KENSINGTON GARDENS—SUNDAY EVENING.
Singularities of 1824.
WESTERN ENTRANCE INTO THE METROPOLIS; A DESCRIPTIVE SKETCH.
General Views of the Author relative to Subject and Style—
Time and Place—Perspective Glimpse of the great City—The
Approach—Cockney Salutations—The Toll House—Western
Entrance to Cockney Land—Hyde Park—Sunday Noon—
Sketches of Character, Costume, and Scenery—The Ride and
Drive—Kensington Gardens—Belles and Beaux—Stars and
Fallen Stars—Singularities of 1824—Tales of Ton—On Dits
and Anecdotes—Sunday Evening—High Life and Low Life, the
Contrast—Cockney Goths—Notes, Biographical, Amorous, and
Exquisite.
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Its wealth and fashion, wit and folly,
Pleasures, whims, and melancholy:
Of all the charming belles and beaux
Who line the parks, in double rows;
Of princes, peers, their equipage,
The splendour of the present age;
Of west-end fops, and crusty cits,
Who drive their gigs, or sport their tits;
With all the groups we mean to dash on
Who form the busy world of fashion:
Proceeding onwards to the city,
With sketches, humorous and witty.
The man of business, and the Change,
Will come within our satire's range:
Nor rank, nor order, nor condition,
Imperial, lowly, or patrician,
Shall, when they see this volume, cry—
"The satirist has pass'd us by,"
But with good humour view our page
Depict the manners of the age.
Our style shall, like our subject, be
Distinguished by variety;
Familiar, brief we could say too—
(It shall be whimsical and new),
But reader that we leave to you.
'Twas morn, the genial sun of May
O'er nature spread a cheerful ray,
When Cockney Land, clothed in her best,
We saw, approaching from the west,
And 'mid her steeples straight and tall
Espied the dome of famed St. Paul,
Surrounded with a cloud of smoke
From many a kitchen chimney broke;
A nuisance since consumed below
By bill of Michael Angelo.{1}
The coach o'er stones was heard to rattle,
1 M. A. Taylor's act for compelling all large factories,
which have steam and other apparatus, to consume their own
smoke.
The guard his bugle tuned for battle,
The horses snorted with delight,
As Piccadilly came in sight.
On either side the road was lined
With vehicles of ev'ry kind,
And as the rapid wheel went round,
There seem'd scarce room to clear the ground.
"Gate-gate-push on—how do—well met—
Pull up—my tits are on the fret—
The number—lost it—tip then straight,
That covey vants to bilk the gate."
The toll-house welcome this to town.
Your prime, flash, bang up, fly, or down,
A tidy team of prads,—your castor's
Quite a Joliffe tile,—my master.
Thus buck and coachee greet each other,
And seem familiar as a brother.
No Chinese wall, or rude barrier,
Obstructs the view, or entrance here;
Nor fee or passport,—save the warder,
Who draws to keep the roads in order;
No questions ask'd, but all that please
May pass and repass at their ease.
In cockney land, the seventh day
Is famous for a grand display
Of modes, of finery, and dress,
Of cit, west-ender, and noblesse,
Who in Hyde Park crowd like a fair
To stare, and lounge, and take the air,
Or ride or drive, or walk, and chat
On fashions, scandal, and all that.—
Here, reader, with your leave, will we
Commence our London history.
'Twas Sunday, and the park was full
With Mistress, John, and Master Bull,
And all their little fry.
The crowd pour in from all approaches,
Tilb'ries, dennets, gigs, and coaches;
The bells rung merrily.
Old dowagers, their fubsy faces{2}
Painted to eclipse the Graces,
Pop their noddles out
Of some old family affair
That's neither chariot, coach, or chair,
Well known at ev'ry rout.
But bless me, who's that coach and six?
"That, sir, is Mister Billy Wicks,
A great light o' the city,
Tallow-chandler, and lord mayor{3};
Miss Flambeau Wicks's are the fair,
Who're drest so very pretty.
It's only for a year you know
He keeps up such a flashy show;
And then he's melted down.
The man upon that half-starved nag{4}
Is an Ex-S———ff, a strange wag,
Half flash, and half a clown.
But see with artful lures and wiles
The Paphian goddess, Mrs. G***s,{5}
2 There are from twenty to thirty of these well known relics
of antiquity who regularly frequent the park, and attend all
the fashionable routs,—perfumed and painted with the
utmost extravagance: if the wind sets in your face, they may
be scented at least a dozen carriages off.
3 It is really ludicrous to observe the ridiculous pride of
some of these ephemeral things;—during their mayoralty, the
gaudy city vehicle with four richly caparisoned horses is
constantly in the drive, with six or eight persons crammed
into it like a family waggon, and bedizened out in all the
colours of the rainbow;—ask for them six months after, and
you shall find them more suitably employed, packing rags,
oranges, or red herrings.
4 This man is such a strange compound of folly and
eccentricity, that he is eternally in hot water with some
one or other.
5 Mrs. Fanny G-1-s, the ci-devant wife of a corn merchant,
a celebrated courtezan, who sports a splendid equipage, and
has long figured upon town as a star of the first order in
the Cyprian hemisphere. She has some excellent qualities,
as poor M————-n can vouch; for when the fickle goddess
Fortune left him in the lurch, she has a handsome annuity
from a sporting peer, who was once the favoured swain.
From out her carriage peeps;
She nods to am'rous Mrs. D——-,{6}
Who bends with most sublime congee,
While ruin'd—————-sleeps.
Who follows 1 'tis the hopeful son
Of the proud Earl of H—————-n,
Who stole the parson's wife.{7}
The Earl of H—————-and flame,
For cabriolets she's the dame,{8}
A dasher, on my life.
Jack T——-1 shows his pleasant face{9};
A royal likeness here you'll trace,
You'd swear he was a Guelph.
See Lady Mary's U———walk,{10}
And though but aide-de-camp to York,
An Adonis with himself,
6 Mrs. D————-, alias Mrs. B-k-y, alias Miss Montague,
the wife of poor Jem B-k-y, the greater his misfortune,—a
well known Paphian queen, one of five sisters, who are all
equally notorious, and whose history is well known. She is
now the favoured sultana of a ci-devant banker, whose name
she assumes, to the disgrace of himself and family.
7 The clerical cornuto recovered, in a crim. con. action,
four thousand pounds for the loss of his frail rib, from
this hopeful sprig of nobility.
8 Mrs. S———, a most voluptuous lady, the discarded chère
amie of the late Lord F-1-d, said to be the best carriage
woman in the park: she lies in the Earl of H———-
—'s cabriolet most delightfully stretched out at full
length, and in this elegant posture is driven through the
park.
9 Captain T———l of the guards, whose powerful similitude
to the reigning family of England is not more generally
admitted than his good-humoured qualities are universally
admired.
10 The Hon. General U————-, aide-de-camp to the Duke of
York, whose intrigue with Lady Mary——————was, we have
heard, a planned affair to entrap a very different person.
Be that as it may, it answered the purpose, and did not
disturb the friendship of the parties. The honourable
general has obtained the appellation of the Park Adonis,
from his attractive figure and known gallantries.
A—————-y mark, a batter'd beau,{11}
Who'll still the fatal dice-box throw
Till not a guinea's left.
Beyond's the brothers B——-e,{12}
Of gold and acres quite as free,
By gaming too bereft.
Here trips commercial dandy Ra-k-s,{13}
11 Lord A———y, the babe of honour—once the gayest of
the gay, where fashion holds her bright enchanting court;
now wrinkled and depressed, and plucked of every feather, by
merciless Greek banditti. Such is the infatuation of play,
that he still continues to linger round the fatal table, and
finds a pleasure in recounting his enormous losses. A—-y,
who is certainly one of the most polished men in the
world, was the leader of the dandy club, or the unique four,
composed of Beau Brummell, Sir Henry Mildmay, and Henry
Pierrepoint, the Ambassador, as he is generally termed. When
the celebrated dandy ball was given to his Majesty (then
Prince of Wales), on that occasion the prince seemed
disposed to cut Brummell, who, in revenge, coolly
observed to A———y, when he was gone,—"Big Ben was vulgar
as usual." This was reported at Carlton House, and led to
the disgrace of the exquisite.—Shortly afterwards he met the
Prince and A———y in public, arm in arm, when the former,
desirous of avoiding him, quitted the baron: Brummell, who
observed his motive, said loud enough to be heard by the
prince,—"Who is that fat friend of yours?" This expression
sealed his doom; he was never afterwards permitted the
honour of meeting the parties at the palace. The story of
"George, ring the bell," and the reported conduct of the
prince, who is said to have obeyed the request and ordered
Mr. Brummell's carriage, is, we have strong reasons for
thinking, altogether a fiction: Brummell knew the dignity of
his host too well to have dared such an insult. The king
since generously sent him 300L. when he heard of his
distress at Calais. Brummell was the son of a tavern-keeper
in St. James's, and is still living at Calais.
12 The brothers are part of a flock of R———r geese, who
have afforded fine plucking for the Greeks. Parson Ambrose,
the high priest of Pandemonium, had a leg of one and a wing
of the other devilled for supper one night at the Gothic
Hall. They have cut but a lame figure ever since.
13 A quaint cognomen given to the city banker by the west-
end beaux;—he is a very amiable man.
Who never plays for heavy stakes,
But looks to the main chance.
There's Georgy W-b-ll, all the go,{14}
The mould of fashion,—the court beau,
Since Brummell fled to France:
His bright brass harness, and the gray,
The well known black cabriolet,
Is always latest there;
The reason,—George, with Captain P———
The lady-killing coterie,
Come late—to catch the fair.
See W-s-r, who with pious love,{15}
For her, who's sainted now above,
A sister kindly takes;
So, as the ancient proverb tells,
"The best of husbands, modern belles,
Are your reformed rakes."
In splendid mis'ry down the ride
Alone,—see ****** lady glide,{16}
Neglected for a————.
What's fame, or titles, wealth's increase,
Compared unto the bosom's peace?
They're bubbles,—nothing more.
14 George, although a roué of the most superlative order,
is not deficient in good sense and agreeable qualifications.
Since poor Beau Brummell's removal from the hemisphere of
fashion, George has certainly shone a planet of the first
magnitude: among the fair he is also considered like his
friend, Captain P-r-y, a perfect lady-killer:—many a little
milliner's girl has had cause to regret the seductive notes
of A.Z.B. Limmer's Hotel.
15 The Marquis of W-c-t-r has, since his first wife's death,
married her sister.—Reformation, we are happy to perceive,
is the order of the day. The failure of Howard and Gibbs
involved more than one noble family in embarrassments.
16 The amours of this child of fortune are notorious both on
the continent and in this country. It is very often the
misfortune of great men to be degraded by great profligacy
of conduct: the poor lady is a suffering angel.
Observe yon graceful modest group{17}
Who look like chaste Diana's troop,
The Ladies Molineaux;
With Sefton, the Nimrod of peers,
As old in honesty,—as years,
A stanch true buff' and blue.
"What portly looking man is that
In plain blue coat,—to whom each hat
Is moved in ride and walk!"
That pleasant fellow, be it known,
Is heir presumptive to the throne,
'Tis Frederick of York.{18}
A better, kinder hearted soul
You will not And, upon the whole,
Within the British isle.
But see where P-t's wife appears,{19}
Who changed, though rather late in years,
For honest George Ar-le.
Now by my faith it gives me pain
17 The female branches of the Sefton family are superior to
the slightest breath of calumny, and present an example to
the peerage worthy of more general imitation.
18 No member of the present royal family displays more
agreeable qualifications in society than the heir
presumptive.—Un-affected, affable, and free, the duke may be
seen daily pacing St. James's-street, Pall-mall, or the
Park, very often wholly un-attended: as his person is
familiar to the public, he never experiences the slightest
inconvenience from curiosity, and he is so generally
beloved, that none pass him who know him without paying
their tribute of respect. In all the private relations of
life he is a most estimable man,—in his public situation
indefatigable, prompt, and attentive to the meanest applica-
tion.
19 A more lamentable instance of the profligacy of the age
cannot be found than in the history of the transaction which
produced this exchange of wives and persons. A wag of the
day published a new list of promotions headed as follows,—
Lady B———n to be Lady A———r P-t,—by exchange—Lady P-t
to be Duchess of A———e,—by promotion—Lady Charlotte W—y
to be Lady P-t, vice Lady P-t, promoted.
To see thee, cruel Lady J-,{20}
Regret the golden Ball.
Tis useless now:—"the fox and grapes"
Remember, and avoid the apes
Which wait an old maid's fall.
Gay lady H——-e's twinkling star{21}
20 It is not long since that, inspired by love or ambition,
a wealthy commoner sought the promise of the fair hand of
Lady J-, nor was the consent of her noble father (influenced
by certain weighty reasons*) wanting to complete the
anticipated happiness of the suitor.—All the preliminary
forms were arranged,—jointure and pin money liberally
fixed,—some legal objections as to a covenant of forfeiture
overcame, a suitable establishment provided. The happy day
was fixed, when—"mark inconstant fickle woman"—the evening
previous to completion (to the surprise of all the town),
she changed her mind; she had reconsidered the subject!—The
man was wealthy, and attractive in person; but then—
insupportable objection—he was a mere plebeian, a common
esquire, and his name was odious,—Lady J- B-1,—she could
never endure it: the degrading thought produced a fainting
fit,—the recovery a positive refusal,—the circumstance a
week's amusement to the fashionable world. Reflection and
disappointment succeeded, and a revival was more than once
spoken of; but the recent marriage of the bachelor put an
end to all conjecture, and the poor lady was for some time
left to bewail in secret her single destiny. Who can say,
when a lady has the golden ball at her foot, where she may
kick it? Circumstances which have occurred since the above
was written prove that the lady has anticipated our advice.
21 Her ladyship's crimson vis-à-vis and her tall footman
are both highly attractive—there are no seats in the
vehicle—the fair owner reclines on a splendid crimson velvet
divan or cushion. She must now be considered a beauty of the
last century, being already turned of fifty: still she
continued to flourish in the annals of—fashion, until
within the last few years; when she ceased to go abroad for
amusement, finding it more convenient to purchase it at
home. As her parties in Grosvenor-square are of the most
splendid description, and her dinners (where she is the
presiding deity, and the only one) are frequent, and
unrivalled for a display of the "savoir vivre," her ladyship
can always draw on the gratitude of her guests for that
homage to hospitality which she must cease to expect to her
charms, "now in the sear and yellow leaf:"—she is a M-nn-
rs-"verbum sal." Speaking of M-nn-ra, where is the portly
John (the Regent's double, as he was called some few years
since), and the amiable duchess, who bestowed her hand and
fortune upon him?—but, n'importe.
* The marquis is said to have shown some aversion in the
first instance, till H-s B-1 sent his rent roll for his
inspection: this was immediately returned with a very
satisfactory reply, but accompanied with a more embarrassing
request, namely, a sight of his pedigree.
Glimmers in eclipse,—afar's
The light of former time.
In gorgeous pride and vis-à-vis,{22}
A-b-y's orange livry see,
The gayest in the clime.
Camac and wife, in chariot green,
Constant as turtle-doves are seen,
With two bronze slaves behind;
Next H-tf-d's comely, widow'd dame,{23}
With am'rous G———, a favourite name,
When G———was true and kind.
22 "The gorgeous A-b-y in the sun-flower's pride." This
lady's vis-à-vis by far the most splendidly rich on town.
Her footmen (of which there are four on drawing-room days)
are a proper emblem of that gaudy flower—bright yellow
liveries, black lower garments, spangled and studded. There
is a general keeping in this gorgeous equipage, which is
highly creditable to the taste of the marchioness, for the
marquis, "good easy man," (though a Bruce), he is too much
engaged preserving his game at Ro-er-n park, and keeping up
the game in St. Stephen's (where his influence is
represented by no less than eight "sound men and true"), to
attend to these trifling circumstances. This, with a well
paid rental of upwards of £100,000 per annum, makes the life
of this happy pair pass in an uninterrupted stream of
fashionable felicity.
23 The marchioness is said to bear the neglect of a certain
capricious friend with much cool philosophy. Soon after the
intimacy had ceased, they met by accident. On the sofa, by
the side of the inconstant, sat the reigning favourite; the
marchioness placed herself (uninvited) on the opposite side:
astonishment seized the ****; he rose, made a very graceful
bow to one of the ladies, and coolly observed to the
marchesa—"If this conduct is repeated, I must decline
meeting you in public." This was the cut royal.
See S-b-y's peeress, whom each fool
Of fashion meets in Sunday school,{24}
To chat in learned lore;
Where rhyming peers, and letter'd beaus,
Blue stocking belles to love dispose,
And wit is deem'd a bore.
With brave Sir Ronald, toe to toe,
See Mrs. M-h-l A-g-lo,{25}
Superb equestriana.
Next—that voluptuous little dame,{26}
Who sets the dandy world in flame,
The female Giovanni.
Erin's sprightly beauteous belle,
Gay Lady G-t-m, and her swell
The Yorkshire Whiskerandoes.{27}
24 The dulness of the marchioness's Sunday evening conver-
saziones have obtained them the fashionable appellation of
the Sunday-school. Lord Byron thought it highly dangerous
for any wit to accept a second invitation, lest he should be
inoculated with ennui.
23 Mrs. M- A-g-e, a very amiable and accomplished woman,
sister to Sir H-y V-ne T-p-t. She is considered the best
female equestrian in the ride.
26 A consideration for the delicacy of our fair readers
will not allow us to enter upon the numerous amours of this
favourite of Apollo and the Muses, and not less celebrated
intriguant. She may, however, have ample justice entailed
upon her under another head. Latterly, since the police have
been so active in suppressing the gaming houses, a small
party have met with security and profit for a little chicken
hazard in Curzon-street, at which Mr. C-t has occasionally
acted as croupier and banker. Elliston used to say, when
informed of the sudden indisposition or absence of a certain
little actress and singer-"Ay, I understand; she has a more
profitable engagement than mine this evening." The amorous
trio, Cl-g-t, Charles H-r-s, and the exquisite Master G-e,
may not have cause to complain of neglect. The first of
these gentlemen has lately, we understand, been very
successful at play; we trust experience will teach him
prudence.
27 His lordship commands the York hussars, in defence of
whose whiskers he sometime since made a Quixotic attack upon
a public writer. As he is full six feet high, and we are not
quite five, prudence bids us place our finger on our lip.
Pale Lambton, he who loves and hates
By turns, what Pitts, or Pit, creates,
Led by the Whig fandangoes.
Sound folly's trumpet, fashion's drums,—
Here great A———y W———ce comes,{28}
'Mong tailors, a red button.
With luminarious nose and cheeks,
Which love of much good living speaks,
Observe the city glutton:
Sir W-m, admiral of yachts,
Of turtles, capons, port, and pots,
In curricle so big.
Jack F-r follows;—Jack's a wag,{29}
28 A———y W———o, Esq. otherwise the renowned Billy
Button, the son and heir to the honours, fortune, and
shopboard of the late Billy Button of Bedford-street, Covent
Garden. The latter property he appears to have transferred
to the front of the old brown landau, where the aged
coachman, with nose as flat as the ace of clubs, sits,
transfixed and rigid as the curls of his caxon, from three
till six every Sunday evening, urging on a cabbage-fed pair
of ancient prods, which no exertion of the venerable Jehu
has been able for the last seven years to provoke into a
trot from Hyde park gate to that of Cumberland and back
again. The contents of the vehicle are equally an
exhibition. Billy, with two watches hung by one chain,
undergoing the revolutionary movements of buckets in a
well, and his eye-glass set round with false pearls, are
admirably "en suite" with his bugle optics. The frowsy
madam in faded finery, with all the little Buttons, attended
by a red-haired poor relation from Inverness (who is at once
their governess and their victim), form the happy tenantry
of this moving closet. No less than three, crests surmount
the arms of this descendant of Wallace the Great. A waggish
Hibernian, some few months since, added a fourth, by
chalking a goose proper, crested with a cabbage, which was
observed and laughed at by every one in the park except the
purblind possessor of the vehicle, who was too busy in
looking at himself.
29 Honest Jack is no longer an M.P., to the great regret of
the admirers of senatorial humours. Some few years since,
being Btuehi plenus, he reeled into St. Stephen's chapel a
little out of a perpendicular; when the then dignified Abbot
having called him to order, he boldly and vociferously
asserted that "Jack F-r of Rose-Hill was not to be set down
by any little fellow in a wig. "This offence against the
person and high office of the Abbot of St. Stephen's brought
honest Jack upon his knees, to get relieved from a
troublesome serjeant attendant of the chapel. Knowing his
own infirmities, and fearing perhaps that he might be com-
pelled to make another compulsory prayer, Jack resigned his
pretensions to senatorial honors at the last general
election. His chief amusement, when in town, is the watching
and tormenting the little marchandes des modes who cross
over or pass in the neighbourhood of Regent-street—he is,
however, perfectly harmless. 30 An unlucky accident,
occasioned by little Th-d the wine merchant overturning F-z-y
in his tandem, compelled the latter to sell out of the
army, but not without having lost a leg in the service. A
determined patriot, he was still resolved to serve his
country. A barrister on one leg might be thought ominous of
his client's cause, or afford food for the raillery of his
opponent. The bar was therefore rejected. But the church
opened her arms to receive the dismembered son of Mars (a
parson with a cork leg, or two wooden ones, or indeed
without a leg to stand on, was not un-orthodox), and F-z-y
was soon inducted to a valuable benefice. He is now, we
believe, a pluralist, and, if report be true, has shown
something of the old soldier in his method of retaining
them. F-y married Miss Wy-d-m, the daughter of Mrs. H-s, who
was the admired of his brother, L-d P-. He is generally
termed the fighting parson, and considered one of the best
judges of a horse in town: he sometimes does a little
business in that way among the young ones.
A jolly dog, who sports his nag,
Or queers the Speaker's wig:
To Venus, Jack is stanch and true;
To Bacchus pays devotion too,
But likes not bully Mars.
Next him, some guardsmen, exquisite,-
A well-dress'd troop;—but as to fight,
It may leave ugly scars.
Here a church militant is seen,{30}
Who'd rather fight than preach I ween,
Once major, now a parson;
With one leg in the grave, he'll laugh,
Chant up a pard, or quaintly chaff,
To keep life's pleasant farce on.
Lord Arthur Hill his Arab sports,
And gentle-usher to the courts:
See Horace and Kang C-k,{31}
Who, with the modern Mokamna
C-m-e, must ever bear the sway
For ugliness of look.
A pair of ancients you may spy,{32}
Sir Edward and Sir Carnaby,
From Brighton just set free;
The jesters of our lord the king,
Who loves a joke, and aids the thing
In many a sportive way.
A motley group come rattling on,{33}
31 Horace S-y-r, gentleman usher to the king, and K-g C-k,
said to be the ugliest man in the British army: in the park
he is rivalled only by C-c. For the benefit of all the
married ladies, we would recommend both of these
singularities to wear the veil in public.
32 Sir Ed-d N-g-e. His present majesty is not less fond of a
pleasant joke than his laughter-loving predecessor, Charles
II. The Puke of Clarence, while at the Pavilion (a short
time since), admired a favourite grey pony of Sir E-d N-e's;
in praise of whose qualities the baronet was justly liberal.
After the party had returned to the palace, the duke, in
concert with the k-g, slily gave directions to have the pony
painted and disfigured (by spotting him with water colour
and attaching a long tail), and then brought on the lawn. In
this state he was shown to Sir E—, as one every way
superior to his own. After examining him minutely, the old
baronet found great fault with the pony; and being, at the
duke's request, induced to mount him, objected to all his
paces, observing that he was not half equal to his grey. The
king was amazingly amused with the sagacity of the good-
humoured baronet, and laughed heartily at the astonishment
he expressed when convinced of the deception practised upon
him. Sir C-n-y H-s-ne, although a constant visitor at the
Pavilion, is not particularly celebrated for any attractive
qualification, unless it be his unlimited love of little
ladies. He is known to all the horse dealers round London,
from his constant inquiries for a "nice quiet little horse
to carry a lady;" but we never heard of his making a
purchase.
33 The middle order of society was formerly in England the
most virtuous of the three—folly and vice reared their
standard and recruited their ranks in the highest and the
lowest; but the medium being now lost, all is in the
extreme. The superlative dandy inhabitant of a first floor
from the ground in Bond-street, and the finished inhabitant
of a first floor from heaven (who lives by diving) in Fleet-
street, are in kindness and habits precisely the same.
Who ape the style and dress of ton,
And Scarce are worth review;
Yet forced to note the silly elves,
Who take such pains to note themselves,
We'll take a name or two.
H-s-ly, a thing of shreds and patches,{34}
Whose manners with his calling matches,
That is, he's a mere goose.
Old St-z of France, a worthy peer,
From shopboard rais'd him to a sphere
Of ornament and use.
The double dandy, fashion's fool,
The lubin log of Liverpool,
Fat Mister A-p-ll,
Upon his cob, just twelve hands high,
A mountain on a mouse you'll spy
Trotting towards the Mall.
Sir *——-*-, the chicken man,{35}
34 Young Priment, as he is generally termed, the once
dashing foreman and cutter out, now co-partner of the
renowned Baron St-z, recently made a peer of France. Who
would not be a tailor (St-z has retired with a fortune of
£100,000. )! Lord de C-ff-d, some time since objecting to
certain items in his son's bill from St-z, as being too
highly charged, said, "Tell Mr. S- I will not pay him, if it
costs me a thousand pounds to resist it. " St-z, on hearing
this, said, "Tell his lordship that he shall pay the
charge, if it costs me ten thousand to make him." H-s-ly
with some little satisfaction was displaying to a customer
the Prince of C-b-g's bill for three months (on the occasion
of his Highness's new field-marshal's suit, we suppose):
"Here," said he, "see what we have done for him: his
quarter's tailor's bill now comes to more than his annual
income formerly amounted to." Mr. H-s-ly sports a bit of
blood, a dennet, and a filly; and, for a tailor, is a
superfine sort of dandy, but with a strong scent of the shop
about him.
35 The redoubtable general's penchant for little girls has
obtained him the tender appellation of the chicken man.
Many of these petits amours are carried on in the assumed
name of Sir Lewis N-t-n, aided by the skill and ingenuity
of Captain *-. Youth may plead whim and novelty for low
intrigue; but the aged beau can only resort to it from
vitiated habit.
With pimp *-a-t in the van,
The Spy of an old Spy;
Who beat up for recruits in town,
Mong little girls, in chequer'd gown,
Of ages rather shy.
That mild, complacent-looking face,{36}
Who sits his bit of blood with grace,
Is tragic Charley Young:
With dowager savant a beau,
Who'll spout, or tales relate, you know,
Nobility among.
"Sure such a pair was never seen"
By nature form'd so sharp and keen
As H-ds-n and Jack L-g;
Or two who've play'd their cards so well,
As many a pluck'd roué can tell,
Whose purses once were strong:
Both deal in pipes—and by the nose
Have led to many a green horn's woes
A few gay bucks to Surrey,
Where Marshal Jones commands in chief
A squadron, who to find relief
Are always in a hurry.
They're folloiv'd by a merry set—
Cl-m-ris, L-n-x, young B-d-t,
Whom they may shortly follow.
That tall dismember'd dandy mark,
Who strolls dejected through the park,
With cheeks so lank and hollow;
That's Badger B-t-e, poet A—
The mighty author of "To-day,"
36 This truly respectable actor is highly estimated among a
large circle of polished society; where his amusing talents
and gentlemanly demeanour render him a most entertaining
and agreeable companion.
Forgotten of "To-morrow;"
A superficial wit, who 'll write
For Shandy little books of spite,
When cash he wants to borrow.
The pious soul who 's driving by,
And at the poet looks so shy,
Is parson A- the gambler;{37}
His deaf-lugg'd daddy a known blade
In Pandemonium's fruitful trade,
'Mong Paphians a rambler.
Augusta H-ke (or C-i) moves
Along the path—her little doves—
Decoys, upon each arm.
Where 's Jehu Martin, four-in-hand,
An exile in a foreign land
From fear of legal charm.
A pensioner of Cyprian queen,
The Bond-street tailor here is seen,
The tally-ho so gay.
Next P———s,{38} who by little goes,
37 The parson is so well known, and has been so plentifully
be-spattered on all sides, that we shall, with true orthodox
charity, leave him with a strong recommendation to the
notice of the society for the suppression of vice, with this
trite remark, "Vide hic et ubique."
38 This man, who is now reported to be worth three hundred
thousand pounds, was originally a piece-broker in Bedford-
bury, and afterwards kept a low public house in Vinegar-
yard, Drury-lane; from whence he merged into an illegal
lottery speculation in Northumberland-street, Strand, where
he realized a considerable sum by insurances and little
goes; from this spot he was transplanted to Norris-street,
in the Haymarket, managing partner in a gaming-house, when,
after a run of ill luck, an affair occurred that would have
occasioned some legal difficulty but for the oath of a
pastry-cook's wife, who proved an alibi, in return for which
act of kindness he afterwards made her his wife. Obtaining
possession of the rooms in Pall-Mall (then the celebrated
E. O. tables, and the property of W-, the husband, by a sham
warrant), the latter became extremely jealous; and, to make
all comfortable, our hero, to use his own phrase, generously
bought the mure and coll.—Mrs. W—and her son—both since
dead: the latter rose to very high rank in an honourable
profession. The old campaigner has now turned pious, and
recently erected and endowed a chapel. He used to boast he
had more promissory notes of gambling dupes than would be
sufficient to cover the whole of Pall-Mall; he may with
justice add, that he can command bank notes enough to cover
Cavendish-square.
And west-end hells, to fortune rose
By many a subtle way.
Patron of bull-baits, racings, fights,
A chief of black-legg'd low delights—
'Tis the new m———s, F-k;
Time was, his heavy vulgar gait,
With one of highest regal state
Took precedence of rank:
But now, a little in disgrace
Since J-e usurp'd his m———'s place,
A stranger he's at court;
Unlike the greatest and the best
Who went before, his feather'd nest
Is well enrich'd by sport.
F-1-y disastrous, honour's child;
L-t-he the giddy, gay, and wild,
And sportive little Jack;
The prince of dandies join the throng,
Where Gwydir spanks his fours along,
The silvery grays or black.
The charming F-te, and Colonel B-,{39}
Snugly in close carriage see
With crimson coats behind:
And Mrs. C—, the Christmas belle,
39 We shall not follow the colonel's example, or we could
give some extracts from the letters of a. female
corespondent of his that would be both curious and
interesting; but n'importe, consideration for the lady
alone prevents the publication. In town he is always
discovered by a group of would-be exquisites, the satellites
of the Jupiter of B-k-y C-t-e at Gl-r; or at Ch————-m
they have some name; but here they are more fortunate, for
o'er them oblivion throws the friendly veil.
With banker's clerk, a tale must tell
To all who are not blind.
Ah! Poodle Byng appears in view,{40}
Who gives at whist a point or two
To dowagers in years.
And see where ev'ry body notes
The star of fashion, Romeo Coates{41}
The amateur appears:
But where! ah! where, say, shall I tell
Are the brass cocks and cockle shell?
Ill hazard, rouge et noir
If it but speak, can tales relate
Of many an equipage's fate,
And may of many more.
Ye rude canaille, make way, make way,
The Countess and the Count————,{42}
40 This gentleman is generally designated by the name of
"the whist man:" he holds a situation in the secretary of
state's office, and is in particular favour with all the old
dowagers, at whose card parties it is said he is generally
fortunate. He has recently been honoured with the situation
of grand chamberlain to their black majesties of the
Sandwich isles.
41 Poor Borneo's brilliancy is somewhat in eclipse, and
though not quite a fallen star, he must not run on black too
long,—lest his diamond-hilted sword should be the price of
his folly.
42 The Countess of ———————-is the daughter of
Governor J—————-; her mother's name was Patty F-d, the
daughter of an auctioneer who was the predecessor of the
present Mr. Christie's father. Patty, then a very beautiful
woman, went with him to India, and was a most faithfull and
attentive companion.—On the voyage home with J———-
——-and her three children, by him, the present countess,
and her brothers James and George, they touched at the Cape,
where the old governor most ungratefully fell in love with a
young Portuguese lady, whom he married and brought to
England in the same ship with his former associate, whom he
soon after completely abandoned, settling 500L. a year upon
her for the support of herself and daughter; his two sons,
James and George, he provided with writerships in the
company's service, and sent to India. James died young, and
George returned to England in a few years, worth 180,000
pounds.—He lingered in a very infirm state of health, the
effects of the climate and Mrs. M-, alias Madame Haut Gout;
and at his death, being a bachelor, he left the present
countess, his sister who lived with him, the whole of his
property. There are various tales circulated in the
fashionable world relative to the origin and family of the
count, who has certainly been a most fortunate man: he is
chiefly indebted for success with the countess to his skill
as an amateur on the flute, rather than to his paternal
estates. The patron of foreigners, he takes an active part
in the affairs of the Opera-house.—Poor Tori having given
some offence in this quarter, was by his influence kept out
of an engagement; but it would appear he received some
amends, by the following extract from a fashionable paper of
the day.
A certain fashionable———l, who was thought to be au
comble de bonheur, has lately been much tormented with that
green-eyed monster, Jealousy, in the shape of an opera
singer. Plutôt mourir que changer, was thought to be the
motto of the pretty round-faced English——————s; but,
alas! like the original, it was written on the sands of
disappointment, and was scarcely read by the admiring
husband, before his joy was dashed by the prophetic wave,
and the inscription erased by a favoured son of Apollo.
L'oreille est le chemin du cour: so thought the ———l,
and forbade the —————s to hold converse with Monsieur
T.; but les femmes peuvent tout, parce-qu'elles gouvernent
ceux qui gouvernent tous. A meeting took place in
Grosvenor-square, and, amid the interchange of doux yeux,
the ————-l arrived: a desperate scuffle ensued; the
intruder was banished the house, and, as he left the door,
is said to have whistled the old French proverb of Le bon
temps viendra. This affair has created no little amusement
among the beau monde. All the dowagers are fully agreed on
one point, that l'amour est une passion qui vient souvent
sans qu'on s'en apperçoîve, et, qui s'en va aussi de même.
Who play de prettee flute,
Who charm une petit English ninnie,
Till all the Joueur J———'s guinea
Him pochée en culotte.
Who follows? 'tis the Signor Tori,
'Bout whom the gossips tell a story,
With some who've gone before:
"The bird in yonder cage confined
Can sing of lovers young and kind,"
But there, he'll sing no more.
Lord L———looks disconsolate,{}43
No news from Spain I think of late,
Per favour M————i.
Ne'er heed, my lord, you still may find
Some opera damsel true and kind,
Who'll prove less coy and naughty.
"Now by the pricking of my thumbs,
There's something wicked this way comes,"
'Tis A-'s false dame,{44}
Who at Almack's, or in the park,
With whispers charms a clucal spark,
To blight his wreath of fame.
Observe, where princely Devonshire,{45}
43 His lordship, though not quite so deeply smitten as the
now happy swain, had, we believe, a little __penchant for
the charming little daughter of Terpsichore. "What news
from Spain, my lord, this morning?" said Sir C. A. to Lord
L———"I have no connexion with the foreign office,"
replied his lordship.—"I beg pardon, my lord, but I am sure
I met a Spanish messenger quitting your house as I entered
it." On the turf, his lordship's four year old (versus five)
speculations with Cove B-n have given him a notoriety that
will, we think, prevent his ruining himself at Newmarket.
Like the immortal F-e, he is one of the opera directors, and
has a great inclination for foreign curiosities. Vide the
following extract.—
"The New Corps de Ballot at the Opera this season, 1823, is
entirely composed of Parisian elegantes, selected with great
taste by Lord L————-, whose judgment in these matters is
perfectly con amore. In a letter to a noble friend on
this subject, Lord L————says that he has seen, felt, and
(ap-) proved them all———to be excellent artistes with
very finished movements."
Certain ridiculous reports have long been current in the
fashionable world, relative to a mysterious family affair,
which would preclude the noble duke's entering into the
state of matrimony: it is hardly necessary to say they have
no foundation in truth. The duke was certainly born in the
same house and at nearly the same time (in Florence) when
Lady E. F-st-r, since Duchess of D-, was delivered of a
child—but that offspring is living, and, much to the present
duke's honour, affectionately regarded by him. The duke was
for some years abroad after coming to his title, owing, it
is said, to an unpleasant affair arising out of a whist
party at a great house, which was composed of a Prince,
Lords L———and Y———th, another foreign Prince, and a
Colonel B-, of whom no one has heard much since.—A noble
mansion in Piccadilly was there and then assigned to the
colonel, who at the request of the -e, who had long wished
to possess it as a temporary residence, during some
intended repairs at the great house, re-conveyed it to
the———. On the receipt of a note from Y- the next
morning, claiming the amount of the duke's losses, he
started with surprise at the immense sums, and being now
perfectly recovered from the overpowering effects of the
bottle, hastened with all speed to take the opinions of two
well-known sporting peers, whose honour has never been
questioned, Lords F-y and S-n; they, upon a review of the
circumstances, advised that the money should not be paid,
but that all matters in dispute should be referred to a
third peer, Earl G-y, who was not a sporting man: to this
effect a note was written to the applicant, but not before
some communication had taken place with a very high
personage; the consequence was that no demand was ever
afterwards made to the referee. Lord G- C- afterwards re-
purchased the great house with the consent of the duke from
the fortunate holder, as he did not like it to be
dismembered from the family. We believe this circumstance
had a most salutary effect in preventing any return of a
propensity for play.
44 Charley loves good place and wine,
And Charley loves good brandy,
And Charley's wife is thought divine,
By many a Jack a dandy.
PARODY ON AN OLD NURSERY RHYME.
{45} A CHARACTER OF DEVONSHIRE.
In action, heart, and mind, a peer,
Avoids the public gaze;
Graceful, yet simple in attire,
You'd take him for a plain esquire;
"His acts best speak his praise."
That queer, plain, yellow chariot, mark,
Which drives so rapid through the park,
The servants clothed in gray—
That's George, incog.—George who? George-king,{46}
Of whom near treason 'tis to sing,
In this our sportive lay.
Kings like their subjects should have air
And exercise, without the stare
Which the state show attends;
I love to see in public place
The monarch, who'll his people face,
And meet like private friends.
So may the crown of this our isle
Re ever welcomed with a smile,
And, George, that smile be thine!
Then when the time,—and come it must,
That crowns and sceptres shall be dust,
Thou shalt thy race outshine,
Shalt live in good men's hearts, and tears,
From age to age, while mem'ry rears
The proud historic shrine.
46 FROM THE DIARY OF A POLITICIAN.
"Through Manchester-square took a canter just now,
Met the old yellow chariot, and made a low bow;
This did of course, thinking 'twas loyal and civil,
But got such a look,—oh! 'twas black as the devil.
How unlucky!—incog, he was traveling about,
And I like a noodle must go find him out!
Mem. When next by the old yellow chariot I ride,
To remember there is nothing princely inside."
Tom Moore,
What rueful-looking knight is that,{47}
With sunken eye and silken hat,
47 Lord P-r-m, the delicate dandy.
Laced up in stays to show his waist,
And highly rouged to show his taste,
His whiskers meeting 'neath his chin,
With gooseberry eye and ghastly grin,
With mincing steps, conceited phrase,
Such as insipid P- displays:
These are the requisites to shine
A dandy, exquisite, divine.
Ancient Dandies.—A Confession.
The Doctor{*}, as we learn, once said,
To Mistress Thrale—
Howe'er a man be stoutly made,
And free from ail,
In flesh and bone, and colour thrive,
"He's going down at 35."
Yet Horace could his vigour muster
And would not till a later lustre f
One single inch of ground surrender
To any swain in Cupid's calendar.
But one I think a jot too low,
And t'other is too high, I know.
Yet, what I've found, I'll freely state—
The thing may do till.—
But that's a job—for then, in truth,
One's but a clumsy sort of youth:
And maugre looks, some evil tongue
Will say the Dandy is not young:—
For 'mid the yellow and the sear, {**}
Though here and there a leaf be green
No more the summer of the year
It is, than when one swallow's seen.
* Johnson.
t——————————-fuge suspicari
Cujus octavum trepidavit otas
Claudere lustrum.—Od. 4.1. ii.
Now tottering on to forty years,
My age forbids all jealous fears.
** "My May of life is fallen into
the sear and yellow leaf."—Macbeth.
Pinch'd in behind and 'fore?
Whose visage, like La Mancha's chief,
Seems the pale frontispiece to grief,
As if 'twould ne'er laugh more:
Whose dress and person both defy
The poet's pen, the painter's eye,
'Tis outre tout nature.
His Arab charger swings his tail,
Curvets and prances to the gale
Like Death's pale horse,—
And neighing proudly seems to say,
Here Fashion's vot'ries must pay
Homage of course:
Tis P-h-m, whom Mrs. H-g-s
At opera and play-house dodges
Since he gain'd Josephine;
Tailors adorn a thousand ways,
And (though Time won't) men may make Slays;
The dentist, barber, make repairs,
New teeth supply, and colour hairs;
But art can ne'er return the Spring—
And spite of all that she can do,
A Beau's a very wretched thing
At 42!
The late Princess Charlotte issued an order, interdicting
any one of her household appearing before her with frightful
fringes to their leaden heads. In consequence of this cruel
command, P-r-m, being one of the lords of the bed-chamber,
was compelled to curtail his immense whiskers. A very
feeling ode appeared upon the occasion, entitled My
Whiskers, dedicated to the princess; it was never printed,
but attributed to Thomas Moore. The Kiss, or Lady Francis W-
W-'s Frolic, had nearly produced a fatal catastrophe. How
would poor Lady Anne W-m have borne such a misfortune? or
what purling stream would have received the divine form of
the charming Mrs. H-d-s? But alas! he escaped little W-'s
ball, only to prove man's base ingratitude, for he has
since cut with both these beauties for the interesting
little Josephine, the protégée of T———y B-t, and the
sister of the female Giovanni.
Ye madly vicious, can it be!
A mother sunk in infamy,
To sell her child is seen.
Let Bow-street annals, and Tom B-t,{48}
Who paid the mill'ner, tell the rest,
It suits not with our page;
Just satire while she censures,—feels,—
Verse spreads the vice when it reveals
The foulness of the age.
'Tis half-past five, and fashion's train
No longer in Hyde Park remain,
Bon ton cries hence, away;
The low-bred, vulgar, Sunday throng,
Who dine at two, are ranged along
On both sides of the way;
With various views, these honest folk
Descant on fashions, quiz and joke,
Or mark a shy cock down{49};
For many a star in fashion's sphere
Can only once a week appear
In public haunts of town,
Lest those two ever watchful friends,
The step-brothers, whom sheriff sends,
John Doe and Richard Roe,
A taking pair should deign to borrow,
To wit, until All Souls, the morrow,
The body of a beau;
48 Poor Tom B-t has paid dear for his protection of
the Josephine: fifteen hundred pounds for millinery in
twelve months is a very moderate expenditure for so young a
lady of fashion. It is, to be sure, rather provoking that
such an ape as Lord ———should take command of the
frigate, and sail away in defiance of the chartered party,
the moment she was well found and rigged for a cruize. See
Common Plea Reports, 1823
49 The Sunday men, as they are facetiously called in the
fashionable world, are not now so numerous as formerly: the
facility of a trip across the Channel enables many a shy
cock to evade the scrutinizing eye and affectionate
attachment of the law.
But Sunday sets the pris'ner free,
He shows in Park, and laughs with glee
At creditors and Bum.
Then who of any taste can bear
The coarse, low jest and vulgar stare
Of all the city scum,
Of fat Sir Gobble, Mistress Fig,
In buggy, sulky, coach, or gig,
With Dobbin in the shay?
At ev'ry step some odious face,
Of true mechanic cut, will place
Themselves plump in your way.
Now onward to the Serpentine,
A river straight as any line,
Near Kensington, let's walk;
Or through her palace gardens stray,
Where elegantes of the day
Ogle, congee, and talk.
Here imperial fashion reigns,
Here high bred belles meet courtly swains
By assignation.
Made at Almack's, Argyle, or rout,
While Lady Mother walks about
In perturbation,
Watching her false peer, or to make
A Benedict of some high rake,
To miss a titled prize.
Here, cameleon-colour'd, see
Beauty in bright variety,
Such as a god might prize.
Here, too, like the bird of Juno,
Fancy's a gaudy group, that you know,
Of gay marchands des modes.
Haberdashers, milliners, fops
From city desks, or Bond-street shops,
And belles from Oxford-road,
Crowds here, commingled, pass and gaze,
And please themselves a thousand ways;
Some read the naughty rhymes
Which are on ev'ry alcove writ,
Immodest, lewd attempt at wit,
Disgraceful to the times.
Here Scotland's dandy Irish Earl,{50}
With Noblet on his arm would whirl,
And frolic in this sphere;
With mulberry coat, and pink cossacks,
The red-hair'd Thane the fair attacks,
F-'s ever on the leer;
And when alone, to every belle
The am'rous beau love's tale will tell,
Intent upon their ruin.
Beware, Macduff, the fallen stars!
Venus aggrieved will fly to Mars;
There's mischief brewing.
What mountain of a fair is that,
Whose jewels, lace, and Spanish hat,
Proclaim her high degree,
With a tall, meagre-looking man,
Who bears her reticule and fan?
That was Maria D-,
Now the first favourite at court,
50 His lordship is equally celebrated in the wars of Mars
and Venus, as a general in the service of Spain. When Lord
M-d-ff, in the desperate bombardment of Matagorda (an old
fort in the Bay of Cadiz), the falling of a fragment of the
rock, struck by a shell, broke, his great toe; in this
wounded state he was carried about the alameda in a cherubim
chair by two bare-legged gallegos, to receive the
condolations of the grandees, and, we regret to add, the
unfeeling jeers of the British, who made no scruple to
assert that his lordship had, as usual, "put his foot in
it." The noble general would no doubt have added another
leaf to bis laurel under the auspices of the ex-smuggler,
late illustrissimo general Ballasteros, had not he suddenly
become a willing captive to the soul-subduing charms of the
beauteous Antonia of Terrifa, of whose history and
melancholy death we may speak hereafter. On a late occasion,
he has been honoured with the star of the Guelphic order
(when, for the first time in his life, he went on his
knees), as some amends for his sudden dismissal from the
bed-chamber. Noblet, who has long since been placed upon the
pension list, has recently retired, and is succeeded by a
charming little Parisian actress who lives in the New Road,
and plays with the French company now at Tottenham-street
theatre. Lord L————-has also a little interest in the
same concern. His lordship's affaires des cour with
Antonia, Noblet, and M————-, though perfectly
platonic, have proved more expensive than the most
determined votary to female attractions ever endured: for
the gratification of this innocent passion, Marr's{*} mighty
pines have bit the dust, and friendly purses bled.
And, if we may believe report,
She holds the golden key
Of the backstairs, and can command
A potent influence in the land,
But K———N best can tell;
Tis most clear, no ill betide us,
Near the Georgium sidus
This planet likes to dwell.
Lovely as light, when morning breaks{51}
Above the hills in golden streaks,
Observe yon blushing rose,
Uxbridge, the theme of ev'ry tongue,
The sylph that charms the ag'd and young,
Where grace and virtue glows.
Gay Lady H-e her lounge may take,{52}
Reclining near the Indian lake.,
And think she's quite secure;
51 The beautiful little countess, the charming goddess of
the golden locks, was a Miss Campbell, a near relation of
the Duke of Argyll. She is a most amiable and interesting
elegante.
52 Although Lord L-e is the constant attendant of Lady H-,
report says the attachment is merely platonic. His lordship
was once smitten with her sister; and having thero suffered
the most cruel disappointment, consoles himself for his loss
in the sympathizing society of Lady H———.
* Marr Forest, belonging to his lordship, producing the
finest mast pines in the empire; the noble earl has lately
cut many scores of them ami some old friends, rather than
balk his fancy.
As well might C-1-ft hope to pass
Upon the town his C——-r lass
For genuine and pure.
See Warwick's charming countess glide,{53}
With constant Harry by her side,
Along the gay parterre;
And look where the loud laugh proclaims
The cits and their cameleon dames,
The gaudy Cheapside fair,
Drest in all colours o' the shop,
Fashion'd for the Easter hop,
To grace the civic feast,
Where the great Lord Mayor presides
O'er tallow, ribands, rags, and hides,
The sultan o' the east.
The would-be poet, Ch-s L-h,{54}
Comes saunt'ring with his graces three,
The little gay coquettes.
After, view the Cyprian corps
Of well-known traders, many score,
From Bang to Angel M-tz,
A heedless, giddy, laughing crew,
Who'd seem as if they never knew
Of want or fell despair;
Yet if unveil'd the heart might be,
You'd find the demon, Misery,
Had ta'en possession there.
Think not that satire will excuse,
Ye frail, though fair; or that the muse
Will silent pass ye by:
To you a chapter she'll devote,
Where all of fashionable note
53 Lady Sarah Saville, afterwards Lady Monson, now Countess
of Warwick, a most beautiful, amiable, and accomplished
woman. By constant "Harry" is meant her present earl.
54 See Amatory Poems by Ch-os L-h. We could indulge our
readers with a curious account of the demolition of the
Paphian car at Covent Garden theatre, but the story is
somewhat musty.
Shall find their history.
"Vice to be hated, needs but be seen;"
And thus shall ev'ry Paphian queen
Be held to public view;
And though protected by a throne,
The gallant and his Miss be shown
In colours just and true.
The countess of ten thousand see,{55}
The dear delightful Savante B-,
Who once was sold and bought:
The magic-lantern well displays
The scenes of long forgotten days,
And gives new birth to thought.
Nay, start not, here we'll not relate
The break-neck story gossips prate
Within the Em'rald Isle:
No spirit gray, or black, or brown,
We'll conjure up, with hideous frown,
To chase the dimpled smile.
In fleeting numbers, as we pass,
We find these shadows in our glass,
We move, and they're no more.
But see where chief of folly's train,
55 The beautiful and accomplished countess is a lovely
daughter of Hibernia; her maiden name was P-r, and her
father an Irish magistrate of high respectability. Her first
matrimonial alliance with Captain F-r proved unfortunate; an
early separation was the consequence, which was effected
through the intervention of a kind friend, Captain J-s of
the 11th. Shortly afterwards her fine person and superior
endowments of mind made an impression upon the earl that
nothing but the entire possession of the lady could allay.
The affair of Lord A- and Mrs. B- is too well known to need
repetition—it could not succeed a second time. Abelard F-
having paid the debt of nature, there was no impediment but
a visit to the temple of Hymen, on which point the lady was
determined; and the yielding suitor, wounded to the vital
part, most readily complied. It is due to the countess to
admit, that since her present elevation, her conduct has
been exemplary and highly praiseworthy.
Conceited, simple, rash, and vain,
Comes lib'ral master G-e,{56}
A dandy, half-fledged exquisite,
Who paid nine thousand pounds a night
To female Giovanni.
Reader, I think I hear you say,
"What pleasure had he for his pay?"
Upon my word, not any;
For soon as V-t-s got the cash,
She set off with a splendid dash
From Op'ra to Paris;
Left Cl-t and this simple fool,{67}
Who no doubt's been an easy tool,
To spend it with Charles H-s.
See, Carolina comes in view,
A Lamb, from merry Melbourne's ewe,
Who scaped the fatal knife.
H-ll-d's blue stocking rib appears,
Who makes amends in latter years
For early cause of strife.
Catullus George, the red-hair'd bard,
Whose rhymes, pedantic, crude, and hard,
He calls translations,
Follows the fair; a nibbling mouse
From Westminster, by Cam Hobhouse
Expell'd his station.
Now twilight, with his veil of gray,
The stars of fashion frights away
The carriage homeward rolls along
To music-party, cards and song,
56 A very singular adventure, which occurred in 1823. The
enamoured swain, after settling an annuity of seven hundred
pounds per annum upon the fair inconstant, had the
mortification to find himself abandoned on the very night
the deeds were completed, the lady having made a precipitate
retreat, with a more favoured lover, to Paris. The affair
soon became known, and some friends interfered, when the
deeds were cancelled.
57 Captain citizen Cl-t, an exquisite of the first order,
for a long time the favourite of the reigning sultana.
And many a gay delight.
The Goths of Essex-street may groan,{58}
Turn up their eyes, and inward moan,
They dare not here intrude;
Dare not attack the rich and great,
The titled vicious of the state,
The dissolute and lewd.
Vice only is, in some folks' eyes,
Immoral, when in rags she lies,
By poverty subdued;
But deck her forth in gaudy vest,
With courtly state and titled crest,
She's every thing that's good.
"Doth Kalpho break the Sabbath-day?
Why, Kalpho hath no funds to pay;
How dare he trespass then?
How dare he eat, or drink, or sleep,
Or shave, or wash, or laugh, or weep,
Or look like other men?"
My lord his concerts gives, 'tis true,
The Speaker holds his levee too,
And Fashion cards and dices;
But these are trifles to the sin
Of selling apples, joints, or gin—
58 The present times have very properly been stigmatized as
the age of cant. The increase of the puritans, the
smooth-faced evangelical, and the lank-haired sectarian,
with their pious love-meetings and bible associations, have
at last roused the slumbering spirit of the constituted
authorities, who are now making the most vigorous efforts to
impede the progress of these anti-national and hypocritical
fanatics, who, mistaking the true dictates of religion and
benevolence, have, in their inflamed zeal, endeavoured to
extirpate every species of innocent recreation, and have
laid formidable siege to honest-hearted mirth and rustic
revelry. "I am no prophet, nor the son of one; "but if
ever the noble institutions of my country suffer any
revolutionary change, it is my humble opinion it will result
from these sainted associations, from these pious opposers
of our national characteristics, and the noblest institution
of our country, the foundation stone of our honour and
glory, the established church of England. There is (in my
opinion) more mischief to be apprehended to the state from
the humbug of piety than from all the violence of froth,
political demagogues, or the open-mouthed howl of the most
hungry radicals. Let it be understood I speak not against
toleration in its most extended sense, but war only with
hypocrisy and fanaticism, with those of whom Juvenal has
written—"Qui aurios simulant el baechemalia vivinit."
Low, execrable vices.
Cease, persecutors, mock reclaimers,
Ye jaundiced few, ye legal maimers
Of the lone, poor, and meek;
Ye moral fishers for stray gudgeons,
Ye sainted host of old curmudgeons,
Who ne'er the wealthy seek!
If moralists ye would appear,
Attack vice in its highest sphere,
The cause of all the strife;
The spring and source from whence does flow
Pollution o'er the plains below,
Through all degrees of life.
