Chapter X: Preface: , in Imitation of the First Satire of Persius (7)

This is one, and, perhaps, the most conspicuous portrait of an opera frequenter; but there are a variety of characters in the same school all equally worthy of a descriptive notice, and each differing in contour and force of chiaroscuro as much as the one thousand and one family maps which annually cover the walls of the Royal Academy, to the exclusion of meritorious performances in a more elevated branch of art. The Dowager Duchess of A------ retains her box to dispose of her unmarried daughters, and enjoy the gratification of meeting in public the once flattering groups of noble expectants who formerly paid their ready homage to her charms and courted her approving smile; but then her ducal spouse was high in favour, and in office, and now these "summer flies o' the court" are equally steady in their devotion to his successor, and can scarcely find memory or opportunity to recognise the relict of their late ministerial patron. Lord E------ and the Marchioness of R.------ subscribe for a box between them, enjoying the proprietorship in alternate weeks. During the Marchesa's periods of occupation you will perceive Lady H., and the whole of the blue stocking illuminati, irradiating from this point, like the tributary stars round some major planet, forming ~200~~ a grand constellation of attraction. Here new novels, juvenile poets, and romantic tourists receive their fiat, and here too the characters of one half the fashionable world undergo the fiery ordeal of scrutinization, and are censured or applauded more in accordance with the prevailing on dits of the day, or the fabrications of the club, than with any regard to feeling, truth, or decorum. The following week-, how changed the scene!--the venerable head of the highly-respected Lord E------ graces the corner, like a Corinthian capital finely chiseled by the divine hand of Praxiteles; the busy tongue of scandal is dormant for a term, and in her place the Solons of the land, in solemn thoughtfulness, attend the sage injunctions of their learned chief. Too enfeebled by age and previous exertion to undergo the fatigues of parliamentary duty, the baron here receives the visits of his former colleagues, and snatching half an hour from his favourite recreation, gives a decided turn to the politics of a party by the cogency of his reasoning and the brilliancy of his arguments. The Earl of F------has a grand box on the ground tier, for the double purpose of admiring the chaste evolutions of the sylphic daughters of Terpsichore, and of being observed himself by all the followers of the cameleon-like, capricious goddess, Fashion.

The G------B-----, the wealthy commoner, Fortune's favoured child, retains a box in the best situation, if not on purpose, yet in fact, to annoy all those within hearing, by the noisy humour of his Bacchanalian friends, who reel in at the end of the first act of the opera, full primed with the choicest treasures of his well stocked bins, to quiz the young and modest, insult the aged and respectable, and annihilate the anticipated pleasures of the scientific and devotees of harmony, by the coarseness of their attempts at wit, the overpowering clamour of their conversation, and ~201~~ the loud laugh and vain pretence to taste and critic skill.

The ministerialists may be easily traced by their affectation of consequence, and a certain air of authority joined to a demi-official royal livery, which always distinguishes the corps politique, and is equally shared by their highly plumed female partners. The opposition are equally discernible by outward and visible signs, such as an assumed nonchalance, or apparent independence of carriage, that but ill suits the ambitious views of the wearer, and sits as uneasily upon them as their measures would do upon the shoulders of the nation. Added to which, you will never see them alone; never view them enjoying the passing scene, happy in the society of their accomplished wives and daughters, but always, like restless and perturbed spirits, congregating together in conclave, upon some new measure wherewith to sow division in the nation, and shake the council of the state. And yet to both these parties a box at the opera is as indispensable as to the finished courtezan, who here spreads her seductive lures to catch the eye, and inveigle the heart of the inexperienced and unwary.

But what has all this to do with the opera? or where will this romantic correspondent of mine terminate his satirical sketch? I think I hear you exclaim. A great deal more, Mr. Collegian, than your philosophy can imagine: you know, I am nothing if not characteristic; and this, I assure you, is a true portrait of the place and its frequenters. I dare say, you would have expected my young imagination to have been encompassed with delight, amid the mirth-inspiring compositions of Corelli, Mozart, or Rossini, warbled forth by that enchanting siren, De Begnis, the scientific Pasta, the modest Caradori, or the astonishing Catalani:--Heaven enlighten your unsuspicious mind! Attention to the merits of the ~202~~ performance is the last thing any fashionable of the present day would think of devoting his time to. No, no, my dear Bernard, the opera is a sort of high 'Change, where the court circle and people of ton meet to speculate in various ways, and often drive as hard a bargain for some purpose of interest or aggrandisement, as the plebeian host of all nations, who form the busy group in the grand civic temple of commerce on Cornbill. You know, I have (as the phrase is), just come out, and of course am led about like a university lion, by the more experienced votaries of ton. An accident threw the honourable Lillyman Lionise into my way the other morning; it was the first time we had met since we were at Eton: he was sauntering away the tedious hour in the Arcade, in search of a specific for ennui, was pleased to compliment me on possessing the universal panacea, linked arms immediately, complained of being devilishly cut over night, proposed an adjournment to Long's--a light dinner--maintenon cutlets--some of the Queensberry hock{1} (a century and a half old)--ice-punch-six whin's from an odoriferous hookah--one cup of renovating fluid (impregnated with the Parisian aromatic {2}); and then, having reembellished our persons, sported{3} a figure at the opera. In the grand entrance, we enlisted Bob Transit, between whom and the honourable, I congratulated myself on being in a fair way to be enlightened. Bob knows every body--the exquisite was not so general in his information; but then he occasionally furnished some little anecdote of the surrounding elegantes, relative to affairs de l'amour, or pointed out the superlative of the haut class, without which much of the interesting would have escaped my notice.

1 The late Duke of Queensberry's famous old hock, which
since his decease was sold by auction.

2 A Parisian preparation, which gives a peculiar high
flavour and sparkling effect to coffee.

3 An Oxford phrase.

~203~~

In this society, I made my first appearance in the green room; a little, narrow, pink saloon at the back of the stage, where the dancers congregate and practise before an immense looking-glass previous to their appearance in public.

To a fellow of warm imagination and vigorous constitution, such a scene is calculated to create sensations that must send the circling current into rapid motion, and animate the heart with thrilling raptures of delight. Before the mirror, in all the grace of youthful loveliness and perfect symmetry of form, the divine little fairy sprite, the all-conquering Andalusian Venus, Mercandotti, was exhibiting her soft, plump, love-inspiring person in pirouette: before her stood the now happy swain, the elegant H------ B-, on whose shoulder rested the Earl of Fe-, admiring with equal ecstasy the finished movements of his accomplished protegee{4}; on the right hand of the earl stood the single duke of D--------------e, quizzing the little daughter of Terpsichore through his eye-glass; on the opposite of the circle was seen the noble

4 It was very generally circulated, and for some time
believed, that the charming little Andalusian Venus was the
natural daughter of the Earl of F-e: a report which had not
a shadow of truth in its foundation, but arose entirely out
of the continued interest the earl took in the welfare of
the lady from the time of her infancy, at which early period
she was exhibited on the stage of the principal theatre in
Cadiz as an infant prodigy; and being afterwards carried
round (as is the custom in Spain) to receive the personal
approval and trifling presents of the grandees, excited such
general admiration as a beautiful child, that the Earl of F-
e, then Lord M- and a general officer in the service of
Spain, adopted the child, and liberally advanced funds for
her future maintenance and instruction, extending his bounty
and protection up to the moment of her fortunate marriage
with her present husband. It is due to the lady to add, that
in every instance her conduct has been marked by the
strictest sense of propriety, and that too in situations
where, it is said, every attraction was offered to have
induced a very opposite course.

~204~~

musical amateur B-----h, supported by the director De R-s on one hand, and the communicative manager, John Ebers, of Bond-street, on the other; in a snug corner on the right hand of the mirror was seated one of his majesty's most honourable privy council, the Earl of W-----d, with a double Dollond's operatic magnifier in his hand, studying nature from this most delightful of all miniature models. "A most perfect divinity," whispered the exquisite. "A glorious fine study," said Transit,--and, pulling out his card-case and pencil, retired to one corner of the room, to make a mem., as he called it, of the scene. (See Plate.) "Who the deuce is that eccentric-looking creature with the Marquis of Hertford?" said I. "Hush," replied the exquisite, "for heaven's sake, don't expose yourself! Not to know the superlative roue of the age, the all-accomplished Petersham, would set you down for a barbarian at once." "And who," said I, "is the amiable fair bending before the admiring Worter?" "An old and very dear acquaintance of the Earl of F-e, Mademoiselle Noblet, who, it is said, displays much cool philosophy at the inconstancy of her once enamoured swain, consoling herself for his loss, in the enjoyment of a splendid annuity." A host of other bewitching forms led my young fancy captive by turns, as my eye travelled round the magic circle of delight: some were, I found, of that yielding spirit, which can pity the young heart's fond desire; with others had secured honourable protection: and if his companion's report was to be credited, there were very few among the enchanting spirits before yet with whom that happiness which springs from virtuous pure affection was to be anticipated. If was no place to moralize, but, to you who know my buoyancy of spirit, and susceptibility of mind, I must confess, the reflection produced a momentary pang of the keenest misery.

THE ROYAL SALOON.

Visit of Heartly, Lionise, and Transit--Description of the
Place--Sketches of Character--The Gambling Parsons--Horse
Chaunting, a true Anecdote--Bang and her Friends--Moll Raffle
and the Marquis W.--The Play Man--The Touter--The Half-pay
Officer--Charles Rattle, Esq.--Life of a modern Roue-B------
the Tailor--The Subject--Jarvey and Brooks the Dissector--
"Kill him when you want him"

~205~~ After the opera, Bob Transit proposed an adjournment to the Royal Saloon, in Piccadilly, a place of fashionable resort (said Bob) for shell-fish and sharks, Greeks and pigeons, Cyprians and citizens, noble and ignoble--in short, a mighty rendezvous, where every variety of character is to be found, from the finished sharper to the finished gentleman; a scene pregnant with subject for the pencil of the humorist, and full of the richest materials for the close observer of men and manners. Hither we retired to make a night of it, or rather to consume the hours between midnight and morning's dawn. The place itself is fitted up in a very novel and attractive style of decoration, admirably calculated for a saloon of pleasure and refreshment; but more resembling a Turkish kiosk than an English tavern. On the ground floor, which is of an oblong form and very spacious, are a number of divisions enclosed on each side with rich damask curtains, having each a table and seats for the reception of supper or drinking parties; at the extreme end, and ~206~~ on each side, mirrors of unusual large dimensions give an infinity of perspective, which greatly increases the magnificence of the place. In the centre of the room are pedestals supporting elegant vases filled with choice exotics. A light and tasteful trellis-work surrounds a gallery above, which forms a promenade round the room, the walls being painted to resemble a conservatory, in which the most luxuriant shrubs are seen spreading their delightful foliage over a spacious dome, from the centre of which is suspended a magnificent chandelier. Here are placed, at stated distances, rustic tables, for the accommodation of those who choose coffee and tea; and leading from this, on each side, are several little snug private boudoirs for select parties, perfectly secure from the prying eye of vulgar curiosity, and where only the privileged few are ever permitted to enter. It was in this place, surrounded by well-known Greeks, with whom he appeared to be on the most intimate terms, that Transit pointed out to my notice the eccentric Vicar of K**, the now invisible author of L****, whose aphorisms and conduct bear not the slightest affinity to each other--nor was he the only clerical present; at the head of a jolly party, at an adjoining table, sat the ruby-faced Parson John A-----e, late proprietor of the notorious Gothic Hall, in Pall Mall, a man of first rate wit and talent, but of the lowest and most depraved habits. "The Divine is a character" said Bob, "who, according to the phraseology of the ring, is 'good at every thing:' as he came into the world without being duly licensed, so he thinks himself privileged to pursue the most unlicensed conduct in his passage through it. As a specimen of his ingenuity in horse-dealing, I'll give you an anecdote.--It is not long since that the parson invited a party of bucks to dinner, at his snug little villa on the banks of the Thames, near Richmond, in Surrey. Previous to the repast, the reverend ~207~~ led his visitors forth to admire the gardens and surrounding scenery, when just at the moment they had reached the outer gate, a fine noble-looking horse was driven past in a tilbury by a servant in a smart livery.--'What a magnificent animal!' said the parson; 'the finest action I ever beheld in my life: there's a horse to make a man's fortune in the park, and excite the envy and notice of all the town.' 'Who does he belong to?' said a young baronet of the party, who had just come out. 'I'll inquire,' said the parson: 'the very thing for you, Sir John.' Away posts the reverend, bawling after the servant, 'Will your master sell that horse, my man?' 'I can't say, sir,' said the fellow, 'but I can inquire, and let you know.' 'Do, my lad, and tell him a gentleman here will give a handsome price for him.' Away trots the servant, and the party proceed to dinner. As soon as the dessert is brought in, and the third glass circulated, the conversation is renewed relative to the horse--the whole party agree in extolling his qualities; when, just in the nick of time, the servant arrives to say his master being aged and infirm, the animal is somewhat too spirited for him, and if the gentleman likes, he may have him for one hundred guineas. 'A mere trifle,' vociferates the company. 'Cheap as Rivington's second-hand sermons,' said the parson. The baronet writes a check for the money, and generously gives the groom a guinea for his trouble--drives home in high glee--and sends his servant down next morning to the parson's for his new purchase--orders the horse to be put into his splendid new tilbury, built under the direction of Sir John Lade--just reaches Grosvenor-gate from Hamilton-place in safety, when the horse shows symptoms of being a miller. Baronet, nothing daunted, touches him smartly under the flank, when up he goes on his fore-quarters, smashes the tilbury into ten thousand pieces, bolts away with the traces and shafts, and leaves the baronet with a broken head ~208~~ on one side of the road, and his servant with a broken arm on the other. 'Where the devil did you get that quiet one from, Sir John!' said the Honourable Fitzroy St-----e, whom the accident had brought to the spot.

'The parson bought him of an old gentleman at Richmond yesterday for me.' 'Done, brown as a berry,' said Fitzroy: 'I sold him only on Saturday last to the reverend myself for twenty pounds as an incurable miller. Why the old clerical's turned coper{1}--;a new way of raising the wind--letting his friends down easy--gave you a good dinner, I suppose, Sir John, and took this method of drawing the bustle{2} for it: an old trick of the reverend's.' After this it is hardly necessary to say, the servant was a confederate, and the whole affair nothing more or less than a true orthodox farce of horse chaunting,{3} got up for the express purpose of raising a temporary supply."{4}

1 A horse-dealer.

2 Money.

3 Tricking persons into the purchase of unsound or vicious
horses.

4 A practice by no means uncommon among a certain
description of dashing characters, who find chaunting a
horse to a green one, a snug accidental party at chicken
hazard, or a confederacy to entrap some inexperienced bird
of fashion, where he may be plucked by Greek banditti, pay
exceedingly well for these occasional dinner parties.

At this moment our attention was engaged by the entrance of a party of exquisites and elegantes, dressed in the very extreme of opera costume, who directed their steps to the regions above us. "I'll bet a hundred," said the honourable, "I know that leg," eyeing a divine little foot and a finely turned ankle that was just then discernible from beneath a rich pink drapery, as the possessor ascended the gallery of the conservatory, lounging on the arm of the Irish Earl of C------; " the best leg in England, and not a bad figure for an ancient," continued Lionise: "that is the celebrated Mrs. Bertram, alias Bang--everybody ~209~~ knows Bang; that is, every body in the fashionable world. She must have been a most delightful creature when she first came out, and has continued longer in bloom than any of the present houris of the west; but I forgot you were fresh, and only in training, Heartly--I must introduce you to Bang: you will never arrive at any eminence among the haut classe unless you can call these beauties by name." "And who the deuce is Bang?" said I: "not that elegantly-dressed female whom I see tripping up the gallery stairs yonder, preceded by several other delightful faces." "The same, my dear fellow: a fallen star, to be sure, but yet a planet round whose orbit move certain other little twinkling luminaries whose attractive glimmerings are very likely to enlighten your obscure sentimentality. Bang was the daughter of a bathing-woman at Brighton, from whence she eloped early in life with a navy lieutenant-has since been well known as a dasher of the first water upon the pave--regularly sports her carriage in the drive--and has numbered among her protectors, at various times, the Marquis W------, Lord A------, Colonel C------, and, lastly, a descendant of the mighty Wallace, who, in an auto-biographical sketch, boasts of his intimacy with this fascinating cyprian. She has, however, one qualification, which is not usually found among those of her class--she has had the prudence to preserve a great portion of her liberal allowances, and is now perfectly independent of the world. We must visit one of her evening parties in the neighbourhood of Euston-square, when she invites a select circle of her professional sisters to a ball and supper, to which entertainment her male visitors are expected to contribute liberally. She has fixed upon the earl, I should think, more for the honour of the title than with any pecuniary hopes, his dissipation having left him scarce enough to keep up appearances." "The amiable who precedes her," said I, "is of the same class, I ~210~~ presume--precisely, and equally notorious." "That is the celebrated Mrs. L------, better known as Moll Raffle, from the circumstance of her being actually raffled for, some years since, by the officers of the seventh dragoons, when they were quartered at Rochester: like her female friend, she is a woman of fortune, said to be worth eighteen hundred per annum, with which she has recently purchased herself a Spanish cavalier for a husband. A curious anecdote is related of Moll and her once kind friend, the Marquis of W--------, who is said to have given her a bond for seven thousand pounds, on a certain great house, not a mile from Hyde-park corner, which he has since assigned to a fortunate general, the present possessor; who, thinking his title complete, proceeded to take possession, but found his entry disputed by the lady, to whom he was eventually compelled to pay the forfeiture of the bond. Come along, my boy," said Lionise; "I'll introduce you at once to the whole party, and then you can make your own selection." "Not at present: I came here for general observation, not private intrigue, and must confess I have seldom found a more diversified scene."

"I beg pardon, gentlemen," said an easy good-looking fellow, with something rather imposing in his manner--"Shall I intrude here?--will 'you permit me to take a seat in your box?" "By all means," replied I; Bob, at the same moment, pressing his elbow into my side, and the exquisite raising his glass very significantly to his eye, the stranger continued--"A very charming saloon this, gentlemen, and the company very superior to the general assemblage at such places: my friend, the Earl of C------, yonder, I perceive, amorously engaged; Lord P------, too, graces the upper regions with the delightful Josephine: really this is quite the cafe royal of London; the accommodation, too, admirable--not merely confined to refreshments; I am told there are excellent billiard ~211~~ tables, and snug little private rooms for a quiet rubber, or a little chicken hazard. Do you play, gentlemen? very happy to set you for a main or two, by way of killing time." That one word, play, let me at once into the secret of our new acquaintance's character, and fully explained the distant reception and cautious bearing of my associates. My positive refusal to accommodate produced a very polite bow, and the party immediately retired to reconnoitre among some less suspicious visitants. "A nibble," said Transit, "from an ivory turner."{5} "By the honour of my ancestry," said Lionise, "a very finished sharper; I remember Lord F------ pointing him out to me at the last Newmarket spring meeting, when we met him, arm in arm, with a sporting baronet. What the fellow was, nobody knows; but he claims a military title--captain, of course--perhaps has formerly held a lieutenancy in a militia regiment: he now commands a corps of sappers on the Greek staff, and when he honoured us with a call just now was on the recruiting service, I should think; but our friend, Heartly, here, would not stand drill, so he has marched off on the forlorn hope, and is now, you may perceive, concerting some new scheme with a worthy brother touter,{6} who is on the half pay of the British army, and receives full pay in the service of the Greeks. We must make a descent into hell some night," said Transit, "and sport a few crowns at roulette or rouge et noir, to give Heartly his degree. We shall proceed regularly upon college principles, old fellow: first, we will visit the Little Go in King-street, and then drop into the Great Go, alias Watiers, in Piccadilly; after which we can sup in Crockford's pandemonium among parliamentary pigeons, unfledged

5 A tats man, a proficient with the bones, one who knows
every chance upon the dice.

6 A decoy, who seduces the young or inexperienced to the
gaming table, and receives a per centage upon their losses.

~212~~ ensigns of the guards, broken down titled legs, and ci-devant bankers, fishmongers, and lightermen; and here comes the very fellow to introduce us--an old college chum, Charles Rattle, who was expelled Brazennose for smuggling, and who has since been pretty well plucked by merciless Greek banditti and Newmarket jockeys, but who bears his losses with the temper of a philosopher, and still pursues the destructive vice with all the infatuation of the most ardent devotee." "How d'ye do, old fellows?--how d'ye do? Who would have thought to have met the philosopher (pointing to me) at such a place as this, among the impures of both sexes, legs and leg-ees? Come to sport a little blunt with the table or the traders, hey! Heartly? Always suspected you was no puritan, although you wear such a sentimental visage. Well, old fellows, I am glad to see you, however,--come, a bottle of Champagne, for I have just cast off all my real troubles--had a fine run of luck to-night--broke the bank, and bolted with all the cash. Just in the nick of time-off for Epsom to-morrow--double my bets upon the Derby, and if the thing comes off right, I'll give somebody a thousand or two to tie me up from playing again above five pounds stakes as long as I live. The best thing you ever heard in your life--a double to do. Ned C-----d having heard I had just received a few thousands, by the sale of the Yorkshire acres, planned it with Colonel T----- to introduce me to the new club, where a regular plant was to be made, by some of his myrmidons, to clear me out, by first letting me win a few thousands, when they were to pounce upon me, double the stakes, and finish me off in prime style, fleecing me out of every guinea--very good-trick and tie, you know, is fair play--and for this very honest service, my friend, the colonel, was to receive a commission, or per centage, in proportion to my losses: the very last man in the world that the old pike could ~213~~ have baited for in that way--the colonel's down a little, to be sure, but not so low as to turn confederate to a leg--so suppressed his indignation at the proposition, and lent himself to the scheme, informing me of the whole circumstances--well, all right--we determined to give the old one a benefit--dined with him to-day--a very snug party--devilish good dinner--superb wines--drank freely--punished his claret--and having knocked about Saint Hugh's bones{7} until I was five thousand in pocket, politely took my leave, without giving the parties their revenge. Never saw a finer scene in the course of my life-such queer looks, and long faces, and smothered wailings when they found themselves done by a brace of gudgeons, whom they had calculated upon picking to the very bones! Come, old fellows, a toast: Here's Fishmonger's Hall, and may every suspected gudgeon prove a shark."

The bottle now circulated freely, and the open-hearted Rattle delighted us with the relation of some college anecdotes, which I shall reserve for a hearty laugh when we meet. The company continued to increase with the appearance of morning; and here might be seen the abandoned profligate, with his licentious female companion, completing the night's debauch by the free use of intoxicating liquors--the ruined spendthrift, fresh from the gaming-table, loudly calling for wine, to drown the remembrance of his folly, and abusing the drowsy waiter only to give utterance to his irritated feelings. In a snug corner might be seen a party of sober, quiet-looking gentlemen, taking their lobster and bucellas, whose first appearance would impress you with the belief of their respectability, but whom, upon inquiry, you would discover to be Greek banditti, retired hither to divide their ill gotten spoils. It was among a party of this description that Rattle pointed out a celebrated writer, whose lively style and accurate description of

7 Saint Hugh's bones, a cant phrase for dice.

~214~~ men and manners display no common mind. Yet here he was seen associated with the most depraved of the human species--the gambler by profession, the common cheat! What wonder that such connexions should have compelled him for a time to become an exile to his country, and on his return involved him in a transaction that has ended in irretrievable ruin and disgrace? "By the honour of my ancestry," said Lionise, "yonder is that delectable creature, old Crony, the dinner many that is the most surprising animal we have yet found among the modern discoveries--polite to and point--always well dressed--keeps the best society--or, I should say, the best society keeps him: to an amazing fund of the newest on dits and anecdotes of ton, always ready cut and dried, he joins a smattering of the classics, and chops logic with the learned that he may carve their more substantial fare gratis; has a memory tenacious as a chief judge on matter of invitation, and a stomach capacious as a city alderman in doing honour to the feast; pretends to be a connoisseur in wines, although he never possessed above one bottle at a time in his cellaret, I should think, in the whole course of his life; talks about works of art and virtu as if Sir Joshua Reynolds had been his nurse--Claude his intimate acquaintance--or Praxiteles his great great grandfather. The fellow affects a most dignified contempt for the canaille, because, in truth, they never invite him to dinner--is on the free list of all the theatres, from having formerly been freely hiss'd upon their boards--a retired tragedy king on a small pension, with a republican stomach, who still enacts the starved apothecary at home, from penury, and liberally crams his voracious paunch, stuffing like Father Paul, when at the table of others. With these habits, he has just managed to scrape together some sixty pounds per annum, upon which, by good management, he contrives to live like an emperor; for instance, he keeps a regular book of ~215 invitations, numbers his friends according to the days of the year, and divides and subdivides them in accordance with their habits and pursuits, so that an unexpected invitation requires a reference to his journal: if you invite him for Saturday next, he will turn to his tablets, apologise for a previous engagement, run his eye eagerly down the column for an occasional absentee, and then invite himself for some day in the ensuing week, to which your politeness cannot fail to accede. You will meet him in London, Brighton, Bath, Cheltenham, and Margate during the fashionable periods; at all of which places he has his stated number of dinner friends, where his presence is as regularly looked for as the appearance of the swallow. Among the play men he is useful as a looker on, to make one at the table when they are thin of customers, or to drink a young one into a proper state for plucking: in other society he coins compliments for the fair lady of the mansion, extols his host's taste and good fellowship at table, tells a smutty story to amuse the _bon vivants_ in their cups, or recites a nursery rhyme to send the children quietly to bed; and in this manner Crony manages to come in for a good dinner every day of his life. Call on him for a song, and he'll give you, what he calls, a free translation of a Latin ode, by old Walter de Mapes, Archdeacon of Oxford in the eleventh century, a true _gourmands_ prayer--

1 Mihi est propositum in taberna mon.'
I'll try and hum you Crony's English version of the
CANTILENA.

'I'll in a tavern end my days, midst boon companions merry,
Place at my lips a lusty flask replete with sparkling sherry,
That angels, hov'ring round, may cry, when I lie dead as door-nail,
'Rise, genial deacon, rise, and drink of the well of life eternal.'

*****

~216~~
'Various implements belong to ev'ry occupation;
Give me an haunch of venison--and a fig for inspiration!
Verses and odes without good cheer, I never could indite 'em;
Sure he who meagre, days devised is d-----d ad infinitum!

*****

'Mysteries and prophetic truths, I never could unfold 'em
Without a flagon of good wine and a slice of cold ham;
But when I've drained my liquor out, and eat what's in the dish up,
Though I am but an arch-deacon, I can preach like an arch-
bishop.'"

"A good orthodox ode," said Transit, "and admirably suited to the performer, who, after all, it must be allowed, is a very entertaining fellow, and well worthy of his dinner, from the additional amusement he affords. I remember meeting him in company with the late Lord Coleraine, the once celebrated Colonel George Hanger, when he related an anecdote of the humorist, which his lordship freely admitted to be founded on fact. As I have never seen it in print, or heard it related by any one since, you shall have it instanter: It is well known that our present laughter-loving monarch was, in earlier years, often surrounded, when in private, by a coruscation of wit and talent, which included not only the most distinguished persons in the state, but also some celebrated bon vivants and amateur vocalists, among whom the names of the Duke of Orleans, Earl of Derby, Charles James Fox, Richard Brinsley Sheridan, the facetious poet laureat to the celebrated Beefsteak club, Tom Hewardine, Sir John Moore, Mr Brownlow, Captain Thompson, Bate Dudley, Captain Morris, and Colonel George Hanger, formed the most conspicuous characters at the princely anacreontic board. But

'Who would be grave--when wine can save
The heaviest soul from thinking,
And magic grapes give angel's shapes
To every girl we're drinking!'

~217~~ It was on one of these festive occasions, when whim, and wit, and sparkling wine combined to render the festive scene the 'Feast of reason and the flow of soul,' that the Prince of Wales invited himself and his brother, the Duke of York, to dine with George Hanger. An honour so unlooked for, and one for which George was so little prepared (as he then resided in obscure lodgings near Soho-square), quite overpowered the Colonel, who, however, quickly recovering his surprise, assured his royal highness of the very high sense he entertained of the honour intended him, but lamented it was not in his power to receive him, and his illustrious brother, in a manner suitable to their royal dignity. 'You only wish to save your viands, George,' said the prince: 'we shall certainly dine with you on the day appointed; and whether you reside on the first floor or the third, never mind--the feast will not be the less agreeable from the altitude of the apartment, or the plainness of the repast.' Thus encouraged, George was determined to indulge in a joke with his royal visitors. On the appointed day, the prince and duke arrived, and were shown up stairs to George's apartments, on the second floor, where a very tasteful banquet was set out, but more distinguished by neatness than splendour: after keeping his illustrious guests waiting a considerable period beyond the time agreed on, by way of sharpening their appetites, the prince good-humouredly inquired what he meant to give them for dinner?' Only one dish,' said George; 'but that one will, I flatter myself, be a novelty to my royal guests, and prove highly palatable.' 'And what may that be?' said the prince. 'The wing of a wool-bird,' replied the facetious colonel. It was in vain the prince and duke conjectured what this strange title could import, when George appeared before them with a tremendous large red baking dish, ~218~~ smoking hot, in which was supported a fine well-browned shoulder of mutton, dropping its rich gravy over some crisp potatoes. The prince and his brother enjoyed the joke amazingly, and they have since been heard to declare, they never ate a heartier meal in their life, or one (from its novelty to them in the state in which it was served up), which they have relished more. George had, however, reserved a _bonne bouche_, in a superb dessert and most exquisite wines, for which the prince had heard he was famous, and which was, perhaps, the principal incitement to the honour conferred."

After a night spent in the utmost hilarity, heightened by the vivacity and good-humour of my associates, to which might be added, the full gratification of my prevailing _penchant_ for the observance of character, we were on the point of departing, when Transit, ever on the alert in search of variety, observed a figure whom (in his phrase) he had long wished to book; in a few moments a sketch of this eccentric personage was before us. "That is the greatest original we have yet seen," said our friend Bob: "he is now in the honourable situation of croupier to one of the most notorious hells in the metropolis. This poor devil was once a master tailor of some respectability, until getting connected with a gang of sharpers, he was eventually fleeced of all his little property: his good-natured qualifications, and the harmless pleasantries with which he abounds, pointed him out as a very proper person to act as a confederate to the more wealthy legs; from a pigeon he became a bird of prey, was enlisted into the corps, and regularly initiated into all the diabolical mysteries of the black art. For some time he figured as a decoy upon the town, dressed in the first style of fashion, and driving an unusually fine horse and elegant Stanhope, until a circumstance, arising out of a ~219~~ joke played off upon him by his companions, when in a state of intoxication, made him so notorious, that his usefulness in that situation was entirely frustrated, and, consequently, he has since been employed within doors, in the more sacred mysteries of the Greek temple. The gentleman I mean is yonder, with the Joliffe tile and sharp indented countenance: his real name is B------; but he has now obtained the humorous cognomen of 'The subject' from having been, while in a state of inebriety, half stripped, put into a sack, and in this manner conveyed to the door of Mr. Brooks, the celebrated anatomist in Blenheim-street, by a hackney night-coachman, who was known to the party as the resurrection Jarvey. On his being deposited in this state at the lecturer's door, by honest Jehu, who offered him for sale, the surgeon proceeded to examine his subject, when, untying the sack, he discovered the man was breathing: 'Why, you scoundrel,' said the irritable anatomist, 'the man's not dead.' 'Not dead!' re-echoed coachee, laughing at the joke, 'Why, then, kill him when you want him!' The consequence of this frolic had, however, nearly proved more serious than the projectors anticipated: the anatomist, suspecting it was some trick to enter his house for burglarious purposes, gave the alarm, when Jarvey made his escape; but poor B------was secured, and conveyed the next morning to Marlborough-street, where it required all the ingenuity of a celebrated Old Bailey solicitor to prevent his being committed for the attempt to rob a bonehouse."

After this anecdote, we all agreed to separate. Transit would fain have led us to the Covent-garden finish, which he describes as being unusually rich in character; but this was deferred until another night, when I shall introduce you to some new acquaintances.--Adieu. Lady Mary Oldstyle and the D'Almaine family are off to-morrow for Brighton, from which place expect some few descriptive sketches.

Horatio Heartly.

THE SPREAD,{1} OR WINE PARTY AT BRAZEN-NOSE.

~220~~

"Hear, Momus, hoar! blithe sprite, whose dimpling cheek
Of quips, and cranks ironic, seems to speak,
Who lovest learned victims, and whose shrine
Groans with the weight of victims asinine.
Nod with assent! thy lemon juice infuse!
Though of male sex, I woo thee for a Muse."

_A College Wine Party described--Singular Whim of Horace
Eglantine--Meeting of the Oxford Crackademonians--Sketches
of eccentric Characters, drawn from the Life--The Doctor's
Daughter--An old Song--A Round of Sculls--Epitaphs on the
Living and the Dead--Tom Tick, a College Tale--The Voyagers
--Notes and Anecdotes._

A college wine party I could very well conceive from the specimen I had already of my companion's frolicsome humours, was not unlikely to produce some departure from college rules which might eventually involve me in _rustication, fine_, or _imposition_. To avoid it was impossible; it was the first invitation of an early friend, and must be obeyed. The anticipation of a bilious head-ache on the morrow, or perhaps a first appearance before, or lecture from, the vice-chancellor, principal, or proctor, made me somewhat tardy in my appearance at the _spread_. The butler was just marching a second

1 A spread. A wine party of from thirty to one hundred and
twenty persons. The party who gives the spread generally
invites all the under-graduates he is acquainted with; a
dessert is ordered either from Jubber's, or Sadler's, for
the number invited, for which he is charged at per head.

~221~~ reinforcement of _black men, or heavy artillery_ from the college magazine, across the quadrangle, for the use of the dignitaries' table; when I, a poor solitary _freshman_, advanced with sentimental awe and fearful stride beneath the arched entrance of Brazen-nose. Where Eglantine's rooms were situated I had no means of knowing, his card supplying only the name of his college; to make some inquiry would be necessary, but of whom, not a creature but what appeared much too busily employed, as they ran to and fro laden with wine and viands, to answer the interrogatories of a stranger. I was on the point of retreating to obtain the requisite information from the waiter at the Mitre, when old Mark Supple made his appearance, with "Your servant, sir: I have been in search of you at your inn, by command of Mr. Eglantine, _take notice_--who with a large party of friends are waiting your company to a _spread_." "A large party, Mark?" said I, suspecting there was some secret drama in rehearsal, in which I was to play a principal part. "A very large party, sir, and a very extraordinary one too, _take notice_--such a collection as I never saw before within the walls of a college--living curiosities, _take notice_--all the _comicals_ of Oxford brought together,{2} and this 2 This adventure, strange as it may appear, actually occurred a short time since, when Mr. J*****n of Brazen-nose invited the characters here named to an entertainment in the College. Sir Richard Steele, when on a visit to Edinburgh, indulged in a similar freak: he made a splendid feast, and whilst the servants were wondering for what great personages it was intended, he sent them into the streets, to collect all the eccentrics, beggars, and poor people, that chance might throw in their way, and invite them to his house. A pretty large party being mustered, they were well plied with whiskey-punch and wine; when, forgetting their cares, and free from all restraint, they gave loose to every peculiarity of their respective characters. When the entertainment was over, Sir Richard declared, that besides the pleasure of filling so many hungry bellies, and enjoying an hour of rich amusement, he had gleaned from them humour enough to form a good comedy, or at least a farce.

THE SPREAD, OR WINE PARTY AT BRAZEN-NOSE 223

is what Mr. Eglantine calls his _museum of character_, but which I should call a _regiment of caricatures, take notice_--but I heard him say, that he had invited them on purpose to surprise you; that he knew you was fond of eccentricity, and that he thought he had prepared a great treat. I only wish he may get rid of them as easily as he brought them there, for if the bull-dogs should gain scent of them there would be a pretty row, _take notice_." Mark's information, instead of producing the alarm he evidently anticipated, had completely dispelled all previous fears, and operated like the prologue to a rich comedy, from which I expected to derive considerable merriment: following, therefore, my conductor up one flight of stairs on the opposite side of the space from which I had entered, I found myself at the closed _oak_ of my friend. "Mr. Eglantine is giving them a _chaunt_" said Mark, who had applied his ear to the key-hole of the door: "we must wait till the song is over, or you will be fined in a double bumper of _bishop_, for interrupting the _stave, take notice_." Curiosity prompted me to follow Mark's example, when I overheard Horace chanting part of an old satirical ballad on John Wilkes, to the tune of the Dragon of Wantley; commencing with--

And ballads I have heard rehearsed By harmonists itinerant, Who modern worthies celebrate, Yet scarcely make a dinner on't. Some of whom sprang from noble race, And some were in a pig-sty born, Dependent upon royal grace Or triple tree of Tyburn.

CHORUS. John Wilkes he was for Middlesex, They chose him knight of the shire: He made a fool of alderman Bull, And call'd parson Home a liar.

~224~~ The moment silence was obtained, old Mark gave three distinct knocks at the door, when Horace himself appeared, and we were immediately admitted to the temple of the Muses; where, seated round a long table, appeared a variety of characters that would have rivalled (from description) the Beggars' Club in St. Giles's--the Covent-Garden Finish--or the once celebrated Peep o' day boys in Fleet-lane. At the upper end of the table were Tom Echo and Bob Transit, the first smoking his cigar, the second sketching the portraits of the motley group around him on the back of his address cards; at the lower end of the room, on each side of the chair from which Eglantine had just risen to welcome me, sat little Dick Gradus, looking as knowing as an Old Bailey counsel dissecting a burglary case, and the honourable Lillyman Lionise, the Eton _exquisite_, looking as delicate and frightened as if his whole system of ethics was likely to be revolutionized by this night's entertainment. To such a society a formal introduction was of course deemed essential; and this favour Horace undertook by recommending me to the particular notice of the _crackademonians_ (as he was pleased to designate the elegant assemblage by whom we were then surrounded), in the following oration: "Most noble _cracks_, and worthy cousin _trumps_--permit me to introduce a brother of the _togati, fresh_ as a new-blown rose, and innocent as the lilies of St. Clement's. Be unto him, as ye have been to all gownsmen from the beginning, ever ready to promote his wishes, whether for spree or sport, in term or out of term--against the _Inquisition_ and their _bull-dogs_--the town _raff_ and the _bargees_--well _blunted or stiver cramped_--against _dun or don--nob or big wig_--so may you never want a bumper of _bishop_: and thus do I commend him to your merry keeping." "Full charges, boys," said Echo, "fill up their glasses, Count Dennett{3}; 3 Count Dennett, hair-dresser at Corpus and Oriel Colleges, a very eccentric man, who has saved considerable property; celebrated for making bishops' wigs, playing at cribbage, and psalm-singing.

~225~~Here's Brother Blackmantle of Brazen-nose." "A speech, a speech!" vociferated all the party. "Yes, worthy brother _cracks_," replied I, "you shall have a speech, the very acme of oratory; a brief speech, composed by no less a personage than the great Lexicographer himself, and always used by him on such occasions at the club in Ivy-lane. Here's all your healths, and _Esto perpetua_." "Bravo!" said Eglantine;" the boy improves. Now a toast, a university lass--come, boys, The Doctor's Daughter; and then a song from Crotchet C--ss."{4}

BURTON ALE.
AN ANCIENT OXFORD DITTY.

Of all the belles who Christ Church bless,
None's like the doctor's daughter{5};
Who hates affected squeamishness
Almost as much as water.
Unlike your modern dames, afraid
Of Bacchus's caresses;
She far exceeds the stoutest maid
Of excellent queen Bess's.

Hers were the days, says she, good lack,
The days to drink and munch in;
When butts of Burton, tuns of sack,
Wash'd down an ox for luncheon.
Confound your _nimpy-pimpy_ lass,
Who faints and fumes at liquor;
Give me the girl that takes her glass
Like Moses and the vicar.

4 Mr. C--ss, otherwise Crotchet C--ss, bachelor of music,
and organist of Christ Church College, St. John's College,
and St. Mary's Church. An excellent musician, and a jolly
companion: he published, some time since, a volume of
chants.

5 A once celebrated university toast, with whose
eccentricities we could fill a volume; but having received
an intimation that it would be unpleasant to the lady's
feelings, we gallantly forbear.

~226~~

True emblem of immortal ale,
So famed in British lingo;
Stout, beady, and a little _stale_--
Long live the Burton stingo!

"A vulgar ditty, by my faith," said the exquisite, "in the true English style, all _fol de rol_, and a vile chorus to split the tympanum of one's auricular organs: do, for heaven's sake, Echo, let us have some _divertissement_ of a less boisterous character." "Agreed," said Eglantine, winking at Echo; "we'll have a _round of sculls_. Every man shall sing a song, write a poetical epitaph on his right hand companion, or drink off a double dose of rum booze."{6} "Then I shall be confoundedly _cut_," said Dick Gradus, "for I never yet could chant a stave or make a couplet in my life." "And I protest against a practice," said Lionise, "that has a tendency to trifle with one's _transitory tortures_." "No appeal from the chair," said Eglantine: "another bumper, boys; here's The Fair _Nuns of St. Clement's_." "To which I beg leave to add," said Echo, "by way of rider, their favourite pursuit, _The Study of the Fathers_." By the time these toasts had been duly honoured, some of the party displayed symptoms of being _moderately cut_, when Echo commenced by reciting his epitaph on his next friend, Bob Transit:--

Here rests a wag, whose pencil drew
Life's characters of varied hue,
Bob Transit--famed in humour's sphere
For many a transitory year.
Though dead, still in the "English Spy"
He'll live for ever to the eye.
Here uncle White{7} reclines in peace,
Secure from nephew and from niece.

6 Rum booze--Flip made of white or port wine, the yolks of
eggs, sugar and nutmeg.

7 Uncle White, a venerable bed-maker of All Souls' College,
eighty-three years of age; has been in the service of the
college nearly seventy years: is always dressed in black,
and wears very largo silver knee and shoe-buckles; his hair,
which is milk-white, is in general tastefully curled: he is
known "to, and called uncle by, every inhabitant of the
university, and obtained the cog-nomen from his having an
incredible number of nephews and nieces in Oxford. In
appearance he somewhat resembles a clergyman of the old
school.

~227~~

Of All-Souls' he, alive or dead;
Of milk-white name, the milk-white head.
By Uncle White.
Here lies Billy Chadwell,{8}
Who perform'd the duties of a dad well.

BY BILLY CHADWELL.
Ye maggots, now's your time to crow:
Old Boggy Hastings{9} rests below.

BY BOGGY HASTINGS.
A grosser man ne'er mix'd with stones
Than lies beneath--'Tis Figgy Jones.{10}

BY FIGGY JONES.
Here Marquis Wickens{11} lies incrust,
In clay-cold consecrated dust:
No more he'll brew, or pastry bake;
His sun is set--himself a cake.

8 Billy Chadwell, of psalm-singing notoriety, since dead;
would imitate syncope so admirably, as to deceive a whole
room full of company--in an instant he would become pale,
motionless, and ghastly as death; the action of his heart
has even appeared to be diminished: his sham fits, if
possible, exceeded his fainting. He was very quarrelsome
when in his cups; and when he had aggravated any one to the
utmost, to save himself from a severe beating would
apparently fall into a most dreadful fit, which never failed
to disarm his adversary of his rage, and to excite the
compassion of every by-stander.

9 Old Boggy Hastings supplies members of the university and
college servants who are anglers with worms and maggots.

10 Tommy J***s, alias Figgy Jones, an opulent grocer in the
High-street, and a common-councilman in high favour with the
lower orders of the freemen; a sporting character.

11 Marquis Wickens formerly a confectioner, and now a
common brewer. He accumulated considerable property as a
confectioner, from placing his daughters, who were pretty
genteel girls, behind his counter, where they attracted a
great many gownsmen to the shop. No tradesman ever gained a
fortune more rapidly than this man: as soon as he found
himself inde-pendent of the university, he gave up his shop,
bought the Sun Inn, built a brewhouse, and is now gaining as
much money by selling beer as he formerly did by
confectionery.

~228~~

BY MARQUIS WICKENS.
Ye _roues_ all, be sad and mute;
Who now shall cut the stylish suit?
_Buck_ Sheffield's{12 }gone--Ye Oxford men,
Where shall ye meet his like again?

BY BUCK SHEFFIELD.
MacLean{13} or _Tackle_, which you will,
In quiet sleeps beneath this hill.
Ye anglers, bend with one accord;
The stranger is no more abroad.