Page162
1 "Mother Goose," formerly a procuress, and one of themost abandoned of her profession. When from her advancedage, and the loss of her eye-sight, she could no longerobtain money by seducing females from the path of virtue,she married a man of the name of H., (commonly calledGentleman H.) and for years was led by him to the students'apartments in the different colleges with baskets of thechoicest flowers. Her ancient, clean, and neat appearance,her singular address, and, above all, the circumstance ofher being blind, never failed of procuring her at least tentimes the price of her posy, and which was frequentlydoubled when she informed the young gentlemen of thegenerosity, benevolence, and charity of their grandfathers,fathers, or uncles whom she knew when they were at college.She had several illegitimate children, all females, and allwere sacrificed by their unnatural mother, except one, whowas taken away from her at a very tender age by the child'sfather's parents. When of age, this child inherited herfather's property, and is now (I believe) the wife of anIrish nobleman, and to this time is unconscious that MotherGoose, of Oxford, gave her birth. The person who wasinstrumental in removing the child is still living inOxford, and will testify to the authenticity of the facthere related. His present majesty never passed throughOxford without presenting Mother Goose with a donation, butof course without knowing her early history.
Having, as Echo expressed it, now broke cover, and being advanced one step in the study of the fathers, we prepared to quit the Abingdon fair and rural shades of Bagley on our return to Oxford, something lighter in pocket, and a little too in morality. We raced the whole of the distance home, to the great peril of several groups of town raff whom we passed in our way. On our arrival my friends had each certain lectures to attend, or college duties to perform. An idle Freshman, there was yet three hours good before the invitation to the spread, and as kind fortune willed it to amuse the time, a packet arrived from Horatio Heartley. He had been spending the winter in town with his aunt, Lady Mary Oldstyle, and had, with his usual tact, been sketching the varied groups which form the circle of fashionable life. It was part of the agreement between us, when leaving each other at Eton, that we should thus communicate the characteristic traits of the society we were about to amalgamate with. He has, in the phraseology of the day, just come out, and certainly appears to have made the best use of his time.
===
Page164
WESTERN ENTRANCE INTO THE METROPOLIS; A DESCRIPTIVE SKETCH.
General Views of the Author relative to Subject and Style—Time and Place—Perspective Glimpse of the great City—TheApproach—Cockney Salutations—The Toll House—WesternEntrance to Cockney Land—Hyde Park—Sunday Noon—Sketches of Character, Costume, and Scenery—The Ride andDrive—Kensington Gardens—Belles and Beaux—Stars andFallen Stars—Singularities of 1824—Tales of Ton—On Ditsand Anecdotes—Sunday Evening—High Life and Low Life, theContrast—Cockney Goths—Notes, Biographical, Amorous, andExquisite.
ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE
Page165
Its wealth and fashion, wit and folly,Pleasures, whims, and melancholy:Of all the charming belles and beauxWho line the parks, in double rows;Of princes, peers, their equipage,The splendour of the present age;Of west-end fops, and crusty cits,Who drive their gigs, or sport their tits;With all the groups we mean to dash onWho form the busy world of fashion:Proceeding onwards to the city,With sketches, humorous and witty.The man of business, and the Change,Will come within our satire's range:Nor rank, nor order, nor condition,Imperial, lowly, or patrician,Shall, when they see this volume, cry—"The satirist has pass'd us by,"But with good humour view our pageDepict the manners of the age.Our style shall, like our subject, beDistinguished by variety;Familiar, brief we could say too—(It shall be whimsical and new),But reader that we leave to you.'Twas morn, the genial sun of MayO'er nature spread a cheerful ray,When Cockney Land, clothed in her best,We saw, approaching from the west,And 'mid her steeples straight and tallEspied the dome of famed St. Paul,Surrounded with a cloud of smokeFrom many a kitchen chimney broke;A nuisance since consumed belowBy bill of Michael Angelo.{1}The coach o'er stones was heard to rattle,1 M. A. Taylor's act for compelling all large factories,which have steam and other apparatus, to consume their ownsmoke.
The guard his bugle tuned for battle,The horses snorted with delight,As Piccadilly came in sight.On either side the road was linedWith vehicles of ev'ry kind,And as the rapid wheel went round,There seem'd scarce room to clear the ground."Gate-gate-push on—how do—well met—Pull up—my tits are on the fret—The number—lost it—tip then straight,That covey vants to bilk the gate."The toll-house welcome this to town.Your prime, flash, bang up, fly, or down,A tidy team of prads,—your castor'sQuite a Joliffe tile,—my master.Thus buck and coachee greet each other,And seem familiar as a brother.No Chinese wall, or rude barrier,Obstructs the view, or entrance here;Nor fee or passport,—save the warder,Who draws to keep the roads in order;No questions ask'd, but all that pleaseMay pass and repass at their ease.In cockney land, the seventh dayIs famous for a grand displayOf modes, of finery, and dress,Of cit, west-ender, and noblesse,Who in Hyde Park crowd like a fairTo stare, and lounge, and take the air,Or ride or drive, or walk, and chatOn fashions, scandal, and all that.—Here, reader, with your leave, will weCommence our London history.'Twas Sunday, and the park was fullWith Mistress, John, and Master Bull,And all their little fry.The crowd pour in from all approaches,Tilb'ries, dennets, gigs, and coaches;
The bells rung merrily.Old dowagers, their fubsy faces{2}Painted to eclipse the Graces,Pop their noddles outOf some old family affairThat's neither chariot, coach, or chair,Well known at ev'ry rout.But bless me, who's that coach and six?"That, sir, is Mister Billy Wicks,A great light o' the city,Tallow-chandler, and lord mayor{3};Miss Flambeau Wicks's are the fair,Who're drest so very pretty.It's only for a year you knowHe keeps up such a flashy show;And then he's melted down.The man upon that half-starved nag{4}Is an Ex-S———ff, a strange wag,Half flash, and half a clown.But see with artful lures and wilesThe Paphian goddess, Mrs. G***s,{5}2 There are from twenty to thirty of these well known relicsof antiquity who regularly frequent the park, and attend allthe fashionable routs,—perfumed and painted with theutmost extravagance: if the wind sets in your face, they maybe scented at least a dozen carriages off.3 It is really ludicrous to observe the ridiculous pride ofsome of these ephemeral things;—during their mayoralty, thegaudy city vehicle with four richly caparisoned horses isconstantly in the drive, with six or eight persons crammedinto it like a family waggon, and bedizened out in all thecolours of the rainbow;—ask for them six months after, andyou shall find them more suitably employed, packing rags,oranges, or red herrings.4 This man is such a strange compound of folly andeccentricity, that he is eternally in hot water with someone or other.5 Mrs. Fanny G-1-s, the ci-devant wife of a corn merchant,a celebrated courtezan, who sports a splendid equipage, andhas long figured upon town as a star of the first order inthe Cyprian hemisphere. She has some excellent qualities,as poor M————-n can vouch; for when the fickle goddessFortune left him in the lurch, she has a handsome annuityfrom a sporting peer, who was once the favoured swain.
From out her carriage peeps;She nods to am'rous Mrs. D——-,{6}Who bends with most sublime congee,While ruin'd—————-sleeps.Who follows 1 'tis the hopeful sonOf the proud Earl of H—————-n,Who stole the parson's wife.{7}The Earl of H—————-and flame,For cabriolets she's the dame,{8}A dasher, on my life.Jack T——-1 shows his pleasant face{9};A royal likeness here you'll trace,You'd swear he was a Guelph.See Lady Mary's U———walk,{10}And though but aide-de-camp to York,An Adonis with himself,6 Mrs. D————-, alias Mrs. B-k-y, alias Miss Montague,the wife of poor Jem B-k-y, the greater his misfortune,—awell known Paphian queen, one of five sisters, who are allequally notorious, and whose history is well known. She isnow the favoured sultana of a ci-devant banker, whose nameshe assumes, to the disgrace of himself and family.7 The clerical cornuto recovered, in a crim. con. action,four thousand pounds for the loss of his frail rib, fromthis hopeful sprig of nobility.8 Mrs. S———, a most voluptuous lady, the discarded chèreamie of the late Lord F-1-d, said to be the best carriagewoman in the park: she lies in the Earl of H———-—'s cabriolet most delightfully stretched out at fulllength, and in this elegant posture is driven through thepark.9 Captain T———l of the guards, whose powerful similitudeto the reigning family of England is not more generallyadmitted than his good-humoured qualities are universallyadmired.10 The Hon. General U————-, aide-de-camp to the Duke ofYork, whose intrigue with Lady Mary——————was, we haveheard, a planned affair to entrap a very different person.Be that as it may, it answered the purpose, and did notdisturb the friendship of the parties. The honourablegeneral has obtained the appellation of the Park Adonis,from his attractive figure and known gallantries.
A—————-y mark, a batter'd beau,{11}Who'll still the fatal dice-box throwTill not a guinea's left.Beyond's the brothers B——-e,{12}Of gold and acres quite as free,By gaming too bereft.Here trips commercial dandy Ra-k-s,{13}11 Lord A———y, the babe of honour—once the gayest ofthe gay, where fashion holds her bright enchanting court;now wrinkled and depressed, and plucked of every feather, bymerciless Greek banditti. Such is the infatuation of play,that he still continues to linger round the fatal table, andfinds a pleasure in recounting his enormous losses. A—-y,who is certainly one of the most polished men in theworld, was the leader of the dandy club, or the unique four,composed of Beau Brummell, Sir Henry Mildmay, and HenryPierrepoint, the Ambassador, as he is generally termed. Whenthe celebrated dandy ball was given to his Majesty (thenPrince of Wales), on that occasion the prince seemeddisposed to cut Brummell, who, in revenge, coollyobserved to A———y, when he was gone,—"Big Ben was vulgaras usual." This was reported at Carlton House, and led tothe disgrace of the exquisite.—Shortly afterwards he met thePrince and A———y in public, arm in arm, when the former,desirous of avoiding him, quitted the baron: Brummell, whoobserved his motive, said loud enough to be heard by theprince,—"Who is that fat friend of yours?" This expressionsealed his doom; he was never afterwards permitted thehonour of meeting the parties at the palace. The story of"George, ring the bell," and the reported conduct of theprince, who is said to have obeyed the request and orderedMr. Brummell's carriage, is, we have strong reasons forthinking, altogether a fiction: Brummell knew the dignity ofhis host too well to have dared such an insult. The kingsince generously sent him 300L. when he heard of hisdistress at Calais. Brummell was the son of a tavern-keeperin St. James's, and is still living at Calais.12 The brothers are part of a flock of R———r geese, whohave afforded fine plucking for the Greeks. Parson Ambrose,the high priest of Pandemonium, had a leg of one and a wingof the other devilled for supper one night at the GothicHall. They have cut but a lame figure ever since.13 A quaint cognomen given to the city banker by the west-end beaux;—he is a very amiable man.
Who never plays for heavy stakes,But looks to the main chance.There's Georgy W-b-ll, all the go,{14}The mould of fashion,—the court beau,Since Brummell fled to France:His bright brass harness, and the gray,The well known black cabriolet,Is always latest there;The reason,—George, with Captain P———The lady-killing coterie,Come late—to catch the fair.See W-s-r, who with pious love,{15}For her, who's sainted now above,A sister kindly takes;So, as the ancient proverb tells,"The best of husbands, modern belles,Are your reformed rakes."In splendid mis'ry down the rideAlone,—see ****** lady glide,{16}Neglected for a————.What's fame, or titles, wealth's increase,Compared unto the bosom's peace?They're bubbles,—nothing more.14 George, although arouéof the most superlative order,is not deficient in good sense and agreeable qualifications.Since poor Beau Brummell's removal from the hemisphere offashion, George has certainly shone a planet of the firstmagnitude: among the fair he is also considered like hisfriend, Captain P-r-y, a perfect lady-killer:—many a littlemilliner's girl has had cause to regret the seductive notesof A.Z.B. Limmer's Hotel.15 The Marquis of W-c-t-r has, since his first wife's death,married her sister.—Reformation, we are happy to perceive,is the order of the day. The failure of Howard and Gibbsinvolved more than one noble family in embarrassments.16 The amours of this child of fortune are notorious both onthe continent and in this country. It is very often themisfortune of great men to be degraded by great profligacyof conduct: the poor lady is a suffering angel.
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 thatIn plain blue coat,—to whom each hatIs 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 soulYou 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 pain17 The female branches of the Sefton family are superior tothe slightest breath of calumny, and present an example tothe peerage worthy of more general imitation.18 No member of the present royal family displays moreagreeable qualifications in society than the heirpresumptive.—Un-affected, affable, and free, the duke may beseen daily pacing St. James's-street, Pall-mall, or thePark, very often wholly un-attended: as his person isfamiliar to the public, he never experiences the slightestinconvenience from curiosity, and he is so generallybeloved, that none pass him who know him without payingtheir tribute of respect. In all the private relations oflife he is a most estimable man,—in his public situationindefatigable, prompt, and attentive to the meanest applica-tion.19 A more lamentable instance of the profligacy of the agecannot be found than in the history of the transaction whichproduced this exchange of wives and persons. A wag of theday published a new list of promotions headed as follows,—Lady B———n to be Lady A———r P-t,—by exchange—Lady P-tto be Duchess of A———e,—by promotion—Lady Charlotte W—yto 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 apesWhich 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 ofLady J-, nor was the consent of her noble father (influencedby certain weighty reasons*) wanting to complete theanticipated happiness of the suitor.—All the preliminaryforms were arranged,—jointure and pin money liberallyfixed,—some legal objections as to a covenant of forfeitureovercame, a suitable establishment provided. The happy daywas fixed, when—"mark inconstant fickle woman"—the eveningprevious to completion (to the surprise of all the town),she changed her mind; she had reconsidered the subject!—Theman was wealthy, and attractive in person; but then—insupportable objection—he was a mere plebeian, a commonesquire, and his name was odious,—Lady J- B-1,—she couldnever endure it: the degrading thought produced a faintingfit,—the recovery a positive refusal,—the circumstance aweek's amusement to the fashionable world. Reflection anddisappointment succeeded, and a revival was more than oncespoken of; but the recent marriage of the bachelor put anend to all conjecture, and the poor lady was for some timeleft to bewail in secret her single destiny. Who can say,when a lady has the golden ball at her foot, where she maykick it? Circumstances which have occurred since the abovewas written prove that the lady has anticipated our advice.21 Her ladyship's crimson vis-à-vis and her tall footmanare both highly attractive—there are no seats in thevehicle—the fair owner reclines on a splendid crimson velvetdivan or cushion. She must now be considered a beauty of thelast century, being already turned of fifty: still shecontinued to flourish in the annals of—fashion, untilwithin the last few years; when she ceased to go abroad foramusement, finding it more convenient to purchase it athome. As her parties in Grosvenor-square are of the mostsplendid description, and her dinners (where she is thepresiding deity, and the only one) are frequent, andunrivalled for a display of the "savoir vivre," her ladyshipcan always draw on the gratitude of her guests for thathomage to hospitality which she must cease to expect to hercharms, "now in the sear and yellow leaf:"—she is a M-nn-rs-"verbum sal." Speaking of M-nn-ra, where is the portlyJohn (the Regent's double, as he was called some few yearssince), and the amiable duchess, who bestowed her hand andfortune upon him?—but, n'importe.* The marquis is said to have shown some aversion in thefirst instance, till H-s B-1 sent his rent roll for hisinspection: this was immediately returned with a verysatisfactory reply, but accompanied with a more embarrassingrequest, namely, a sight of his pedigree.
Glimmers in eclipse,—afar'sThe 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." Thislady'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 yellowliveries, black lower garments, spangled and studded. Thereis a general keeping in this gorgeous equipage, which ishighly creditable to the taste of the marchioness, for themarquis, "good easy man," (though a Bruce), he is too muchengaged preserving his game at Ro-er-n park, and keeping upthe game in St. Stephen's (where his influence isrepresented by no less than eight "sound men and true"), toattend to these trifling circumstances. This, with a wellpaid rental of upwards of £100,000 per annum, makes the lifeof this happy pair pass in an uninterrupted stream offashionable felicity.23 The marchioness is said to bear the neglect of a certaincapricious friend with much cool philosophy. Soon after theintimacy had ceased, they met by accident. On the sofa, bythe side of the inconstant, sat the reigning favourite; themarchioness placed herself (uninvited) on the opposite side:astonishment seized the ****; he rose, made a very gracefulbow to one of the ladies, and coolly observed to themarchesa—"If this conduct is repeated, I must declinemeeting you in public." This was the cut royal.
See S-b-y's peeress, whom each foolOf 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 swellThe Yorkshire Whiskerandoes.{27}24 The dulness of the marchioness's Sunday evening conver-saziones have obtained them the fashionable appellation ofthe Sunday-school. Lord Byron thought it highly dangerousfor any wit to accept a second invitation, lest he should beinoculated 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 bestfemale equestrian in the ride.26 A consideration for the delicacy of our fair readerswill not allow us to enter upon the numerous amours of thisfavourite of Apollo and the Muses, and not less celebratedintriguant. She may, however, have ample justice entailedupon her under another head. Latterly, since the police havebeen so active in suppressing the gaming houses, a smallparty have met with security and profit for a little chickenhazard in Curzon-street, at which Mr. C-t has occasionallyacted as croupier and banker. Elliston used to say, wheninformed of the sudden indisposition or absence of a certainlittle actress and singer-"Ay, I understand; she has a moreprofitable engagement than mine this evening." The amoroustrio, Cl-g-t, Charles H-r-s, and the exquisite Master G-e,may not have cause to complain of neglect. The first ofthese gentlemen has lately, we understand, been verysuccessful at play; we trust experience will teach himprudence.27 His lordship commands the York hussars, in defence ofwhose whiskers he sometime since made a Quixotic attack upona public writer. As he is full six feet high, and we are notquite five, prudence bids us place our finger on our lip.
Pale Lambton, he who loves and hatesBy 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 BillyButton, the son and heir to the honours, fortune, andshopboard of the late Billy Button of Bedford-street, CoventGarden. The latter property he appears to have transferredto the front of the old brown landau, where the agedcoachman, with nose as flat as the ace of clubs, sits,transfixed and rigid as the curls of his caxon, from threetill six every Sunday evening, urging on a cabbage-fed pairof ancient prods, which no exertion of the venerable Jehuhas been able for the last seven years to provoke into atrot from Hyde park gate to that of Cumberland and backagain. The contents of the vehicle are equally anexhibition. Billy, with two watches hung by one chain,undergoing the revolutionary movements of buckets in awell, and his eye-glass set round with false pearls, areadmirably "en suite" with his bugle optics. The frowsymadam in faded finery, with all the little Buttons, attendedby a red-haired poor relation from Inverness (who is at oncetheir governess and their victim), form the happy tenantryof this moving closet. No less than three, crests surmountthe arms of this descendant of Wallace the Great. A waggishHibernian, some few months since, added a fourth, bychalking a goose proper, crested with a cabbage, which wasobserved and laughed at by every one in the park except thepurblind possessor of the vehicle, who was too busy inlooking at himself.29 Honest Jack is no longer an M.P., to the great regret ofthe admirers of senatorial humours. Some few years since,being Btuehi plenus, he reeled into St. Stephen's chapel alittle out of a perpendicular; when the then dignified Abbothaving called him to order, he boldly and vociferouslyasserted that "Jack F-r of Rose-Hill was not to be set downby any little fellow in a wig. "This offence against theperson and high office of the Abbot of St. Stephen's broughthonest Jack upon his knees, to get relieved from atroublesome serjeant attendant of the chapel. Knowing hisown infirmities, and fearing perhaps that he might be com-pelled to make another compulsory prayer, Jack resigned hispretensions to senatorial honors at the last generalelection. His chief amusement, when in town, is the watchingand tormenting the little marchandes des modes who crossover 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-yin his tandem, compelled the latter to sell out of thearmy, but not without having lost a leg in the service. Adetermined patriot, he was still resolved to serve hiscountry. A barrister on one leg might be thought ominous ofhis client's cause, or afford food for the raillery of hisopponent. The bar was therefore rejected. But the churchopened her arms to receive the dismembered son of Mars (aparson with a cork leg, or two wooden ones, or indeedwithout a leg to stand on, was not un-orthodox), and F-z-ywas soon inducted to a valuable benefice. He is now, webelieve, a pluralist, and, if report be true, has shownsomething of the old soldier in his method of retainingthem. F-y married Miss Wy-d-m, the daughter of Mrs. H-s, whowas the admired of his brother, L-d P-. He is generallytermed the fighting parson, and considered one of the bestjudges of a horse in town: he sometimes does a littlebusiness 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 MokamnaC-m-e, must ever bear the swayFor 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 thingIn 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 parkhe is rivalled only by C-c. For the benefit of all themarried ladies, we would recommend both of thesesingularities to wear the veil in public.32 Sir Ed-d N-g-e. His present majesty is not less fond of apleasant joke than his laughter-loving predecessor, CharlesII. The Puke of Clarence, while at the Pavilion (a shorttime 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, inconcert with the k-g, slily gave directions to have the ponypainted and disfigured (by spotting him with water colourand attaching a long tail), and then brought on the lawn. Inthis state he was shown to Sir E—, as one every waysuperior to his own. After examining him minutely, the oldbaronet found great fault with the pony; and being, at theduke's request, induced to mount him, objected to all hispaces, observing that he was not half equal to his grey. Theking was amazingly amused with the sagacity of the good-humoured baronet, and laughed heartily at the astonishmenthe expressed when convinced of the deception practised uponhim. Sir C-n-y H-s-ne, although a constant visitor at thePavilion, is not particularly celebrated for any attractivequalification, unless it be his unlimited love of littleladies. He is known to all the horse dealers round London,from his constant inquiries for a "nice quiet little horseto carry a lady;" but we never heard of his making apurchase.33 The middle order of society was formerly in England themost virtuous of the three—folly and vice reared theirstandard and recruited their ranks in the highest and thelowest; but the medium being now lost, all is in theextreme. The superlative dandy inhabitant of a first floorfrom the ground in Bond-street, and the finished inhabitantof 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 sphereOf 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 spyTrotting towards the Mall.Sir *——-*-, the chicken man,{35}34 Young Priment, as he is generally termed, the oncedashing foreman and cutter out, now co-partner of therenowned Baron St-z, recently made a peer of France. Whowould not be a tailor (St-z has retired with a fortune of£100,000. )! Lord de C-ff-d, some time since objecting tocertain items in his son's bill from St-z, as being toohighly charged, said, "Tell Mr. S- I will not pay him, if itcosts me a thousand pounds to resist it. " St-z, on hearingthis, said, "Tell his lordship that he shall pay thecharge, if it costs me ten thousand to make him." H-s-lywith some little satisfaction was displaying to a customerthe Prince of C-b-g's bill for three months (on the occasionof his Highness's new field-marshal's suit, we suppose):"Here," said he, "see what we have done for him: hisquarter's tailor's bill now comes to more than his annualincome formerly amounted to." Mr. H-s-ly sports a bit ofblood, a dennet, and a filly; and, for a tailor, is asuperfine sort of dandy, but with a strong scent of the shopabout him.35 The redoubtable general's penchant for little girls hasobtained him the tender appellation of the chicken man.Many of thesepetits amoursare carried on in the assumedname of Sir Lewis N-t-n, aided by the skill and ingenuityof Captain *-. Youth may plead whim and novelty for lowintrigue; but the aged beau can only resort to it fromvitiated 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 keenAs 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 noseHave led to many a green horn's woesA few gay bucks to Surrey,Where Marshal Jones commands in chiefA squadron, who to find reliefAre 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 alarge circle of polished society; where his amusing talentsand gentlemanly demeanour render him a most entertainingand agreeable companion.
Forgotten of "To-morrow;"A superficial wit, who 'll writeFor 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 bladeIn Pandemonium's fruitful trade,'Mong Paphians a rambler.Augusta H-ke (or C-i) movesAlong the path—her little doves—Decoys, upon each arm.Where 's Jehu Martin, four-in-hand,An exile in a foreign landFrom 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 plentifullybe-spattered on all sides, that we shall, with true orthodoxcharity, leave him with a strong recommendation to thenotice of the society for the suppression of vice, with thistrite remark, "Vide hic et ubique."38 This man, who is now reported to be worth three hundredthousand 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 illegallottery speculation in Northumberland-street, Strand, wherehe realized a considerable sum by insurances and littlegoes; 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 haveoccasioned some legal difficulty but for the oath of apastry-cook's wife, who proved an alibi, in return for whichact of kindness he afterwards made her his wife. Obtainingpossession of the rooms in Pall-Mall (then the celebratedE. O. tables, and the property of W-, the husband, by a shamwarrant), the latter became extremely jealous; and, to makeall comfortable, our hero, to use his own phrase, generouslybought the mure and coll.—Mrs. W—and her son—both sincedead: the latter rose to very high rank in an honourableprofession. The old campaigner has now turned pious, andrecently erected and endowed a chapel. He used to boast hehad more promissory notes of gambling dupes than would besufficient to cover the whole of Pall-Mall; he may withjustice add, that he can command bank notes enough to coverCavendish-square.