LETTER III.
Low Harrogate, July 30th.
With pleasure dear mother commence I this letter
To tell you already I find myself better,
To the praise of the well be it known I am able,
To pick up my crumbs with the best at the table,
And now think the landlord a very wise man,
For placing thereon all the dishes he can,
No longer fastidious or squeamish or dainty,
I like all I see and rejoice that there's plenty,
But since I wrote last by my doctor's prescription,
I've had a warm bath of which take my description
Fair Derwent how oft in thy pure limpid wave,
Delighted I lov'd in full freedom to lave,
While on thy green banks in soft herbage reposing,
The swains and their flocks, were contentedly dosing
And the landscape around, and above the blue sky
Shed new life on the heart while they solac'd the eye
Little thought I in those days so sunny and smiling,
What a different thing was a Harrogate boiling,
And astonish'd I saw when I came to my doffing[2],
A tub of hot water made just like a coffin,
In which the good woman who tended the bath,
Declar'd I must lie down as straight as a lath,
Just keeping my face above water that so,
I might better inhale the fine fume from below,
"But mistress," 'quoth I in a trembling condition,'
"I hope you'll allow me one small requisition,
Since scrophula, leprosy, herpes, and scurvy,
Have all in this coffin been roll'd topsy-turvy, 232
In a physical sense I presume it is meet,
That each guest should be wrapt in a clean winding sheet,"
"Oh no! my good sir for whatever's your case,
You can never catch any thing bad in this place,
And that being settled on solid foundation,
We Harrogate bath-women spurn innovation."
So caviller like I submitted to pow'r,
And was coddled in troth for the third of an hour.
But that very same night to atone for it all,
I figur'd away the first man at the ball,
For the president being both idle and lusty,
Conceiv'd that his pow'rs "à la danse" were grown rusty,
And consign'd all his rights in this gay exhibition,
To myself as a man of more able condition,
But oh! how it griev'd me dear mother to find,
So very few beaux were to dancing inclin'd;
Constellations of beauty all night shone in vain,
Condemn'd as fix'd stars unremov'd to remain,
Whose influence benignant ne'er reach'd from their sphere,
To warm the cold heels of the gentlemen here,
Captain—r—r consider'd a man of high ton,
All dancing declin'd till the ball was just done,
And then he made shift just to drawl on his legs,
As a lame Chelsea pensioner does when he begs,
But in spite of his ennui and indolent air
He dances divinely the ladies declare. 258
Of these tho' a great many caper'd away,
Yet many sat still who were lovely as they,
Fair F—z—r was there, and the beautiful P—k—r
With the elegant H—tt—n as lovely tho' darker,
The gay A—x—nd—r and R—g—rs the pretty,
And M—w—r the graceful, and B—ley the witty.
Some came from the Granby and some from the Dragon,
But these are all belles that our own house may brag on,
For at present the Crown is much fuller than any,
Tho' the Inns at High Harrogate boast a good many
The Crescent our neighbour is full to o'erflowing,
And numbers I see to the White Hart are going.
As bad as the times are John Bull makes a shift,
To give the gay world an effectual lift,
And so long as these places can live by their trading
We may smile at Napoleon's threats of invading.
The place of all places for lounging away,
In amusement and style the first half of the day,
Is at each of the Libraries[3]; where you may find,
Books, music, fine prints, in short all things combin'd,
Which those who have taste are delighted to cherish
And those who have none yet affect much to relish,
Politicians, and ladies, bucks, authors, and peers,
The busy all eyes, and the idle all ears, 284
May here every morning be seen in perfection,
Like the books, or the news, just laid out for inspection,
So to Wilson's I go every morning inquiring,
"What arrivals there are?"——and the papers desiring,
And look with a deep and significant phiz,
For Peninsula news, or a boxing match quiz,
Nay at times I converse on a poem or play,
And utter no less 'cause I've nothing to say,
Rememb'ring in all kinds of difficult cases,
To make out my meaning by shrugs and grimaces,
Thus a man without reading may give an opinion,
And snatch for an hour dilletanti dominion,
From what sources great critics may judge I can't tell
But I always find mine are produc'd at the well,
When my breakfast eats good and the waters agree
Capel Loft's sugar-candy's not sweeter than me,
This morning I dazzled the minds of the crowd,
By pronouncing Lord Byron "a poet" aloud,
Of Strangford and Moore then condemned the sweet flummery,
Talk'd of Southey the chaste, and the matchless Montgomery,
Call'd Campbell the elegant, Wordsworth the wild
And the great Walter Scott Inspiration's own child;
Then prais'd the sweet bard tho' unknown be his name,
Who gave Talavera's dread battles to fame,
Thus 'mongst reading-room gents I set up for a judge,
And an eulogist too (when the waters will budge)
But if on my stomach they happen to rest,
With such critical spleen is my humour opprest,
Whether minister, gen'ral, or author I seize on,
Be assur'd that I charge him at least with high-treason,
And it then would surprise ye to hear me debate,
On the faults of the war and the crimes of the state,
On wonderful plans for complete reformation,
And fearful predictions for folks of high station,
Then too the grand censor on writers I sit,
And fulminate laws 'gainst pretenders to wit, 320
Or deeply regret these degenerate times,
Produce prose without sense, without poetry rhymes
Step on to consider the faults of the stage
And conclude there's not one decent thing in the age.
Thus as sung my great uncle "our evil, and good,
"By few is conceiv'd, and by few understood,"
If unwisely we praise, or unfeelingly blame
Now shudd'ring with ague, now burning with flame,
Tho' ignorance gener'lly causes this fault,
Yet here 'tis the mixture of sulphur and salt
Which nine times in ten will improve on our nature
As it clears a complexion or softens a feature,
And that without doubt you'll allow is the reason,
Why so many matches are made here each season,
And who knows dear ma'am but this wonderful water
May gain me a sweet wife and yourself a dear daughter?
And at Robey's likewise ev'ry morning I'm shown
Since not to know him, would prove I was unknown
Banker, Jeweller, Friseur, and Toyman, his trade is
He's all things for the beaux and still more for the ladies,
But no wonder they like him so much in this place,
For good temper and honesty dwell in his face,
And his shop is so stor'd with all things that are pretty,
He has skimm'd the first cream from Pall Mall and the city.
But from pictures of lounges I'll now give you rest,
For the dinner bell rings and I am not half drest.
&c. &c. &c.