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.