The English Spy: An Original Work Characteristic, Satirical, And Humorous. / Comprising Scenes And Sketches In Every Rank Of Society, Being Portraits Drawn From The Life

by C. M. Westmacott

CHAPTER I.

Bernard Blackmantle and Bob Transit pay a Visit to the
Chelts—Privileges of a Spy—Alarm at Chelten-him—The rival
Editors—The setting of a great Son—How to sink in
Popularity and Respect—A noble Title—An old Flame—
Poetical jeu d'esprit, by Vinegar Penn—Muriatic Acid—An
Attorney-General's Opinion on Family Propensities given
without a Fee!!—The Cheltenham Dandy, or the Man in the
Cloak, a Sketch from the Life-Noble Anecdote of the Fox-
hunting Parson—Bury-ing alive at Berkeley—Public
Theatricals in private—"A Michaelmas Preachment," by an
Honest Reviewer—A few Words for Ourselves—The Grand
Marshall—Interesting Story of a former M. C.
"Oh, I've been to countries rare;
Seen such sights, 'twould make you stare."

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"That last chapter of yours, Blackmantle, on John Long and John Long's customers, will long remain a memorial of your scrutinizing qualifications, and, as I think, will prevent your taking your port, punch, pines, or soda-water in Bond-street for some time to come, lest 'suspicion, which ever haunts the guilty mind,' should in the course of conversation convict you; and then, my dear fellow, you would certainly go off pop like the last-mentioned article in the above reference to the luxuries of Long's hotel." "Bravo, Bob Transit!" said I; "this comes mighty well from you, sir, my fidus achates.—'A bon chat bon rat'—the fidus and audax satirists of the present times. And who, sir, dares to doubt our joint authority? are we not the very spies o' the age?

'Joint monarchs of all we survey;
Our right there is none to dispute.'

From the throne to, the thatched cottage, wherever there is character, 'there fly we,' and, on the wings of merry humour, draw with pen and pencil a faithful portraiture of things as they are; not tearing aside the hallowed veil of private life, but seizing as of public right on public character, and with a playful vein of satire proving that we are of the poet's school;

'Form'd to delight at once and lash the age.'
At this season of the year fashion cries out of
Town; so, pack up, Master Robert, and
Let us to Chelt's retiring banks,
Where beaux and beauties throng,
To drink at Spas and play rum pranks,
That here will live in song.

What Cheltenham was, is no business of ours; what it is, as regards its buildings, salubrious air, and saline springs, its walks, views, libraries, theatre, and varieties, my friend Williams, whose shop at the corner of the assembly rooms is the grand lounge of the literati, will put the visitor into possession of for the very moderate sum of five shillings. But, reader, if you would search deeper into society, and know something of the whim and character of the frequenters and residents of this fashionable place of public resort, you must consult the English Spy, and trace in his pages and the accompanying plates of his friend Bob Transit the faithful likenesses of the scenes and persons who figure in the maze of fashion, or attract attention by the notoriety of their amours, the eccentricity of their manners, or the publicity of their attachments to the ball or the billiard-room, the card or the hazard-table, the turf or the chase; for in all of these does Cheltenham abound. From the cercle de la basse to the cercle de la haute, from the nadir to the zenith, 'I know ye, and have at ye all'—ye busy, buzzing, merry, amorous groups of laughter-loving, ogling, ambling, gambling Cheltenham folk.

'A chiel's among ye taking notes,
And faith, he'll print them.'

To spy out your characteristic follies, ye sons and daughters of pleasure, have we, Bernard Blackmantle and Robert Transit, esquires, travelled down to Cheltenham to collect materials for an odd chapter of a very odd book, but one which has already established its fame by continued success, and, as I hope owes much of its increasing prosperity to its characteristic good-humour; so, without more preface, imagine a little dapper-looking fellow of about five feet something in altitude, attended by a tall sharp-visaged gentleman in very spruce costume, parading up and down the High-street, Cheltenham—lounging for a few minutes in Williams's library—making very inquisitive remarks upon the passing singularities—and then the little man most impertinently whispering to his friend with the Quixotic visage, book him, Bob—when out comes the note book of both parties, and down goes somebody. Afterwards see them popping into this shop, and then into the other, spying and prying about—occasionally nodding perhaps to a London actor, who shines forth here a star of the first magnitude; John Liston, for instance, or Tyrone Power—then posting off to the well walks, or disturbing the peaceful dead by ambling over their graves in search of humorous epitaphs—making their way down to the Berkeley kennel in North-street (See Plate), or paying a visit to the Paphian divinities at the Oakland cottages under the Cleigh Hills—trotting here and there—making notes and sketches until all Cheltenham is in a state of high excitement, and the rival editors of the Chronicle and Journal, Messrs. Halpine and Judge, are so much alarmed that they are almost prepared to become friends, and unite their forces for the time against the common enemy.

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Imagine such an animated, whispering, gazing, inquiring scene, as I have here presented you with a slight sketch of, and, reader, you will be able to form some idea of the first appearance of the English Spy and his friend the artist, among the ways and walks of merry Cheltenham. Then here

'At once, I dedicate my lay
To the gay groups that round me swarm,
Like May-bees round the honied hive,
When fields are green, and skies are warm
And all in nature seems alive.'

Time was, a certain amorous colonel carried every thing here, and bore away the belle from all competitors; the hunt, the ball, the theatre, and the card-party all owned his sovereign sway; although it must be admitted, that, in the latter amusement, he seldom or ever hazarded enough to disturb his financial recollections on the morrow. But time works wonders—notoriety is of two complexions, and what may render a man a very agreeable companion to foxhunters and frolicsome lordlings, is not always the best calculated to recommend him in the eyes of the accomplished and the rigid in matters of moral propriety. But other equally celebrated and less worthy predilections have been trumpeted forth in courts and newspapers, until the fame of the colonel has spread itself through every grade of society, and, unlike that wreath which usually decks the gallant soldier's brow, a cypress chaplet binds the early gray, and makes admonitory signal of the ill-spent past. The wrongs of an injured and confiding husband, whose fortunes, wrecked by the false seducer, have left him a prey to shattered ruin, yet live in the remembrance of some honest Cheltenham hearts; and although these may feel for the now abandoned object of his illicit passion, there are but few who, while they drop a tear of pity as she passes them daily in the street, do not invoke a nobler feeling of indignation upon the ruthless head of him who forged the shafts of misery, and pierced at one fell blow the hearts of husband, wife, and children! What father that has read Maria's hapless tale of woe, and marked the progress of deceptive vice, will hereafter hazard the reputation of his daughters by suffering them to mix in Cheltenham society with the branded seducer and his profligate associates? Gallantry, an unrestricted love of the fair sex, and a predilection for variety, may all be indulged in this country to any extent, without betraying confidence on the one hand or innocence upon the other, without outraging decency, or violating the established usages of society. While the profligate confines his sensual pleasures with such objects as I allude to within the walls of his harem, the moralist has no right to trespass upon his privacy; it is only when they are blazoned forth to public view, and daringly opposed to public scorn, that the lash of the satirist is essentially useful, if not in correcting, at least in exposing the systematic seducer, and putting the inexperienced and the virtuous on their guard against the practice of profligacy. It is the frequency and notoriety of such scenes that has at last alarmed the Chelts, who, fearing more for their suffering interests than for their suffering fellow-creatures, begin to murmur rather loudly against the Berkeley Adonis, representing that the town itself suffers in respectability and increase of visitors, by its being known as the rendezvous of the bloods and blacks of Berkeley. The truth of this assertion may be gathered from the following jeu d' esprit, only one among a hundred of such squibs that have been very freely circulated in Cheltenham and the neighbourhood within the last year.

'NEWS FROM CHELTENHAM.
'The season runs smartly in Cheltenham's town,
The gossips are up, and the colonel is down;
He has taken the place of the famous Old Gun {1}
That exploded last year, and created some fun.
Were no lives then lost? some say, Yes! and some, No!
The report even shook the old walls of Glasgow.{2}
And the Bushe was found out to be no safe retreat,
For in love, as in war, you may chance to be beat;
And a hell-shaming fellow can never be reckon'd,
Whate'er he may publish, a capital second.'

"But now having had our fling at his vices, let us speak of him more agreeably; for the fellow hath some qualifications which, if humour suit, enables him to shine forth a star of the first magnitude among bons vivants and sporting characters, who ride, amble, and vegetate upon the banks of the Chelt. Such is his love of hunting, a pleasure in which he not only indulges himself, but enables others, his friends, to participate with him, by keeping up a numerous stud of thirty well trained horses, and a double pack of fox-hounds, that no appropriate day may be lost, nor any opportunity missed, of pursuing the sports of the chase. This is as it should be, and smacks of that glorious spirit which animated his ancestors; although the violence of his temper will sometimes break out even here, in the field, when some young and forward Nimrod, unable to restrain his fiery steed, o'er-caps the hounds, or crosses the scent. As the Chelts are, or have been, greatly benefited by the hounds being kept alternately during the hunting months between

1 A good-morrow to you, Captain Gun.
2 Miss Glasgow, divine perfection of antique virgin purity!
what could the poet mean by this allusion?

Cheltenham and Gloucester, they must at least feel some little gratitude to be due to the man who is the cause of such an increase of society, and consequent expenditure of cash. But, say they, we lose in a fourfold degree; for the respectable portion of the fashionable visitants have of late cut us entirely, to save their sons and daughters from pollution and ruin, by association or the force of example. 'Tis not in the nature of the English Spy rudely to draw aside the curtain, even to expose the midnight revelries and debaucheries, of which he possesses some extraordinary anecdotes; events, which, if recorded here, would, in the language of the poet,

'Give ample room, and verge enough,
The characters of hell to trace;
How through each circling year, on many a night,
Have Severn's waves re-echoed with affright
The shrieks of (maids) through Berkeley's roofs that ring.'

"But let these tales be told hereafter, as no doubt they will be, by the creatures who now pander to vice, when the satiated and the sullen chief sinks into decay, or cuts from his emaciated trunk the filthy excrescences which, like poisonous fungus, suck the sap of honour and of life. The colonel hath had many trials in this life, and much to break down a noble and a proud spirit. In earlier days, a question of birthright, while it cut off one entail, brought on another, which entailed a name, not the ancient gift of a monarch, but one still more ancient, and, according to Dodsley's Chronology of the Kings of England, the origin of British sovereignty itself—a 'filius nullius,' a title that left it open to the wearer to have established his own fame, and to have been the architect of a nobler fortune; for

'Who nobly acts may hold to scorn
The man who is but nobly born.'

"Had the colonel acted thus, there is little doubt but long ere this the kind heart of his Majesty would have warmed into graciousness as he reflected upon the untoward circumstances which removed from the eldest born of an ancient house the honours of its armorial bearings; the engrailed bar might have been erased from the shield, and the coronet of nobility have graced the elder brother, without invading the legal designation or claims of the legitimate younger; but

I sing of a day that is gone and past,
Of a chance that is lost, and a die that's cast.

And even now, while I am sermonizing on late events but too notorious, the busy hum of many voices buzzes a tale upon the ear that sickens with its unparalleled profligacy; but the English Spy, the faithful historian of the present times, refuses to stain his pages by giving credit to, or recording, the imputed profligate connexion. Adieu, monsieur the colonel; fain would I have passed you by without this comment; but your association with the black spirits of the 'Age'{3} has placed you upon a pedestal, the proper mark for satire to shoot her barbed arrows at.

"But let us take a turn down the High Street; and as I live here comes an old flame of the colonel's, Miss R*g*rs, who is now turned into Mrs. E***n, and who, it is said, most wickedly turned her pen, and pointed the following jeu d'esprit against her late protector, when he was laid up by a serious accident, which happened to his knee after the more serious loss of a—Foote.

3 "A fellow-feeling makes us wondrous kind" says Pope; and
it would appear so from the intimacy which subsists between
the colonel and his jackall Bunn, the would-be captain, who
it is said is the filius nullius of old Ben Bunn the
conveyancer, not of legal title or estate by roll of
parchment, but of the very soil itself. Lord W. Lennox, too,
no doubt, prides himself upon the illegitimate origin of his
ancestry; and the publisher of the infamous scandals
manufactured in the Quadrant is also of the same kidney,
being the reputed natural son of jolly old Bardolph Jennyns.
What the remaining portion of the coterie spring from, the
Gents and Bs., the sensitive nose of a sensible man will
very easily discover.

'To Cupid's colonel help, ye people all;
He's missed his Footing, 'Pride has had a fall;'
The knee's uncapp'd, the calf laid open quite,
The Foote presents the most distressing sight;
Its form so perfect, pity none were nigh,
With warning voice to guard from injury.
Waltzers! your peerless partner view,
The gallant gay Lothario quite perdu;
Sans Foote to rest upon, his claims deny'd
To take a birth by English nobles' side.
Let him to Cheltenham, 'tis not to go far;
He's sure to find a seat—on Irish car.'

"I am told, but I cannot discover the allusion myself, that Miss B*g*rs was prompted to this effusion of the satiric muse by the green-eyed monster, Jealousy, Observe that machine yonder, rumbling up the street like an Irish jaunting-car, that contains the numerous family of M***r, the vinegar merchant, whose lady being considered by the Chelts as lineally descended from the Tartar race, they have very facetiously nicknamed muriatic acid. The mad wag with the sandy whiskers yonder, and somewhat pleasant-looking countenance, is a second-hand friend of the colonel's; mark how he is ogling the young thing in the milliner's shop through the window: his daily occupation, making assignations, and his nightly amusement, a new favourite. A story is told of his father, a highly respected legal character in the Emerald Isle, that, on being asked by a friend why his son had left the country, replied, 'By Jasus, sir, it was high time: sure I am there's enough of the family left behind. Is not his lady in a promising way, and both his female servants, and those of two or three of his friends, and are not both mine in a similar situation? Zounds, sir, if he had remained here much longer, there would not have been a single female in the whole country. However, 'Good wine, they say, needs no Bushe,' so I shall leave him unmarked by his family cognomen, lest this should be taken as a puff-card of his capabilities, and thereby add to the list of his Cytherean exploits. In a late affair, when the colonel was called out (but did not come), Sir Patrick beat about the Bushe for him very judiciously, and by great skill in diplomacy enabled his friend to come off second best. But here comes one who stands at odds with description, and attracts more notice in Cheltenham than even the colonel, his companions, and all the metropolitan visitory put together. If I was to lend myself to the circulation of half the strange tales related of him by the Chelts, I could fill a small-sized volume; but brevity is the soul of wit, and the eccentric Mackey, with all his peculiarities and strange fancies for midnight mastications, has a soul superior to the common herd, and a 'heart and hand, open as day, to melting charity.' It is strange, 'passing strange,' that one so rich and fond of society, and well-descended withal, should choose thus to ape the ridiculous; a man, too, if report speaks truly, of no ordinary talents as a writer on finance, and an expounder of the solar system. Vanity! vanity! what strange fantasies and eccentric fooleries dost thou sometimes fill the brain of the biped with, confining thy freaks, however, to that strange animal—man. The countenance of our eccentric is placid and agreeable, and, provided it was cleared of a load of snuff, which weighs down the upper lip, might be said to be, although in the sear o' the leaf, highly intellectual; but the old Scotch cloak, the broad-brimmed hat of the covenanter, the loose under vest, the thread-bare coat shaking in the wind, like the unmeasured garment of the scarecrow, and the colour-driven nankeens, grown short by age and frequent hard rubbings; then, too, the flowing locks of iron gray straggling over the shoulders like the withered tendrils of a blighted vine—all conspire to arrest the attention of an inquisitive eye; yet the Chelts know but little about his history, beyond his being a man of good property, the proprietor of the Vittoria boarding-house, inoffensive in manners, obliging in disposition, and intelligent in conversation. His great penchant is a midnight supper, stewed chicken and mushrooms, or any other choice and highly-seasoned dish; to enjoy which in perfection, he hath a maiden sleeping at the foot of his bed ready to attend his commands, which, it is said, are communicated to her in a very singular way; no particle of speech being used to disturb the solemn silence of the night, but a long cane reaching downwards to the slumbering maid, by certain horizontal taps against her side, propelled forward by the hand of the craving gourmand, wakes her to action, and the banquet, piping-hot from the stew-pan, smokes upon the board, unlike a vision, sending up real and enchanting odoriferous perfumes beneath his olfactory organs. Extraordinary as this account may appear, it is, I believe, strictly true, and is the great feature of the eccentric's peculiarities, all the minor whims and fancies being of a subordinate and uninteresting nature. I shall conclude my notice of him by relating an action that would do honour to a king, and will excuse the eccentric with the world, although his follies were ten times more remarkable. During the suspension of payments by one of the Cheltenham banks, and when all the poorer class of mechanics and labourers were in a most piteous situation from the unprecedented number of one pound provincial notes then in circulation, Mr. Mackey, to his eternal-honour be it related, and without the remotest interest in the bank, stepped nobly forward, unsolicited and unsupported, gave to all the poor people who held the one pound notes the full value for them, reserving to himself only the chance of the dividend. Ye Berkeleys, Ducies, Lennoxes, Cravens, Hammonds, Bushes, Molineauxes, and Coventrys, and all the long list of Cheltenham gay! show me an action like this ye have done—a spirit so noble, when did you display?—Do you see that rosy-gilled fellow coming this way, with a hunting-whip in his hand? in costume, more like a country horse-dealer than a country clergyman; yet such he was, until the bishop of the diocese removed the clerical incumbrance of the cassock, to give the wearer freer license to indulge his vein for hunting, coursing, cock-fighting, and the unrestricted pleasures of the table and the bottle. A good story is told of him and his friend, the colonel, who, having invited some unsophisticated farmer to partake of the festivities of the castle, laid him low with strong potations of black strap, and in that state had him carried forth to the stable-yard, where he was immured up to his neck in warm horse-dung, the pious ex-chaplain reading the burial-service over him in presence of the surviving members of the hunt."

"Who the deuce is that pleasant-looking fellow," said Bob, "who appears to give and gain the quid pro quo from every body that passes him?" "That, my dear fellow, is the Grand Marshal of all the merry meetings here, and a very gentlemanly, jovial, and witty fellow; just such a man as should fill the office of master of the ceremonies, having both seen and experienced enough of the world to know how to estimate character almost at a first interview; he is highly and deservedly respected. There is a very affecting anecdote in circulation respecting his predecessor, the detail of which I much regret that I have lost; but the spirit of the affair was too strongly imprinted upon my memory to be easily obliterated. He had, it appears, loved a beauteous girl in early life, and met with a reciprocal return; but the stern mandate of parental authority prevented their union. The lover, almost broken-hearted, sought a distant clime, and, after years of peril, returned to England, bringing with him a wife. The match had been one of interest, and they are seldom those of domestic bliss. It proved so here—he became dissipated, and squandered away the property he had possessed himself of by marriage. In this situation, he collected together the wreck of his fortunes, and retired to Cheltenham, where his amiable qualities and gentlemanly conduct endeared him to a large circle of acquaintance, and, in the end, he was induced to accept the situation of master of the ceremonies. Time rolled on, and his former partner being dead, he was, from his volatile and thoughtless disposition, again plunged in difficulties, and imprisoned for debt. The circumstance became known to her at whose shrine in early life he had vowed eternal devotion: with a still fond recollection of him, who alone had ever shared her heart, she hastened to the spot, and, being now a wealthy spinster, paid all his debts and released him from durance. Gratitude and love both pointed out the course for the obliged M. c. to pursue; but, alas! there is nothing certain in the anticipations of complete happiness in this life. The lady fell suddenly sick, and died on the very day they were to have been married, leaving him sole executor of her property. The calamitous event made such a deep impression upon a feeling mind, already shaken by trouble and disease, that finding his prospects of bliss again blighted without a chance of recovery, he fell into a state of despondency, and was, within a week, laid a corpse by the side of his first love. At the post-office,—purposely placed out of the way by the sagacious Chelts to give strangers the trouble of making inquiries,—I received the following whim from the same witty pen who wrote me, anonymously, an inauguration ode to commence my second volume with." "Who is this whimsical spirit in the clouds?" said Bob. "Ay, lad," I retorted, "that's just the inquiry I have been making for the last eight months: although it would appear we have—ad interim—been running, riding, racing, rowing, and sailing together in various parts of the kingdom, you perceive, Bob, there are more Spies than ourselves at work. However, this must be some protecting geni who hovers over our heads and fans the air on silken wing, wafting zephyr-like the ambrosial breeze, where'er our merry fancies stray. Anon, 'we'll drink a measure the table round;' and if we forget the 'Honest Reviewer,' may we lose all relish for a racy joke, and be forgotten ourselves by the lovers of good fellowship and good things." "Which we never shall be," said Bob; "for those eccentric tomes of ours must and will continue to amuse a laughter-loving age, when we are booked inside and bound for t'other world." There was not a little egotism, methought, about friend Transit's eulogy; but as every parent has a sort of poetical licence allowed him in praising his own bantlings, perhaps the patronage bestowed by the public upon the English Spy may excuse a little vanity in either the author or the artist. "But you are the great magician o' the south yourself, Bernard," continued Transit, "and will you not use your power, you who can 'call spirits from the vasty deep'" "True, Bob; I can call, but will they come when I shall command? However, let us retire to our inn, and after dinner we'll chant his lay; and if he dances not to the music of his own metre, then hath he no true inspiration in him, and is a poet without vanity, a vara avis who delighteth not in receiving the reward of merit; so on, old fellow, to our quarters, where we will

'Carve the goose, and quaff the wine,'
And wish our sprite were here to dine—
We'd give him hearty cheer;
A welcome such as hand and heart
To kindred spirits should impart,
Where friendship reigns sincere.'

We would punish him for sending his odes to us without sending his family cognomen therewith. Have we not done him immortal honour—placed him in front of our second volume like a golden dedication, and what is more, selected him from many a pleasant whim, to stand by our side; the only associate who can claim one line engrafted on to the never-ending fame of the English Spy?—But to the 'Preachment;' let us have another taste of his quality."

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