, sisters, too early abandoned by an unfeeling parent to poverty, and thus became an easy prey to the licentious and the giddy, who, in the pursuit of pleasure, never contemplate the attendant misery which is sure to follow the victim of seduction. There was something romantic in their story: they were daughters of the celebrated Mother Goose, whose person must have been familiar to every Oxonian for the last sixty years prior to her decease, which occurred but a short time since Of ~162~~ this woman's history I have since gleaned some curious particulars, the most remarkable of which (contained in the annexed note) have been authenticated by living witnesses.{1} Her portrait, by a member of All Souls, is admirable, and is here faithfully copied.



1 "Mother Goose," formerly a procuress, and one of the most abandoned of her profession. When from her advanced age, and the loss of her eye-sight, she could no longer obtain money by seducing females from the path of virtue, she married a man of the name of H., (commonly called Gentleman H.) and for years was led by him to the students' apartments in the different colleges with baskets of the choicest flowers. Her ancient, clean, and neat appearance, her singular address, and, above all, the circumstance of her being blind, never failed of procuring her at least ten times the price of her posy, and which was frequently doubled when she informed the young gentlemen of the generosity, benevolence, and charity of their grandfathers, fathers, or uncles whom she knew when they were at college. She had several illegitimate children, all females, and all were sacrificed by their unnatural mother, except one, who was taken away from her at a very tender age by the child's father's parents. When of age, this child inherited her father's property, and is now (I believe) the wife of an Irish nobleman, and to this time is unconscious that Mother Goose, of Oxford, gave her birth. The person who was instrumental in removing the child is still living in Oxford, and will testify to the authenticity of the fact here related. His present majesty never passed through Oxford without presenting Mother Goose with a donation, but of course without knowing her early history.

~163~~

Having, as Echo expressed it, now broke cover, and being advanced one step in the study of the fathers, we prepared to quit the Abingdon fair and rural shades of Bagley on our return to Oxford, something lighter in pocket, and a little too in morality. We raced the whole of the distance home, to the great peril of several groups of town raff whom we passed in our way. On our arrival my friends had each certain lectures to attend, or college duties to perform. An idle Freshman, there was yet three hours good before the invitation to the spread, and as kind fortune willed it to amuse the time, a packet arrived from Horatio Heartley. He had been spending the winter in town with his aunt, Lady Mary Oldstyle, and had, with his usual tact, been sketching the varied groups which form the circle of fashionable life. It was part of the agreement between us, when leaving each other at Eton, that we should thus communicate the characteristic traits of the society we were about to amalgamate with. He has, in the phraseology of the day, just come out, and certainly appears to have made the best use of his time.



KENSINGTON GARDENS—SUNDAY EVENING.

Singularities of 1824.



~164~~

WESTERN ENTRANCE INTO THE METROPOLIS;

A DESCRIPTIVE SKETCH.

General Views of the Author relative to Subject and Style— Time and Place—Perspective Glimpse of the great City—The Approach—Cockney Salutations—The Toll House—Western Entrance to Cockney Land—Hyde Park—Sunday Noon— Sketches of Character, Costume, and Scenery—The Ride and Drive—Kensington Gardens—Belles and Beaux—Stars and Fallen Stars—Singularities of 1824—Tales of Ton—On Dits and Anecdotes—Sunday Evening—High Life and Low Life, the Contrast—Cockney Goths—Notes, Biographical, Amorous, and Exquisite.



Its wealth and fashion, wit and folly, Pleasures, whims, and melancholy: Of all the charming belles and beaux Who line the parks, in double rows; Of princes, peers, their equipage, The splendour of the present age; Of west-end fops, and crusty cits, Who drive their gigs, or sport their tits; With all the groups we mean to dash on Who form the busy world of fashion: Proceeding onwards to the city, With sketches, humorous and witty. The man of business, and the Change, Will come within our satire's range: Nor rank, nor order, nor condition, Imperial, lowly, or patrician, Shall, when they see this volume, cry— "The satirist has pass'd us by," But with good humour view our page Depict the manners of the age. Our style shall, like our subject, be Distinguished by variety; Familiar, brief we could say too— (It shall be whimsical and new), But reader that we leave to you.

'Twas morn, the genial sun of May O'er nature spread a cheerful ray, When Cockney Land, clothed in her best, We saw, approaching from the west, And 'mid her steeples straight and tall Espied the dome of famed St. Paul, Surrounded with a cloud of smoke From many a kitchen chimney broke; A nuisance since consumed below By bill of Michael Angelo.{1} The coach o'er stones was heard to rattle,

1 M. A. Taylor's act for compelling all large factories, which have steam and other apparatus, to consume their own smoke.

~166~~

The guard his bugle tuned for battle, The horses snorted with delight, As Piccadilly came in sight. On either side the road was lined With vehicles of ev'ry kind, And as the rapid wheel went round, There seem'd scarce room to clear the ground. "Gate-gate-push on—how do—well met— Pull up—my tits are on the fret— The number—lost it—tip then straight, That covey vants to bilk the gate." The toll-house welcome this to town. Your prime, flash, bang up, fly, or down, A tidy team of prads,—your castor's Quite a Joliffe tile,—my master. Thus buck and coachee greet each other, And seem familiar as a brother. No Chinese wall, or rude barrier, Obstructs the view, or entrance here; Nor fee or passport,—save the warder, Who draws to keep the roads in order; No questions ask'd, but all that please May pass and repass at their ease.

In cockney land, the seventh day Is famous for a grand display Of modes, of finery, and dress, Of cit, west-ender, and noblesse, Who in Hyde Park crowd like a fair To stare, and lounge, and take the air, Or ride or drive, or walk, and chat On fashions, scandal, and all that.— Here, reader, with your leave, will we Commence our London history. 'Twas Sunday, and the park was full With Mistress, John, and Master Bull, And all their little fry. The crowd pour in from all approaches, Tilb'ries, dennets, gigs, and coaches;

~167~~

The bells rung merrily. Old dowagers, their fubsy faces{2} Painted to eclipse the Graces, Pop their noddles out Of some old family affair That's neither chariot, coach, or chair, Well known at ev'ry rout. But bless me, who's that coach and six? "That, sir, is Mister Billy Wicks, A great light o' the city, Tallow-chandler, and lord mayor{3}; Miss Flambeau Wicks's are the fair, Who're drest so very pretty. It's only for a year you know He keeps up such a flashy show; And then he's melted down. The man upon that half-starved nag{4} Is an Ex-S———ff, a strange wag, Half flash, and half a clown. But see with artful lures and wiles The Paphian goddess, Mrs. G***s,{5}

2 There are from twenty to thirty of these well known relics of antiquity who regularly frequent the park, and attend all the fashionable routs,—perfumed and painted with the utmost extravagance: if the wind sets in your face, they may be scented at least a dozen carriages off.

3 It is really ludicrous to observe the ridiculous pride of some of these ephemeral things;—during their mayoralty, the gaudy city vehicle with four richly caparisoned horses is constantly in the drive, with six or eight persons crammed into it like a family waggon, and bedizened out in all the colours of the rainbow;—ask for them six months after, and you shall find them more suitably employed, packing rags, oranges, or red herrings.

4 This man is such a strange compound of folly and eccentricity, that he is eternally in hot water with some one or other.

5 Mrs. Fanny G-1-s, the ci-devant wife of a corn merchant, a celebrated courtezan, who sports a splendid equipage, and has long figured upon town as a star of the first order in the Cyprian hemisphere. She has some excellent qualities, as poor M————-n can vouch; for when the fickle goddess Fortune left him in the lurch, she has a handsome annuity from a sporting peer, who was once the favoured swain.

~168~~

From out her carriage peeps; She nods to am'rous Mrs. D——-,{6} Who bends with most sublime congee, While ruin'd—————-sleeps. Who follows 1 'tis the hopeful son Of the proud Earl of H—————-n, Who stole the parson's wife.{7} The Earl of H—————-and flame, For cabriolets she's the dame,{8} A dasher, on my life. Jack T——-1 shows his pleasant face{9}; A royal likeness here you'll trace, You'd swear he was a Guelph. See Lady Mary's U———walk,{10} And though but aide-de-camp to York, An Adonis with himself,

6 Mrs. D————-, alias Mrs. B-k-y, alias Miss Montague, the wife of poor Jem B-k-y, the greater his misfortune,—a well known Paphian queen, one of five sisters, who are all equally notorious, and whose history is well known. She is now the favoured sultana of a ci-devant banker, whose name she assumes, to the disgrace of himself and family.

7 The clerical cornuto recovered, in a crim. con. action, four thousand pounds for the loss of his frail rib, from this hopeful sprig of nobility.

8 Mrs. S———, a most voluptuous lady, the discarded chere amie of the late Lord F-1-d, said to be the best carriage woman in the park: she lies in the Earl of H———- —'s cabriolet most delightfully stretched out at full length, and in this elegant posture is driven through the park.

9 Captain T———l of the guards, whose powerful similitude to the reigning family of England is not more generally admitted than his good-humoured qualities are universally admired.

10 The Hon. General U————-, aide-de-camp to the Duke of York, whose intrigue with Lady Mary——————was, we have heard, a planned affair to entrap a very different person. Be that as it may, it answered the purpose, and did not disturb the friendship of the parties. The honourable general has obtained the appellation of the Park Adonis, from his attractive figure and known gallantries.

~169~~

A—————-y mark, a batter'd beau,{11} Who'll still the fatal dice-box throw Till not a guinea's left. Beyond's the brothers B——-e,{12} Of gold and acres quite as free, By gaming too bereft. Here trips commercial dandy Ra-k-s,{13}

11 Lord A———y, the babe of honour—once the gayest of the gay, where fashion holds her bright enchanting court; now wrinkled and depressed, and plucked of every feather, by merciless Greek banditti. Such is the infatuation of play, that he still continues to linger round the fatal table, and finds a pleasure in recounting his enormous losses. A—-y, who is certainly one of the most polished men in the world, was the leader of the dandy club, or the unique four, composed of Beau Brummell, Sir Henry Mildmay, and Henry Pierrepoint, the Ambassador, as he is generally termed. When the celebrated dandy ball was given to his Majesty (then Prince of Wales), on that occasion the prince seemed disposed to cut Brummell, who, in revenge, coolly observed to A———y, when he was gone,—"Big Ben was vulgar as usual." This was reported at Carlton House, and led to the disgrace of the exquisite.—Shortly afterwards he met the Prince and A———y in public, arm in arm, when the former, desirous of avoiding him, quitted the baron: Brummell, who observed his motive, said loud enough to be heard by the prince,—"Who is that fat friend of yours?" This expression sealed his doom; he was never afterwards permitted the honour of meeting the parties at the palace. The story of "George, ring the bell," and the reported conduct of the prince, who is said to have obeyed the request and ordered Mr. Brummell's carriage, is, we have strong reasons for thinking, altogether a fiction: Brummell knew the dignity of his host too well to have dared such an insult. The king since generously sent him 300L. when he heard of his distress at Calais. Brummell was the son of a tavern-keeper in St. James's, and is still living at Calais.

12 The brothers are part of a flock of R———r geese, who have afforded fine plucking for the Greeks. Parson Ambrose, the high priest of Pandemonium, had a leg of one and a wing of the other devilled for supper one night at the Gothic Hall. They have cut but a lame figure ever since.

13 A quaint cognomen given to the city banker by the west- end beaux;—he is a very amiable man.

~170~~

Who never plays for heavy stakes, But looks to the main chance. There's Georgy W-b-ll, all the go,{14} The mould of fashion,—the court beau, Since Brummell fled to France: His bright brass harness, and the gray, The well known black cabriolet, Is always latest there; The reason,—George, with Captain P——— The lady-killing coterie, Come late—to catch the fair. See W-s-r, who with pious love,{15} For her, who's sainted now above, A sister kindly takes; So, as the ancient proverb tells, "The best of husbands, modern belles, Are your reformed rakes." In splendid mis'ry down the ride Alone,—see ****** lady glide,{16} Neglected for a————. What's fame, or titles, wealth's increase, Compared unto the bosom's peace? They're bubbles,—nothing more.

14 George, although a roue of the most superlative order, is not deficient in good sense and agreeable qualifications. Since poor Beau Brummell's removal from the hemisphere of fashion, George has certainly shone a planet of the first magnitude: among the fair he is also considered like his friend, Captain P-r-y, a perfect lady-killer:—many a little milliner's girl has had cause to regret the seductive notes of A.Z.B. Limmer's Hotel.

15 The Marquis of W-c-t-r has, since his first wife's death, married her sister.—Reformation, we are happy to perceive, is the order of the day. The failure of Howard and Gibbs involved more than one noble family in embarrassments.

16 The amours of this child of fortune are notorious both on the continent and in this country. It is very often the misfortune of great men to be degraded by great profligacy of conduct: the poor lady is a suffering angel.

~171~~

Observe yon graceful modest group{17} Who look like chaste Diana's troop, The Ladies Molineaux; With Sefton, the Nimrod of peers, As old in honesty,—as years, A stanch true buff' and blue. "What portly looking man is that In plain blue coat,—to whom each hat Is moved in ride and walk!" That pleasant fellow, be it known, Is heir presumptive to the throne, 'Tis Frederick of York.{18} A better, kinder hearted soul You will not And, upon the whole, Within the British isle. But see where P-t's wife appears,{19} Who changed, though rather late in years, For honest George Ar-le. Now by my faith it gives me pain

17 The female branches of the Sefton family are superior to the slightest breath of calumny, and present an example to the peerage worthy of more general imitation.

18 No member of the present royal family displays more agreeable qualifications in society than the heir presumptive.—Un-affected, affable, and free, the duke may be seen daily pacing St. James's-street, Pall-mall, or the Park, very often wholly un-attended: as his person is familiar to the public, he never experiences the slightest inconvenience from curiosity, and he is so generally beloved, that none pass him who know him without paying their tribute of respect. In all the private relations of life he is a most estimable man,—in his public situation indefatigable, prompt, and attentive to the meanest applica- tion.

19 A more lamentable instance of the profligacy of the age cannot be found than in the history of the transaction which produced this exchange of wives and persons. A wag of the day published a new list of promotions headed as follows,— Lady B———n to be Lady A———r P-t,—by exchange—Lady P-t to be Duchess of A———e,—by promotion—Lady Charlotte W—y to be Lady P-t, vice Lady P-t, promoted.

~172~~

To see thee, cruel Lady J-,{20} Regret the golden Ball. Tis useless now:—"the fox and grapes" Remember, and avoid the apes Which wait an old maid's fall. Gay lady H——-e's twinkling star{21}

20 It is not long since that, inspired by love or ambition, a wealthy commoner sought the promise of the fair hand of Lady J-, nor was the consent of her noble father (influenced by certain weighty reasons*) wanting to complete the anticipated happiness of the suitor.—All the preliminary forms were arranged,—jointure and pin money liberally fixed,—some legal objections as to a covenant of forfeiture overcame, a suitable establishment provided. The happy day was fixed, when—"mark inconstant fickle woman"—the evening previous to completion (to the surprise of all the town), she changed her mind; she had reconsidered the subject!—The man was wealthy, and attractive in person; but then— insupportable objection—he was a mere plebeian, a common esquire, and his name was odious,—Lady J- B-1,—she could never endure it: the degrading thought produced a fainting fit,—the recovery a positive refusal,—the circumstance a week's amusement to the fashionable world. Reflection and disappointment succeeded, and a revival was more than once spoken of; but the recent marriage of the bachelor put an end to all conjecture, and the poor lady was for some time left to bewail in secret her single destiny. Who can say, when a lady has the golden ball at her foot, where she may kick it? Circumstances which have occurred since the above was written prove that the lady has anticipated our advice.

21 Her ladyship's crimson vis-a-vis and her tall footman are both highly attractive—there are no seats in the vehicle—the fair owner reclines on a splendid crimson velvet divan or cushion. She must now be considered a beauty of the last century, being already turned of fifty: still she continued to flourish in the annals of—fashion, until within the last few years; when she ceased to go abroad for amusement, finding it more convenient to purchase it at home. As her parties in Grosvenor-square are of the most splendid description, and her dinners (where she is the presiding deity, and the only one) are frequent, and unrivalled for a display of the "savoir vivre," her ladyship can always draw on the gratitude of her guests for that homage to hospitality which she must cease to expect to her charms, "now in the sear and yellow leaf:"—she is a M-nn- rs-"verbum sal." Speaking of M-nn-ra, where is the portly John (the Regent's double, as he was called some few years since), and the amiable duchess, who bestowed her hand and fortune upon him?—but, n'importe.

* The marquis is said to have shown some aversion in the first instance, till H-s B-1 sent his rent roll for his inspection: this was immediately returned with a very satisfactory reply, but accompanied with a more embarrassing request, namely, a sight of his pedigree.

~173~~

Glimmers in eclipse,—afar's The light of former time. In gorgeous pride and vis-a-vis,{22} A-b-y's orange livry see, The gayest in the clime. Camac and wife, in chariot green, Constant as turtle-doves are seen, With two bronze slaves behind; Next H-tf-d's comely, widow'd dame,{23} With am'rous G———, a favourite name, When G———was true and kind.

22 "The gorgeous A-b-y in the sun-flower's pride." This lady's vis-a-vis by far the most splendidly rich on town. Her footmen (of which there are four on drawing-room days) are a proper emblem of that gaudy flower—bright yellow liveries, black lower garments, spangled and studded. There is a general keeping in this gorgeous equipage, which is highly creditable to the taste of the marchioness, for the marquis, "good easy man," (though a Bruce), he is too much engaged preserving his game at Ro-er-n park, and keeping up the game in St. Stephen's (where his influence is represented by no less than eight "sound men and true"), to attend to these trifling circumstances. This, with a well paid rental of upwards of L100,000 per annum, makes the life of this happy pair pass in an uninterrupted stream of fashionable felicity.

23 The marchioness is said to bear the neglect of a certain capricious friend with much cool philosophy. Soon after the intimacy had ceased, they met by accident. On the sofa, by the side of the inconstant, sat the reigning favourite; the marchioness placed herself (uninvited) on the opposite side: astonishment seized the ****; he rose, made a very graceful bow to one of the ladies, and coolly observed to the marchesa—"If this conduct is repeated, I must decline meeting you in public." This was the cut royal.

~174~~

See S-b-y's peeress, whom each fool Of fashion meets in Sunday school,{24} To chat in learned lore; Where rhyming peers, and letter'd beaus, Blue stocking belles to love dispose, And wit is deem'd a bore. With brave Sir Ronald, toe to toe, See Mrs. M-h-l A-g-lo,{25} Superb equestriana. Next—that voluptuous little dame,{26} Who sets the dandy world in flame, The female Giovanni. Erin's sprightly beauteous belle, Gay Lady G-t-m, and her swell The Yorkshire Whiskerandoes.{27}

24 The dulness of the marchioness's Sunday evening conver- saziones have obtained them the fashionable appellation of the Sunday-school. Lord Byron thought it highly dangerous for any wit to accept a second invitation, lest he should be inoculated with ennui.

23 Mrs. M- A-g-e, a very amiable and accomplished woman, sister to Sir H-y V-ne T-p-t. She is considered the best female equestrian in the ride.

26 A consideration for the delicacy of our fair readers will not allow us to enter upon the numerous amours of this favourite of Apollo and the Muses, and not less celebrated intriguant. She may, however, have ample justice entailed upon her under another head. Latterly, since the police have been so active in suppressing the gaming houses, a small party have met with security and profit for a little chicken hazard in Curzon-street, at which Mr. C-t has occasionally acted as croupier and banker. Elliston used to say, when informed of the sudden indisposition or absence of a certain little actress and singer-"Ay, I understand; she has a more profitable engagement than mine this evening." The amorous trio, Cl-g-t, Charles H-r-s, and the exquisite Master G-e, may not have cause to complain of neglect. The first of these gentlemen has lately, we understand, been very successful at play; we trust experience will teach him prudence.

27 His lordship commands the York hussars, in defence of whose whiskers he sometime since made a Quixotic attack upon a public writer. As he is full six feet high, and we are not quite five, prudence bids us place our finger on our lip.

~175~~

Pale Lambton, he who loves and hates By turns, what Pitts, or Pit, creates, Led by the Whig fandangoes. Sound folly's trumpet, fashion's drums,— Here great A———y W———ce comes,{28} 'Mong tailors, a red button. With luminarious nose and cheeks, Which love of much good living speaks, Observe the city glutton: Sir W-m, admiral of yachts, Of turtles, capons, port, and pots, In curricle so big. Jack F-r follows;—Jack's a wag,{29}

28 A———y W———o, Esq. otherwise the renowned Billy Button, the son and heir to the honours, fortune, and shopboard of the late Billy Button of Bedford-street, Covent Garden. The latter property he appears to have transferred to the front of the old brown landau, where the aged coachman, with nose as flat as the ace of clubs, sits, transfixed and rigid as the curls of his caxon, from three till six every Sunday evening, urging on a cabbage-fed pair of ancient prods, which no exertion of the venerable Jehu has been able for the last seven years to provoke into a trot from Hyde park gate to that of Cumberland and back again. The contents of the vehicle are equally an exhibition. Billy, with two watches hung by one chain, undergoing the revolutionary movements of buckets in a well, and his eye-glass set round with false pearls, are admirably "en suite" with his bugle optics. The frowsy madam in faded finery, with all the little Buttons, attended by a red-haired poor relation from Inverness (who is at once their governess and their victim), form the happy tenantry of this moving closet. No less than three, crests surmount the arms of this descendant of Wallace the Great. A waggish Hibernian, some few months since, added a fourth, by chalking a goose proper, crested with a cabbage, which was observed and laughed at by every one in the park except the purblind possessor of the vehicle, who was too busy in looking at himself.

29 Honest Jack is no longer an M.P., to the great regret of the admirers of senatorial humours. Some few years since, being Btuehi plenus, he reeled into St. Stephen's chapel a little out of a perpendicular; when the then dignified Abbot having called him to order, he boldly and vociferously asserted that "Jack F-r of Rose-Hill was not to be set down by any little fellow in a wig. "This offence against the person and high office of the Abbot of St. Stephen's brought honest Jack upon his knees, to get relieved from a troublesome serjeant attendant of the chapel. Knowing his own infirmities, and fearing perhaps that he might be com- pelled to make another compulsory prayer, Jack resigned his pretensions to senatorial honors at the last general election. His chief amusement, when in town, is the watching and tormenting the little marchandes des modes who cross over or pass in the neighbourhood of Regent-street—he is, however, perfectly harmless. 30 An unlucky accident, occasioned by little Th-d the wine merchant overturning F-z-y in his tandem, compelled the latter to sell out of the army, but not without having lost a leg in the service. A determined patriot, he was still resolved to serve his country. A barrister on one leg might be thought ominous of his client's cause, or afford food for the raillery of his opponent. The bar was therefore rejected. But the church opened her arms to receive the dismembered son of Mars (a parson with a cork leg, or two wooden ones, or indeed without a leg to stand on, was not un-orthodox), and F-z-y was soon inducted to a valuable benefice. He is now, we believe, a pluralist, and, if report be true, has shown something of the old soldier in his method of retaining them. F-y married Miss Wy-d-m, the daughter of Mrs. H-s, who was the admired of his brother, L-d P-. He is generally termed the fighting parson, and considered one of the best judges of a horse in town: he sometimes does a little business in that way among the young ones.

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A jolly dog, who sports his nag, Or queers the Speaker's wig: To Venus, Jack is stanch and true; To Bacchus pays devotion too, But likes not bully Mars. Next him, some guardsmen, exquisite,- A well-dress'd troop;—but as to fight, It may leave ugly scars. Here a church militant is seen,{30} Who'd rather fight than preach I ween, Once major, now a parson; With one leg in the grave, he'll laugh, Chant up a pard, or quaintly chaff, To keep life's pleasant farce on.

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Lord Arthur Hill his Arab sports, And gentle-usher to the courts: See Horace and Kang C-k,{31} Who, with the modern Mokamna C-m-e, must ever bear the sway For ugliness of look. A pair of ancients you may spy,{32} Sir Edward and Sir Carnaby, From Brighton just set free; The jesters of our lord the king, Who loves a joke, and aids the thing In many a sportive way. A motley group come rattling on,{33}

31 Horace S-y-r, gentleman usher to the king, and K-g C-k, said to be the ugliest man in the British army: in the park he is rivalled only by C-c. For the benefit of all the married ladies, we would recommend both of these singularities to wear the veil in public.

32 Sir Ed-d N-g-e. His present majesty is not less fond of a pleasant joke than his laughter-loving predecessor, Charles II. The Puke of Clarence, while at the Pavilion (a short time since), admired a favourite grey pony of Sir E-d N-e's; in praise of whose qualities the baronet was justly liberal. After the party had returned to the palace, the duke, in concert with the k-g, slily gave directions to have the pony painted and disfigured (by spotting him with water colour and attaching a long tail), and then brought on the lawn. In this state he was shown to Sir E—, as one every way superior to his own. After examining him minutely, the old baronet found great fault with the pony; and being, at the duke's request, induced to mount him, objected to all his paces, observing that he was not half equal to his grey. The king was amazingly amused with the sagacity of the good- humoured baronet, and laughed heartily at the astonishment he expressed when convinced of the deception practised upon him. Sir C-n-y H-s-ne, although a constant visitor at the Pavilion, is not particularly celebrated for any attractive qualification, unless it be his unlimited love of little ladies. He is known to all the horse dealers round London, from his constant inquiries for a "nice quiet little horse to carry a lady;" but we never heard of his making a purchase.

33 The middle order of society was formerly in England the most virtuous of the three—folly and vice reared their standard and recruited their ranks in the highest and the lowest; but the medium being now lost, all is in the extreme. The superlative dandy inhabitant of a first floor from the ground in Bond-street, and the finished inhabitant of a first floor from heaven (who lives by diving) in Fleet- street, are in kindness and habits precisely the same.

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Who ape the style and dress of ton, And Scarce are worth review; Yet forced to note the silly elves, Who take such pains to note themselves, We'll take a name or two. H-s-ly, a thing of shreds and patches,{34} Whose manners with his calling matches, That is, he's a mere goose. Old St-z of France, a worthy peer, From shopboard rais'd him to a sphere Of ornament and use. The double dandy, fashion's fool, The lubin log of Liverpool, Fat Mister A-p-ll, Upon his cob, just twelve hands high, A mountain on a mouse you'll spy Trotting towards the Mall. Sir *——-*-, the chicken man,{35}

34 Young Priment, as he is generally termed, the once dashing foreman and cutter out, now co-partner of the renowned Baron St-z, recently made a peer of France. Who would not be a tailor (St-z has retired with a fortune of L100,000. )! Lord de C-ff-d, some time since objecting to certain items in his son's bill from St-z, as being too highly charged, said, "Tell Mr. S- I will not pay him, if it costs me a thousand pounds to resist it. " St-z, on hearing this, said, "Tell his lordship that he shall pay the charge, if it costs me ten thousand to make him." H-s-ly with some little satisfaction was displaying to a customer the Prince of C-b-g's bill for three months (on the occasion of his Highness's new field-marshal's suit, we suppose): "Here," said he, "see what we have done for him: his quarter's tailor's bill now comes to more than his annual income formerly amounted to." Mr. H-s-ly sports a bit of blood, a dennet, and a filly; and, for a tailor, is a superfine sort of dandy, but with a strong scent of the shop about him.

35 The redoubtable general's penchant for little girls has obtained him the tender appellation of the chicken man. Many of these petits amours are carried on in the assumed name of Sir Lewis N-t-n, aided by the skill and ingenuity of Captain *-. Youth may plead whim and novelty for low intrigue; but the aged beau can only resort to it from vitiated habit.

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With pimp *-a-t in the van, The Spy of an old Spy; Who beat up for recruits in town, Mong little girls, in chequer'd gown, Of ages rather shy. That mild, complacent-looking face,{36} Who sits his bit of blood with grace, Is tragic Charley Young: With dowager savant a beau, Who'll spout, or tales relate, you know, Nobility among. "Sure such a pair was never seen" By nature form'd so sharp and keen As H-ds-n and Jack L-g; Or two who've play'd their cards so well, As many a pluck'd roue can tell, Whose purses once were strong: Both deal in pipes—and by the nose Have led to many a green horn's woes A few gay bucks to Surrey, Where Marshal Jones commands in chief A squadron, who to find relief Are always in a hurry. They're folloiv'd by a merry set— Cl-m-ris, L-n-x, young B-d-t, Whom they may shortly follow. That tall dismember'd dandy mark, Who strolls dejected through the park, With cheeks so lank and hollow; That's Badger B-t-e, poet A— The mighty author of "To-day,"

36 This truly respectable actor is highly estimated among a large circle of polished society; where his amusing talents and gentlemanly demeanour render him a most entertaining and agreeable companion.

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Forgotten of "To-morrow;" A superficial wit, who 'll write For Shandy little books of spite, When cash he wants to borrow. The pious soul who 's driving by, And at the poet looks so shy, Is parson A- the gambler;{37} His deaf-lugg'd daddy a known blade In Pandemonium's fruitful trade, 'Mong Paphians a rambler. Augusta H-ke (or C-i) moves Along the path—her little doves— Decoys, upon each arm. Where 's Jehu Martin, four-in-hand, An exile in a foreign land From fear of legal charm. A pensioner of Cyprian queen, The Bond-street tailor here is seen, The tally-ho so gay. Next P———s,{38} who by little goes,

37 The parson is so well known, and has been so plentifully be-spattered on all sides, that we shall, with true orthodox charity, leave him with a strong recommendation to the notice of the society for the suppression of vice, with this trite remark, "Vide hic et ubique."

38 This man, who is now reported to be worth three hundred thousand pounds, was originally a piece-broker in Bedford- bury, and afterwards kept a low public house in Vinegar- yard, Drury-lane; from whence he merged into an illegal lottery speculation in Northumberland-street, Strand, where he realized a considerable sum by insurances and little goes; from this spot he was transplanted to Norris-street, in the Haymarket, managing partner in a gaming-house, when, after a run of ill luck, an affair occurred that would have occasioned some legal difficulty but for the oath of a pastry-cook's wife, who proved an alibi, in return for which act of kindness he afterwards made her his wife. Obtaining possession of the rooms in Pall-Mall (then the celebrated E. O. tables, and the property of W-, the husband, by a sham warrant), the latter became extremely jealous; and, to make all comfortable, our hero, to use his own phrase, generously bought the mure and coll.—Mrs. W—and her son—both since dead: the latter rose to very high rank in an honourable profession. The old campaigner has now turned pious, and recently erected and endowed a chapel. He used to boast he had more promissory notes of gambling dupes than would be sufficient to cover the whole of Pall-Mall; he may with justice add, that he can command bank notes enough to cover Cavendish-square.

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And west-end hells, to fortune rose By many a subtle way. Patron of bull-baits, racings, fights, A chief of black-legg'd low delights— 'Tis the new m———s, F-k; Time was, his heavy vulgar gait, With one of highest regal state Took precedence of rank: But now, a little in disgrace Since J-e usurp'd his m———'s place, A stranger he's at court; Unlike the greatest and the best Who went before, his feather'd nest Is well enrich'd by sport. F-1-y disastrous, honour's child; L-t-he the giddy, gay, and wild, And sportive little Jack; The prince of dandies join the throng, Where Gwydir spanks his fours along, The silvery grays or black. The charming F-te, and Colonel B-,{39} Snugly in close carriage see With crimson coats behind: And Mrs. C—, the Christmas belle,

39 We shall not follow the colonel's example, or we could give some extracts from the letters of a. female corespondent of his that would be both curious and interesting; but n'importe, consideration for the lady alone prevents the publication. In town he is always discovered by a group of would-be exquisites, the satellites of the Jupiter of B-k-y C-t-e at Gl-r; or at Ch————-m they have some name; but here they are more fortunate, for o'er them oblivion throws the friendly veil.

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With banker's clerk, a tale must tell To all who are not blind. Ah! Poodle Byng appears in view,{40} Who gives at whist a point or two To dowagers in years. And see where ev'ry body notes The star of fashion, Romeo Coates{41} The amateur appears: But where! ah! where, say, shall I tell Are the brass cocks and cockle shell? Ill hazard, rouge et noir If it but speak, can tales relate Of many an equipage's fate, And may of many more. Ye rude canaille, make way, make way, The Countess and the Count————,{42}

40 This gentleman is generally designated by the name of "the whist man:" he holds a situation in the secretary of state's office, and is in particular favour with all the old dowagers, at whose card parties it is said he is generally fortunate. He has recently been honoured with the situation of grand chamberlain to their black majesties of the Sandwich isles.

41 Poor Borneo's brilliancy is somewhat in eclipse, and though not quite a fallen star, he must not run on black too long,—lest his diamond-hilted sword should be the price of his folly.

42 The Countess of ———————-is the daughter of Governor J—————-; her mother's name was Patty F-d, the daughter of an auctioneer who was the predecessor of the present Mr. Christie's father. Patty, then a very beautiful woman, went with him to India, and was a most faithfull and attentive companion.—On the voyage home with J———- ——-and her three children, by him, the present countess, and her brothers James and George, they touched at the Cape, where the old governor most ungratefully fell in love with a young Portuguese lady, whom he married and brought to England in the same ship with his former associate, whom he soon after completely abandoned, settling 500L. a year upon her for the support of herself and daughter; his two sons, James and George, he provided with writerships in the company's service, and sent to India. James died young, and George returned to England in a few years, worth 180,000 pounds.—He lingered in a very infirm state of health, the effects of the climate and Mrs. M-, alias Madame Haut Gout; and at his death, being a bachelor, he left the present countess, his sister who lived with him, the whole of his property. There are various tales circulated in the fashionable world relative to the origin and family of the count, who has certainly been a most fortunate man: he is chiefly indebted for success with the countess to his skill as an amateur on the flute, rather than to his paternal estates. The patron of foreigners, he takes an active part in the affairs of the Opera-house.—Poor Tori having given some offence in this quarter, was by his influence kept out of an engagement; but it would appear he received some amends, by the following extract from a fashionable paper of the day.

A certain fashionable———l, who was thought to be au comble de bonheur, has lately been much tormented with that green-eyed monster, Jealousy, in the shape of an opera singer. Plutot mourir que changer, was thought to be the motto of the pretty round-faced English——————s; but, alas! like the original, it was written on the sands of disappointment, and was scarcely read by the admiring husband, before his joy was dashed by the prophetic wave, and the inscription erased by a favoured son of Apollo. L'oreille est le chemin du cour: so thought the ———l, and forbade the —————s to hold converse with Monsieur T.; but les femmes peuvent tout, parce-qu'elles gouvernent ceux qui gouvernent tous. A meeting took place in Grosvenor-square, and, amid the interchange of doux yeux, the ————-l arrived: a desperate scuffle ensued; the intruder was banished the house, and, as he left the door, is said to have whistled the old French proverb of Le bon temps viendra. This affair has created no little amusement among the beau monde. All the dowagers are fully agreed on one point, that l'amour est une passion qui vient souvent sans qu'on s'en appercoive, et, qui s'en va aussi de meme.

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Who play de prettee flute, Who charm une petit English ninnie, Till all the Joueur J———'s guinea Him pochee en culotte. Who follows? 'tis the Signor Tori, 'Bout whom the gossips tell a story, With some who've gone before: "The bird in yonder cage confined Can sing of lovers young and kind," But there, he'll sing no more.

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Lord L———looks disconsolate,{}43 No news from Spain I think of late, Per favour M————i. Ne'er heed, my lord, you still may find Some opera damsel true and kind, Who'll prove less coy and naughty. "Now by the pricking of my thumbs, There's something wicked this way comes," 'Tis A-'s false dame,{44} Who at Almack's, or in the park, With whispers charms a clucal spark, To blight his wreath of fame. Observe, where princely Devonshire,{45}

43 His lordship, though not quite so deeply smitten as the now happy swain, had, we believe, a little _penchant for the charming little daughter of Terpsichore. "What news from Spain, my lord, this morning?" said Sir C. A. to Lord L———"I have no connexion with the foreign office," replied his lordship.—"I beg pardon, my lord, but I am sure I met a Spanish messenger quitting your house as I entered it." On the turf, his lordship's four year old (versus five) speculations with Cove B-n have given him a notoriety that will, we think, prevent his ruining himself at Newmarket. Like the immortal F-e, he is one of the opera directors, and has a great inclination for foreign curiosities. Vide the following extract.—

"The New Corps de Ballot at the Opera this season, 1823, is entirely composed of Parisian elegantes, selected with great taste by Lord L————-, whose judgment in these matters is perfectly con amore. In a letter to a noble friend on this subject, Lord L————says that he has seen, felt, and (ap-) proved them all———to be excellent artistes with very finished movements."

Certain ridiculous reports have long been current in the fashionable world, relative to a mysterious family affair, which would preclude the noble duke's entering into the state of matrimony: it is hardly necessary to say they have no foundation in truth. The duke was certainly born in the same house and at nearly the same time (in Florence) when Lady E. F-st-r, since Duchess of D-, was delivered of a child—but that offspring is living, and, much to the present duke's honour, affectionately regarded by him. The duke was for some years abroad after coming to his title, owing, it is said, to an unpleasant affair arising out of a whist party at a great house, which was composed of a Prince, Lords L———and Y———th, another foreign Prince, and a Colonel B-, of whom no one has heard much since.—A noble mansion in Piccadilly was there and then assigned to the colonel, who at the request of the -e, who had long wished to possess it as a temporary residence, during some intended repairs at the great house, re-conveyed it to the———. On the receipt of a note from Y- the next morning, claiming the amount of the duke's losses, he started with surprise at the immense sums, and being now perfectly recovered from the overpowering effects of the bottle, hastened with all speed to take the opinions of two well-known sporting peers, whose honour has never been questioned, Lords F-y and S-n; they, upon a review of the circumstances, advised that the money should not be paid, but that all matters in dispute should be referred to a third peer, Earl G-y, who was not a sporting man: to this effect a note was written to the applicant, but not before some communication had taken place with a very high personage; the consequence was that no demand was ever afterwards made to the referee. Lord G- C- afterwards re- purchased the great house with the consent of the duke from the fortunate holder, as he did not like it to be dismembered from the family. We believe this circumstance had a most salutary effect in preventing any return of a propensity for play.

44 Charley loves good place and wine, And Charley loves good brandy, And Charley's wife is thought divine, By many a Jack a dandy. PARODY ON AN OLD NURSERY RHYME.

{45} A CHARACTER OF DEVONSHIRE.



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In action, heart, and mind, a peer, Avoids the public gaze; Graceful, yet simple in attire, You'd take him for a plain esquire; "His acts best speak his praise." That queer, plain, yellow chariot, mark, Which drives so rapid through the park, The servants clothed in gray— That's George, incog.—George who? George-king,{46} Of whom near treason 'tis to sing, In this our sportive lay. Kings like their subjects should have air And exercise, without the stare Which the state show attends; I love to see in public place The monarch, who'll his people face, And meet like private friends. So may the crown of this our isle Re ever welcomed with a smile, And, George, that smile be thine! Then when the time,—and come it must, That crowns and sceptres shall be dust, Thou shalt thy race outshine, Shalt live in good men's hearts, and tears, From age to age, while mem'ry rears The proud historic shrine.

46 FROM THE DIARY OF A POLITICIAN. "Through Manchester-square took a canter just now, Met the old yellow chariot, and made a low bow; This did of course, thinking 'twas loyal and civil, But got such a look,—oh! 'twas black as the devil. How unlucky!—incog, he was traveling about, And I like a noodle must go find him out! Mem. When next by the old yellow chariot I ride, To remember there is nothing princely inside." Tom Moore,

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What rueful-looking knight is that,{47} With sunken eye and silken hat,

47 Lord P-r-m, the delicate dandy.

Laced up in stays to show his waist, And highly rouged to show his taste, His whiskers meeting 'neath his chin, With gooseberry eye and ghastly grin, With mincing steps, conceited phrase, Such as insipid P- displays: These are the requisites to shine A dandy, exquisite, divine.

Ancient Dandies.—A Confession. The Doctor{*}, as we learn, once said, To Mistress Thrale— Howe'er a man be stoutly made, And free from ail, In flesh and bone, and colour thrive, "He's going down at 35." Yet Horace could his vigour muster And would not till a later lustre f One single inch of ground surrender To any swain in Cupid's calendar. But one I think a jot too low, And t'other is too high, I know. Yet, what I've found, I'll freely state— The thing may do till.— But that's a job—for then, in truth, One's but a clumsy sort of youth: And maugre looks, some evil tongue Will say the Dandy is not young:— For 'mid the yellow and the sear, {**} Though here and there a leaf be green No more the summer of the year It is, than when one swallow's seen.

* Johnson. t——————————-fuge suspicari Cujus octavum trepidavit otas Claudere lustrum.—Od. 4.1. ii. Now tottering on to forty years, My age forbids all jealous fears.

** "My May of life is fallen into the sear and yellow leaf."—Macbeth.

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Pinch'd in behind and 'fore? Whose visage, like La Mancha's chief, Seems the pale frontispiece to grief, As if 'twould ne'er laugh more: Whose dress and person both defy The poet's pen, the painter's eye, 'Tis outre tout nature. His Arab charger swings his tail, Curvets and prances to the gale Like Death's pale horse,— And neighing proudly seems to say, Here Fashion's vot'ries must pay Homage of course: Tis P-h-m, whom Mrs. H-g-s At opera and play-house dodges Since he gain'd Josephine; Tailors adorn a thousand ways, And (though Time won't) men may make Slays; The dentist, barber, make repairs, New teeth supply, and colour hairs; But art can ne'er return the Spring— And spite of all that she can do, A Beau's a very wretched thing At 42!

The late Princess Charlotte issued an order, interdicting any one of her household appearing before her with frightful fringes to their leaden heads. In consequence of this cruel command, P-r-m, being one of the lords of the bed-chamber, was compelled to curtail his immense whiskers. A very feeling ode appeared upon the occasion, entitled My Whiskers, dedicated to the princess; it was never printed, but attributed to Thomas Moore. The Kiss, or Lady Francis W- W-'s Frolic, had nearly produced a fatal catastrophe. How would poor Lady Anne W-m have borne such a misfortune? or what purling stream would have received the divine form of the charming Mrs. H-d-s? But alas! he escaped little W-'s ball, only to prove man's base ingratitude, for he has since cut with both these beauties for the interesting little Josephine, the protegee of T———y B-t, and the sister of the female Giovanni.

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Ye madly vicious, can it be! A mother sunk in infamy, To sell her child is seen. Let Bow-street annals, and Tom B-t,{48} Who paid the mill'ner, tell the rest, It suits not with our page; Just satire while she censures,—feels,— Verse spreads the vice when it reveals The foulness of the age. 'Tis half-past five, and fashion's train No longer in Hyde Park remain, Bon ton cries hence, away; The low-bred, vulgar, Sunday throng, Who dine at two, are ranged along On both sides of the way; With various views, these honest folk Descant on fashions, quiz and joke, Or mark a shy cock down{49}; For many a star in fashion's sphere Can only once a week appear In public haunts of town, Lest those two ever watchful friends, The step-brothers, whom sheriff sends, John Doe and Richard Roe, A taking pair should deign to borrow, To wit, until All Souls, the morrow, The body of a beau;

48 Poor Tom B-t has paid dear for his protection of the Josephine: fifteen hundred pounds for millinery in twelve months is a very moderate expenditure for so young a lady of fashion. It is, to be sure, rather provoking that such an ape as Lord ———should take command of the frigate, and sail away in defiance of the chartered party, the moment she was well found and rigged for a cruize. See Common Plea Reports, 1823

49 The Sunday men, as they are facetiously called in the fashionable world, are not now so numerous as formerly: the facility of a trip across the Channel enables many a shy cock to evade the scrutinizing eye and affectionate attachment of the law.

But Sunday sets the pris'ner free, He shows in Park, and laughs with glee At creditors and Bum. Then who of any taste can bear The coarse, low jest and vulgar stare Of all the city scum, Of fat Sir Gobble, Mistress Fig, In buggy, sulky, coach, or gig, With Dobbin in the shay? At ev'ry step some odious face, Of true mechanic cut, will place Themselves plump in your way. Now onward to the Serpentine, A river straight as any line, Near Kensington, let's walk; Or through her palace gardens stray, Where elegantes of the day Ogle, congee, and talk. Here imperial fashion reigns, Here high bred belles meet courtly swains By assignation. Made at Almack's, Argyle, or rout, While Lady Mother walks about In perturbation, Watching her false peer, or to make A Benedict of some high rake, To miss a titled prize. Here, cameleon-colour'd, see Beauty in bright variety, Such as a god might prize. Here, too, like the bird of Juno, Fancy's a gaudy group, that you know, Of gay marchands des modes. Haberdashers, milliners, fops From city desks, or Bond-street shops, And belles from Oxford-road, Crowds here, commingled, pass and gaze, And please themselves a thousand ways;

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Some read the naughty rhymes Which are on ev'ry alcove writ, Immodest, lewd attempt at wit, Disgraceful to the times. Here Scotland's dandy Irish Earl,{50} With Noblet on his arm would whirl, And frolic in this sphere; With mulberry coat, and pink cossacks, The red-hair'd Thane the fair attacks, F-'s ever on the leer; And when alone, to every belle The am'rous beau love's tale will tell, Intent upon their ruin. Beware, Macduff, the fallen stars! Venus aggrieved will fly to Mars; There's mischief brewing. What mountain of a fair is that, Whose jewels, lace, and Spanish hat, Proclaim her high degree, With a tall, meagre-looking man, Who bears her reticule and fan? That was Maria D-, Now the first favourite at court,

50 His lordship is equally celebrated in the wars of Mars and Venus, as a general in the service of Spain. When Lord M-d-ff, in the desperate bombardment of Matagorda (an old fort in the Bay of Cadiz), the falling of a fragment of the rock, struck by a shell, broke, his great toe; in this wounded state he was carried about the alameda in a cherubim chair by two bare-legged gallegos, to receive the condolations of the grandees, and, we regret to add, the unfeeling jeers of the British, who made no scruple to assert that his lordship had, as usual, "put his foot in it." The noble general would no doubt have added another leaf to bis laurel under the auspices of the ex-smuggler, late illustrissimo general Ballasteros, had not he suddenly become a willing captive to the soul-subduing charms of the beauteous Antonia of Terrifa, of whose history and melancholy death we may speak hereafter. On a late occasion, he has been honoured with the star of the Guelphic order (when, for the first time in his life, he went on his knees), as some amends for his sudden dismissal from the bed-chamber. Noblet, who has long since been placed upon the pension list, has recently retired, and is succeeded by a charming little Parisian actress who lives in the New Road, and plays with the French company now at Tottenham-street theatre. Lord L————-has also a little interest in the same concern. His lordship's affaires des cour with Antonia, Noblet, and M————-, though perfectly platonic, have proved more expensive than the most determined votary to female attractions ever endured: for the gratification of this innocent passion, Marr's{*} mighty pines have bit the dust, and friendly purses bled.

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And, if we may believe report, She holds the golden key Of the backstairs, and can command A potent influence in the land, But K———N best can tell; Tis most clear, no ill betide us, Near the Georgium sidus This planet likes to dwell. Lovely as light, when morning breaks{51} Above the hills in golden streaks, Observe yon blushing rose, Uxbridge, the theme of ev'ry tongue, The sylph that charms the ag'd and young, Where grace and virtue glows. Gay Lady H-e her lounge may take,{52} Reclining near the Indian lake., And think she's quite secure;

51 The beautiful little countess, the charming goddess of the golden locks, was a Miss Campbell, a near relation of the Duke of Argyll. She is a most amiable and interesting elegante.

52 Although Lord L-e is the constant attendant of Lady H-, report says the attachment is merely platonic. His lordship was once smitten with her sister; and having thero suffered the most cruel disappointment, consoles himself for his loss in the sympathizing society of Lady H———.

* Marr Forest, belonging to his lordship, producing the finest mast pines in the empire; the noble earl has lately cut many scores of them ami some old friends, rather than balk his fancy.

~193~~

As well might C-1-ft hope to pass Upon the town his C——-r lass For genuine and pure. See Warwick's charming countess glide,{53} With constant Harry by her side, Along the gay parterre; And look where the loud laugh proclaims The cits and their cameleon dames, The gaudy Cheapside fair, Drest in all colours o' the shop, Fashion'd for the Easter hop, To grace the civic feast, Where the great Lord Mayor presides O'er tallow, ribands, rags, and hides, The sultan o' the east. The would-be poet, Ch-s L-h,{54} Comes saunt'ring with his graces three, The little gay coquettes. After, view the Cyprian corps Of well-known traders, many score, From Bang to Angel M-tz, A heedless, giddy, laughing crew, Who'd seem as if they never knew Of want or fell despair; Yet if unveil'd the heart might be, You'd find the demon, Misery, Had ta'en possession there. Think not that satire will excuse, Ye frail, though fair; or that the muse Will silent pass ye by: To you a chapter she'll devote, Where all of fashionable note

53 Lady Sarah Saville, afterwards Lady Monson, now Countess of Warwick, a most beautiful, amiable, and accomplished woman. By constant "Harry" is meant her present earl.

54 See Amatory Poems by Ch-os L-h. We could indulge our readers with a curious account of the demolition of the Paphian car at Covent Garden theatre, but the story is somewhat musty.

~194~~

Shall find their history. "Vice to be hated, needs but be seen;" And thus shall ev'ry Paphian queen Be held to public view; And though protected by a throne, The gallant and his Miss be shown In colours just and true. The countess of ten thousand see,{55} The dear delightful Savante B-, Who once was sold and bought: The magic-lantern well displays The scenes of long forgotten days, And gives new birth to thought. Nay, start not, here we'll not relate The break-neck story gossips prate Within the Em'rald Isle: No spirit gray, or black, or brown, We'll conjure up, with hideous frown, To chase the dimpled smile. In fleeting numbers, as we pass, We find these shadows in our glass, We move, and they're no more. But see where chief of folly's train,

55 The beautiful and accomplished countess is a lovely daughter of Hibernia; her maiden name was P-r, and her father an Irish magistrate of high respectability. Her first matrimonial alliance with Captain F-r proved unfortunate; an early separation was the consequence, which was effected through the intervention of a kind friend, Captain J-s of the 11th. Shortly afterwards her fine person and superior endowments of mind made an impression upon the earl that nothing but the entire possession of the lady could allay. The affair of Lord A- and Mrs. B- is too well known to need repetition—it could not succeed a second time. Abelard F- having paid the debt of nature, there was no impediment but a visit to the temple of Hymen, on which point the lady was determined; and the yielding suitor, wounded to the vital part, most readily complied. It is due to the countess to admit, that since her present elevation, her conduct has been exemplary and highly praiseworthy.

~195~~

Conceited, simple, rash, and vain, Comes lib'ral master G-e,{56} A dandy, half-fledged exquisite, Who paid nine thousand pounds a night To female Giovanni. Reader, I think I hear you say, "What pleasure had he for his pay?" Upon my word, not any; For soon as V-t-s got the cash, She set off with a splendid dash From Op'ra to Paris; Left Cl-t and this simple fool,{67} Who no doubt's been an easy tool, To spend it with Charles H-s. See, Carolina comes in view, A Lamb, from merry Melbourne's ewe, Who scaped the fatal knife. H-ll-d's blue stocking rib appears, Who makes amends in latter years For early cause of strife. Catullus George, the red-hair'd bard, Whose rhymes, pedantic, crude, and hard, He calls translations, Follows the fair; a nibbling mouse From Westminster, by Cam Hobhouse Expell'd his station. Now twilight, with his veil of gray, The stars of fashion frights away The carriage homeward rolls along To music-party, cards and song,

56 A very singular adventure, which occurred in 1823. The enamoured swain, after settling an annuity of seven hundred pounds per annum upon the fair inconstant, had the mortification to find himself abandoned on the very night the deeds were completed, the lady having made a precipitate retreat, with a more favoured lover, to Paris. The affair soon became known, and some friends interfered, when the deeds were cancelled.

57 Captain citizen Cl-t, an exquisite of the first order, for a long time the favourite of the reigning sultana.

~196~~

And many a gay delight. The Goths of Essex-street may groan,{58} Turn up their eyes, and inward moan, They dare not here intrude; Dare not attack the rich and great, The titled vicious of the state, The dissolute and lewd. Vice only is, in some folks' eyes, Immoral, when in rags she lies, By poverty subdued; But deck her forth in gaudy vest, With courtly state and titled crest, She's every thing that's good. "Doth Kalpho break the Sabbath-day? Why, Kalpho hath no funds to pay; How dare he trespass then? How dare he eat, or drink, or sleep, Or shave, or wash, or laugh, or weep, Or look like other men?" My lord his concerts gives, 'tis true, The Speaker holds his levee too, And Fashion cards and dices; But these are trifles to the sin Of selling apples, joints, or gin—

58 The present times have very properly been stigmatized as the age of cant. The increase of the puritans, the smooth-faced evangelical, and the lank-haired sectarian, with their pious love-meetings and bible associations, have at last roused the slumbering spirit of the constituted authorities, who are now making the most vigorous efforts to impede the progress of these anti-national and hypocritical fanatics, who, mistaking the true dictates of religion and benevolence, have, in their inflamed zeal, endeavoured to extirpate every species of innocent recreation, and have laid formidable siege to honest-hearted mirth and rustic revelry. "I am no prophet, nor the son of one; "but if ever the noble institutions of my country suffer any revolutionary change, it is my humble opinion it will result from these sainted associations, from these pious opposers of our national characteristics, and the noblest institution of our country, the foundation stone of our honour and glory, the established church of England. There is (in my opinion) more mischief to be apprehended to the state from the humbug of piety than from all the violence of froth, political demagogues, or the open-mouthed howl of the most hungry radicals. Let it be understood I speak not against toleration in its most extended sense, but war only with hypocrisy and fanaticism, with those of whom Juvenal has written—"Qui aurios simulant el baechemalia vivinit."

~197~~

Low, execrable vices. Cease, persecutors, mock reclaimers, Ye jaundiced few, ye legal maimers Of the lone, poor, and meek; Ye moral fishers for stray gudgeons, Ye sainted host of old curmudgeons, Who ne'er the wealthy seek! If moralists ye would appear, Attack vice in its highest sphere, The cause of all the strife; The spring and source from whence does flow Pollution o'er the plains below, Through all degrees of life.



THE OPERA.

The Man of Fashion—Fop's Alley—Modern roue and Frequenters—Characteristic Sketches in High Life—Blue Stocking Illuminati—Motives and Mariners—Meeting with the Honourable Lillyman Lionise—Dinner at Long's—Visit to the Opera—Joined by Bob Transit—A Peep into the Green Room— Secrets behind the Curtain—Noble Amateurs and Foreign Curiosities—Notes and Anecdotes by Horatio Heartly.

198~ The Opera, to the man of fashion, is the only tolerable place of public amusement in which the varied orders of society are permitted to participate. Here, lolling at his ease, in a snug box on the first circle, in dignified security from the vulgar gaze, he surveys the congregated mass who fill the arena of the house, deigns occasionally a condescending nod of recognition to some less fortunate roue, or younger brother of a titled family, who is forcing his way through the well-united phalanx of vulgar faces that guard the entrance to Fop's Alley; or, if he should be in a state of single blessedness, inclines his head a little forward to cast round an inquiring glance, a sort of preliminary overture, to some fascinating daughter of fashion, whose attention he wishes to engage for an amorous interchange of significant looks and melting expressions during the last act of the opera. For the first, he would not be thought so outre as to witness it—the attempt would require a sacrifice of the dessert and Madeira, and completely revolutionize ~199~~ the regularity of his dinner arrangement. The divertissement he surveys from the side wings of the stage, to which privilege he is entitled as an annual subscriber; trifles a little badinage with some well-known operatic intriguant, or favourite danseusej approves the finished movements of the male artistes, inquires of the manager or committee the forthcoming novelties, strolls into the green room to make his selection of a well-turned ankle or a graceful shape, and, having made an appointment for some non play night, makes one of the distinguished group of operatic cognoscenti who form the circle of taste in the centre of the stage on the fall of the curtain.

This is one, and, perhaps, the most conspicuous portrait of an opera frequenter; but there are a variety of characters in the same school all equally worthy of a descriptive notice, and each differing in contour and force of chiaroscuro as much as the one thousand and one family maps which annually cover the walls of the Royal Academy, to the exclusion of meritorious performances in a more elevated branch of art. The Dowager Duchess of A——— retains her box to dispose of her unmarried daughters, and enjoy the gratification of meeting in public the once flattering groups of noble expectants who formerly paid their ready homage to her charms and courted her approving smile; but then her ducal spouse was high in favour, and in office, and now these "summer flies o' the court" are equally steady in their devotion to his successor, and can scarcely find memory or opportunity to recognise the relict of their late ministerial patron. Lord E——— and the Marchioness of R.——— subscribe for a box between them, enjoying the proprietorship in alternate weeks. During the Marchesa's periods of occupation you will perceive Lady H., and the whole of the blue stocking illuminati, irradiating from this point, like the tributary stars round some major planet, forming ~200~~ a grand constellation of attraction. Here new novels, juvenile poets, and romantic tourists receive their fiat, and here too the characters of one half the fashionable world undergo the fiery ordeal of scrutinization, and are censured or applauded more in accordance with the prevailing on dits of the day, or the fabrications of the club, than with any regard to feeling, truth, or decorum. The following week-, how changed the scene!—the venerable head of the highly-respected Lord E——— graces the corner, like a Corinthian capital finely chiseled by the divine hand of Praxiteles; the busy tongue of scandal is dormant for a term, and in her place the Solons of the land, in solemn thoughtfulness, attend the sage injunctions of their learned chief. Too enfeebled by age and previous exertion to undergo the fatigues of parliamentary duty, the baron here receives the visits of his former colleagues, and snatching half an hour from his favourite recreation, gives a decided turn to the politics of a party by the cogency of his reasoning and the brilliancy of his arguments. The Earl of F———has a grand box on the ground tier, for the double purpose of admiring the chaste evolutions of the sylphic daughters of Terpsichore, and of being observed himself by all the followers of the cameleon-like, capricious goddess, Fashion.

The G———B——-, the wealthy commoner, Fortune's favoured child, retains a box in the best situation, if not on purpose, yet in fact, to annoy all those within hearing, by the noisy humour of his Bacchanalian friends, who reel in at the end of the first act of the opera, full primed with the choicest treasures of his well stocked bins, to quiz the young and modest, insult the aged and respectable, and annihilate the anticipated pleasures of the scientific and devotees of harmony, by the coarseness of their attempts at wit, the overpowering clamour of their conversation, and ~201~~ the loud laugh and vain pretence to taste and critic skill.

The ministerialists may be easily traced by their affectation of consequence, and a certain air of authority joined to a demi-official royal livery, which always distinguishes the corps politique, and is equally shared by their highly plumed female partners. The opposition are equally discernible by outward and visible signs, such as an assumed nonchalance, or apparent independence of carriage, that but ill suits the ambitious views of the wearer, and sits as uneasily upon them as their measures would do upon the shoulders of the nation. Added to which, you will never see them alone; never view them enjoying the passing scene, happy in the society of their accomplished wives and daughters, but always, like restless and perturbed spirits, congregating together in conclave, upon some new measure wherewith to sow division in the nation, and shake the council of the state. And yet to both these parties a box at the opera is as indispensable as to the finished courtezan, who here spreads her seductive lures to catch the eye, and inveigle the heart of the inexperienced and unwary.

But what has all this to do with the opera? or where will this romantic correspondent of mine terminate his satirical sketch? I think I hear you exclaim. A great deal more, Mr. Collegian, than your philosophy can imagine: you know, I am nothing if not characteristic; and this, I assure you, is a true portrait of the place and its frequenters. I dare say, you would have expected my young imagination to have been encompassed with delight, amid the mirth-inspiring compositions of Corelli, Mozart, or Rossini, warbled forth by that enchanting siren, De Begnis, the scientific Pasta, the modest Caradori, or the astonishing Catalani:—Heaven enlighten your unsuspicious mind! Attention to the merits of the ~202~~ performance is the last thing any fashionable of the present day would think of devoting his time to. No, no, my dear Bernard, the opera is a sort of high 'Change, where the court circle and people of ton meet to speculate in various ways, and often drive as hard a bargain for some purpose of interest or aggrandisement, as the plebeian host of all nations, who form the busy group in the grand civic temple of commerce on Cornbill. You know, I have (as the phrase is), just come out, and of course am led about like a university lion, by the more experienced votaries of ton. An accident threw the honourable Lillyman Lionise into my way the other morning; it was the first time we had met since we were at Eton: he was sauntering away the tedious hour in the Arcade, in search of a specific for ennui, was pleased to compliment me on possessing the universal panacea, linked arms immediately, complained of being devilishly cut over night, proposed an adjournment to Long's—a light dinner—maintenon cutlets—some of the Queensberry hock{1} (a century and a half old)—ice-punch-six whin's from an odoriferous hookah—one cup of renovating fluid (impregnated with the Parisian aromatic {2}); and then, having reembellished our persons, sported{3} a figure at the opera. In the grand entrance, we enlisted Bob Transit, between whom and the honourable, I congratulated myself on being in a fair way to be enlightened. Bob knows every body—the exquisite was not so general in his information; but then he occasionally furnished some little anecdote of the surrounding elegantes, relative to affairs de l'amour, or pointed out the superlative of the haut class, without which much of the interesting would have escaped my notice.

1 The late Duke of Queensberry's famous old hock, which since his decease was sold by auction.

2 A Parisian preparation, which gives a peculiar high flavour and sparkling effect to coffee.

3 An Oxford phrase.

~203~~

In this society, I made my first appearance in the green room; a little, narrow, pink saloon at the back of the stage, where the dancers congregate and practise before an immense looking-glass previous to their appearance in public.

To a fellow of warm imagination and vigorous constitution, such a scene is calculated to create sensations that must send the circling current into rapid motion, and animate the heart with thrilling raptures of delight. Before the mirror, in all the grace of youthful loveliness and perfect symmetry of form, the divine little fairy sprite, the all-conquering Andalusian Venus, Mercandotti, was exhibiting her soft, plump, love-inspiring person in pirouette: before her stood the now happy swain, the elegant H——— B-, on whose shoulder rested the Earl of Fe-, admiring with equal ecstasy the finished movements of his accomplished protegee{4}; on the right hand of the earl stood the single duke of D———————e, quizzing the little daughter of Terpsichore through his eye-glass; on the opposite of the circle was seen the noble

4 It was very generally circulated, and for some time believed, that the charming little Andalusian Venus was the natural daughter of the Earl of F-e: a report which had not a shadow of truth in its foundation, but arose entirely out of the continued interest the earl took in the welfare of the lady from the time of her infancy, at which early period she was exhibited on the stage of the principal theatre in Cadiz as an infant prodigy; and being afterwards carried round (as is the custom in Spain) to receive the personal approval and trifling presents of the grandees, excited such general admiration as a beautiful child, that the Earl of F- e, then Lord M- and a general officer in the service of Spain, adopted the child, and liberally advanced funds for her future maintenance and instruction, extending his bounty and protection up to the moment of her fortunate marriage with her present husband. It is due to the lady to add, that in every instance her conduct has been marked by the strictest sense of propriety, and that too in situations where, it is said, every attraction was offered to have induced a very opposite course.