“Beautiful,” said Gayfield—“Elegant—superb.” “Bold,” said Dashall, “but not very delicate.” “A naked figure, truly,” continued Bob, “in a situation visited by the first circles of rank and fashion, is not to be considered as one of the greatest proofs either of modesty or propriety; but perhaps these ideas, as in many other instances, are exploded, or they are differently understood to what they were originally. A mantle might have been thought of by the ladies, if not the artist.”
“For my part,” said Sparkle, “I see but little in it to admire.”
During this conversation, Gayfield was dancing round the figure with his quizzing glass in his hand, examining it at all points, and appearing to be highly amused and delighted.
“It affords opportunities for a variety of observations,” said Dashall, “and, like many other things, may perhaps be a nine days wonder. The public prints have been occupied upon the subject for a few days, and I know of but one but what condemns it upon some ground or other."{1}
1 In all probability the following remarks will be sufficient to make our readers acquainted with this so much talked of statue:— Kensington Gardens and the Park.—From three to seven o'clock on Sunday, the gardens were literally crowded to an over-How with the élite of the fashionable world. The infinite variety of shape and colour displayed in the female costume, the loveliness and dignity of multitudes of the fair wearers, and the serene brilliancy of the day, altogether surpassed any thing we have hitherto witnessed there. There was nothing on the drive in the Park except carriages and horsemen, dashing along to the gardens; and as to the ?Wellington promenade,' it was altogether neglected. Whether it was that the 'naked majesty' of Achilles frightened the people away, or whether the place and its accompaniments were too garish for such weather, we know not, but certainly it seemed to be avoided most cautiously; with the exception of some two or three dozen Sunday-strollers, yawning upon the Anglo-Greco-Pimlico-hightopoltical statue above mentioned. It was curious enough to hear the remarks made by some of these good folks upon this giant exotic—this Greek prototype of British prowess. 'Well, I declare!' said a blooming young Miss, as she endeavoured to scan its brawny proportions, 'Well, I declare! did ever any body see the like!'—'Come along, Martha, love,' rejoined her scarlet- faced mamma; 'Come along, I say!—I wonder they pulled the tarpoling off before the trowsers were ready.' 'What a great green monster of a man it is,' exclaimed a meagre elderly lady, with a strong northern accent, to a tall bony red-whiskered man, who seemed to be her husband—'Do na ye think 'twad a looked mair dedicate in a kilt?' 'Whist!' replied the man; and, without uttering another syllable, he turned upon his heel and dragged the wonder-ing matron away. ?La, ma, is that the Dook O' Vellunton vat stand up there in the sunshine?' 'Hold your tongue, Miss—little girls must not ask questions about them sort of things.' 'Be th' powers!' said one of three sturdy young fellows, as they walked round till they got to sunward of it.' Be th' powers, but he's a jewel of a fellow; ounly its not quite dacent to be straddling up there without a shirt—is it Dennis?' ?Gad's blood man!' replied Dennis, rather angrily, 'Gad's blood man! dacency's quite out of the question in matters o' this kind, ye see.' ''Faith, and what do they call it?' asked the other. 'Is it—what do they call it?' re-joined Dennis, who seemed to consider himself a bit of a wag—'Why they mane to call it the Ladies' Fancy, to be sure!' and away they all went, 'laughing like so many horses,' as the German said, who had heard talk of a horse-laugh. Some of the spectators compared the shield to a parasol without a handle; others to a pot-lid; and one a sedate-looking old woman, observing the tarpawling still covering the legs and lower part of the thighs, remarked to her companion, that she supposed they had been uncovering it by degrees, in order to use the people to the sight gradually. In short, poor Achilles evidently caused more surprise than admiration, and no small portion of ridicule. But then this was among the vulgar. No doubt the fashionable patronesses of the thing may view it with other eyes.
On their return from the Park, our party looked in at Tattersal's, where it proved to be settling day. Dashall and his Cousin had previously made a trip to Ascot Races, to enjoy a day's sport, and were so fortunate as to let in a knowing one for a considerable sum, by taking the long odds against a favourite horse. They therefore expected now to toutch the blunt, and thus realize the maxim of the poet, by “uniting profit and delight in one.”
“Yonder,” says Dashall, pointing out to his Cousin a very stout man, “is H. R. H.; he is said to have been a considerable winner, both at the late, as well as Epsom races; but the whole has since vanished at play, with heavy additions, and the black legs are now enjoying a rich harvest. The consequences have been, not only the sale of the fine estate of O—t—ds by the hammer, but even the family plate and personal property have been knocked down to the highest bidders, at Robbins's Rooms.”
“I should have expected,” replied Bob, “that so much fatal experience, which is said to make even fools wise, would have taught a useful lesson, and restrained this gambling propensity, however violent.”