'For, as duelling now is completely a science,And sets, the Old Bailey itself at defiance;Now Hibernians are met with in every street,'Tis as needful to know how to shoot as to eat.'The following singular challenge is contained in a letterfrom Sir William Herbert, of St. Julian's, in Monmouthshire,father-in-law to the famous Lord Herbert, of Cherbury, to agentleman of the name of Morgan. The original is in theBritish Museum."Sir—Peruse this letter, in God's name. Be not disquieted.I reverence your hoary hair. Although in your son I find toomuch folly and lewdness, yet in you I expect gravity andwisdom."It hath pleased your son, late at Bristol, to deliver achallenge to a man of mine, on the behalf of a gentleman (ashe said) as good as myself; who he was, he named not,neither do I know; but if he be as good as myself, it musteither be for virtue, for birth, for ability, or for callingand dignity. For virtue I think he meant not, for it is athing which exceeds his judgment: if for birth, he must bethe heir male of an earl, the heir in blood of ten earls;for, in testimony thereof, I bear their several coats.Besides, he must be of the blood royal, for by mygrandmother Devereux I am lineally and legitimatelydescended out of the body of Edward IV. If for ability hemust have a thousand pounds a year in possession, a thousandpounds more in expectation, and must have some thousands insubstance besides. If for calling and dignity, he must beknight or lord of several seignories in several kingdoms, alieutenant of his county, and a counsellor of a province."Now to lay all circumstances aside, be it known to yourson, or to any man else, that if there be any one whobeareth the name of gentleman, and whose words are ofreputation in his county, that doth say, or dare say, that Ihave done unjustly, spoken an untruth, stained my credit andreputation in this matter, or in any matter else, whereinyour son is exasperated, I say he lieth in his throat, andmy sword shall maintain my word upon him, in any place orprovince, wheresoever he dare, and where I stand not swornto observe the peace. But if they be such as are within mygovernance, and over whom I have authority, I will for theirre-formation chastise them with justice, and for theirmalaport misdemeanour bind them to their good behaviour. Ofthis sort, I account your son, and his like; against whom Iwill shortly issue my warrant, if this my warning doth notreform them. And so I thought fit to advertise you hereof,and leave you to God."I am, &c."WM. HERBERT."
"The art of fencing formerly distinguished the gentleman, who then wore a sword as a part of his dress. He is now contented with a regular stand-up fight, and exhibits a fist like a knuckle-bone of mutton—hard, coarse, and of certain magnitude. The bludgeon hammer-headed whip, or a vulgar twig, succeeds the clouded and amber-headed cane; and instead of the snuff-box being rare, and an article of parade, to exhibit a beauty's miniature bestowed in love, or that of a crowned head, given for military or diplomatic services, all ranks take snuff out of cheap and vulgar boxes, mostly of inferior French manufacture, with, not unfrequently, indecent representations on them; or you have wooden concerns with stage coaches, fighting-cocks, a pugilistic combat, or an ill-drawn neck and neck race upon them. The frill of the nobleman and gentleman's linen once bore jewels of high price, or a conceit, like a noted beauty's eye, set in brilliants less sparkling than what formed the centre. Now, a fox, a stag, or a dog, worthily occupies the place of that enchanting resemblance. In equitation, we had Sir Sydney Meadows, a pattern and a prototype for gentlemen horsemen. The Melton hunt now is more in vogue, and the sons of our nobility ride like their own grooms and postboys—ay, and dress like them too. Autrefois, a man of fashion might be perceived ere he was seen, from a reunionof rich and costly perfumes. Now, snuff and tobacco, the quid, the pinch, and the cigar, announce his good taste. The cambric pocket-handkerchief was the only one known in the olden times. The belcher (what a name! ) supplies its place, together with the bird's eye, or the colours of some black or white boxer. An accomplished man was the delight of all companies in former times. An out and outer, one up to every thing, down as a nail or the knocker of Newgate, a trump, or a Trojan, now carry the mode of praise; one that canpatter flash, floor a charley, mill a coal-heaver, come coachey in prime style, up to every rig and row in town, and down to every move upon the board, from a nibble at the club to a dead hit at a hell; can swear, smoke, take snuff, lush, play at all games, and throw over both sexes in different ways—he is the finished man. The attributes of a modern fine gentleman are, to have his address at his club, and his residence any where; to lounge, laugh, lisp, and loll away the time from four to eight, when having dressed, eat his olives, he goes to Almack's if he can, or struts into Fop's Alley at the Opera in boots, in defiance of decency or the remonstrance of the door-keepers; talks loud to be noticed; and having handed some woman of fashion to her carriage, gets in after her without invitation, and, as a matter of course, behaves rudely in return; makes a last call at the club in his way home to learn the issue of the debate, and try his luck at French hazard or fleecing a novice. (See Plate.)
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If his fortune should be one thousand per annum, his income may be extended to five, by virtue of credit and credulity. If he comes out very early in life, say eighteen, he will scarcely expect to be visible at twenty-four; but if he does not appear until he is twenty-one, and then lives all his days, he may die fairly of old age, infirmity, and insolvency, at twenty-six. His topographical knowledge of town is bounded by the fashionabledirectory, which limits his recognition, on the north, by Oxford-street, on the east, by Bond-street, on the south, by Pall Mall, and on the west, by Park-lane. Ask him where is Russell Square, and he stares at you for a rustic; inquire what authors he reads, and he answers Weatherbey and Rhodes; ask what are their works, and he laughs outright at your ignorance of the 'Racing Calendar,' 'Annals of Sporting,' 'Boxiana,' and 'Turf Remembrancer;' question his knowledge of science, it consists in starchà la Brummel{8}; of mathematics, in working problems on the cards; of algebra, in calculating the long odds, or squaring the chances of the dice; he tells you, his favourite book is his betting account, that John Bull is the only newspaper worth reading, and that you must never expect to be admitted into good society if the cut of your coat does not bear outward proofs of its being fabricated either in Saint James's Street or Bond Street; that the great requisites areconfidence, indifference, and nonchalance; as, for instance, George Wombwell being thrown out of his tilbury on High gate Hill, when driving Captain Burdett, and both being dreadfully bruised, George is picked
8 When Brummel fell into disgrace, he devised the starchedneckcloth, with the design of putting the prince's neck outof fashion, and of bringing his Royal Highness's muslin, hisbow, and wadding, into contempt. When he first appeared inthis stiffened cravat, tradition says that the sensation inSt. James's-street was prodigious; dandies were struck dumbwith envy, and washerwomen miscarried. No one could conceivehow the effect was produced—tin, card, a thousandcontrivances were attempted, and innumerable men cut theirthroats in vain experiments; the secret, in fact, puzzledand baffled every one, and poor dandy L———d died ravingmad of it; his mother, sister, and all his relations waitedon Brummel, and on their knees implored him to save theirkinsman's life by the explanation of the mystery; but thebeau was obdurate, and L———d miserably perished.When Brummel fled from England, he left this secret a legacyto his country; he wrote on a sheet of paper, on hisdressing-table, the emphatic words, "Starch is the man."
up by a countryman, when he inquires, very coolly, if 't'other blackguard is not quite dead:' his amours are more distinguished by their number than attractions, and the first point is, not attachment, but notoriety; the lady always being the more desirable, in proportion to the known variety of her gallants; that of all the pleasures of this life, there is nothing like a squeeze at court (see plate), or being wedged into a close room at a crowded rout.
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A ruffian was never thought of by our forefathers; the exquisite was; but he was more sublimated than the exquisite of the nineteenth century. The dandy is of modern date; but there is some polish on him—suppose it be on his boots alone. Shape and make are attended to by him; witness the Cumberland corset, and his making what he can of every body. Then, again, he must have a smattering of French, and affect to be above old England. When he smokes, he does it from vanity, to show hisécume de merpipe. He may have a gold snuff-box and a little diamond pin; and when he swears, he lisps it out like a baby's lesson. Sometimes (not often) he plays upon the guitar; and the peninsular war may have made a man of him, and a linguist too; but he is far below the ancient exquisites (who touched the lute, the lyre, and violoncello). And he is an egotist in every thing—in gallantry, in conversation, in principle, and in heart. Nor has the deterioration of the gentleman been confined to England only—polite and ceremonious France has felt her change. The Revolution brought in coarse and uncivilised manners. The awkward and unsuccessful attempt at Spartan and Roman republican manners; the citizen succeeding to Monsieur; the blasphemous, incredulous, atheistical principles instilled into the then growing generation of all classes; the system of equality, subversive of courtliness, and the obliging attentions and suavities of society, poisoned at once the sourceof morals and of manners; for there can be nothing gentlemanlike in atheism, radicalism, and the level, ling system. To this state of things succeeded a reign of terror, assassination, and debauchery; and lastly, a military despotism, in which the private soldier rose to the marshals baton; a groom in the stables of the Prince of Condé saw himself ennobled; peers and generals had brothers still keeping little retail shops; and a drum-boy lived to see his wife—a washerwoman, or fish vender—a duchess (Madame Lefevre). How can we expect breeding from such materials? Bayonets gave brilliancy to the imperial court; and the youth of the country were all soldiers, without dreaming of the gentleman, except in a low bow and flourish of the hat; a greater flourish of self-praise, and a few warm, loose, and dangerous compliments to the fairer sex, became more than even the objects of their passion, but less so of their attentions and prepossessing assiduities. This military race taught us to smoke, to snuff, to drink brandy, and to swear; for although John Bull never was backward in that point, yet St. Giles's and not St. James's, was therendezvousfor those who possessed that brutal and invincible habit. These were not amongst the least miseries and curses which the war produced; and they have left such mischievous traces behind them, that the mature race in France laugh at the old court, and at all old civil and religious principles, whilst our demoralized youth play the same game at home. And if a Bolingbroke or a Chesterfield was now to appear, he would be quizzed by all the smokers, jokers, hoaxers, glass-cockers, blacklegs, and fancy-fellows of the town, amongst whom all ranks are perfectly lost, and morality is an absolute term. O tempora! O Moses! (as the would-be Lady Sckolard said.) Nor does Moses play second best in these characters of the day. Moses has crept into all circles; from the ring to the peerage and baronetage, the stage, therace-course; and our clubs are tinged with the Israelitish: they may lend money, but they cannot lend a lustre to the court, or to the gilded and painted saloons of thebeau monde. The style of things is altered; we mean not the old style and new in point of date, but in point of brilliancy in the higher circles. Our ancestors never bumped along the streets, with a stable-boy by their side, in a one-horse machine, which is now thebon tonin imitation of our Gallic neighbours, whose equipage is measured by their purse. Where do you now see a carriage with six horses, and three outriders, and anavant courier, except on Lord Mayor's day? Yet how common this was with the nobilityd'autrefois. Two grooms are no longer his Grace's and my Lord's attendants, but each is followed by one groom in plain clothes, not very dissimilar from the man he serves. Do we ever see the star of nobility in the morning, to guard him who has a right to it from popular rudeness and a confusion of rank? All is now privacy, concealment, equality in exterior, musty and meanness: not that the plain style of dress would be exceptionable, if we could say in verity—
'We have within what far surpasseth show.'
But the lining is now no better (oftentimes worse) than the coat. Our principles and our politeness are on a par—at low-water mark. The tradesman lives like the gentleman, and the nobleman steps down a degree to be, like other people, up to all fashionable habits and modern customs; whilst the love for gain, at the clubs, on the turf, in the ring, and in private life, debases one part of society, and puts down the other, which becomes the pigeon to the rook. Whilst all this goes on, the press chronicles and invents follies for us; and there are men stupid enough to glory in their depravity, to be pleased with their own deformity of mind, body, or dress, of their affectations,and their leading of a party. There is something manly in the Yacht Club, in a dexterously driving four fleet horses in hand, in reining in the proud barb, and in gymnastic exercises: but the whole merit of these ceases, when my Lord (like him of carroty beard) becomes the tar without his glory, and wears the check shirt without the heart of oak—when the driver becomes the imitator of the stage and hackney box—when the rider is the unsuccessful rival of the jockey; and the frequenter of the gymnastic arena becomes a bruiser, or one turning strength into money, be the bet or the race what it may.
'Shades of our ancestors! whose fame of oldIn ev'ry time the echoing world has told!Whose dauntless valour and heroic deeds,Each British bosom yet enraptur'd reads!Deeds, which in ev'ry country, clime, and age,Have fill'd the poet's and historian's page;Of ev'ry muse the theme, and ev'ry pen:Ye I invoke! and ye, my countrymen,If British blood yet flows within your veins,If for your country aught of love remains,O make your first, your chief, your only care,That which first rais'd and made you what you were.'"
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Bernard Blackmantle and Bob Transit pay a Visit to theChelts—Privileges of a Spy—Alarm at Chelten-him—The rivalEditors—The setting of a great Son—How to sink inPopularity and Respect—A noble Title—An old Flame—Poeticaljeu d'esprit, by Vinegar Penn—Muriatic Acid—AnAttorney-General's Opinion on Family Propensities givenwithout a Fee!!—The Cheltenham Dandy, or the Man in theCloak, a Sketch from the Life-Noble Anecdote of the Fox-hunting Parson—Bury-ing alive at Berkeley—PublicTheatricals in private—"A Michaelmas Preachment," by anHonest Reviewer—A few Words for Ourselves—The GrandMarshall—Interesting Story of a former M. C."Oh, I've been to countries rare;Seen such sights, 'twould make you stare."
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"That last chapter of yours, Blackmantle, on John Long and John Long's customers, will long remain a memorial of your scrutinizing qualifications, and, as I think, will prevent your taking your port, punch, pines, or soda-water in Bond-street for some time to come, lest 'suspicion, which ever haunts the guilty mind,' should in the course of conversation convict you; and then, my dear fellow, you would certainly go off pop like the last-mentioned article in the above reference to the luxuries of Long's hotel.""Bravo, Bob Transit!" said I; "this comes mighty well from you, sir, myfidus achates.—'A bon chat bon rat'—thefidus and audaxsatirists of the present times. And who, sir, dares to doubt our joint authority? are we not the very spies o' the age?
'Joint monarchs of all we survey;Our right there is none to dispute.'
From the throne to, the thatched cottage, wherever there is character, 'there fly we,' and, on the wings of merry humour, draw with pen and pencil a faithful portraiture of things as they are; not tearing aside the hallowed veil of private life, but seizing as of public right on public character, and with a playful vein of satire proving that we are of the poet's school;
'Form'd to delight at once and lash the age.'At this season of the year fashion cries out ofTown; so, pack up, Master Robert, andLet us to Chelt's retiring banks,Where beaux and beauties throng,To drink at Spas and play rum pranks,That here will live in song.
What Cheltenham was, is no business of ours; what it is, as regards its buildings, salubrious air, and saline springs, its walks, views, libraries, theatre, and varieties, my friend Williams, whose shop at the corner of the assembly rooms is the grand lounge of the literati, will put the visitor into possession of for the very moderate sum of five shillings. But, reader, if you would search deeper into society, and know something of the whim and character of the frequenters and residents of this fashionable place of public resort, you must consult the English Spy, and trace in his pages and the accompanying plates of his friend Bob Transit the faithful likenesses of the scenes and persons who figure in the maze of fashion,or attract attention by the notoriety of their amours, the eccentricity of their manners, or the publicity of their attachments to the ball or the billiard-room, the card or the hazard-table, the turf or the chase; for in all of these does Cheltenham abound. From thecercle de la basse to the cercle de la haute, from the nadir to the zenith, 'I know ye, and have at ye all'—ye busy, buzzing, merry, amorous groups of laughter-loving, ogling, ambling, gambling Cheltenham folk.
'A chiel's among ye taking notes,And faith, he'll print them.'
To spy out your characteristic follies, ye sons and daughters of pleasure, have we, Bernard Blackmantle and Robert Transit, esquires, travelled down to Cheltenham to collect materials for an odd chapter of a very odd book, but one which has already established its fame by continued success, and, as I hope owes much of its increasing prosperity to its characteristic good-humour; so, without more preface, imagine a little dapper-looking fellow of about five feet something in altitude, attended by a tall sharp-visaged gentleman in very spruce costume, parading up and down the High-street, Cheltenham—lounging for a few minutes in Williams's library—making very inquisitive remarks upon the passing singularities—and then the little man most impertinently whispering to his friend with the Quixotic visage, book him, Bob—when out comes the note book of both parties, and down goes somebody. Afterwards see them popping into this shop, and then into the other, spying and prying about—occasionally nodding perhaps to a London actor, who shines forth here a star of the first magnitude; John Liston, for instance, or Tyrone Power—then posting off to the well walks, or disturbing the peaceful dead by ambling over their graves in search of humorous epitaphs—making their way down to the Berkeley kennel in North-street (See Plate),or paying a visit to the Paphian divinities at the Oakland cottages under the Cleigh Hills—trotting here and there—making notes and sketches until all Cheltenham is in a state of high excitement, and the rival editors of the Chronicle and Journal, Messrs. Halpine and Judge, are so much alarmed that they are almost prepared to become friends, and unite their forces for the time against the common enemy.
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Imagine such an animated, whispering, gazing, inquiring scene, as I have here presented you with a slight sketch of, and, reader, you will be able to form some idea of the first appearance of the English Spy and his friend the artist, among the ways and walks of merry Cheltenham. Then here
'At once, I dedicate my layTo the gay groups that round me swarm,Like May-bees round the honied hive,When fields are green, and skies are warmAnd all in nature seems alive.'
Time was, a certain amorous colonel carried every thing here, and bore away the belle from all competitors; the hunt, the ball, the theatre, and the card-party all owned his sovereign sway; although it must be admitted, that, in the latter amusement, he seldom or ever hazarded enough to disturb his financial recollections on the morrow. But time works wonders—notoriety is of two complexions, and what may render a man a very agreeable companion to foxhunters and frolicsome lordlings, is not always the best calculated to recommend him in the eyes of the accomplished and the rigid in matters of moral propriety. But other equally celebrated and less worthy predilections have been trumpeted forth in courts and newspapers, until the fame of the colonel has spread itself through every grade of society, and, unlike that wreath which usually decks the gallant soldier's brow, a cypress chaplet binds the early gray, and makes admonitory signal of the ill-spent past. The wrongs of an injuredand confiding husband, whose fortunes, wrecked by the false seducer, have left him a prey to shattered ruin, yet live in the remembrance of some honest Cheltenham hearts; and although these may feel for the now abandoned object of his illicit passion, there are but few who, while they drop a tear of pity as she passes them daily in the street, do not invoke a nobler feeling of indignation upon the ruthless head of him who forged the shafts of misery, and pierced at one fell blow the hearts of husband, wife, and children! What father that has read Maria's hapless tale of woe, and marked the progress of deceptive vice, will hereafter hazard the reputation of his daughters by suffering them to mix in Cheltenham society with the branded seducer and his profligate associates? Gallantry, an unrestricted love of the fair sex, and a predilection for variety, may all be indulged in this country to any extent, without betraying confidence on the one hand or innocence upon the other, without outraging decency, or violating the established usages of society. While the profligate confines his sensual pleasures with such objects as I allude to within the walls of his harem, the moralist has no right to trespass upon his privacy; it is only when they are blazoned forth to public view, and daringly opposed to public scorn, that the lash of the satirist is essentially useful, if not in correcting, at least in exposing the systematic seducer, and putting the inexperienced and the virtuous on their guard against the practice of profligacy. It is the frequency and notoriety of such scenes that has at last alarmed the Chelts, who, fearing more for their suffering interests than for their suffering fellow-creatures, begin to murmur rather loudly against the Berkeley Adonis, representing that the town itself suffers in respectability and increase of visitors, by its being known as the rendezvous of the bloods and blacks of Berkeley. The truth of this assertion may be gathered from thefollowingjeu d' esprit, only one among a hundred of such squibs that have been very freely circulated in Cheltenham and the neighbourhood within the last year.
'NEWS FROM CHELTENHAM.'The season runs smartly in Cheltenham's town,The gossips are up, and the colonel is down;He has taken the place of the famous Old Gun {1}That exploded last year, and created some fun.Were no lives then lost? some say, Yes! and some, No!The report even shook the old walls of Glasgow.{2}And the Bushe was found out to be no safe retreat,For in love, as in war, you may chance to be beat;And a hell-shaming fellow can never be reckon'd,Whate'er he may publish, a capital second.'
"But now having had our fling at his vices, let us speak of him more agreeably; for the fellow hath some qualifications which, if humour suit, enables him to shine forth a star of the first magnitude amongbons vivantsand sporting characters, who ride, amble, and vegetate upon the banks of the Chelt. Such is his love of hunting, a pleasure in which he not only indulges himself, but enables others, his friends, to participate with him, by keeping up a numerous stud of thirty well trained horses, and a double pack of fox-hounds, that no appropriate day may be lost, nor any opportunity missed, of pursuing the sports of the chase. This is as it should be, and smacks of that glorious spirit which animated his ancestors; although the violence of his temper will sometimes break out even here, in the field, when some young and forward Nimrod, unable to restrain his fiery steed,o'er-capsthe hounds, or crosses the scent. As the Chelts are, or have been, greatly benefited by the hounds being kept alternately during the hunting months between
1 A good-morrow to you, Captain Gun.2 Miss Glasgow, divine perfection of antique virgin purity!what could the poet mean by this allusion?
Cheltenham and Gloucester, they must at least feel some little gratitude to be due to the man who is the cause of such an increase of society, and consequent expenditure of cash. But, say they, we lose in a fourfold degree; for the respectable portion of the fashionable visitants have of late cut us entirely, to save their sons and daughters from pollution and ruin, by association or the force of example. 'Tis not in the nature of the English Spy rudely to draw aside the curtain, even to expose the midnight revelries and debaucheries, of which he possesses some extraordinary anecdotes; events, which, if recorded here, would, in the language of the poet,
'Give ample room, and verge enough,The characters of hell to trace;How through each circling year, on many a night,Have Severn's waves re-echoed with affrightThe shrieks of (maids) through Berkeley's roofs that ring.'
"But let these tales be told hereafter, as no doubt they will be, by the creatures who now pander to vice, when the satiated and the sullen chief sinks into decay, or cuts from his emaciated trunk the filthy excrescences which, like poisonous fungus, suck the sap of honour and of life. The colonel hath had many trials in this life, and much to break down a noble and a proud spirit. In earlier days, a question of birthright, while it cut off one entail, brought on another, which entailed a name, not the ancient gift of a monarch, but one still more ancient, and, according to Dodsley's Chronology of the Kings of England, the origin of British sovereignty itself—a 'filius nullius,' a title that left it open to the wearer to have established his own fame, and to have been the architect of a nobler fortune; for
'Who nobly acts may hold to scornThe man who is but nobly born.'
"Had the colonel acted thus, there is little doubt but long ere this the kind heart of his Majesty would havewarmed into graciousness as he reflected upon the untoward circumstances which removed from the eldest born of an ancient house the honours of its armorial bearings; theengrailed barmight have been erased from the shield, and the coronet of nobility have graced the elder brother, without invading the legal designation or claims of the legitimate younger; but
I sing of a day that is gone and past,Of a chance that is lost, and a die that's cast.
And even now, while I am sermonizing on late events but too notorious, the busy hum of many voices buzzes a tale upon the ear that sickens with its unparalleled profligacy; but the English Spy, the faithful historian of the present times, refuses to stain his pages by giving credit to, or recording, the imputed profligate connexion. Adieu,monsieurthe colonel; fain would I have passed you by without this comment; but your association with the black spirits of the 'Age'{3} has placed you upon a pedestal, the proper mark for satire to shoot her barbed arrows at.
"But let us take a turn down the High Street; and as I live here comes an old flame of the colonel's, Miss R*g*rs, who is now turned into Mrs. E***n, and who, it is said, most wickedly turned her pen, and pointed the followingjeu d'espritagainst her late protector, when he was laid up by a serious accident, which happened to his knee after the more serious loss of a—Foote.
3 "A fellow-feeling makes us wondrous kind" says Pope; andit would appear so from the intimacy which subsists betweenthe colonel and his jackall Bunn, the would-be captain, whoit is said is thefilius nulliusof old Ben Bunn theconveyancer, not of legal title or estate by roll ofparchment, but of the very soil itself. Lord W. Lennox, too,no doubt, prides himself upon the illegitimate origin of hisancestry; and the publisher of the infamous scandalsmanufactured in the Quadrant is also of the same kidney,being the reputed natural son of jolly old Bardolph Jennyns.What the remaining portion of the coterie spring from, theGents and Bs., the sensitive nose of a sensible man willvery easily discover.
'To Cupid's colonel help, ye people all;He's missed hisFooting, 'Pride has had a fall;'The knee's uncapp'd, the calf laid open quite,The Foote presents the most distressing sight;Its form so perfect, pity none were nigh,With warning voice to guard from injury.Waltzers! your peerless partner view,The gallant gay Lothario quiteperdu;Sans Footeto rest upon, his claims deny'dTo take a birth by English nobles' side.Let him to Cheltenham, 'tis not to go far;He's sure to find aseat—on Irish car.'
"I am told, but I cannot discover the allusion myself, that Miss B*g*rs was prompted to this effusion of the satiric muse by the green-eyed monster, Jealousy, Observe that machine yonder, rumbling up the street like an Irish jaunting-car, that contains the numerous family of M***r, the vinegar merchant, whose lady being considered by the Chelts as lineally descended from the Tartar race, they have very facetiously nicknamed muriatic acid. The mad wag with the sandy whiskers yonder, and somewhat pleasant-looking countenance, is a second-hand friend of the colonel's; mark how he is ogling the young thing in the milliner's shop through the window: his daily occupation, making assignations, and his nightly amusement, a new favourite. A story is told of his father, a highly respected legal character in the Emerald Isle, that, on being asked by a friend why his son had left the country, replied, 'By Jasus, sir, it was high time: sure I am there's enough of the family left behind. Is not his lady in apromisingway, and both his female servants, and those of two or three of his friends, and are not both mine in a similar situation? Zounds, sir, if he had remained here much longer, there would not have been a single female in the whole country. However, 'Good wine, they say, needs no Bushe,' so I shall leave him unmarked by his family cognomen, lest thisshould be taken as a puff-card of his capabilities, and thereby add to the list of his Cytherean exploits. In a late affair, when the colonel was called out (but did not come), Sir Patrick beat about the Bushe for him very judiciously, and by great skill in diplomacy enabled his friend to come off second best. But here comes one who stands at odds with description, and attracts more notice in Cheltenham than even the colonel, his companions, and all the metropolitan visitory put together. If I was to lend myself to the circulation of half the strange tales related of him by the Chelts, I could fill a small-sized volume; but brevity is the soul of wit, and the eccentric Mackey, with all his peculiarities and strange fancies for midnight mastications, has a soul superior to the common herd, and a 'heart and hand, open as day, to melting charity.' It is strange, 'passing strange,' that one so rich and fond of society, and well-descended withal, should choose thus to ape the ridiculous; a man, too, if report speaks truly, of no ordinary talents as a writer on finance, and an expounder of the solar system. Vanity! vanity! what strange fantasies and eccentric fooleries dost thou sometimes fill the brain of the biped with, confining thy freaks, however, to that strange animal—man. The countenance of our eccentric is placid and agreeable, and, provided it was cleared of a load of snuff, which weighs down the upper lip, might be said to be, although in the sear o' the leaf, highly intellectual; but the old Scotch cloak, the broad-brimmed hat of the covenanter, the loose under vest, the thread-bare coat shaking in the wind, like the unmeasured garment of the scarecrow, and the colour-driven nankeens, grown short by age and frequent hard rubbings; then, too, the flowing locks of iron gray straggling over the shoulders like the withered tendrils of a blighted vine—all conspire to arrest the attention of an inquisitive eye; yet the Chelts know but littleabout his history, beyond his being a man of good property, the proprietor of the Vittoria boarding-house, inoffensive in manners, obliging in disposition, and intelligent in conversation. His great penchant is a midnight supper, stewed chicken and mushrooms, or any other choice and highly-seasoned dish; to enjoy which in perfection, he hath a maiden sleeping at the foot of his bed ready to attend his commands, which, it is said, are communicated to her in a very singular way; no particle of speech being used to disturb the solemn silence of the night, but a long cane reaching downwards to the slumbering maid, by certain horizontal taps against her side, propelled forward by the hand of the cravinggourmand, wakes her to action, and the banquet, piping-hot from the stew-pan, smokes upon the board, unlike a vision, sending up real and enchanting odoriferous perfumes beneath his olfactory organs. Extraordinary as this account may appear, it is, I believe, strictly true, and is the great feature of the eccentric's peculiarities, all the minor whims and fancies being of a subordinate and uninteresting nature. I shall conclude my notice of him by relating an action that would do honour to a king, and will excuse the eccentric with the world, although his follies were ten times more remarkable. During the suspension of payments by one of the Cheltenham banks, and when all the poorer class of mechanics and labourers were in a most piteous situation from the unprecedented number of one pound provincial notes then in circulation, Mr. Mackey, to his eternal-honour be it related, and without the remotest interest in the bank, stepped nobly forward, unsolicited and unsupported, gave to all the poor people who held the one pound notes the full value for them, reserving to himself only the chance of the dividend. Ye Berkeleys, Ducies, Lennoxes, Cravens, Hammonds, Bushes, Molineauxes, and Coventrys, and all the long list of Cheltenham gay!show me an action like this ye have done—a spirit so noble, when did you display?—Do you see that rosy-gilled fellow coming this way, with a hunting-whip in his hand? in costume, more like a country horse-dealer than a country clergyman; yet such he was, until the bishop of the diocese removed the clerical incumbrance of the cassock, to give the wearer freer license to indulge his vein for hunting, coursing, cock-fighting, and the unrestricted pleasures of the table and the bottle. A good story is told of him and his friend, the colonel, who, having invited some unsophisticated farmer to partake of the festivities of the castle, laid him low with strong potations ofblack strap, and in that state had him carried forth to the stable-yard, where he was immured up to his neck in warm horse-dung, the pious ex-chaplain reading the burial-service over him in presence of the surviving members of the hunt."
"Who the deuce is that pleasant-looking fellow," said Bob, "who appears to give and gain thequid pro quofrom every body that passes him?" "That, my dear fellow, is the Grand Marshal of all the merry meetings here, and a very gentlemanly, jovial, and witty fellow; just such a man as should fill the office of master of the ceremonies, having both seen and experienced enough of the world to know how to estimate character almost at a first interview; he is highly and deservedly respected. There is a very affecting anecdote in circulation respecting his predecessor, the detail of which I much regret that I have lost; but the spirit of the affair was too strongly imprinted upon my memory to be easily obliterated. He had, it appears, loved a beauteous girl in early life, and met with a reciprocal return; but the stern mandate of parental authority prevented their union. The lover, almost broken-hearted, sought a distant clime, and, after years of peril, returned to England, bringing with him a wife. The match had been oneof interest, and they are seldom those of domestic bliss. It proved so here—he became dissipated, and squandered away the property he had possessed himself of by marriage. In this situation, he collected together the wreck of his fortunes, and retired to Cheltenham, where his amiable qualities and gentlemanly conduct endeared him to a large circle of acquaintance, and, in the end, he was induced to accept the situation of master of the ceremonies. Time rolled on, and his former partner being dead, he was, from his volatile and thoughtless disposition, again plunged in difficulties, and imprisoned for debt. The circumstance became known to her at whose shrine in early life he had vowed eternal devotion: with a still fond recollection of him, who alone had ever shared her heart, she hastened to the spot, and, being now a wealthy spinster, paid all his debts and released him from durance. Gratitude and love both pointed out the course for the obliged M. c. to pursue; but, alas! there is nothing certain in the anticipations of complete happiness in this life. The lady fell suddenly sick, and died on the very day they were to have been married, leaving him sole executor of her property. The calamitous event made such a deep impression upon a feeling mind, already shaken by trouble and disease, that finding his prospects of bliss again blighted without a chance of recovery, he fell into a state of despondency, and was, within a week, laid a corpse by the side of his first love. At the post-office,—purposely placed out of the way by the sagacious Chelts to give strangers the trouble of making inquiries,—I received the following whim from the same witty pen who wrote me, anonymously, an inauguration ode to commence my second volume with." "Who is this whimsical spirit in the clouds?" said Bob. "Ay, lad," I retorted, "that's just the inquiry I have been making for the last eight months:although it would appear we have—ad interim—been running, riding, racing, rowing, and sailing together in various parts of the kingdom, you perceive, Bob, there are more Spies than ourselves at work. However, this must be some protecting geni who hovers over our heads and fans the air on silken wing, wafting zephyr-like the ambrosial breeze, where'er our merry fancies stray. Anon, 'we'll drink a measure the table round;' and if we forget the 'Honest Reviewer,' may we lose all relish for a racy joke, and be forgotten ourselves by the lovers of good fellowship and good things." "Which we never shall be," said Bob; "for those eccentrictomesof ours must and will continue to amuse a laughter-loving age, when we are booked inside and bound for t'other world." There was not a little egotism, methought, about friend Transit's eulogy; but as every parent has a sort of poetical licence allowed him in praising his own bantlings, perhaps the patronage bestowed by the public upon the English Spy may excuse a little vanity in either the author or the artist. "But you are the great magician o' the south yourself, Bernard," continued Transit, "and will you not use your power, you who can 'call spirits from the vasty deep'" "True, Bob; I can call, but will they come when I shall command? However, let us retire to our inn, and after dinner we'll chant his lay; and if he dances not to the music of his own metre, then hath he no true inspiration in him, and is a poet without vanity, avara aviswho delighteth not in receiving the reward of merit; so on, old fellow, to our quarters, where we will