“Psha, man,” continued his Cousin, “you are a novice indeed to suppose any thing of the kind. No one uninitiated in these mysteries, can form an idea of the inextricable labyrinth, or the powerful spell which binds the votaries of play; and unfortunately this fatal passion seems to pervade in an unusual degree our present nobility: indeed it may be said there are comparatively but few of the great families who are not either reduced to actual poverty, or approximating towards it, in consequence of the inordinate indulgence of this vice.”
THE WELLINGTON TROPHY; or, LADIES' MAN{1} Air—'Oh, the Sight entrancing.' Oh, the sight entrancing, To see Achilles dancing,{2} Without a shirt Or Highland skirt,{3} “Where ladies' eyes are glancing: 1 We are told that this gigantic statue is a most astonishing work of art, cast from the celebrated statue of Achilles, on the Quirinal Hill; and the inscription on it informs us, that the erection of it was paid for by the ladies of England, to commemorate the manly energy of the Duke of Wellington and his brave companions in arms. To call it, therefore, the 'Ladies' Man,' is merely out of compliment to such as patronised the undertaking; and here we wish it to be particularly understood that we do not sanction the word naked as a correct term (although that term is universally applied to it), inasmuch as this statue is not naked, the modest artist having, at the suggestion of these modest ladies, taken the precaution of giving Achilles a covering, similar to that which Adam and Eve wore on their expulsion from Eden. 2 The attitude of the statue is so questionable as to have already raised many opposite hypotheses as to what it is really intended to represent. Mr. Ex-Sheriff Parkins has, with very laudable ingenuity and classical taste, discovered that the figure is nothing more nor less than a syce, or running groom; just such a one, the worthy ex- sheriff adds, as used to accompany him in India, when engaged in a hunting party, and who, when he grew tired, used to lay hold of the ex-sheriff's horse's tail, in order to keep up with his master. The author of the Travestie, however, has hit upon another solution of the attitude, still more novel, and equally probable, namely, that of dancing, for which he expects to gain no inconsiderable share of popularity. 3 Without a shirt or Highland skirt!—It is really entertaining to see what a refinement of criticism has been displayed upon the defects of this incomparable statue. Some have abused the hero for being shirtless, and said it was an abomination to think that a statue in a state of nudity (much larger than life, too!) should be stuck up in Hyde Park, where every lady's eye must glance, however repugnant it might be to their ideas of modesty. But did not the ladies themselves order and pay for the said statue? Is it not an emblem of their own pure taste? Then, as for putting on Achilles a kelt or short petticoat (called by the poet a Highland skirt), oh, shocking I it is not only unclassical, but it would have destroyed the effect of the thing altogether. To be sure, it would not be the first time that Achilles wore a petticoat, for, if we are rightly informed, his mother, Thetis, disguised him in female apparel, and hid him among the maidens at the court of Lycomedes, iu order to prevent his going to the siege of Troy; but that wicked wag, Ulysses, calling on the said maidens to pay his respects, discovered Mister Achilles among them, and made him join his regiment. Each widow's heart is throbbing, Each married lady sobbing, While little miss Would fain a kiss Be from Achilles robbing!' Then, oh, the sight entrancing, To see Achilles dancing, Without a shirt Or Highland skirt, Where ladies' eyes are glancing. Oh, 'tis not helm or feather, Or breeches made of leather, That gave delight, By day or night, Or draw fair crowds together.{2} Let those wear clothes who need e'm; Adorn but max with freedom,{3} Then, light or dark, They'll range the Park, And follow where you lead 'em. For, oh, the sight's entrancing, To see Achilles dancing, Without a shirt Or Highland skirt, Where ladies' eyes are glancing.
1 If we could only insert one hundredth part of what has been said by widows, wives, and maids on this interesting subject during the present week, we are quite sure our readers would acquit us of having overcharged the picture, or even faintly delineated it. 2 We certainly must differ with the author here: in our humble opinion, helmets, feathers, leather breeches, &c. have a wonderful effect in drawing crowds of the fair sex together—at a grand review, for instance. 3 This line, it is hoped, will be understood literally. The words are T. Moore's, and breathe the spirit of liberty—not licentiousness.
Having succeeded in their object, Dashall and his Cousin pursued their course homeward; and thus terminated another day spent in the developement of Real Life in the British Metropolis.
But still the muse beseeches If this epistle reaches Achilles bold, In winter cold, That he would wear his breeches:{1} For though in sultry weather, He needs not cloth nor leather, Yet frosts may mar What's safe in war,{2] And ruin all together. But still the sight's entrancing, To see Achilles dancing Without a shirt Or Highland skirt, Where ladies' eyes are glancing. 1 The last verse must be allowed to be truly considerate, nay, kind—that the ladies will be equally kind and considerate to poor Achilles as the poet is, must be the wish of every one who has witnessed the perilous situation in which he is placed. 2 Achilles was a great favourite with the ladies from his very birth. He was a fine strapping boy; and his mother was so proud of him, that she readily encountered the danger of being drowned in the river Styx herself, that she might dip her darling in it, and thereby render him invulnerable. Accordingly, every part of the hero was safe, except his heel by which his mother held him amidst the heat of battle; and, like his renowned antitype, the immortal Duke of Wellington, he was never wounded. But, at length, when Achilles was in the Temple, treating about his marriage with Philoxena, daughter of Priam, the brother of Hector let fly an arrow at his vulnerable heel, and did his business in a twinkling.
We cannot quit this subject without paying a compliment to the virtues of the Court. We understand there has not been one royal carriage seen in the Park since the erection of the statue; and if report speaks true, the Marchioness of C——-m's delicacy is so shocked, that she intends to quit Hamilton Place, which is close by, as early as a more modest site can be chosen!
CHAPTER XXV
Lack a day! what a gay What a wonderful great town! In each street, thousands meet, All parading up and down. Crossing—jostling—strutting—running, Hither—thither—going—coming; Hurry—scurry—pushing—driving, Ever something new contriving. Oh! what a place, what a strange London Town, On every side, both far and wide, we hear of its renown.
Escorting to the ever-varying promenade of fashion, the Hon. Tom Dashall and his Cousin Bob, whose long protracted investigation of Life in London was now drawing to a close, proceeded this morning to amuse themselves with another lounge in Bond-street: this arcadia of dignified equality was thronged, the carriage-way with dashing equipages, and the pave with exquisite pedestrians. Here was one rouged and whiskered; there another in petticoats and stays, while his sister, like an Amazon, shewed her nether garments half way to the knee. Then “passed smiling by” a Corinthian bear, in an upper benjamin and a Jolliffe shallow. A noted milliner shone in a richer pelisse than the Countess, whom the day before she had cheated out of the lace which adorned it. The gentleman with the day-rule, in new buckskins and boots, and mounted on a thorough-bred horse, quizzed his retaining creditor, as he trotted along with dusty shoes and coat; the “lady of easy virtue” stared her keeper's wife and daughter out of countenance. The man milliner's shop-boy, en passant, jogged the duke's elbow; and the dandy pickpocket lisped and minced his words quite as well as my lord.