2 Saturnine B——n, the author of 'the stage,' a Poem, on hearing the day after her marriage with the banker, a conversation relative to her age, said he was sure the party were all in error, as there could be no doubt the lady was on the previous night under age.

312~royal banquets, and outshone the greatest and wealthiest of the stars of fashion. About this time, her hitherto inseparable companion made a slip with a certain amorous manager; and such was the indignation of our moral heroine on the discovery, that she spurned the unfortunate from her for ever, and actually turned the offending spark out of doors herself, accompanying the act with a very unladylike demonstration of her vengeance. B——d, her most obsequious servant, died suddenly. Poor Dr. J—— A——s, who gave up a highly respectable and increasing practice, in Greek-street, Soho, as a physician, to attend, exclusively, on the 'geud auld mon' and his rib, met such a return for his kindness and attention, that he committed suicide. Her next friend, a Mr. G——n, a very handsome young man, who was induced to quit his situation in the bank for the office of private secretary, made a mistake one night, and eloped with the female confidante of the banker's wife, a crime for which the perpetrator could never hope to meet with forgiveness. It is not a little singular," said Crony, "that almost all her intimate acquaintances have, sooner or later, fallen into disrepute with their patroness, and felt how weak is the reliance upon the capricious and the wayward." On the death of the old banker, our heroine had so wheedled the dotard, that he left her, to the surprise of the world, the whole of his immense property, recommending only certain legacies, and leaving an honourable and high-minded family dependent upon her bountiful consideration. "I could relate some very extraordinary anecdotes arising out of that circumstance," said Crony; "but you must be content with one, farcical in the extreme, which fully displays the lady's affection for her former profession, and shows she is a perfect mistress of stage effect. On the removal of the shrivelled remains of the old dotard for interment, his affectionate rib accompanied the ~313~~procession, and when they rested for the night at an inn on the road, guarded them in death as she had done in the close of life, by sleeping on a sofa in the same room. Cruel, cruel separation! what a scene for the revival of 'grief a la mode!' "But she is unhappy with all her wealth," said the cynic. "Careless as some portion of our nobility are in their choice of companions for their sports or pleasures, they have yet too much consideration left of what is due to their rank, their wives, and daughters, not to hesitate before they receive——. But never mind," said Crony; "you know the rest. You must have heard of a recent calamity which threatened the lady; and on which that mad wag, John Bull, let fly some cutting jokes. A very sagacious police magistrate, accompanied by one of his indefatigables, went to inspect the premises, accompanied by a gentleman of the faculty; but, after all their united efforts to unravel the mystery, it turned out a mere scratch, a very flat affair.



~314~~"I think," said Crony, "we have now arrived at the ultimatum of the widow's history, and may as well take a turn or two up the Steyne, to look out for other character. The ancient female you perceive yonder, leaning on her tall gold-headed cane, is Miss J——s, a maid of honour to the late Queen Charlotte, and the particular friend of Mrs. F——l: said to be the only one left out of eight persons, who accompanied two celebrated personages, many years since, in a stolen matrimonial speculation to Calais.

She is as highly respected as her friend Mrs. F——l is beloved here." "Who the deuce is that strange looking character yonder, enveloped in a boat-cloak, and muffled up to the eyes with a black handkerchief?" "That is a very important personage in a watering place, I assure you," replied Crony; "being no other than the celebrated Peter Paragraph, the London correspondent to the Morning Post, who involves, to use his own phrase, the whole hemisphere of fashion in his mystifications and reports: informs the readers of that paper how many rays of sunshine have exhilarated the Brightonians during the week, furnishes a correct journal of fogs, rains, storms, shipwrecks, and hazy mists; and, above all, announces the arrivals and departures, mixing up royal and noble fashionables and kitchen stuff' in the same beautiful obscurity of diction. Peter was formerly a friseur; but has long since quitted the shaving and cutting profession for the more profitable calling of collector of on dits and puffs extraordinaire. The swaggering broad-shouldered blade who follows near him, with a frontispiece like the red lion, is the well-known radical, Jack S——h, now agent to the French consul for this place, and the unsuccessful candidate for the independent borough of Shoreham." "A complete eccentric, by all my hopes of pleasure! Crony, who are those two dashing divinities, who come tripping along so lively yonder?" "Daughters of ~315~~pleasure," replied the cynic; "a pair of justly celebrated paphians, west-end comets, who have come here, no doubt, with the double view of profit and amusement. The plump looking dame on the right, is Aug—ta C—ri, (otherwise lady H——e); so called after the P—n—ss A——a, her godmamma. Her father, old Ab—t, one of Q——n C——te's original German pages, brought up a large family in respectability, under the fostering protection of his royal mistress. Aug——ta, at the early age of fifteen, eloped from St. James's, on a matrimonial speculation with a young musician, Mr. An——y C——, (himself a boy of 18)! From such a union what could be expected? a mother at 16, and a neglected dishonoured wife, before she had counted many years of womanhood. If she fell an unresisting victim to the seduction which her youth, beauty, and musical talents attracted, 'her stars were more to blame than she.' Let it be recorded, however, that her conduct as wife and mother was free from reproach, until a depraved, unnatural man (who by the way has since fled the country) set her the example of licentiousness.

"Amongst her earliest admirers, was the wealthy citizen, Mr. S—— M——, a bon vivant, a five-bottle man (who has, not unaptly, been since nominated a representative in p——l for one of the cinque ports).

To this witty man's generous care she is indebted for an annuity, which, with common prudence, ought to secure her from want during her own life. On her departure from this lover, which proceeded entirely from her own caprice and restless extravagance, the vain Aug—ta launched at once into all the dangerous pleasures of a cyprian life. The court, the city, and the 'change, paid homage to her charms. One high in the r——l h——h——id wore her chains for many months; and it was probably more in the spirit of revenge for open neglect, than admiration of such a ~316~~faded beau, that lady G—— B—— admitted the E—— of B——e to usurp the husband's place and privilege.

It is extraordinary that the circumstance just mentioned, which was notorious, was not brought forward in mitigation of the damages for the loss of conjugal joys; and which a jury of citizens, with a tender feeling for their own honour, valued at ten thousand pounds. My lord G—— B—— pocketed the injury and the ten thousand,; and his noble substitute has since made the 'amende honorable' to public morals, by uniting his destinies with an amiable woman, the daughter of a doctor of music, and a beauty of the sister country, who does honour to the rank to which she has been so unexpectedly elevated.

"Mrs. C——i had no acquaintance of her own sex in the world of gaiety but one; the beautiful, interesting, Mademoiselle St. M—g—te, then (1812 and 1813) in the zenith of her charms. The gentle Ad—l—de, whose sylph-like form, graceful movements, and highly polished manner, delighted all who knew her, formed a strange and striking contrast to the short, fat, bustling, salacious Aug—ta, whose boisterous bon-mots, and horse-laughical bursts, astonished rather than charmed. Both, however, found abundance of admirers to their several tastes. It was early in the spring of 1814 that the subject of this article had the good or evil fortune to attract the eye of a noble lord of some notoriety, who pounced on his plump prey with more of the amorous assurance of the bird of Jove than the cautious hoverings of the wary H—ke. Love like his admitted of no delay. Preliminaries were soon arranged, under the auspices of that experienced matron, Madame D'E—v—e, whose address, in this delicate negotiation, extorted from his lordship's generosity, besides a cheque on H——d and

G—bbs for a cool hundred, the payment of 'brother Martin's' old score, of long standing, for bed and board at Madame's house of business, little St. Martin's-~317~~street. The public have been amused with the ridiculous story of the mock marriage; but whatever were his faults or follies, and he is since called to his account, his l—ds—p stands guiltless of this. 'Tis true, her 'ladyship' asserted, nay, we believe, swore as much; but she is known to possess such boundless imaginative faculties, that her nearest and dearest friends have never yet been able to detect her in the weakness of uttering a palpable truth. The assumption of the name and title arose out of a circumstance so strange, so ridiculous, and so unsavoury, that, with all our 'gusto' for fun, we must omit it: suffice it to say, that it originated in—what?—gentle reader—in a dose of physic!!! For further particulars, apply to Mrs. C——l, of the C—s—le S—t—h—ll. After this strange event, which imparted to her ladyship all the honours of the coronet, Mrs. C——i was to be seen in the park, from day to day; the envy of every less fortunate Dolly, and the horror of the few friends which folly left her lordly dupe. In this state of doubtful felicity her ladyship rolled on (for she almost lived in her carriage) for three years; when, alas! by some cruel caprice of love, or some detected intrigue, or from the holy scruples of his lordship's Reverend adviser, Padre Ambrosio, this connexion was suddenly dissolved at Paris; when Mrs. C——, no longer acknowledged as my lady, was at an hour's notice packed off in the Dilly for Dover, and her jewels, in half the time, packed up in their casket and despatched to Lafitte's, in order to raise the ways and means for the peer and his ghostly confessor!

"Her ladyship's next attempt at notoriety was her grand masked ball at the Argyll rooms in 1818; an entertainment which, for elegant display and superior arrangement, did great credit to her taste, or to that of her broad-shouldered Milesian friend, to whom it is said the management of the whole was committed. The expense of this act of folly has been variously 318~estimated; and the honour of defraying it gratuitously allotted to an illustrious commander, whose former weakness and culpability has been amply redeemed by years of truly r——l benevolence and public service. We can state, however, that neither the purse or person of the royal D——contributed to the eclat of the fete. An amorous Hebrew city clerk, who had long 'looked and loved' at humble distance, taking advantage of his uncle's absence on the continent in a diamond hunting speculation, having left the immediate jewel of His soul, his cash, at home, the enamoured youth seized the very 'nick o' time,' furnished half the funds for the night, for half a morning's conversation in Upper Y—street: her ladyship's indefatigable industry furnished the other moiety in a couple of days. A Mr. Z—ch—y contributed fifty, which coming to the ears of his sandy-haired lassie, his own paid forfeit of his folly, to their almost total abstraction from the thick head to which they project with asinine pride. Since this splash in the whirlpool of fashionable folly, her 'ladyship,' for she clings to the rank with all the tenacity of a fencible field officer, has lived in comparative retirement near E—dg—e R—d, nursing a bantling of the new era, and singing 'John Anderson my Joe' to her now 'gude man;' only occasionally relapsing into former gaieties by a sly trip to Box Hill or Virginia Water with the grandson of a barber, a flush but gawky boy, who, forgetting that it is to the talents and judicial virtues of his honoured sire he owes his elevation, rejects that proud and wholesome example; and, by his arrogance and vanity, excites pity for the father and contempt for the son. Her ladyship, who by her own confession has been 'just nine and twenty' for the last ten years, may still boast of her conquests. Her amour with the yellow dwarf of G—vs—r P—e is too good to be lost. They are followed by one, who, time was, would have chased them round the Steyne ~319~~and into cover with all the spirit of a true sportsman; but his days of revelry are past,—that is the celebrated roue, C—— L——, a 'trifle light as air,' yet in nature's spite a very ultra in the pursuit of gallantry. To record the number of frail fair ones to whose charms he owned ephemeral homage would fill a volume. The wantons wife whose vices sunk her from the drawing-room to the lobby; the{4} kitchen wench, whose pretty face and lewd ambition raised her to it; the romance bewildered{5} Miss, and the rude unlettered {6} villager, the hardened drunken profligate, and the timid half-ruined victim (the almost infant Jenny!) have all in turn tasted his bounty and his wine, have each been honoured with a page in his trifles: of his caresses he wisely was more chary. Which of the frail sisterhood has not had a ride in G—— L——'s worn out in the service 1 and which in its day might be said to roll mechanically from C——L——to C——s-s—t, with almost instinctive precision. But his days of poesy and nights of folly are now past!

Honest C——has taken the hint from nature, and retired, at once, from the republics of Venus and of letters. A kind, a generous, and a susceptible heart like his must long ere this have found, in the arms of an amiable wife, those unfading and honourable joys which, reflection must convince him, were not to be extracted from those foul and polluted sources from whence he sought and drew a short-lived pleasure."

You know Crony's affection for a good dinner, and will not therefore be surprised that I had the honour of his company this day; but i'faith he deserved his reward for the cheerfulness and amusement with which he contrived to kill time.

3 Lady B——e.

4 Mrs. H——y.

5 Louisa V——e.

6 Mrs. S—d—s.

7 Mrs. S—mm—ns.

~320~~In the evening it was proposed to visit the libraries; but as these places of public resort are not always eligible for the appearance of a star, Crony and myself were despatched first to reconnoitre and report to the Countess our opinions of the assembled group. The association of society has perhaps undergone a greater change in England within the last thirty years than any other of our peculiar characteristics; at least, I should guess so from Crony's descriptions of the persons who formerly honoured the libraries with their presence; but whose names (if they now condescend to subscribe) are entered in a separate book, that they may not be defiled by appearing in the same column with the plebeian host of the three nations who form the united family of Great Britain. "Ay, sir," said Crony, with a sigh that bespoke the bitterness of reflection, "I remember when this spot (Luccombe's library) was the resort of all the beauty and brilliancy that once illumined the hemisphere of Calton palace,—the satellites of the heir apparent, the brave, the witty, and the gay,—the soul-inspiring, mirthful band, whose talents gave a splendid lustre to the orb of royalty, far surpassing the most costly jewel in his princely coronet. But they are gone, struck to the earth by the desolating hand of the avenger Death, and have left no traces of their genius upon the minds of their successors."

Of the motley assemblage which now surrounds us it would be difficult to attempt a picture. The pencil of a Cruikshank or a Rowlandson might indeed convey some idea; but all weaker hands would find the subject overpowering. A mob of manufacturers, melting hot, elbowing one another into ill-humour, by their anxiety to teach their offspring the fashionable vice of gaming; giving the pretty innocents a taste for loo, which generally ends in loo-sening what little purity of principle the prejudice of education has left upon their intellect. In our more fashionable hells, wine and choice liqueurs are the stimulants ~321~~to vice; here, the seduction consists in the strumming of an ill-toned piano, to the squeaking of some poor discordant whom poverty compels to public exposure; and who, generally being of the softer sex, pity protects from the severity of critical remark. I need not say our report to the Dalmaines was unfavourable; and the divine little countess, frustrated in her intentions of honouring the libraries with her presence, determined upon promenading up the West Cliff, attended by old Crony and myself. The bright-eyed goddess of the night emitted a ray of more than usual brilliancy, and o'er the blue waters of the deep spread forth a silvery and refulgent lustre, that lent a charm of magical inspiration to the rippling waves. For what of nature's mighty works can more delight, than

'——Circling ocean, when the swell By zephyrs borne from off the main, Heaves to the breeze, and sinks again?'

The deep murmuring of the hollow surge as it rolls over the pebble beach, the fresh current of saline air that braces and invigorates, and the uninterrupted view of the watery expanse, are attractions of delight and contemplation which are nowhere to be enjoyed in greater perfection than at Brighton. The serenity of the evening induced us to pass the barrier of the chain-pier, and bend our steps towards the projecting extremity of that ingenious structure. An old Welsh harper was touching his instrument with more than usual skill for an itinerant professor, while the plaintive notes of the air he tuned accorded with the solemnity of the surrounding scene. "I could pass an evening here," said the countess, in a somewhat contemplative mood, "in the society of kindred spirits, with more delightful gratification than among the giddy throng who meet at Almack's." Crony bowed to the ground, overpowered by the 322~compliment; while your humble servant, less obsequious, but equally conscious of the flattering honour, advanced my left foot sideways, drew up my right longitudinally, and touched my beaver with a _congee_, that convinced me I had not forgotten the early instructions of our old Eton posture-master, the all-accomplished Signor Angelo. "A _wery hextonishing vurk, this here pier," said a fat, little squab of a citizen, sideling up to Crony like a full-grown porpoise; "_wery hexpensive_, and _wery huseless, I thinks_" continued the intruder. Crony reared his crest in silent indignation, while his visage betokened an approaching storm; but a significant look from the countess gave him the hint that some amusement might be derived from the _animal_; who, without understanding the contempt he excited, proceeded—"_Vun_ of the new _bubble_ companies' _specks, I supposes, vat old daddy Boreas vill blow avay sum night in a hurrikin_. It puts me _wery_ much in mind of a two bottle man." "Why so?" said Crony. "Bekause it's only half seas _hover_." This little civic _jeu d'esprit_ made his peace with us by producing a hearty laugh, in which he did not fail to join in unison. "But are you aware of the usefulness and national importance of the projector's plans? said Crony. "Not I," responded the citizen: "I hates all projections of breweries, bridges, buildings, and boring companies, from the Golden-lane speck to the Vaterloo; from thence up to the new street, and down to the tunnel under the Thames, vich my banker, Sir William Curtis, says, is the greatest bore in London." "But humanity, sir," said Crony, "has, I hope, some influence with you; and this undertaking is intended not only for the healthful pleasure of the Brighton visitors, but for the convenience of vessels in distress, and the landing of passengers in bad weather." "Ay, there it is,—that's hexactly vat I thought; to help our rich people more easily out of ~323~~the country, and bring a set of poor half-starved foreigners in: vy, I'm told it's to be carried right across the channel in time, and then the few good ones ve have left vill be marching off to the enemy." This conceit amused the countess exceedingly, and was followed by many other equally strange expressions and conjectures; among which, Crony contrived to persuade him that great amusement was to be derived in bobbing for mackerel and turbot with the line: a pleasure combining so much of profit in expectancy that the old citizen was, at last, induced to admit the utility of the chain-pier.

Retracing our steps towards the Steyne, we had one more good laugh at our companion's credulity, who expressed great anxiety to know what the huge wheel was intended for, which is at the corner by the barrier, and throws up water for the use of the town; but which, Crony very promptly assured him, was the grand action of the improved roasting apparatus at the York hotel. We now bade farewell to our amusing companion, and proceeded to view the new plunging bath at the bottom of East-street, built in the form of an amphitheatre, and surrounded by dressing-rooms, with a fountain in the centre, from which a continued supply of salt-water is obtained. The advantages may be great in bad weather; but to my mind there is nothing like the open sea, particularly as confined water is always additionally cold. On our arrival at home, a parcel from London brought the enclosed from Tom Echo, upon whom the sentence of rustication has, I fear, been productive of fresh follies.



Dear Heartily,

Having cut college for a bolt to the village,{8} I expected to have found you in the bay of condolence,{9} but hear you left your moorings lately

8 London, so called at Oxford.

9 The consolation afforded by friends when plucked or rusticated.

~324~~to waste the ready among the sharks at Brighton. Though not quite at point nonplus, I am very near the united kingdoms of Sans Souci and Sans Sixsous,{10} and shall bring to, and wait for company, in the province of Bacchus. I have only just quitted AEager Haven, and been very near the Wall{11}; have sustained another dreadful fire from Convocation Castle,{12} which had nigh shattered my fore-lights, and was very near being blown up in attempting to pass the Long Hope.{13} If you wish to save an old Etonian from east jeopardy,{14} set sail directly, and tow me out of the river Tick into the region of rejoicing; then will we get bosky together, sing old songs, tell merry tales, and spree and sport on the states of Independency.

Yours truly,

The Oxford rustic,

London.

TOM ECHO.

P. S. I should not have cut so suddenly, but joined Bob Transit and Eglantine in giving two of the old big wigs a flying leap t'other evening, as they left Christ Church Hall, in return for rusticating me:—to escape suspicion, broke away by the mail. I know your affection for a good joke, so induced Bob to book it, and let me have the sketch, which I here enclose.

10 Riddance of cares, and, ultimately, of sixpences.

11 The depot of invalids; Dr. Wall being a celebrated surgeon, whose skill is proverbial in the cure of the Headington or Bagley fever. For a view of poor Tom during his suffering—(see plate by Bob Transit.)

12 The House of Convocation in Oxford, when the twenty-five heads of Colleges and the masters meet to transact and investigate university affairs.

13 The symbol of long expectation in studying for a degree.

14 Terrors of anticipation. The remaining phrases have all been explained in an earlier part of the Work.

~325~~



Mad as the D'Almaine's must think me for obeying such a summons, I have just bade them adieu, and am off to-morrow, by the earliest coach, for London. The only place I have omitted to notice, in my sketches of Brighton, is the Club House on the Steyne Parade, where a few old rooks congregate, to keep a sharp look-out for an unsuspecting green one, or a wealthy pigeon, who, if once netted, seldom succeeds in quitting the trap without being plucked of a few of his feathers. The greatest improvement to a place barren of foliage and the agreeable retirement of overshadowed walks, is the Royal Gardens, on the level at the extremity of the town, in a line with the Steyne enclosures as you enter from the London road. The taste, variety, and accommodation displayed in this elegant place of amusement, renders it certainly the most attractive of public gardens, while the arrangements are calculated to gratify all ~326~~classes of society without the danger of too crowded an assemblage. Let us see you when term ends; and in the interim expect a long account of sprees and sports in the village.

Horatio Heartly.



METROPOLITAN SKETCHES.

Heartly, Echo, and Transit start for a Spree—Scenes by Daylight, Starlight, and Gaslight—Black Mon-day at Tattersall's—The first Meeting after the Great St. Leger— Heroes of the Turf paying and receiving—Dinner at Fishmongers' Hall—Com-mittee of Greeks—The Affair of the Cogged Dice—A regular Break-down—Rules for the New Club— The Daffy Club, or a musical Muster of the Fancy: striking Portraits—Counting the Stars—Covent Garden, what it was, and what it is—The Finish—Anecdotes of Characters—The Hall of Infamy, alias the Covent Garden Hell.

Of all the scenes where rich and varied character is to be found in the metropolis and its environs, none can exceed that emporium for sharps and flats, famed Tattersall's, whether for buying a good horse, betting a round sum, or, in the sporting phrase, learning how to make the best of every thing. "Shall we take a tooddle up to Hyde-park corner?" said Echo; "this is the settling day for all bets made upon the great Doncaster St. Leger, when the swells book up, and the knowing ones draw their bussel:—Black Monday, as Sir John Lade terms it, when the event has not come off right." "A noble opportunity," replied Transit, "for a picture of turf curiosities. Come, Heartly, throw philosophy aside, and let us set forth for a day's enjoyment, and then to finish with a night of frolic. An occasional spree is as necessary to the relaxation of the mind, as exercise is to 328~ensure health. The true secret to make life pleasant, and study profitable, is to be able to throw off our cares as we do our morning gowns, and, when we sally forth to the world, derive fresh spirit, vigour, and information from cheerful companions, good air, and new objects. High 'Change among the heroes of the turf presents ample food for the humorist; while the strange contrast of character and countenance affords the man of, feeling and discernment subject for amusement and future contemplation." It was in the midst of one of the most numerous meetings ever remembered at Tattersall's, when Barefoot won the race, contrary to the general expectation of the knowing ones, that we made our entre. With Echo every sporting character was better known than his college tutor, and not a few kept an eye upon the boy, with hopes, no doubt, of hereafter benefiting by his inexperience, when, having got the whip-hand of his juvenile restrictions, he starts forth to the world a man of fashion and consequence, with an unencumbered property of fifteen thousand per annum, besides expectancies. "Here's a game of chess for you, Transit," said Echo; "why, every move upon the board is a character, and not one but what is worth booking. Observe the arch slyness of the jockey yonder, ear-wigging his patron, a young blood of the fancy, into a good thing; particularising all the capabilities and qualities of the different horses named, and making the event (in his own estimation) as sure as the Bank of England:—how finely contrasted with the easy indifference of the dignified sportsman near him, who leaves all to chance, spite of the significant nods and winks from a regular artiste near him, who never suffers him to make a bet out of the ring, if it is possible to prevent him, by throwing in a little suspicion, in order that he and his friends may have the plucking of their victim exclusively. The portly-looking man in the left-hand corner (see ~329~~plate) is Mr. Tanfield, one of the greatest betting men on the turf; who can lose and pay twenty thousand without moving a muscle, and pocket the like sum without indulging in a smile; always steady as old Time, and never giving away a chance, but carefully keeping his eye upon Cocker (i. e. his book), to see how the odds stand, and working away by that system which is well understood under the term management. In front of him is the sporting Earl of Sefton, and that highly-esteemed son of Nimrod, Colonel Hilton Joliffe,—men of the strictest probity, and hence often appointed referees on matters in dispute.



Lawyer L——, and little Wise-man, are settling their differences with bluff Bland, who carries all his bets in his memory till he reaches home, because a book upon the spot would be useless. In the right-hand corner, just in front of old General B——n, is John Gully, once the pugilist, but now a man of considerable property, which has been principally acquired by his knowledge of calculation, and strict attention to honourable conduct: there are few men on the turf more respected, and very few among those who keep betting books whose conduct will command the same approbation. The old beau in the corner is Sir Lumley S——n, who, without the means to bet much, still loves to linger near the scene of former extravagance." "A good disciple of Lavater," said Transit, "might tell the good or ill fortunes of those around him, by a slight observance of their countenances. See that merry-looking, ruby-faced fellow just leaving the door of the subscription-room: can any body doubt that he has come off all right?—or who would dispute that yon pallid-cheeked gentleman, with a long face and quivering lip, betrays, by the agitation of his nerves, the extent of his sufferings? The peer with a solemn visage tears out his last check, turns upon his heel, whistles a tune, and sets against the gross amount of his losses another mortgage of ~330~~the family acres, or a post obit upon some expectancy: the regular sporting man, the out and outer, turns to his book—

'For there he finds, no matter who has won,{1} Whichever animal, or mare, or colt; Nay, though each horse that started for't should bolt, Or all at once fall lame, or die, or stray, He yet must pocket hundreds by the day.'"

Two or three amusing scenes took place among those who wanted, and those who had nothing to give, but yet were too honourable to levant: many exhibited outward and visible signs of inward grief. A man of metal dropped his last sovereign with a sigh, but chafed a little about false reports of chaunting up a losing horse, doing the thing neatly, keeping the secret, and other such like delicate innuendoes, which among sporting men pass current, provided the losers pay promptly. Several, who had gone beyond their depth, were recommended to the consideration of the humane, in hopes that time might yet bring them about. We had now passed more than two hours among the motley group, when Tom, having exchanged the time o'day with most of his sporting friends, proposed an adjournment to Fishmongers' Hall, or, as he prefaced it, with a visit to the New Club in St. James's-street; to which resort of Greeks and gudgeons we immediately proceeded.



We had just turned the corner of St. James's-street, and were preparing to ascend the steps which lead to the New Club, as Crockford's establishment is termed, when old Crony accosted me.

1 To all but betting men, this must appear impossible; but management is every thing; and with a knowledge of the secret, according to turf logic, it is one hundred to one against calculation, and, by turf mathematics, five hundred to one against any event coming right upon the square. In the sporting phrase, 'turf men never back any thing to win;' they have no favourites, unless there is a X; and their common practice is to accommodate all, by taking the odds, till betting is reduced to a certainty.

~331~~He had it seems come off by the Brighton ten o'clock coach, and was now, "according to his usual custom i' the afternoon," on the look-out for an invite to a good dinner and a bottle. As I knew he would prove an agreeable, if not a very useful companion in our present enterprise, I did not hesitate to present him to Echo and Transit, who, upon my very flattering introduction, received him graciously; although Bob hinted he was rather too old for a play-fellow, and Echo whispered me to keep a sharp lookout, as he strongly suspected he was a staff officer of the new Greek corps of Sappers and Miners. In London you can neither rob nor be robbed genteelly without a formal introduction: how Echo had contrived it I know not, but we were very politely ushered into the grand club-room, a splendid apartment of considerable extent, with a bow-window in front, exactly facing White's.

To speak correctly of the elegance and taste displayed in the decorations and furniture, not omitting the costly sideboard of richly-chased plate, I can only say it rivalled any thing I had ever before witnessed, and was calculated to impress the young mind with the most extravagant ideas of the wealth and magnificence of the members or committee. The Honourable Mr. B——, one of the brothers of the Earl of R——, was the procureur to whom, I found, we were indebted, for the present honour—a gay man, of some fashionable notoriety, whose fortune is said to have suffered severely by his attachment to the orthodox orgies at the once celebrated Gothic Hall, when Parson John Ambrose used to officiate as the presiding minister. "Here he is a member of the committee," said Crony, "and, with his brother and the old Lord F——, the Marquis H——, Colonel C——, and the Earl of G——, forms the secret directory of the New Club, which is considered almost as good a thing as a Mexican mine; for, if report speaks truly, the amount ~332~~of the profits in the last season exceeded one hundred thousand pounds, after payment of expenses." A sudden crash in the street at this moment drew the attention of all to the window, where an accident presented a very ominous warning to those within (see plate). "A regular break down," said Echo. "Floored" said Transit, "but not much the matter." "I beg your pardon, sir," said a wry-mouthed portly-looking gentleman, who stood next to Bob; "it is a very awkward circumstance to have occurred just here: I'll bet ten to one it spoils all the play to-night; and if any of those newspaper fellows get to hear of it, Fishmongers' Hall and its members will figure in print again to-morrow;" and with that he bustled off to the street to assist in re-producing a move with all possible celerity. "Who the deuce was the queer-looking cawker?" we all at once inquired of Crony. "What, gentlemen! not know the director-general, the accomplished commander-in-chief, the thrice-renowned Cocker Crockford? (so named from his admirable tact at calculation): why, I thought every one who had witnessed a horse-race, or a boxing-match, or betted a guinea at Tattersall's, must have known the director, who has been a notorious character among the sporting circles for the last thirty years: and, if truth be told, is not the worst of a bad lot. About five-and-twenty years since I remember him," said Crony, "keeping a snug little fishmonger's shop, at the corner of Essex-street, in the Strand, where I have often betted a guinea with him on a trotting match, for he was then fond of the thing, and attended the races and fights in company with old Jerry Cloves, the lighterman, who is now as well breeched as himself. It is a very extraordinary fact," continued Crony, "and one which certainly excites suspicion, that almost all those who have made large fortunes by the turf or play are men of obscure origin, who, but a few years since, were not worth a guinea, ~333~~while those by whom they have risen are now reduced to beggary." How many representatives of noble houses, and splendid patrimonies, handed down with increasing care from generation, to generation, have been ruined and dissipated by this pernicious vice! —the gay and inexperienced nipped in the very bud of life, and plunged into irretrievable misery—while the high-spirited and the noble-minded victims to false honour, too often seek a refuge from despair in the grave of the suicide! Such were the reflections that oppressed my mind while contemplating the scene before me: I was, however, roused from my reverie by Crony's continuation of the director's history. "He bears the character of an honourable man," said our Mentor, "among the play world, and has the credit of being scrupulously particular in all matters of play and pay. For the fashion of his manners, they might be much improved, certainly; but for generosity and a kind action, there are very few among the Greeks who excel the old fishmonger. He was formerly associated with T—l-r and others in the French Hazard Bank, at Watier's Club House, corner of Bolton-row; but T—l-r, having purchased the house without the knowledge of his partners, wanted so many exclusive advantages for himself, that the director withdrew, just in time to save himself from the obloquy of an affair which occurred shortly afterwards, in which certain persons were charged with using false dice. The complainant, a young sprig of fashion, seized the unhallowed bones, and bore them off in triumph to a stick shop in the neighbourhood; where, for some time afterwards, they were exhibited to the gaze of many a fashionable dupe. The circumstance produced more than one good effect—it prevented a return of any disposition to play on the part of the detector, and closed the house for ever since." After the dinner, which was served up in a princely style, we were invited by the Honourable to ~334~~view the upper apartment, called the Grand Saloon, a true picture of which accompanies this, from the pencil of my friend, Bob Transit, and into which he has contrived to introduce the affair of the cogged dice (see plate), a licence always allowable to poets and painters in the union of time and place. The characters here will speak for themselves.



They are all sketches from the life, and as like the originals as the reflection of their persons would be in a looking-glass. By the frequenters of such places they will be immediately recognised; while to the uninitiated the family cognomen is of little consequence, and is omitted, as it might give pain to worthy bosoms who are not yet irrecoverably lost. By the strict rules of Fishmongers' Hall, the members of Brookes', White's, Boodle's, the Cocoa Tree, Alfred and Travellers' clubs only are admissible; but this restriction is not always enforced, particularly where there is a chance of a good bite. The principal game played here is French Hazard, the director and friends supplying the bank, the premium for which, with what the box-money produces, forms no inconsiderable source of profit. It is ridiculous to suppose any unfair practices are ever resorted to in the general game; in a mixed company they would be easily detected, and must end in the ruin of the house: but the chances of the game, calculation, and superior play, give proficients every advantage, and should teach the inexperienced caution. "It is heart-rending," said Crony, whom I had smuggled into one corner of the room, for the purpose of enjoying his remarks free from observation, "to observe the progress of the unfortunate votaries to this destructive vice, as they gradually proceed through the various stages of its seductive influence. The young and thoughtless are delighted with the fascination of the scene: to the more profligate sensualist it affords an opportunity of enjoying the choicest liqueurs, coffee, and wines, ~335~~free of expense; and, although he may have no money to lose himself, he can do the house a good turn, by introducing some pigeon who has just come out; and he is therefore always a welcome visitor. At Crockford's, all games where the aid of mechanism would be necessary are cautiously avoided, not from any moral dislike to Rouge et Noir or Roulette, but from the apprehension of an occasional visit from the police, and the danger attending the discovery of such apparatus, which, from its bulk, cannot easily be concealed. In the space of an hour Echo had lost all the money he possessed, and had given his I O U for a very considerable sum; although frequently urged to desist by Transit, who, with all his love of life and frolic, is yet a decided enemy to gaming. One excess generally leads to another. From Tattersall's we had passed to Crockford's; and on quitting the latter it was proposed we should visit Tom Belcher's, the Castle Tavern, Holborn, particularly as on this night there was a weekly musical muster of the fancy, yclept the Daffy Club; a scene rich in promise for the pencil of our friend Bob, of sporting information to Echo, and full of characteristic subject for the observation of the English Spy—of that eccentric being, of whom, I hope, I may continue to sing 'esto perpetua!'

Life is, with him, a golden dream, A milky way, where all's serene. Wit's treasured stores his humour wait,— His volume, man in every state,— From grave to gay, from rich to poor, From gilded dome to rustic door. Through all degrees life's varied page, He shows the manners of the age.

The Daffy Club presents to the eye of a calm observer a fund of entertainment; to the merry mad-wag who is fond of life, blowing his steamer, and drinking blue ruin, until all is blue before him, a ~336~~source of infinite amusement; the convivial finds his antidote to the rubs and jeers of this world in a rum chaunt; while the out and outer may here open his mag-azine of tooth-powder, cause a grand explosion, and never fear to meet a broadside in return. The knowing cove finds his account in looking out for the green ones, and the greens find their head sometimes a little heavier, and their pockets lighter, by an accidental rencontre with the fancy. To see the place in perfection, a stranger should choose the night previous to some important mill, when our host of the Castle plays second, and all the lads are mustered to stump up their blunt, or to catch the important whisper where the scene of action is likely to be (for there is always due caution used in the disclosure), to take a peep at the pugilists present, and trot off as well satisfied as if he had partaken of a splendid banquet with the Great Mogul.

The long room is neatly fitted up, and lighted with gas; and the numerous sporting subjects, elegantly framed and glazed, have rather an imposing effect upon the entrance of the visitor, and among which may be recognised animated likenesses of the late renowned Jem Belcher, and his daring competitor (that inordinate glutton) Burke. The fine whole-length portrait of Mr. Jackson stands between those of the Champion and Tom Belcher; the father of the present race of boxers, old Joe Ward; the Jew phenomenon, Dutch Sam; Bob Gregson, in water colours, by the late John Emery, of Covent Garden theatre; the scientific contest between Humphreys and Mendoza; also the battle between Crib and Jem Belcher; a finely executed portrait of the late tremendous Molineux; portraits of Gulley, Randall, Harmer, Turner, Painter, Tom Owen, and Scroggins, with a variety of other subjects connected with the turf, chase, &c, including a good likeness of the dog Trusty, the champion of the canine race in fifty battles, and the favourite ~337~~animal of Jem Belcher, the gift of Lord Camelford—the whole forming a characteristic trait of the sporting world. The long table, or the ring, as it is facetiously termed, is where the old slanders generally perch themselves to receive the visits of the swells, and give each other the office relative to passing events: and what set of men are better able to speak of society in all its various ramifications, from the cabinet-counsellor to the cosey costermonger? Jemmy Soares, the president, must be considered a downy one; having served five apprenticeships to the office of sheriffs representative, and is as good a fellow in his way as ever tapped a shy one upon the shoulder-joint, or let fly a ca sa at your goods and chattels. Lucky Bob is a fellow of another stamp, "a nation good vice" as ever was attached to the house of Brunswick. Then comes our host, a civil, well-behaved man, without any of the exterior appearance of the ruffian, or perhaps I should say of his profession, and with all the good-natured qualifications for a peaceable citizen, and an obliging, merry landlord: next to him you will perceive the immortal typo, the all-accomplished Pierce Egan; an eccentric in his way, both in manner and person, but not deficient in that peculiar species of wit which fits him for the high office of historian of the ring. The ironical praise of Blackwood he has the good sense to turn to a right account, laughs at their satire, and pretends to believe it is all meant in right-down earnest approbation of his extraordinary merits. For a long while after his great instructor's neglect of his friends, Pierce kept undisturbed possession of the throne; but recently competitors have shown themselves in the field well found in all particulars, and carrying such witty and weighty ammunition wherewithal, that they more than threaten "to push the hero from his stool."{1} Tom 1 The editors of the Annals of Sporting, and Bell's Life in London, are both fellows of infinite wit.

~338~~Spring, who is fond of cocking as well as fighting, is seen with his bag in the right-hand corner, chaffing with the Duck-lane doss man; while Lawyer L——e, a true sportsman, whether for the turf or chase, is betting the odds with brother Adey, Greek against Greek. Behind them are seen the heroes Scroggins and Turner; and at the opposite end of the table, a Wake-ful one, but a grosser man than either, and something of the levanter: the bald-headed stag on his right goes by the quaint cognomen of the Japan oracle, from the retentive memory he possesses on all sporting and pugilistic events. The old waiter is a picture every frequenter will recognise, and the smoking a dozer no unusual bit of a spree. Here, my dear Bernard, you have before you a true portrait of the celebrated Daffy{2} Club, done from the life by our

2 The great lexicographer of the fancy gives the following definition of the word Daffy. The phrase was coined at the mint of the Fancy, and has since passed current without ever being overhauled as queer. The Colossus of Literature, after all his nous and acute researches to explain the synonyms of the English language, does not appear to have been down to the interpretation of Daffy; nor indeed does Bailey or Sheridan seem at all fly to it; and even slang Grose has no touch of its extensive signification. The squeamish Fair One who takes it on the sly, merely to cure the vapours, politely names it to her friends as White Wine. The Swell chaffs it as Blue Ruin, to elevate his notions. The Laundress loves dearly a drain of Ould Tom, from its strength to comfort her inside. The drag Fiddler can toss off a quartern of Max without making a wry mug. The Costermonger illumines his ideas with a flash of lightning.' The hoarse Cyprian owes her existence to copious draughts of Jacky. The Link-boy and Mud Larks, in joining their browns together, are for some Stark Naked. And the Out and Outers, from the addition of bitters to it, in order to sharpen up a dissipated and damaged Victualling Office, cannot take any thing but Fuller's Earth. Much it should seem, therefore, depends upon a name; and as a soft sound is at all times pleasing to the listener—to have denominated this Sporting Society the Gin Club would not only have proved barbarous to the ear, but the vulgarity of the chant might have deprived it of many of its elegant friends. It is a subject, however, which it must be admitted has a good deal of Taste belonging to it—and as a Sporting Man would be nothing if he was not flash, the Daffy Club meet under the above title.

~339~~mutual friend, Bob Transit (see plate), in closing my account of which I have only to say, we were not disappointed in our search after variety, and came away high in spirits, and perfectly satisfied with the good-humour and social intercourse of our eccentric associates.



The sad, the sober, and the sentimental were all gone to roost, before our merry trio sallied forth from the Castle Tavern, ripe for any sport or spree. Of all the bucks in this buckish age, your London buck is the only true fellow of spirit; with him life never begins too early, or finishes too late; how many of the west-end roues ride twenty miles out, in a cold morning, to meet the hounds, and after a hard day's run mount their hack and ride twenty miles home to have the pleasure of enjoying their own fire-side, or of relating the hair-breadth perils and escapes they have encountered, to their less active associates at Long's or Stevens's, the Cider Cellar, or the Coal-hole! The general introduction of gas throws too clear a light upon many dark transactions and midnight frolics to allow the repetition of the scenes of former times: here and there to be sure an odd nook, or a dark cranny, is yet left unenlightened; but the leading streets of the metropolis are, for the most part, too well illuminated to allow the spreeish or the sprightly to carry on their jokes in security, or bolt away with safety when a charley thinks proper to set his child a crying.{3} We had crossed the road, in the direction of Chancery-lane, expecting to have met with a hackney rattler, but not one was to be found upon the stand, when Bob espied the broad tilt of a jarvey perched upon his shop-board, and impelling along, with no little labour of the whip, a pair of anatomies, whose external appearance showed they

3 Springing his rattle.

340~had benefited very little by the opening of the ports for oats, or the digestive operation of the new corn-bill. "Hired, old Jarvey?" said Echo, fixing himself in the road before the fiery charioteer. "No, but tired, young Davey," replied the dragsman. "Take a fare to Covent Garden?" "Not if I knows it," was the knowing reply; "so stir your stumps, my tight one, or I shall drive over you." "You had better take us," said Transit. "I tell you I won't; I am a day man, going home, and I don't take night jobs." "But I tell you, you must," said Echo; "so round with your drag, and we'll make your last day a long day, and give you the benefit of resurrection into the bargain." "Why, look ye, my jolly masters, if you're up to a lark of that 'ere sort, take care you don't get a floorer; I've got a rum customer inside what I'm giving a lift to for love—only Josh Hudson, the miller; and if he should chance to wake, I think he'll be for dusting some of your jackets." "What, my friend Josh inside?" vociferated Echo, "then it's all right: go it, my hearties; mount the box one on each hand, and make him drive us to the Finish—while I settle the matter with the inside passenger." Josh, who had all this time been taking _forty winks_, while on his road to his crony Belcher's, soon recognised his patron, Echo; and jarvey, finding that all remonstrance was useless, thought it better to make a "virtue of necessity;" so turning his machine to the right about, he, in due time, deposited us in the purlieus of Covent Garden. The hoarse note of the drowsy night-guard reverberated through the long aisle of the now-forsaken piazzas, as the trembling flame of the parish lamp, flittering in its half-exhausted jet, proclaimed the approach of day; the heavy rumbling of the gardeners' carts, laden with vegetables for the ensuing market, alone disturbed the quiet of the adjoining streets. In a dark angle might be seen the houseless wanderer, or the abandoned profligate, ~341~~gathered up like a lump of rags in a corner, and shivering with the nipping air. The gloom which surrounded us had, for a moment, chilled the wild exuberance of my companions' mirth; and it is more than probable we should have suspended our visit to the _Finish_, at least for that night, had not the jocund note of some uproarious Bacchanalian assailed our ears with the well-known college chant of old Walter de Mapes, "_Mihi est propositum in taberna mori_," which being given in G major, was re-echoed from one end to the other of the arched piazza: at a little distance we perceived the jovial singer reeling forwards, or rather working his way, from right to left, in sinuosities, along, or according to nautical phrase, upon _tack and half tack, bearing up to windward, in habiliments black as a crow, with the exception of his neckcloth and under vest; but judge our surprise and delight, when, upon nearer approach, we discovered the _bon vivant_ to be no other than our old friend Crony, who had been sacrificing to the jolly god with those choice spirits the members of the Beefsteak Club,{4} who meet in a room built expressly

4 This Club, which may boast among its members some of the most distinguished names of the age, including royalty itself, owed its origin to the talents of those celebrated artists Richards and Loutherbourg, whose scenic performances were in those days often exhibited to a select number of the nobility and gentry, patrons of the drama and the arts, in the painting-room of the theatre, previous to their being displayed to the public. It was on one of those occasions that some noblemen surprised the artist cooking his beef- steak for luncheon in his painting-room, and kindly partaking of the dejeune a la fourchette, with him, suggested and established the Beef-steak Club, which was originally, and up to the time of the fire, held in an apart-ment over the old Theatre Royal, Covent Garden; but since that period the members have been accommodated by Mr. Arnold, who built the present room expressly for their use. In page 216 of this work, allusion will be found by name to some of the brilliant wits who graced this festive board, and gave a lustre to the feast. In the old place of meeting the identical gridiron on which Richards and Loutherbourg operated was to be seen attached to the ceiling, emblematical of the origin of the society, which may now be considered as the only relic left of that social intercourse which formerly existed in so many shapes between those who were distinguished for their noble birth and wealth, and the poorer, but equally illustrious, of the children of Genius. It would be an act of injustice to the present race of scenic artists to close this note without acknowledging their more than equal merits to their predecessors: the Grieves (father and sons), Phillips, Marinari, Wilson, Tomkins, and Stanfield, are all names of high talent; but the novelty of their art has, from its general cultivation, lost much of this peculiar attraction.

~342~~for them over the audience part of the English Opera House. The ruby glow of the old boy's countenance shone like an omen of the merry humour of his mind. "What, out for a spree, boys, or just bailed from the watch-house, which is it? the alpha or omega, for they generally follow one another?" "Then you are in time for the _equivoque_, Crony," said Echo; "so enlist him, Transit;" and without more ceremony, Crony was marched off, _vi et armis, to the _Finish_, a coffee-house in James-street, Covent Garden, where the _peep-o'-day boys_ and _family men_ meet to conclude the night's debauch _(see plate)_; "_Video meliora proboque, Deteriora sequoi_;" you will exclaim, and 'tis granted; but

"Lusus animo debent aliquando dari, Ad cogitandum melior ut red eat sibi,"

says Phodrus, and be the poet's apology mine, for I am neither afraid or ashamed to confess myself an admirer of life in all its variegated lights and shadows, deriving my amusement from the great source of knowledge, the study of that eccentric volume—man. The new police act has, in some measure, abated the extent of these nuisances, the low coffee-shops of the metropolis, which were, for the greater part, little better than a rendezvous for thieves of every description, depots both for the ~343~~plunder and the plunderer; where, if an unthinking or profligate victim once entered, he seldom came out without experiencing treatment which operated like a severe lesson, that would leave its moral upon his mind as long as he continued an inhabitant of the terrestrial world.



The attempt to describe the party around us baffled even the descriptive powers of old Crony; some few, indeed, were known to the man of the world as reputed sharpers,—fellows who are always to be found lingering about houses of such resort, to catch the inexperienced; when, having sacrificed their victim either by gambling, cheating, or swindling, they divide the profits with the keeper of the house, without whose assistance they could not hope to arrive at the necessary information, or be enabled to continue their frauds with impunity; but, thus protected, they have a ready witness at hand to speak to their character, without the suspicion of his being a confederate in their villany. Here might be seen the woman of pleasure, lost to every sense of her sex's shame, consuming the remaining portion of the night by a wasteful expenditure of her ill-acquired gains upon some abandoned profligate, bearing, indeed, the outward form of man, but presenting a most degrading spectacle—a wretch so lost to all sense of honour and manhood as meanly to subsist on the wages of prostitution. One or two characters I must not omit: observe the fair Cyprian with the ermine tippet, seated on the right of a well-known billiard sharp, who made his escape from Dublin for having dived a little too deep into the pockets of his brother emeralders; here he passes for a swell, and has abandoned his former profession for the more honest union of callings, a pimp and playman, in other words, a finished Greek. The lady was the chere amie of the unfortunate youth Hayward (designated as the modern Macheath), who suffered an ignominious death. He was betrayed and sold to the ~344~~officers by this very woman, upon whom he had lavished the earnings of his infamy, when endeavouring to secrete himself from the searching eye of justice. The unhappy female on the other side was early in life seduced by the once celebrated Lord B——, by whose title, to his lasting infamy, she is still known: what she might have been, but for his arts, reflection too often compels her to acknowledge, when sober and sinking under her load of misery; at other times she has recourse to liquor to drown her complicated misfortunes; when wild and infuriated, she more nearly resembles a demon than a woman, spreading forth terror and destruction upon all around; in this state she is often brought to the police-office, where the humanity of the magistrates, softened perhaps by a recollection of her wrongs, generally operates to procure for her some very trifling and lenient sentence.{5}

5 THE LIFE OF A WOMAN OF THE TOWN.

Ah! what avails how once appear'd the fair, When from gay equipage she falls obscure?

In vain she moves her livid lips in prayer; What man so mean to recollect the poor?

From place to place, by unfee'd bailiffs drove, As fainting fawns from thirsty bloodhounds fly;

See the sad remnants of unhallow'd love In prisons perish, or on dunghills die.

Pimps and dependents once her beauties praised, And on those beauties, vermin-like, they fed;

From wretchedness the crew her bounty raised, When by her spoils enrich'd—deny her bread.

Through street to street she wends, as want betides, Like Shore's sad wife, in winter's dismal hours;

The bleak winds piercing her unnourish'd sides, Her houseless head dripping with drizzy showers.

Sickly she strolls amidst the miry lane, While streaming spouts dash on her unclothed neck;

By famine pinch'd, pinch'd by disease-bred pain, Contrition's portrait, and rash beauty's wreck.

~345~~We had now passed from the first receptacle to an inner and more elegant apartment, where we could be accommodated with suitable refreshments, wine, spirits, or, in fact, any thing we pleased to order and were disposed to pay for; a practice at most of these early coffee-houses, as they are denominated. The company in this room were, as far as appearances went, of rather a better order; but an event soon occurred which convinced us that their morality was perhaps more exceptionable than the motley group which filled the outer chamber. A bevy of damsels were singing, flirting, and drinking, to amuse their companions,—when all at once the doors were forced open, and in rushed three of the principal officers of Bow-street, the indefatigable Bishop, the determined Smith, and the resolute Ruthven (see plate), all armed and prepared for some dreadful encounter: in an instant their followers had possessed themselves of the doors—flight, therefore, was in vain; and Bob Transit, in attempting it, narrowly escaped an awkward crack on the crania from old Jack Townshend, who being past active service, was posted at the entrance with the beak himself, to do garrison duty.



"The traps! the traps!" vociferated some one in the adjoining room; "Douse the glims! stash it—stash it!" was the general exclamation in ours: but before the party could effect their purpose, the principals were in safe custody: and the reader (i.e. pocket-book) containing all the stolen property, preserved from the flames by the wary eye and prompt arm of the indefatigable Bishop. Before any one was allowed to depart the room, a general muster and search took place, in which poor Bob Transit felt most awkward, as some voluptuous sketches found in his pocket called forth

She dies; sad outcast! heart-broke by remorse; Pale, stretch'd against th' inhospitable doors; While gathering gossips taunt the flesh less corse, And thank their gods that they were never w—res!

~346~~the severe animadversion of his worship, the beak, who lamented that such fine talent should be thus immorally applied: with this brief lecture, and a caution for the future, we were allowed to escape; while almost all the rest, male and female, were marched off to an adjoining watch-house, to abide the public examination and fiat of the morrow. Of all the party, old Crony was the most sensibly affected by the late rencontre; twenty bottles of soda-water could not have produced a more important change. His conversation and appearance had, in an instant, recovered their wonted steadiness; and before we were half across the market, Crony was moralizing upon the dangers of the scene from which we had so recently and fortunately escaped. But hearts young and buoyant as ours, when lighted up by the fire of enterprise, and provoked to action by potent charges of the grape, were not to be dashed by one repulse, or compelled to beat a retreat at the first brush with a reconnoitring party; we had sallied forth in pursuit of a spree, and frolic we were determined upon,

"While misty night, with silent pace, Steals gradual o'er the wanton chase."

There is something very romantic in prowling the streets of the metropolis at midnight, in quest of adventure; at least, so my companions insisted, and I had embarked too deeply in the night's debauch to moralize upon its consequences. How many a sober-looking face demure when morning dawns would blush to meet the accusing spirit of the night, dressed out in all the fantasies of whim and eccentricity with which the rosy god of midnight revelry clothes his laughter-loving bacchanals—

"While sleep attendant at her drowsy fane, Parent of ease, envelopes all your train!"

The lamentations of old Crony brought to mind the ~347~~complaints of honest Jack Falstaff against his associates. "There is no truth in villanous man!" said our monitor. "I remember when a gentleman might have reeled round the environs of Covent Garden, in and out of every establishment, from the Bedford to Mother Butlers, without having his pleasures broken in upon by the irruptions of Bow-street mohawks, or his person endangered by any association he chose to mix with; but we are returning to the times of the Roundheads and the Puritans; cant, vile hypocritical cant, has bitten the ear of authority, and the great officers of the state are infected with the Jesuitical mania.

'Man is a ship that sails with adverse winds, And has no haven till he land at death. Then, when he thinks his hands fast grasp the bank, Conies a rude billow betwixt him and safety, And beats him back into the deep again.'"

"I subscribe to none of their fooleries," said I; "for I am of the true orthodox—love my king, my girl, my friend, and my bottle: a truce with all their raven croakings; they would overload mortality, and press our shoulders with too great a weight of dismal miseries. But come, my boys, we who have free souls, let us to the banquet, while yet Sol's fiery charioteer lies sleeping at his eastern palace in the lap of Thetis—let us chant carols of mirth to old Jove or bully Mars; and, like chaste votaries, perform our orgies at the shrine of Venus, ere yet Aurora tears aside the curtain that conceals our revels." In this way we rallied our cameleon-selves, until we again found shelter from the dews of night in Carpenter's coffee-house; a small, but well-conducted place, standing at the east end of the market, which opens between two and three o'clock in the morning, for the accommodation of those who are hourly arriving with waggon loads of vegetable commodities. Here, over a bottle of mulled port, Crony gave us the history of 348~what Covent Garden used to be, when the eminent, the eccentric, and the notorious in every walk of life, were to be found nightly indulging their festivities within its famous precincts. "Covent Garden," said Crony, once so celebrated for its clubs of wits and convents of fine women, is grown as dull as modern Athens, and its ladies of pleasure almost as vulgar as Scotch landladies; formerly, the first beauties of the time assembled every evening under the Piazzas, and promenaded for hours to the soft notes of the dulcet lute, and the silver tongues of amorous and persuasive beaus; then the gay scene partook of the splendour of a Venetian carnival, and such beauties as the Kitten, Peggy Yates, Sally Hall the brunette, Betsy Careless, and the lively Mrs. Stewart, graced the merry throng, with a hundred more, equally famed, whose names are enrolled in the cabinet of Love's votaries. Then there was a celebrated house in Charles-street, called the field of blood, where the droll fellows of the time used nightly to resort, and throw down whole regiments of black artillery; and then at Tom or Moll King's, a coffee-house so called, which stood in the centre of Covent Garden market, at midnight might be found the bucks, bloods, demireps, and choice spirits of London, associated with the most elegant and fascinating Cyprians, congregated with every species of human kind that intemperance, idleness, necessity, or curiosity could assemble together. There you might see Tom King enter as rough as a Bridewell whipper, roaring down the long room and rousing all the sleepers, thrusting them and all who had empty glasses out of his house, setting everything to rights,—when in would roll three or four jolly fellows, claret-cosey, and in three minutes put it all into uproar again; playing all sorts of mad pranks, until the guests in the long room were at battle-royal together; for in those days pugilistic encounters were equally common as with the present ~349~~times, owing to the celebrity of Broughton and his amphitheatre, where the science of boxing was publicly taught. Then was the Spiller's Head in Clare-market, in great vogue for the nightly assemblage of the wits; there might be seen Hogarth, and Betterton the actor, and Dr. Garth, and Charles Churchill, the first of English satirists, and the arch politician, Wilkes, and the gay Duke of Wharton, and witty Morley, the author of Joe Miller, and Walker, the celebrated Macheath, and the well-known Bab Selby, the oyster-woman, and Fig, the boxer, and old Corins, the clerical attorney.—All "hail, fellow, well met."{6} And a friend of mine has in his possession a most extraordinary picture of Hogarth's, on this subject, which has never yet been engraved from. It is called St. James's Day, or the first day of oysters, and represents the interior of the Spiller's Head in Clare-market, as it then appeared. The principal figures are the gay and dissolute Duke of Wharton, for whom the well-known Bab Selby, the oyster-wench, is opening oysters; Spiller is standing at her back, patting her shoulder; the figure sitting smoking by the side of the duke is a portrait of Morley, the author of Joe Miller; and the man standing behind is a portrait of the well-known attendant on the duke's drunken frolics, Fig, the brother of Fig, the boxer: the person drinking at the bar is Corins, called the parson-attorney, from his habit of dressing in clerical attire; the two persons sitting at the table represent portraits of the celebrated Dr. Garth, and Betterton, the actor; the figures, also, of Walker, the celebrated Macheath, and Lavinia Fenton, the highly-reputed Polly, afterwards Duchess of Bolton, may be recognised in the back-ground.

The circumstances of this picture having escaped the notice of the biographer of Hogarth is by no means singular. Mr. Halls, one of the magistrates at Bow-street, has, among other choice specimens by Hogarth, the lost picture of the Harlot's Progress; the subject telling her fortune by the tea-grounds in her cup, admirably characteristic of the artist and his story. In my own collection I have the original picture of the Fish-Women of Calais, with a view of the market-place, painted on the spot, and as little known as the others to which I have alluded. There are, no doubt, many other equally clever performances of Hogarth's prolific pencil which are not generally known to the public, or have not yet been engraved. ~350~~in the same neighbourhood, in Russel-court, at the old Cheshire Cheese, the inimitable but dissolute Tom Brown wrote many of his cleverest essays. Then too commenced the midnight revelries and notoriety of the Cider Cellar, in Maiden-lane, when Sim Sloper, Bob Washington, Jemmy Tas well, Totty Wright, and Harry Hatzell, led the way for a whole regiment more of frolic-making beings who, like Falstaff, were not only, witty themselves, but the cause of keeping it alive in others: to these succeeded Porson the Grecian, Captain Thompson, Tom Hewerdine, Sir John Moore, Mr. Edwin, Mr. Woodfall, Mr. Brownlow, Captain Morris, and a host of other highly-gifted men, the first lyrical and political writers of the day,—who frequented the Cider Cellar after the meetings of the Anacreontic, beefsteak, and humbug clubs then held in the neighbourhood, to taste the parting bowl and swear eternal friendship. In later times, Her Majesty the Queen of Bohemia{7} raised her standard in Tavistock-row, Covent Garden, where she held a midnight court for the wits; superintended by the renowned daughter of Hibernia, and maid of honour to her majesty, the facetious Mother Butler—the ever-constant supporter of Richard Brinsley Sheridan, esquire, and a leading feature in all the memorable Westminster elections of the last fifty years. How many jovial nights have I passed and jolly fellows have I met in the snug sanctum sanctorum! a little crib, as the fishmongers would call it, with an entrance through the bar, and into which none were ever permitted to enter without a formal introduction and the gracious permission of the hostess. Among those who were thus specially privileged, and had the honour of the entre, were the reporters for the morning papers, the leading members of the eccentrics, the actors and musicians of the two Theatres Royal, merry members of both Houses of

7 The sign of the house.

~351~~Parliament, and mad wags of every country who had any established claim to the kindred feelings of genius. Such were the frequenters of the Finish. Here, poor Tom Sheridan, with a comic gravity that set discretion at defiance, would let fly some of his brilliant drolleries at the improvisatore, Theodore Hook; who, lacking nothing of his opponent's wit, would quickly return his tire with the sharp encounter of a satiric epigram or a brace of puns, planted with the most happy effect upon the weak side of his adversary's merriment. There too might be seen the wayward and the talented George Cook, gentlemanly in conduct, and full of anecdote when sober, but ever captious and uproarious in his cups. Then might be heard a strange encounter of expressions between the queen of Covent Garden and the voluptuary, Lord Barrymore,{8} seconded by his brother, the pious Augustus. In one corner might be seen poor Dermody, the poet, shivering with wretchedness, and Mother Butler pleading his cause with a generous feeling that does honour to her heart, collecting for him a temporary supply which, alas! his imprudence generally dissipated with the morrow. Here, George Sutton Manners,{9} and Peter Finnerty,{10} and James Brownly,{11} inspired by frequent potations of the real

8 Designated Cripplegate and Newgate.

9 The relative of the present Archbishop of Canterbury, and then editor of the Satirist magazine.

10 Peter Finnerty was a reporter on the Chronicle. The his- tory of Finnerty's political persecutions in his own country (Ireland), and afterwards in this, are interwoven with our history. The firmness and honesty of his mind had endeared him to a very large circle of patriot friends. He was eloquent, but impetuous, his ideas appearing to flow too fast for delivery. With all the natural warmth of his country, he had a heart of sterling gold. Finnerty died in 1822, very shortly after his friend Perry.

11 James Brownly, formerly a reporter on the Times; of whom Sheridan said, hearing him speak, that his situation ought to have been in the body of the House of Commons, instead of the gallery. Brownly possessed very rare natural talents, was originally an upholsterer in Catherine- street, Strand, and by dint of application acquired a very correct knowledge of the tine arts: he was particularly skilled in architecture and heraldry. In addition to his extraordinary powers as an orator, he was a most elegant critic, and a very amiable man. He died in 1822, much regretted by all who knew him.

~352~~Rocrea whiskey, would hold forth in powerful contention, until mine hostess of the Finish{12} would put an end to the debate; and the irritation it would sometimes engender, by disencumbering herself of a few of her Milesian monosyllables. Then would bounce into the room, Felix M'Carthy, the very cream of comicalities, and the warm-hearted James Hay ne, and Frank Phippen, and Michael Nugent, and the eloquent David Power, and memory Middleton, and father Proby, just to sip an emulsion after the close of their labours in reporting a long debate in the House of Commons. Here, too, I remember to have seen for the first time in my life, the wayward Byron, with the light of genius beaming in his noble countenance, and an eye brilliant and expressive as the evening star; the rich juice of the Tuscan grape had diffused an unusual glow over his features, and inspired him with a playful animation, that but rarely illumined the misanthropic gloominess of his too sensitive mind. An histrionic star alike distinguished for talent and eccentricity accompanied him—the gallant, gay Lothario, Kean. But I should consume the remnant of the night to retrace more of the fading recollections of the Finish. That it was a scene where prudence did not always preside, is true; but there was a rich union of talent and character always to be found within its circle, that

12 Mother Butler, the queen of Covent-garden, for many years kept the celebrated Finish, where, if shut out of your lodging, you might take shelter till morning, very often in the very best of company. The house has, since she left it, been shut up through the suspension of its licence. Mother Butler was a witty, generous-hearted, and very extraordinary woman. She is, I believe, still living, and in good circumstances.

~353~~prevented any very violent outrage upon propriety or decorum. In the present day, there is nothing like it—the Phoenix,{13} Offley's,{14} the Coal-hole,{15} and what yet remains of the dismembered Eccentrics,{16} bears no comparison to the ripe drolleries and

13 A society established at the Wrekin tavern in Broad- court, in imitation of the celebrated club at Brazennose College, Oxford, and of whom I purpose to take some notice hereafter.

14 The Burton ale rooms; frequented by baby bucks, black- legs and half-pay officers.

15 A tavern in Fountain-court, Strand, kept by the poet Rhodes; celebrated for the Saturday ordinary.

16 In the room, where of old the Eccentrics {*} met; When mortals were Brilliants, and fond of a whet, And Hecate environ'd all London in jet. Where Adolphus, and Shorri',{**} and famed Charley Fox, With a hundred good whigs led by Alderman Cox, Put their names in the books, and their cash in the box; Where perpetual Whittle,{***} facetiously grand, On the president's throne each night took his stand, With his three-curly wig, and his hammer in hand: Then Brownly, with eloquence florid and clear, Pour'd a torrent of metaphor into the ear, With well-rounded periods, and satire severe. Here too Peter Finnerty, Erin's own child, Impetuous, frolicsome, witty, and wild, With many a tale has our reason beguiled: Then wit was triumphant, and night after night Was the morn usher'd in with a flood of delight.

* The Eccentrics, a club principally composed of persons connected with the press or the drama, originally established at the Swan, in Chandos-street, Covent-garden, under the name of the Brilliants, and afterwards removed to the Sutherland Arms, in May's-buildings, St. Martin's-lane; —here, for many years, it continued the resort of some of the first wits of the time; the chair was seldom taken till the theatres were over, and rarely vacated till between four and five in the morning.

** Sheridan, Charles Fox, Adolphus, and many of the most eminent men now at the bar, were members or occasional frequenters.

*** James Whittle, Esq., of Fleet-street, (or, as he was more generally denominated, the facetious Jemmy Whittle, of the respectable firm of Laurie and Whittle, booksellers and publishers) was for some years perpetual president of the society, and by his quaint manners, and good-humoured sociality, added much to the felicity of the scene—he is but recently dead.

~354~~pleasant witticisms which sparkled forth in endless variety among the choice spirits who frequented the sanctum sanctorum of the old Finish. "There is yet, however, one more place worthy of notice," said Crony; "not for any amusement we shall derive from its frequenters, but, simply, that it is the most notorious place in London." Thither it was agreed we should adjourn; for Crony's description of Madame and Messieurs the Conducteurs was quite sufficient to produce excitement in the young and ardent minds by which he was then surrounded. I shall not pollute this work by a repetition of the circumstances connected with this place, as detailed by old Crony, lest humanity should start back with horror and disgust at the bare mention, and charity endeavour to throw discredit on the true, but black recital. The specious pretence of selling shell-fish and oysters is a mere trap for the inexperienced, as every description of expensive wines, liqueurs, coffee, and costly suppers are in more general request, and the wanton extravagance exhibited within its vortex is enough to strike the uninitiated and the moralist with the most appalling sentiments of horror and dismay. Yet within this saloon (see plate) did we enter, at four o'clock in the morning, to view the depravity of human nature, and watch the operation of licentiousness upon the young and thoughtless.



A Newgate turnkey would, no doubt, recognize many old acquaintances; in the special hope of which, Bob Transit has faithfully delineated some of the most conspicuous characters, as they appeared on that occasion, lending their hearty assistance in the general scene of maddening uproar. It was past five o'clock in the morning ere we quitted this den of dreadful depravity, heartily tired out by the night's adventures, yet solacing ourselves with the reflection that we had seen much and suffered little either in respect to our purses or our persons.



VISIT TO WESTMINSTER HALL.

Worthies thereof—Legal Sketches of the Long Robe—The Maiden Brief—An awkward Recognition—Visit to Banco Regis— Surrey Collegians giving a Lift to a Limb of the Late, "Thus far shalt thou go and no farther"—Park Rangers—Visit to the Life Academy—R—A—ys of Genius reflecting on the true line of Beauty—Arrival of Bernard Black-mantle in London—Reads his Play and Farce in the Green Rooms of the two Theatres Royal, Drury Lane and Covent Garden—Sketches of Theatrical Character—The City Ball at the Mansion House— The Squeeze—Civic Characters—Return to Alma Mater—The Wind-up—Term ends.

~355~~A note from Dick Gradus invited Echo and myself to hear his opening speech in Westminster Hall. "I have received my maiden brief" writes the young counsel, "and shall be happy if you will be present at my first attempt, when, like a true amicus curio, the presence of an old school-fellow will inspire confidence, and point out what may strike him as defective in my style." "We will all go," said Transit; "Echo will be amused by the oratory of the bar, and I shall employ my pencil to advantage in taking notes, not of short hand, but of long heads, and still longer faces." The confusion created by the building of the new courts at Westminster has literally choked up, for a time, that noble specimen of Gothic architecture—the ancient hall; the King's Bench sittings are therefore temporarily held in the Sessions House, a small, but ~356~~rather compact octangular building, on the right of Parliament-street. Hither we hasted, at nine o'clock in the morning, to take a view of the court, judges, and counsel, and congratulate our friend Gradus on his entree. It has been said, that the only profession in this country where talents can insure success, is the law. If by this is meant talents of a popular kind, the power of giving effect to comprehensive views of justice and the bonds of society, a command of language, and a faculty of bringing to bear upon one point all the resources of intellect and knowledge, they are mistaken; they speak from former experience, and not from present observation: they are thinking of the days of a Mingay or an Erskine, not of those of a Marryat or a Scarlett; of the time when juries were wrought upon by the united influence of zeal and talent, not when they are governed by precedents and practice; when men were allowed to feel a little, as well as think a great deal; when the now common phrase of possessing the ear of the court was not understood, and the tactician and the bully were unknown to the bar. It is asserted, that one-fifth of the causes that come before our courts are decided upon mere matters of form, without the slightest reference to their merits. Every student for the bar must now place himself under some special pleader, and go through all the complicated drudgery of the office of one of these underlings, before he can hope to fill a higher walk; general principles, and enlarged notions of law and justice, are smothered in laborious and absurd technicalities; the enervated mind becomes shackled, until the natural vigour of the intellect is so reduced, as to make its bondage cease to seem burdensome. Dick, with a confidence in his own powers, has avoided this degrading preparation; it is only two months since he was first called to the bar, and with a knowledge of his father's influence and property added to his own talents, he hopes to make a ~357~~stand in court, previous to his being transplanted to the Commons House of Parliament.

A tolerable correct estimate may be formed of the popularity of the judges, by observing the varied bearings of respect evinced towards them upon their entrance into court. Mr. Justice Best came first, bending nearly double under a painful infirmity, and was received by a cold and ceremonious rising of the bar. To him succeeded his brother Holroyd, a learned but not a very brilliant lawyer, and another partial acknowledgment of the counsel was observable. Then entered the Chief Justice, Sir Charles Abbot, with more of dignity in his carriage than either of the preceding, and a countenance finely expressive of serenity and comprehensive faculties: his welcome was of a more general, and, I may add, genial nature; for his judicial virtues have much endeared him to the profession and the public. But the universal acknowledgment of the bar, the jury, and the reporters for the public press, who generally occupy the students' box, was reserved for Mr. Justice Bayley; upon whose entrance, all in court appeared to rise with one accord to pay a tribute of respect to this very distinguished, just, and learned man. All this might have been accidental, you will say; but it was in such strict accordance with my own feelings and popular opinion besides, that, however invidious it may appear, I cannot resist the placing it upon record. To return to the Chief Justice: he is considered a man of strong and piercing intellect, penetrating at once to the bottom of a cause, when others, even the counsel, are very often only upon the surface; his intuition in this respect is proverbial, and hence much of the valuable time of the court is saved upon preliminary or immaterial points. Added to which, he is an excellent lawyer, shrewd, clear, and forcible in his delivery, very firm in his judgments, and mild in his ~358~~language; with a patient command of temper, and continued appearance of good-humour, that adds much to his dignity, and increases public veneration. That he has been the architect of his own elevation is much to be applauded; and it is equally honourable to the state to acknowledge, that he is more indebted to his great talents and his legal knowledge for his present situation than to any personal influence of great interest{1}: of him it may be justly said, he hath

"A piercing wit quite void of ostentation; high-erected thoughts seated in a heart of courtesy; an eloquence as sweet in the uttering, as slow to come to the uttering."

Sir P. Sidney's Arcadia.

It was Dick Gradus's good-luck to be opposed to Scarlett in a case of libel, where the latter was for the defendant. "Of all men else at the bar, I know of no one whom I so much wish to encounter," said Gradus. His irritable temper, negligence in reading his briefs, and consummate ignorance{2} in any thing beyond term-reports, renders him an easy conquest to a quiet, learned, and comprehensive mind. The two former are qualifications Gradus possesses in a very superior degree, and he proved he was in no wise deficient in his opponent's great requisite; I suppose we must call it confidence; but another phrase would be more significant. Scarlett is a great tactician; and in defending his client, never hesitates to take

1 We hear that an allusion in page 359 of this work has been supposed to relate to a near relative of the respected Chief Justice: if it bears any similitude, it is the effect of accident alone; the portrait being drawn for another and a very different person, as the reference to altitude might have shown.

2 See the castigation he received in the Courier of Friday. Dec. 10, 1824, for his total ignorance of the common terms of art.

"——that trick of courts to wear Silk at the cost of flattery."

James Shirley's Poems.

~359~~what I should consider the most unfair, as they are ungentlemanly advantages. But there

"be they that use men's writings like brute beasts, to make them draw which way they list."

T. Nash's Lenten Stuff, 1599.

His great success and immense practice at the bar is more owing to the scarcity of silk-gowns{3} than the profundity of his talents. The perpetual simper that plays upon his ruby countenance, when finessing with a jury, has, no doubt, its artful effect; although it is as foreign to the true feelings of the man, as the malicious grin of the malignant satirist would be to generosity and true genius. Of his oratory, the aureum flumen orationis is certainly not his; and, if he begins a sentence well, he seldom arrives at the conclusion on the same level: he is always most happy in a reply, when he can trick his adversary by making an abusive speech, and calling no witnesses to prove his assertions. Our friend Gradus obtained a verdict, and after it the congratulations of the court and bar, with whom Scarlett is, from his superciliousness, no great favourite. Owen Feltham, in his Resolves, well says, that "arrogance is a weed that ever grows upon a dunghill."{4} The contrast between Scarlett and his great opponent, Mr. Serjeant Copley,

3 Generally speaking, the management of two-thirds of the business of the court is entrusted to four silk-gowns, and about twice as many worsted robes behind the bar.

4 An Impromptu written in the Court of King's Bench during a recent trial for libel.

The Learned Pig.

"My learned Friend," the showman cries; The pig assents—the showman lies; So counsel oft address a brother In flattering lie to one another; Calling their friend some legal varlet, Who lies, and bullies, till he's Scarlett.

360~the present Attorney-General, is a strong proof of the truth of this quotation. To a systematic and profound knowledge of the law, this gentleman unites a mind richly stored with all the advantages of a liberal education and extensive reading, not merely confined to the dry pursuit in which he is engaged, but branching forth into the most luxuriant and highly-cultivated fields of science and the arts. On this account, he shines with peculiar brightness at Nisi Prius; and is as much above the former in the powers of his mind and splendour of his oratory, as he is superior to the presumptuousness of Scarlett's vulgarity. Mr. Marryat is said to possess an excellent knowledge of the heavy business of his profession; and it must be admitted, that his full, round, heavy-looking countenance, and still heavier attempts at wit and humour, admirably suit the man to his peculiar manner: after all, he is a most persevering counsel; not deficient in good sense, and always distinguished by great zeal for his client's interests. Mr. Gurney is a steady, pains-taking advocate, considered by the profession as a tolerable criminal lawyer, but never affecting any very learned arguments in affairs of principles or precedents. In addressing a jury, he is both perspicuous and convincing; but far too candid and gentlemanly in his practice to contend with the trickery of Scarlett.—Mr. Common-Serjeant Denman is a man fitted by nature for the law. I never saw a more judicial-looking countenance in my life; there is a sedate gravity about it, both "stern and mild," firm without fierceness, and severe without austerity:—he appears thoughtful, penetrating, and serene, yet not by any means devoid of feeling and expression:—deeply read in the learning of his profession, he is yet much better than a mere lawyer; for his speeches and manners must convince his hearers that he is an accomplished gentleman. Of Brougham, it may be justly said,~361~~

——" his delights Are dolphin-like; they show his back above The elements he lives in:"

his voice, manner, and personal appearance, are not the happiest; but the gigantic powers of his mind, and the energy of his unconquerable spirit, rise superior to these defects. His style of speaking is marked by a nervous freedom of the most convincing character; he aims little at refinement, and labours more to make himself intelligible than elegant. In zeal for his clients, no man is more indefatigable; and he always appears to dart forward with an undaunted resolution to overcome and accomplish. But here I must stop sketching characters, and refer you to a very able representation of the court, the bar, and jury, by our friend Transit, in which are accurate likenesses of all I have previously named, and also of the following worthies, Messrs. Raine, Pollock, Ashworth, Courtney, Starkie, Williams, Parke, Rotch, Piatt, Patterson, Raper, Browne, Lawrence, and Whately, to which are added some whom—

"God forbid me if I slander them with the title of learned, for generally they are not."—Nash's Lenten Stuff, 1599.



We were just clearing the steps of the court house, when a jolly-looking, knowing sort of fellow, begged permission to speak to Echo. A crimson flush o'erspread Tom's countenance in a moment. Transit, who was down, as he phrased it, tipped me a wink; and although I had never before seen either of the professional brothers-in-law, John Doe and Richard Roe, the smart jockey-boots, short stick, sturdy appearance, and taking manners of the worthy, convinced me at once, that our new acquaintance was one or other of those well-known personages: to be brief, poor Tom was arrested for a large sum by a Bond-street hotel-keeper, who had trusted him somewhat too long.

~362~~Arrangement by bail was impossible: this was a proceeding on a judgment; and with as little ceremony, and as much sang froid as he would have entered a theatre, poor Tom was placed inside a hackney coach, accompanied by the aforesaid personage and his man, and drove off in apparent good spirits for the King's Bench Prison, where Transit and myself promised to attend him on the morrow, employing the mean time in attempting to free him from durance vile. It was about twelve at noon of the next day, when Transit and myself, accompanied by Tom's creditor and his solicitor, traversed over Waterloo Bridge, and bent our steps towards the abode of our incarcerated friend.

"The winds of March, with many a sudden gust, About Saint George's Fields had raised the dust; And stirr'd the massive bars that stand beneath The spikes, that wags call Justice Abbot's teeth."

The first glimpse of the Obelisk convinced us we had entered the confines of Abbot's Park, as the rules are generally termed, for here Bob recognised two or three among the sauntering rangers, whose habiliments bore evidence of their once fashionable notoriety;