&c. &c. &c.
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.
LETTER IV.
Rippon, August 5th.
Since I wrote to you last my dear mother I've been
To see all the lions which are to be seen
Around this gay place—where 'tis much in the fashion,
Small parties to form for this sweet recreation,
So we lately set out on a very fine day,
Our respects to the beauties of Knaresbro' to pay, 342
But a painter alone to your eye can disclose,
A view of the scene as before us it rose,
Presenting a coup d'oeil so simple and sweet,
Yet so grand, so sublime, and in fact so complete,
That I fancied the river as winding around,
Was enclosing the spot as if consecrate ground
And this castle crown'd scene will ne'er rise to my mind,
Without claiming a sigh that I've left it behind,
Thro' a beautiful grove we were led to be shewn,
The fam'd Dropping-Well which turns all things to stone,
Yet in silver ton'd tinkling the Naiad departs,
Like ladies whose tears only harden their hearts.
From thence to the cell[4] of a saint we ascended,
By sage antiquarians most highly commended,
Then climb'd to the Fort where an honest old pair,
Would give you more pleasure than any thing there
Tho' their mutual labours have spread o'er the soil,
Astonishing proofs of their patience and toil.
We trac'd the bold ruins still proudly sublime,
Which yielding to man have found mercy from time,
And adorn the sweet scenes they were rais'd to protect,
With picturesque beauty more fine from defect;
Delighted to find wheresoever we roved
"His[5] Honour of Scriven" revered and beloved
As e'er his forefathers have been in those ages,
When the smile of the lord was more priz'd than his wages,
When the sire of the land in the heart of each vassal
Found a bulwark more strong than the walls of his castle——
From Knaresbro' to Plumpton our party proceeded
A spot that no trav'ller should pass by unheeded, 374
'Tis a miniature landscape redeem'd from the waste
As a species of show-box by nature and taste,
Of small rocks and small groves and a pretty small lake,
Where small parties aquatic excursions may take,
And fancy they view in perspective the shores,
Where Loch Lomond smiles or Geneva deplores.—
So well my first jaunt had agreed with my mood,
That I went to see Harewood the first day I cou'd, 380
But here my description must certainly fail as,
I have not one talent for painting a palace,
But to draw the proud mansion and bring it to view
Will surely dear mother be needless to you,
Since at Chatsworth we Derbyshire folks have all been,
You will judge I am certain of all that I mean,
When I tell you groves, gardens, fine water, and hall,
Seem the gift of good Genii to spangle this ball.
To Studley far-fam'd for its beauty we went 389
And gaz'd on those beauties with placid content,
Tho' some of the amateurs fancied that art,
In planning these grounds had o'er acted her part,
But who hallow'd Fountains thy threshold shall pass
And remember the ponds with their trimmings of grass?
No! rapt in the scene which presents contemplation,
Such objects of interest and deep veneration,
We gaze on the arch whence the ivy descending,
Usurps the rich shrine where the lamp was once pending,
Where the wild currant blooms and the mountain ash bows,
There knelt the great abbot and offer'd his vows, 400
And where the green beech his proud branches displays
Sweet incense ascended with anthems of praise.
Oh visions of old as around me ye roll!
Exalting, delighting, ennobling the soul,
Impress on my mem'ry if not on my rhyme
The pleasure I took in these scenes at the time,
For sure 'twas a pity that feelings so fine
Should evap'rate the moment we set off to dine,
Reducing at once the fine flights of the brain,
To the vulgar subjection of hunger, and pain,
Unlike to those heroes we read of in books,
Who living on sentiment scorn meat and cooks,
Fight, conquer, make love to a princess, and win her,
Without ever asking the aid of a dinner,
And heroines we see thro' five volumes can go,
Immers'd in all sorts of distraction and woe,
Without wetting their lips, thus bestowing the lie,
On the proverb which says that "true sorrow is dry."
But be that their affair 'twas no part of our plan,
For our beaux grew voracious, our ladies look'd wan
So we set off for Rippon with stomachs so hearty,
'Twas well Mrs. Robinson knew of the party,
She gave us a treat which so gladden'd our sight,
That we quickly determin'd to stay here all night
So I thought it was best just to empty my head,
Of its "perilous stuff" ere I ventur'd to bed,
Lest the walk I have taken with gazing and peeping
Should injure my nerves and prevent me from sleeping,
And conceiving a nap is a sound acquisition,
Have sought it (like many) by long composition.