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

EVENING, AND IN HIGH SPIRITS.

A SCENE AT LONG'S HOTEL.

Sketches of Character—Fashionable Notorieties—Modern
Philosophy—The Man of Genius and the Buck—"A short Life
and a merry one "—A Short Essay on—John Longs—Long Corks
—Long Bills—Long Credits—Long-winded Customers—The
Ancients and the Moderns, a Contrast by Old Crony.
Ye bucks who in manners, dress, fashion, and shiny,
So often have hail'd me as lord of your gang—
"O lend me your ears!" whilst I deign to relate
The cause of my splendour, the way to be great;
My own chequered life condescend to unfold,
And give a receipt of more value than gold;
Reveal t' ye the spot where the graces all dwell,
And point out the path like myself to excel.
—Pursuits of Fashion.

Only contrive to obtain the character of an eccentric, and you may ride the free horse round the circle of your acquaintance for the remainder of your life. If my readers are not by this time fully satisfied of my peculiar claims to the appellation of an oddity, I have no hopes of obtaining pardon for the past whims and fancies of a volatile muse, or anticipating patronage for the future wanderings of a restless and inquisitive humorist. But my bookseller, a steady, persevering, inflexible sort of personage, whose habits of business are as rigid as a citizen of the last century, or a puritan of the Cromwell commonwealth, has lately suffered the marble muscles of his frigid countenance to unbend with a sort of mechanical inclination to an expression of—what shall I say—lib—lib—liberality; no, no, that will never do for a bookseller—graciousness—ay, that's a better phrase for the purpose; more characteristic of his manner, and more congenial to my own feelings. Well, to be plain then, whenever a young author can pass through an interview with the headman of the firm without hearing any thing in the shape of melancholy musings, serious disappointments, large numbers on hand, doubtful speculation, and such like pleasant innuendoes, he may rest satisfied that his book is selling well, and his publisher realizing a fair proportion of profit for his adventurous spirit. I am just now enjoying that pleasant gratification, the reflection of having added to my own comforts without having detracted from the happiness of others. In short, my scheme improves with every fresh essay, and my friend Bob Transit, who has just joined me in a bottle of iced claret at Long's, has been for some minutes busily engaged in booking mine host and his exhibits; while I, under pretence of writing a letter, have been penning this introduction to a chapter on fashion and its follies, annexing thereunto a few notes of characters, that may serve to illustrate that resort of all that is exquisite and superlative in the annals of high ton. "Evening, and in High Spirits," —a scene worthy of the acknowledged talent of the artist, and full of fearful and instructive narrative for the pen of the English Spy. Seated snugly in one corner of Long's new and splendid coffee-room, we had resolved on our entering to depart early; but the society we had the good fortune to be afterwards associated with might have tempted stronger heads than those of either Bob Transit the artist, or Bernard Blackmantle the moralist.

[ [!-- IMG --] [ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE]

"Waiter, bring another bottle of iced claret, and tell Long to book it to the king's lieutenant." "By the honour of my ancestry," said the Honourable Lillyman Lionise, "but I am devilishly cut already."

"You do well, mighty well, sir, to swear by the honour of your ancestors; for very few of your modern stars have a ray of that same meteoric light to illumine their own milky way."

"That flash of your wit, lieutenant, comes upon one like the electric shock of an intended insult, and I must expect you will apologize."

"Then I fear, young valiant, you will die of the disease that has killed more brave men than the last twenty years' war."

"And what is that, sir, may I ask?"

"Expectation, my jewel! I've breakfasted, dined, supped, and slept upon it for the last half century, and am not one step higher in the army list yet."

"But, lieutenant, let me observe that—that—"

"That we are both pretty nigh bosky, and should not therefore be too fastidious in our jokes over the bottle."

Enter Waiter. "The claret, gentlemen. Mr. Long's compliments, and he requests permission to assure you that it is some of the late Duke of Queensberry's choice stock, marked A one."

"Which signifies, according to Long's edition of Cocker, that we must pay double for the liqueur. Come, Lionise, fill a bumper; and let us tails of the lion toast our caput, the sovereign, the first corinthian of his day, and the most polished prince in the world."

"Tiger, Tiger,"{1} ejaculated a soft voice in the adjoining box; "ask Tom who the trumps are in the next stall, and if they are known here, tell them the Honourable Thomas Optimus fills a bumper to their last toast."

1 Since the death of the Earl of Barrymore, Tom has
succeeded to the "vacant chair" at Long's; nor is the Tiger
Mercury the only point in which he closely resembles his
great prototype.

A smart, clever-looking boy of about fifteen years of age darted forward to execute the honourable's commands; when having received the requisite information from the waiter, he approached the lieutenant and his friend, and with great politeness, but no lack of confidence, made the wishes of his master known to the bon vivants; the consequence was, an immediate interchange of civilities, which brought the honourable into close contact with his merry neighbours; and the result, a unanimous resolution to make a night of it.

At this moment our tête-à-tête was interrupted by the appearance of old Crony, who, stanch as a well-trained pointer to the scent of game, had tracked me hither from my lodgings; from him I learned the lieutenant was a fellow of infinite jest and sterling worth; a descendant of the O'Farellans of Tipperary, whose ancestry claimed precedence of King Bryan Baroch; a specimen of the antique in his composition, robust, gigantic, and courageous; time and intestine troubles had impaired the fortunes of his house, but the family character remained untainted amid the conflicting revolutions that had convulsed the emerald isle. Enough, however, was left to render the lieutenant independent of his military expectations: he had joined the army when young; seen service and the world in many climates; but the natural uncompromising spirit which distinguished him, partaking perhaps something too much of the pride of ancestry, had hitherto prevented his soliciting the promotion he was fairly entitled to. Like a majority of his countrymen, he was cold and sententious as a Laplander when sober, and warm and volatile as a Frenchman when in his cups; half a dozen duels had been the natural consequence of an equal number of intrigues; but although the scars of honour had seared his manly countenance, his heart and person were yet devoted to the service of the ladies. Fame had trumpeted forth his prowess in the wars of Venus, until notoriety had marked him out an object of general remark, and the king's lieutenant was as proud of the myrtle-wreath as the hero of Waterloo might be of the laurel crown.

But see, the door opens; how perfumed, what style! Long bows to the earth. What an exquisite smile! Such a coffee-house visitor banishes pain: While Optimus rising, cries "Welcome, Joe Hayne! May you never want cash, boy—here, waiter, a glass; Lieutenant, you'll join us in toasting a lass. I'll give you an actress—Maria the fair." "I'll drink her; but, Tom, you have ruined me there. By my hopes! I am blown, cut, floor'd, and rejected, At the critical moment, sirs, when I expected To revel in bliss. But, here's white-headed Bob, My prime minister; he shall unravel the job. And if Jackson determines you've not acted well, I'll mill you, Tom Optimus, though you're a swell." "Sit down, Joe; be jolly—'twas Carter alone That has every obstacle in your way thrown. Nay, never despair, man—you'll yet be her liege; But rally again, boy, you'll carry the siege." Thus quieted, Joe sat him down to get mellow; For Joe at the bottom's a hearty good fellow.

"Have you heard the report," said Optimus, "that Harborough is actually about to follow your example, and marry an actress? ay, and his old flame, Mrs. Stonyhewer, is ready to die of love and a broken heart in consequence."

"Just as true, my jewel, as that I shall be gazetted field-marshal; or that you, Mr. Optimus, will be accused of faithfulness to Lady Emily. Our young friend here, the rich commoner, has given currency to such a variety of common reports, that the false jade grows bold enough to beard us in our very teeth."

"Why, zounds! lieutenant," said Lionise, "how very sentimental you are becoming."

"It's a way of mine, jewel, to appear singular in some sort of society."

"And satirical in all, I'll vouch for you, lieutenant;" said Optimus.

"By Jasus, you've hit it! if truth be satire, it's a language I love, although it's not very savoury to some palates."

"Will the duke marry the banker's widow, Joel that's the grand question at Tattersall's, now your match with Maria's off, and Earl Rivers's greyhounds are disposed of. Only give me the office, boy, in that particular, and I'll give you a company to-morrow, if money will purchase one; and realize a handsome fortune by betting on the event."

"Then I'll bet Cox and Greenwood's cash account against the commander-in-chief's, that the widow marries a Beau-clerc, becomes in due time Duchess of St. Alban's, and dies without issue, leaving her immense property as a charitable bequest to enrich a poor dukedom; and thus, having in earlier life degraded one part of the peerage, make amends to the Butes, the Guildfords, and the Burdetts, by a last redeeming act to another branch of the aristocracy."

"At it again, lieutenant; firing ricochet shot, and knocking down duck and drake at the same time."

"Sure, that has been the great amusement of my life; in battle and abroad I have contrived to knock down my share of the male enemies of my country; in peace and at home I've a mighty pleasant knack of winging a few female bush fighters."

"But the widow, my dear fellow, is now a woman of high {2} character; has not the moral Marquis of Hertford undertaken to remove all ———and disabilities? and did he not introduce the lady to the fashionable world at his own hotel, the Piccadilly (peccadillo) Guildhall? Was not the fête at Holly Grove attended by H.R.H. the Duke of York, and Mrs. C—y, and all the virtuous portion of our nobility? and has she not since been admitted to the parties at the Duke of "Query—did Mr. Optimus mean high as game is high?

Devonshire's, and what is still more wonderful, been permitted to appear at court, and since, in the royal presence, piously introduced to the whole bench of Bishops?"

"By Jasus, that's true; and I beg belle Harriette's pardon. But, I well remember, I commanded the cityguard in the old corn-market, Dublin, on the very night her reputed father, jolly Jack Kinnear, as the rebels called him, contrived to wish us good morning very suddenly, and took himself off to the sate of government."

I shall be obliged to entertain the world with a few of her eccentricities some day or other; the ghost of poor Ralph Wewitzer cries loudly for revenge. The sapient police knight, when he secured the box of letters for his patroness, little suspected that they had all been previously copied by lieutenant Terence O'Farellan of the king's own. A mighty inquisitive sort of a personage, who will try his art to do her justice, spite of "leather or prunella."

The party was at this moment increased by the arrival of Lord William, on whose friendly arm reposed the Berkley Adonis—"par nobile fratrum."

"Give me leave, lieutenant," said his lordship, "to introduce my friend the colonel." "And give me leave," whispered Optimus, "to withdraw my friend Hayne, for 'two suns shine not in the same hemisphere.'"

"The man that makes a move in the direction of the door makes me his enemy," said the lieutenant, loudly. And the whole party were immediately seated.

Hitherto, my friend Crony and myself had been too pleasantly occupied with the whim, wit, and anecdote of the lieutenant, to pay much attention to the individuality of character that surrounded the festive board; but, having now entered upon our second bottle, the humorist commenced his satirical sketches.—

"Holding forth to the gaze of this fortunate time The extremes of the beautiful and the sublime."

"Suppose I commence with the pea-green count," said Crony. "I know the boy's ambition is notoriety; and an artist who means to rise in his profession should always aim at painting first-rate portraits, well-known characters; because they are sure to excite public inquiry, thus extending the artist's fame, and securing the good opinion of his patrons by the gratification of their unlimited vanity. The sketch too may be otherwise serviceable to the rising generation; the Mr. Greens and Newcomes of the world of fashion, if they would avoid the sharks who infest the waters of pleasure, and are always on the anxious look-up for a nibble at a new 'come out.'

"The young exquisite's connexion with the fancy, or rather with the lowest branch of that illustrious body, the bruising fraternity and their boon companions, had been, though not an avowed, a real source of jealousy to many of his dear bosom friends at Long's hotel, from the moment of the count's making his début,

'Imberbis juvenis, tandem custode remote,'

into the fashionable world. That he would be ultimately floored by his milling protégés it did not require the sagacity of a conjurer to foresee; nor was it likely that the term of such a catastrophe would be so tediously delayed, as to subject any one who might be eager to witness its arrival to that sickness of the heart which arises from hope deferred. But this process for scooping out the Silver (or Foote) Ball, as he has since been designated, by no means suited the ideas of the worthies before alluded to. The learned Scriblerus makes mention of certain doctors,{3} frequently seen at White's in his day, of a modest and upright appearance, with no air of overbearing, and habited like true masters of arts in black and white only. They were justly styled, says the above high authority,

3 A cant phrase for dice,

subtiles and graves, but not always irrefragabiles, being sometimes examined and, by a nice distinction, divided and laid open. The descendants of these doctors still exist, and have not degenerated, either in their numbers or their merits, from their predecessors. They take up their principal residence in some well-known mansions about the neighbourhood of the court, and many of the gentlemen who honoured the count with their especial notice on his entrée into public life are understood to be familiarly acquainted with them. Now could they have only instilled into the young gentleman a wish to be introduced to these doctors, or once prevailed upon him to take them in hand for the purpose of deciding what might be depending upon the result of the investigation; nay, could they even have spurred him on to an exhibition of his tactics, in manoeuvring

'Those party-colour'd troops, a shining train,
Drawn forth to combat on the velvet plain;'

they could have so delightfully abridged the task which to their impatient eyes appeared to be much too slow in executing, could have spared their dear friend so much unnecessary time and labour in disencumbering himself of the superfluity of worldly dross which had fallen to his share. A little cogging, sleeving, and palming; nay, a mere spindle judiciously planted, or a few long ones introduced on the weaving system, could have effected in one evening what fifty milling matches, considering the 'glorious uncertainty' attaching to pugilistic as well as legal contests, might fail to accomplish. By this method, too, the person in whom they kindly took so strong an interest would, even when he had lost every thing, have escaped the imputation of having dissipated his property. It would have been comfortably distributed in respectable dividends among a few gentlemen of acknowledged talent, instead of floating in air like the leaves of the

Sibyl, and alighting in various parts of the inner and outer ring; now depositing a few cool hundreds in the pockets of a sporting Priestley bookseller, or the brother of a Westminster Abbott; now contributing a small modicum to brighten the humbler speculations of the Dean-street casemen, or the Battersea gardener.

"But to this conclusion Horatio would not come. He was good for backing and betting on pugilists, but on the turf he would do little, and at the tables nothing. His zealous friends had therefore no chance in the way they would have liked best; but being men of the world, and knowing, like Gay's bear, that

'There might be picking
Ev'n in the carving of a chicken,'

they did not disdain to make the most in their power by watching the motions of his hobby, and if this was not a sufficient prize to furnish much cause for exultation, it was at least one that it would have been unwise to reject.

"A contemporary writer has exerted to the utmost the very little talent he possesses to represent the peagreen's uniform resistance to all the temptations of cards and dice, as a proof of his possessing a strength of mind and decision of character rarely found in young men of his fortune and time of life. In the elegant language of this apologist, the count, by this prudent abstinence, 'has shown himself not half so green as some supposed, and the sharps, and those who have tried on the grand mace with him, have discovered that he was no flat.' How far this negative eulogium may be gratifying to the feelings of the individual on whom it is bestowed, I will not say; in my character of English Spy I have been under the necessity of carefully observing this fortunate youth, depuis que la rose venait d'eclore, in other words, from the time that he became, or rather might have become, his own master; and I should certainly not attribute his refraining from the tables to any superior strength of mind: indeed, it would be singular if such a characteristic belonged to a man whose own hired advocate could only vindicate his client's heart at the expense of his head. Pope tells us, that to form a just estimate of any one's character, we must study his ruling passion; and by adopting this rule, we shall soon obtain a satisfactory clew both to the exquisite count's penchant for the prize-ring, and his aversion to the hells. Some persons exhibit an inexplicable union of avarice and extravagance, of parsimony and prodigality—something of this kind is observable in the gentleman in question. But self predominates with him in all; and being joined to rather alow species of vanity, and a strong inclination to be what is vulgarly called cock of the walk, it has uniformly displayed itself in an insatiate thirst for notoriety. Now pugilists, from the very nature of their profession, must be public characters; while the gamester, to the utmost of his power, does what he does 'by stealth, and blushes to find it fame.' To be the patron of some noted bruiser, to bear him to the field of action in your travelling barouche, accompanied by Tom Crib the XX champion, Tom Spring the X champion, Jack Langan and Tom Cannon the would-be champions, and Lily White Richmond, is sure to make your name as notorious, though perhaps not much more reputable, than those of your associates; but the man who, like 'the youth that fired the Ephesian dome,' aims at celebrity alone, in frequenting the purlieus of the gaming-house only 'wastes his sweetness on the desert air.' Moreover, the members of the Ebony Clubs being compelled to assume the appearance, and adopt the manners, insensibly imbibe too much of the feelings of gentlemen, to be likely to pay, to the most passive pigeon that ever submitted to rooking, the cap in hand homage rendered by a practitioner within the pins and binders of the prize-ring to the swell who takes five pounds worth of benefit tickets, or stands a fifty in the stakes for a milling match.

[ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE]

"These motives seem to me sufficient to have prompted the count's predominating attachment to the prize-ring and its heroes, which, however, having as I have before remarked, been viewed with no favourable eye by some of his comrades, his recent ill-luck at Warwick could hardly be expected to escape the jests and sarcasms of his bottle companions."

"'Fore God," said Optimus, "this backing of your man against the black diamond has been but a bad spec. Out heavyish I suppose, ay, Joe?"

Count. Why, a stiffish bout, I must confess; and what's more, I'm not by any means without my suspicions about the correctness of the thing.

Optimus. What, cross and jostle work again? a second edition of Virginia Water? But I thought you felt assured that Cannon would not do wrong for the wealth of Windsor Castle?

Count. True, I did feel so, and others confirmed me in my assurance, but I believe I was wofully mistaken; and curse me if I don't think they were all in the concern of doing me.

Optimus. Was not there a floating report about the bargeman receiving a thousand to throw it over?

Count. Something of the sort; but I don't believe it. Two bills for five hundred, but so drawn that they could not be negotiated. I shall certainly, said the count, give notice to the stake-holders not to give up the battle-money for the present.

Optimus. Pshaw! that will never do. A thing of that nature must be done at the time. Besides, Cannon stood two hundred in his own money, and says he will freely pay his losses.

Count. A pretty do that, when he had a cheque of mine for the sum he put down. But I've stopped payment of that at my banker's.

Optimus. And will as surely be obliged to revoke that order, as well as to give up disputing the stakes. No, no, Joe; get out of the business now as you can, and cut it. I always thought and told you, that I thought your man had no chance. But his going to fight so out of condition, in a contest where all his physical powers were necessary, does look as if you had been put in for a piece of ready made luck. But what could you expect? Can any good thing come out of Nazareth? That a gentleman can patronize such fellows!

Count. I am still of opinion that the spirit of national courage is much promoted————

Optimus. Spirit of a fiddle-stick! Nonsense, man; that card will win no trick now. You, like others might have thought so once; but you have seen enough by this time to know that the system is on altogether a different tack; that its stanchest upholders and admirers are bullies, sharpers, pickpockets, pothouse keepers, coachmen, fradulent bankrupts, the Jon Bee's and big B's, and all the lowest B's of society in station and character, whose only merit, if such it can be called, is the open disclaiming of any thing like honour or principle. And after having been a patron of such a set of wretches, you will end by becoming, according to circumstances, the object of their vulgar abuse, or the butt of their coarse ridicule.

"The latter, I understand,"said Lord William, "is pretty much the case already. A friend of mine was telling me, that one of the precious brotherhood, on hearing that Joe meant to dispute his bets, asked what better could be expected from a Foote-mam out of place?"

"No more of that, Hal, if thou lovest him," exclaimed Optimus, who immediately perceived, by his countenance, that the last hit had been too hard. Much more has been said upon this affair than it is worth. Let us change the subject.

"By my conscience," exclaimed the lieutenant, "and here's an excellent episode to wind up the drama with, headed, 'The Foote Ball's farewell to the Ring:' I'll read it you, with permission, and afterwards, colonel, you shall have a copy of it for next Sunday's 'Age;' it will save the magnanimous little B., your accommodating editor, or his locum tenens, the fat Gent, the trouble of straining their own weak noddles to produce any more soft attempts at the scandalous and the sarcastic.

"By the honour of my ancestry," rejoined the Gloucestershire colonel, "do you take me for a reporter to the paper in question?"

"Why not?" said the lieutenant, coolly: "if you are not a reporter and a supporter too, my gallant friend, by the powers of Poll Kelly but you are the most ill-used man in his majesty's dominions!"

"Sir, I stand upon my honour," said the colonel, petulantly.

"By the powers, you may, and very easily too," whispered O'Farellan, in a side speech to his left hand companion; "for it has been trodden under Foote by others these many months. To be plain with you, colonel, there are certain big whispers abroad, that you and your noble associate, the amiable yonder, with that beautiful obliquity of vision, which is said to have pierced the heart of a northern syren, are the joint Telegraphs of the Age. Sure no man in his senses can suspect Messieurs the Conducteurs of knowing any thing of what passes in polished life, or think—

"Ah, my dear Wewitzer," said Belle Harriet, now Mrs. Goutts, speaking to the late comedian, of some female friend, "she has an eye! an eye, that would pierce through a deal board." "By heavens," said Wewitzer, "that must be then a gimhlet eye." of charging them with any personal knowledge of the amusing incidents they pretend to relate, beyond a certain little wanton's green room on dits, or the chaste conversations of the blushless naiads who sport and frolic in the Cytherian mysteries which are nightly performed in the dark groves of Vauxhall. Take a word of advice from an old soldier, colonel: It is worse than leading a forlorn hope to attempt to storm a garrison single handed; club secrets must be protected by club laws, for 'tis an old Eton maxim, that tales told out of school generally bring the relater to the block. But my friend Stanhope will no doubt explain this matter with a much better grace when he comes in contact with the tale-bearer."

"Hem," instinctively ejaculated Horace C——-t, the once elegant Apollo of Hyde Park, "thereby hangs a tale; 'tis a vile Age, and the sooner we forget it, the better—I am for love and peace." "i.e. a piece" responded the lieutenant. Horace smiled, and continued, "Come, Tom Duncombe, I'll give our mutual favourite, the female Giovanni. Lads, fill your glasses; we toast a deity, and one, too, who has equal claims upon most of us for the everlasting favours she has conferred."

"'Fore Gad, lieutenant," simpered out Lord William, squaring himself round to resume the conversation with the veteran, "if you do not mind your hits, we must positively cut. My friend, the colonel, will certainly set his blacks{5} upon you, and I shall be obliged to speak to little magnanimous, the ex-Brummagem director, to strike off a counterfeit impression of you in his scandalous Sunday chronicle, 'pon honour, I must."

5 A very curious tradition is connected with a certain
castle near Gloucester, which foretells, that the family
name shall be extinct when the race of the blacks* cease to
be peculiar to the family; a prophecy that I think not very
likely to be fulfilled, judging by the conduct of the
present race of representatives.
* A species of Danish blood-hound, whose portraits and names
are carved in the oaken cornice of one of the castle
chambers.

"The divil a care," said the lieutenant, laughingly; "to arms with you, my lord William; my fire engine will soon damp the ardour of little magnanimous, and an extra dose of Tom Bish's compounds put his friend, the fat Gent, where his readers have long been, in sweet somniferous repose. But zounds, gentlemen, I am forgetting the count, whose pardon I crave, for bestowing my attention on minor constellations while indulged with the overpowering brilliancy of his meteoric presence."

"The 'Farewell to the Ring,'" vociferated the count. "Come, lieutenant, give us the episode: I long to hear all my misfortunes strung together in rhyme."

"By the powers, you shall have it, then; and a true history it is, as ever was said or sung in church, chapel, or conventicle, with only one little exception—by the free use of poetic license, the satirist has fixed his hero in a very embarrassing situation—just locked him up at Radford's steel Hotel in Carey Street, Chancery Lane, coning over a long bill of John Long's, and a still longer one of the lawyers, with a sort of codicil, by way of refresher, of the house charges, and a smoking detainer tacked on to its tail, by Hookah Hudson, long enough to put any gentleman's pipe out.

[ [!-- IMG --] [ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE]

There's the argument, programme, or fable. Now for the characters; they are all drawn from the life by the English Spy (see plate), under the amusing title of 'Morning, and in Low Spirits, a scene in a Lock-up House;' a very appropriate spot for a lament to the past, and

"'Tis past, and the sun of my glory is set.
How changed in my case is the fortune of war!
With no money to back, and no credit to bet,
No more in the Fancy I shine forth a star.

"Accursed be the day when my bargeman I brought
To fight with Jos. Hudson!—the thought is a sting.
I sighing exclaim, by experience taught,
Farewell to Tom Cannon, farewell to the ring!
"By the Blackwater vict'ry made drunk with success,
Endless visions of milling enchanted my nob;
I thought my luck in: so I could do no less
Than match 'gainst the Streatham my White-headed Bob.
"I've some reason to think that there, too, I was done;
For it oft has been hinted that battle was cross'd:
But I well know that all which at Yately I won,
With a thousand en outre at Bagshot I lost.
"At Warwick a turn in my favour again
Appear'd, and my crest I anew rear'd with pride;
Hudson's efforts to conquer my bargeman were vain,
I took the long odds, and I floor'd the flash side.
"But with training, and treating, and sparring, and paying
For all through the nose, as most do in beginning
Their fancy career, I am borne out in saying,
I was quite out of pocket in spite of my winning.
"So when Bob fought old George, being shortish of money,
And bearing in mem'ry the Bagshot affair,
In my former pal's stakes I stood only a pony,
(Which was never return'd, so I'm done again there).
"To be perfectly safe, on the old one I betted;
For the knowing ones told me the thing was made right:
If it had been, a good bit of blunt I'd have netted;
But a double X spoilt it, and Bob won the fight.

"But the famed stage of Warwick, and Ward, were before me—
I look'd at Tom Cannon, and thought of the past;
I was sure he must win, and that wealth would show'r o'er me,
So, like Richard, I set all my hopes on a cast;
"And the die was soon thrown, and my luck did not alter—
I was floor'd at all points, and my hopes were a hum;
I'm at Tattersall's all but believed a defaulter,
And here, in a spunging house, shut by a bum.
"'Mid the lads of the fancy I needs must aspire
To be quite au fait; and I have scarcely seen
Of mills half a score, ere I'm fore'd to retire—
O thou greenest among all the green ones, Pea Green!
"And what have I gain'd, but the queer reputation
Of a whimsical dandy, half foolish, half flash?
To bruisers and sharpers, in high and low station,
A poor easy dupe, till deprived of my cash.
"All you who would enter the circle I've quitted,
Reflect on my fate, and think what you're about:
By brib'ry betray'd, or by cunning outwitted,
In the Fancy each novice is quickly clean'd out.
"For me it has lost its attractions and lustre;
The thing's done with me, and I've done with the thing:
The blunt for my bets I must manage to muster,
Then farewell to Tom Cannon, farewell to the ring!"

The reading of this morceau produced, as might have been expected, considerable merriment on the one hand, and some little discussion upon the other; the angry feelings of the commander in chief and his pals overbalancing the mirthful by their solemnly protesting against the exposure of the secrets of the prison house, which, in this instance, they contended, were violently distorted by some enemy to the modern accomplishment of pugilism. In a few moments all was chaos, and the stormy confusion of tongues, prophetk: of the affair ending in a grand display and milling catastrophe; the apprehensions of which induced John Long, and John Long's man, to be on the alert in removing the service, en suite, of superb cut glass, which had given an additional lustre to the splendour of the dessert. The arrival of other characters, and the good humour of the count, joined to a plentiful supply of soda water and iced punch, had, however, the effect of cooling the malcontents, who had no sooner recovered their wonted hilarity, than old Crony proceeded to particularize, by a comparison of the past with the present, interspersing his remarks with anecdotes of the surrounding group. "These are your modern men of fashion," said Crony; "and the specimen you have this day had of their conduct and pursuits an authority you may safely quote as one generally characteristic.

'To support this new fashion in circles of ton. New habits, new thoughts, must of course be put on; Taste, feeling, and friendship, laid by on the shelf, And nothing or worshipp'd, or thought of, but—self.'

[ [!-- IMG --] [ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE]

"It was not thus in the days of our ancestors: the farther we look back, the purer honour was. In the days of chivalry, a love promise was a law; the braver the knight, the truer in love: then, too, religion, delicacy, sentiment, romantic passion, disinterested friendship, loyalty to king, love of country, a thirst for fame, bravery, nay, heroism, characterized the age, the nation, the noble, the knight, and esquire. Mercy! what 'squires we have now-a-days! At a more recent date, all was courtliness, feeling, high sentiment, proud and lofty bearing, principle, the word inviolable, politeness at its highest pitch of refinement: lovers perished to defend their ladies' honour; now they live to sully it: the nobility and the people were distinct in dress and address; but, above all, amenity and good-breeding marked the distinction, and the line was unbroken. Now, dress is all confusion, address far below par, amenity is a dead letter, and as to breeding, it is confined to the breeding of horses and dogs, except when law steps in to encourage the breeding of disputes; not to mention the evils arising from crossing the old breed; nor can we much wonder at it, when we reflect on the altered way of life, the change of habits, and the declension of virtue, arising from these very causes.

'Each hopeful hero now essays to start
To spoil the intellect, destroy the heart,
To render useless all kind Nature gave,
And live the dupe of ev'ry well dress'd knave;
To herd with gamblers, be a blackleg king,
And shine the monarch of the betting ring.'

"Men of family and fashion, in those golden days, passed their time in courts, in dancing-rooms, and at clubs composed of the very cream of birth and elegance. You heard occasionally of Lord Such-a-one being killed in a duel, or of the baronet or esquire dying from cold caught at a splendid fête, or by going lightly clad to his magnificent vis-à-vis, after a select masquerade; but you never read his death in a newspaper from a catarrh caught in the watch-house, from & fistic fight, or in a row at a hell—things now not astonishing, since even men with a title and a name of rank pass their time in the stable, at common hells, at the Fives-court—the hall of infamy; in the watch-house, the justice-room, and make the finish in the Fleet, King's Bench, or die in misery and debt abroad. In the olden times, a star of fashion was quoted for dancing at court, for the splendour of his equipages, his running footmen and black servants, his expensive dress, his accomplishments, his celebrity at foreign courts, his fine form, delicate hand, jewels, library, &c. &c. Now fame (for notoriety is so called) may be obtained by being a Greek, or Pigeon, by being mistaken for John the coachman, when on the box behind four tits; by being a good gentleman miller, by feeding the fancy, standing in print for crim. con., breaking a promise of marriage once or twice, and breaking as many tradesmen as possible afterwards; breaking the watchman's head on the top of the morn; and lastly, breaking away (in the skirmish through life) for Calais, or the Low Countries. There is as much difference between the old English gentleman and him who ought to be the modern representative of that name, as there is between a racer and a hack, a fine spaniel and a cross of the terrier and bull dog. In our days of polish and refinement, we had a Lord Stair, a Sedley, a Sir John Stepney, a Sir William Hamilton, and many others, as our ambassadors, representing our nation as the best bred in the world; and by their grace and amiability, gaining the admiration of the whole continent. We had, in remoter times, our Lords Bolingbroke, Chesterfield, and Lyttleton, our Steele, &c, the celebrated poets, authors, and patterns of fashion and elegance of the age. We had our Argyle,

'The state's whole thunder form'd to wield,
And shake at once the senate and the field.'

We had our virtuosi of the highest rank, our rich and noble authors in abundance. The departed Byron stood alone to fill their place. The classics were cultivated, not by the learned profession only, but by the votaries of fashion. Now, our Greek scholars are of another cast.{6} In earlier days the chivalrous foe met his opponent in open combat, and broke a lance for the amusement of the spectators, while he revenged his injuries in public. Now, the practice of duelling{7} has become almost a profession, and the privacy with which it is of necessity conducted renders it always subject to suspicion (see plate); independent of which, the source of quarrel is too often beneath the dignity of gentlemen, and the wanton sacrifice of life rather an act of bravado than of true courage.{7}

6 "Adeipe nunc Danaûm insidiai, et——ab uno, Disce
omnes!"
The Greek population of the fashionable world comprises a
very large portion of society, including among its members
names and persons of illustrious and noble title, whose
whole life and pleasure in life appears to "rest upon the
hazard of a die." The modern Greek, though he cannot boast
much resemblance to Achilles, Ajax, Patroclus, or Nestor,
is, nevertheless, a close imitator of the equally renowned
chief of Ithaca. To describe his person, habits, pursuits,
and manners, would be to sketch the portrait of one or more
finished roués, who are to be found in most genteel
societies. The mysteries of his art are manifold, and
principally consist in the following rules and regulations,
put forth by an old member of the corps, whose conscience
returned to torture him when his reign of earthly vice was
near its close.
ELEMENTS OF GREEKING. 1. A Greek should be like a mole,
visible only at night. 2. He should be a niggard of his
speech, and a profligate with his liquor, giving freely, but
taking cautiously. 3. He must always deprecate play in
public, and pretend an entire ignorance of his game. 4. He
must be subtle as the fox, and vary as the well-trained
hawk; never showing chase too soon, or losing his pigeon by
an over eager desire to pluck him. 5. He must be content to
lose a little at first, that he may thereby make a final hit
decisive. 6. He must practise like a conjuror in private,
that his slippery tricks in public may escape observation.
Palming the digits requires no ordinary degree of agility.
7. He must secure a confederate, who having been pigeoned,
has since been enlightened, and will consent to decoy others
to the net. 8. He should have once held the rank of captain,
as an introduction to good society, and a privilege to bully
any one who may question his conduct. 9. He must always put
on the show of generosity with those he has plucked—that
is, while their bill, bond, post obit, or other legal
security is worth having.

10. He should be a prince of good fellows at his own table,
have the choicest wines for particular companies, and when a
grand hit cannot be made, refuse to permit play in his own
house; or on a decisive occasion, let his decoy or partner
pluck the pigeon, while he appears to lose to some
confederate a much larger sum.
11. He must not be afraid to fight a duel, mill & rumbustical
green one, or bully a brother sharper who attempts to poach
upon his preserves.
12. He must concert certain signals with confederates for
working the broads (i.e. cards), such as fingers at whist:
toe to toe for an ace, or the left hand to the eye for a
king, and so on, until he can make the fate of a rubber
certain. On this point he must be well instructed in the
arts of marked cards, briefs, broads, corner bends, middle
ditto, curves, or Kingston Bridge, and other arch tricks of
slipping, palming, forcing, or even substituting,
whatever card may be necessary to win the game. Such are a
few of the elements of modern Greeking, contained in the
twelve golden rules recorded above, early attention to which
may save the inexperienced from ruin.

[ [!-- IMG --] [ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE]

7 ELEMENTS OF DUELLING.
"The British Code of Duel," a little work professing to give
the necessary instructions for man-killing according to
honour, lays down the following rules as indispensable for
the practice of principals and seconds in the pleasant and
humane amusement of shooting at each other. "1. To choose
out a snug sequestered spot, where the ground is level, and
no natural, terrestrial, or celestial line presenting itself
to assist either party in his views of sending his opponent
into eternity. 2. To examine the pistols; see that they are
alike in quality and length, and load in presence of each
other. 3. To measure the distance; ten paces of not less
than thirty inches being the minimum, the parties to step to
it, not from it. 4. To fire by signal and at random; it
being considered unfair to take aim at the man whose life
you go out to take. 5. Not to deliver the pistols cocked,
lest they should go off un-expectedly; and after one fire
the second should use his endeavours to produce a
reconciliation. 6. If your opponent fire in the air, it is
very unusual, and must be a case of extreme anguish when you
are obliged to insist upon another shot at him. 7. Three
fires must be the ultimatum in any case; any more reduces
duel to a conflict for blood," says the code writer; "if
the parties can afford it, there should be two surgeons in
attendance, but if economical, one mutual friend will
suffice; the person receiving the first fire, in case of
wound, taking the first dressing. 8. It being always
understood that wife, children, parents, and relations are
no impediment with men of very different relative stations
in society to their meeting on equal terms." The consistency,
morality, justice, and humanity of this code, I
leave to the gratifying reflection of those who have most
honourably killed their man.

'For, as duelling now is completely a science,
And sets, the Old Bailey itself at defiance;
Now Hibernians are met with in every street,
'Tis as needful to know how to shoot as to eat.'
The following singular challenge is contained in a letter
from Sir William Herbert, of St. Julian's, in Monmouthshire,
father-in-law to the famous Lord Herbert, of Cherbury, to a
gentleman of the name of Morgan. The original is in the
British Museum.
"Sir—Peruse this letter, in God's name. Be not disquieted.
I reverence your hoary hair. Although in your son I find too
much folly and lewdness, yet in you I expect gravity and
wisdom.
"It hath pleased your son, late at Bristol, to deliver a
challenge to a man of mine, on the behalf of a gentleman (as
he said) as good as myself; who he was, he named not,
neither do I know; but if he be as good as myself, it must
either be for virtue, for birth, for ability, or for calling
and dignity. For virtue I think he meant not, for it is a
thing which exceeds his judgment: if for birth, he must be
the heir male of an earl, the heir in blood of ten earls;
for, in testimony thereof, I bear their several coats.
Besides, he must be of the blood royal, for by my
grandmother Devereux I am lineally and legitimately
descended out of the body of Edward IV. If for ability he
must have a thousand pounds a year in possession, a thousand
pounds more in expectation, and must have some thousands in
substance besides. If for calling and dignity, he must be
knight or lord of several seignories in several kingdoms, a
lieutenant of his county, and a counsellor of a province.
"Now to lay all circumstances aside, be it known to your
son, or to any man else, that if there be any one who
beareth the name of gentleman, and whose words are of
reputation in his county, that doth say, or dare say, that I
have done unjustly, spoken an untruth, stained my credit and
reputation in this matter, or in any matter else, wherein
your son is exasperated, I say he lieth in his throat, and
my sword shall maintain my word upon him, in any place or
province, wheresoever he dare, and where I stand not sworn
to observe the peace. But if they be such as are within my
governance, and over whom I have authority, I will for their
re-formation chastise them with justice, and for their
malaport misdemeanour bind them to their good behaviour. Of
this sort, I account your son, and his like; against whom I
will shortly issue my warrant, if this my warning doth not
reform them. And so I thought fit to advertise you hereof,
and leave you to God.
"I am, &c.
"WM. HERBERT."

"The art of fencing formerly distinguished the gentleman, who then wore a sword as a part of his dress. He is now contented with a regular stand-up fight, and exhibits a fist like a knuckle-bone of mutton—hard, coarse, and of certain magnitude. The bludgeon hammer-headed whip, or a vulgar twig, succeeds the clouded and amber-headed cane; and instead of the snuff-box being rare, and an article of parade, to exhibit a beauty's miniature bestowed in love, or that of a crowned head, given for military or diplomatic services, all ranks take snuff out of cheap and vulgar boxes, mostly of inferior French manufacture, with, not unfrequently, indecent representations on them; or you have wooden concerns with stage coaches, fighting-cocks, a pugilistic combat, or an ill-drawn neck and neck race upon them. The frill of the nobleman and gentleman's linen once bore jewels of high price, or a conceit, like a noted beauty's eye, set in brilliants less sparkling than what formed the centre. Now, a fox, a stag, or a dog, worthily occupies the place of that enchanting resemblance. In equitation, we had Sir Sydney Meadows, a pattern and a prototype for gentlemen horsemen. The Melton hunt now is more in vogue, and the sons of our nobility ride like their own grooms and postboys—ay, and dress like them too. Autrefois, a man of fashion might be perceived ere he was seen, from a reunion of rich and costly perfumes. Now, snuff and tobacco, the quid, the pinch, and the cigar, announce his good taste. The cambric pocket-handkerchief was the only one known in the olden times. The belcher (what a name! ) supplies its place, together with the bird's eye, or the colours of some black or white boxer. An accomplished man was the delight of all companies in former times. An out and outer, one up to every thing, down as a nail or the knocker of Newgate, a trump, or a Trojan, now carry the mode of praise; one that can patter flash, floor a charley, mill a coal-heaver, come coachey in prime style, up to every rig and row in town, and down to every move upon the board, from a nibble at the club to a dead hit at a hell; can swear, smoke, take snuff, lush, play at all games, and throw over both sexes in different ways—he is the finished man. The attributes of a modern fine gentleman are, to have his address at his club, and his residence any where; to lounge, laugh, lisp, and loll away the time from four to eight, when having dressed, eat his olives, he goes to Almack's if he can, or struts into Fop's Alley at the Opera in boots, in defiance of decency or the remonstrance of the door-keepers; talks loud to be noticed; and having handed some woman of fashion to her carriage, gets in after her without invitation, and, as a matter of course, behaves rudely in return; makes a last call at the club in his way home to learn the issue of the debate, and try his luck at French hazard or fleecing a novice. (See Plate.)

[ [!-- IMG --] [ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE]

If his fortune should be one thousand per annum, his income may be extended to five, by virtue of credit and credulity. If he comes out very early in life, say eighteen, he will scarcely expect to be visible at twenty-four; but if he does not appear until he is twenty-one, and then lives all his days, he may die fairly of old age, infirmity, and insolvency, at twenty-six. His topographical knowledge of town is bounded by the fashionable directory, which limits his recognition, on the north, by Oxford-street, on the east, by Bond-street, on the south, by Pall Mall, and on the west, by Park-lane. Ask him where is Russell Square, and he stares at you for a rustic; inquire what authors he reads, and he answers Weatherbey and Rhodes; ask what are their works, and he laughs outright at your ignorance of the 'Racing Calendar,' 'Annals of Sporting,' 'Boxiana,' and 'Turf Remembrancer;' question his knowledge of science, it consists in starch à la Brummel{8}; of mathematics, in working problems on the cards; of algebra, in calculating the long odds, or squaring the chances of the dice; he tells you, his favourite book is his betting account, that John Bull is the only newspaper worth reading, and that you must never expect to be admitted into good society if the cut of your coat does not bear outward proofs of its being fabricated either in Saint James's Street or Bond Street; that the great requisites are confidence, indifference, and nonchalance; as, for instance, George Wombwell being thrown out of his tilbury on High gate Hill, when driving Captain Burdett, and both being dreadfully bruised, George is picked

8 When Brummel fell into disgrace, he devised the starched
neckcloth, with the design of putting the prince's neck out
of fashion, and of bringing his Royal Highness's muslin, his
bow, and wadding, into contempt. When he first appeared in
this stiffened cravat, tradition says that the sensation in
St. James's-street was prodigious; dandies were struck dumb
with envy, and washerwomen miscarried. No one could conceive
how the effect was produced—tin, card, a thousand
contrivances were attempted, and innumerable men cut their
throats in vain experiments; the secret, in fact, puzzled
and baffled every one, and poor dandy L———d died raving
mad of it; his mother, sister, and all his relations waited
on Brummel, and on their knees implored him to save their
kinsman's life by the explanation of the mystery; but the
beau was obdurate, and L———d miserably perished.
When Brummel fled from England, he left this secret a legacy
to his country; he wrote on a sheet of paper, on his
dressing-table, the emphatic words, "Starch is the man."

up by a countryman, when he inquires, very coolly, if 't'other blackguard is not quite dead:' his amours are more distinguished by their number than attractions, and the first point is, not attachment, but notoriety; the lady always being the more desirable, in proportion to the known variety of her gallants; that of all the pleasures of this life, there is nothing like a squeeze at court (see plate), or being wedged into a close room at a crowded rout.

[ [!-- IMG --] [ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE]

A ruffian was never thought of by our forefathers; the exquisite was; but he was more sublimated than the exquisite of the nineteenth century. The dandy is of modern date; but there is some polish on him—suppose it be on his boots alone. Shape and make are attended to by him; witness the Cumberland corset, and his making what he can of every body. Then, again, he must have a smattering of French, and affect to be above old England. When he smokes, he does it from vanity, to show his écume de mer pipe. He may have a gold snuff-box and a little diamond pin; and when he swears, he lisps it out like a baby's lesson. Sometimes (not often) he plays upon the guitar; and the peninsular war may have made a man of him, and a linguist too; but he is far below the ancient exquisites (who touched the lute, the lyre, and violoncello). And he is an egotist in every thing—in gallantry, in conversation, in principle, and in heart. Nor has the deterioration of the gentleman been confined to England only—polite and ceremonious France has felt her change. The Revolution brought in coarse and uncivilised manners. The awkward and unsuccessful attempt at Spartan and Roman republican manners; the citizen succeeding to Monsieur; the blasphemous, incredulous, atheistical principles instilled into the then growing generation of all classes; the system of equality, subversive of courtliness, and the obliging attentions and suavities of society, poisoned at once the source of morals and of manners; for there can be nothing gentlemanlike in atheism, radicalism, and the level, ling system. To this state of things succeeded a reign of terror, assassination, and debauchery; and lastly, a military despotism, in which the private soldier rose to the marshals baton; a groom in the stables of the Prince of Condé saw himself ennobled; peers and generals had brothers still keeping little retail shops; and a drum-boy lived to see his wife—a washerwoman, or fish vender—a duchess (Madame Lefevre). How can we expect breeding from such materials? Bayonets gave brilliancy to the imperial court; and the youth of the country were all soldiers, without dreaming of the gentleman, except in a low bow and flourish of the hat; a greater flourish of self-praise, and a few warm, loose, and dangerous compliments to the fairer sex, became more than even the objects of their passion, but less so of their attentions and prepossessing assiduities. This military race taught us to smoke, to snuff, to drink brandy, and to swear; for although John Bull never was backward in that point, yet St. Giles's and not St. James's, was the rendezvous for those who possessed that brutal and invincible habit. These were not amongst the least miseries and curses which the war produced; and they have left such mischievous traces behind them, that the mature race in France laugh at the old court, and at all old civil and religious principles, whilst our demoralized youth play the same game at home. And if a Bolingbroke or a Chesterfield was now to appear, he would be quizzed by all the smokers, jokers, hoaxers, glass-cockers, blacklegs, and fancy-fellows of the town, amongst whom all ranks are perfectly lost, and morality is an absolute term. O tempora! O Moses! (as the would-be Lady Sckolard said.) Nor does Moses play second best in these characters of the day. Moses has crept into all circles; from the ring to the peerage and baronetage, the stage, the race-course; and our clubs are tinged with the Israelitish: they may lend money, but they cannot lend a lustre to the court, or to the gilded and painted saloons of the beau monde. The style of things is altered; we mean not the old style and new in point of date, but in point of brilliancy in the higher circles. Our ancestors never bumped along the streets, with a stable-boy by their side, in a one-horse machine, which is now the bon ton in imitation of our Gallic neighbours, whose equipage is measured by their purse. Where do you now see a carriage with six horses, and three outriders, and an avant courier, except on Lord Mayor's day? Yet how common this was with the nobility d'autrefois. Two grooms are no longer his Grace's and my Lord's attendants, but each is followed by one groom in plain clothes, not very dissimilar from the man he serves. Do we ever see the star of nobility in the morning, to guard him who has a right to it from popular rudeness and a confusion of rank? All is now privacy, concealment, equality in exterior, musty and meanness: not that the plain style of dress would be exceptionable, if we could say in verity—

'We have within what far surpasseth show.'

But the lining is now no better (oftentimes worse) than the coat. Our principles and our politeness are on a par—at low-water mark. The tradesman lives like the gentleman, and the nobleman steps down a degree to be, like other people, up to all fashionable habits and modern customs; whilst the love for gain, at the clubs, on the turf, in the ring, and in private life, debases one part of society, and puts down the other, which becomes the pigeon to the rook. Whilst all this goes on, the press chronicles and invents follies for us; and there are men stupid enough to glory in their depravity, to be pleased with their own deformity of mind, body, or dress, of their affectations, and their leading of a party. There is something manly in the Yacht Club, in a dexterously driving four fleet horses in hand, in reining in the proud barb, and in gymnastic exercises: but the whole merit of these ceases, when my Lord (like him of carroty beard) becomes the tar without his glory, and wears the check shirt without the heart of oak—when the driver becomes the imitator of the stage and hackney box—when the rider is the unsuccessful rival of the jockey; and the frequenter of the gymnastic arena becomes a bruiser, or one turning strength into money, be the bet or the race what it may.

'Shades of our ancestors! whose fame of old
In ev'ry time the echoing world has told!
Whose dauntless valour and heroic deeds,
Each British bosom yet enraptur'd reads!
Deeds, which in ev'ry country, clime, and age,
Have fill'd the poet's and historian's page;
Of ev'ry muse the theme, and ev'ry pen:
Ye I invoke! and ye, my countrymen,
If British blood yet flows within your veins,
If for your country aught of love remains,
O make your first, your chief, your only care,
That which first rais'd and made you what you were.'"

[ [!-- IMG --]

[ [!-- H2 anchor --] ]