Chapter XXIII: Introduction: To the Second Volume (7)

The commodore's liberality is proverbial; he had sold his old yacht, the Falcon, and the new vessel was not likely to be launched this season, yet he would not forego the pleasure of a grand fete, and as it could not be given on board his own ship, according to annual custom, he seized upon this opportunity of the royal visit to unite Loyalty and Friendship under one banner, and it must be recorded, that he displayed an excellence of arrangement which left no wish ungratified. An excursion round the island, sailing in a westerly direction, is one of most delightful amusement to a lover of the picturesque; the circuit is nearly eighty miles, every where presenting new features of the most beautiful variety and romantic scenery, a voyage we made in the Rover in about eight hours. Clearing Sconce Point, which is the first object worthy notice from Cowes, you perceive the cottage, battery, and residence of Captain Farrington on the rise of the hill, and beyond are Gurnet and Harness Bays closely succeeding one another, the shores above being well diversified with foliage and richly cultivated grounds. From this station the coast gradually sinks towards Newtown River, where the luxuriant woods of Swainton are perceived rising in the distance, crowned by ~175~~Shalfleet church and a rich country as far as Calbourne, the landscape bounded by a range of downs which stretch to the extremity of the island. The coast at Hamsted, the farm estate of John Nash, Esq. presents a very bold outline, and approaching Yarmouth, which has all the appearance of an ancient French fort, the view of the opposite point, called Norton, is very picturesque, presenting a well-wooded promontory, adorned with numerous elegant residences; from this spot the coast begins to assume a very bold, but sterile aspect, composed of steep rugged slopes, and dull-coloured earthy cliffs, till the attention of the voyager is suddenly arrested by the first view of the Needle rocks, situate at the termination of a noble promontory called Freshwater cliffs, which extend along a line of nearly three miles, and at a part called Mainbench are six hundred feet above the sea level, in some places perpendicular, and in others overhanging the ocean in a most terrific manner; at the extreme point, or Needles, is the light-house, where the view of the bays and cliffs beneath is beyond description awfully sublime, and the precipices being covered with myriads of sea-fowl of all description, who breed in the crannies of the rocks, if called into action by the report of a gun fill the air with screams and cries of most appalling import; the grandeur of the scene being much increased by the singularly majestic appearance of the Needle rocks, rearing their craggy heads above the ocean, and giving an awful impression of the storms and convulsions which must have shaken and devoured this once enormous mass. Their present form bears no resemblance to their name, which was derived from a spiral rock, about one hundred and twenty feet high, that fell in the year 1764, and left the present fragments of its grandeur to moulder away, like the base of some proud column of antiquity. On the opposite coast is Hurst Castle, a circular fort, built by Henry ~176~~the Eighth; and on the north side of the promontory is Alum Bay, the most beautiful and unique feature of the sea cliffs of Albion. For about a quarter of a mile from the Needles the precipice is one entire glare of white chalk, which curves round to, and is joined by a most extraordinary mixture of vertical strata, composed of coloured sands and ocherous earths blending into every variety of tint, and so vivid and beautiful in colour, that they have been not unfrequently compared to the prismatic hues of the rainbow. It was on this spot the Fomone, a frigate of fifty guns, returning home, after an absence of three years, with some Persian princes on board, in June, 1811, struck upon the rocks and went to pieces: the appearance of a wreck, in such an extraordinary situation, must have formed a combination of grand materials for the painter, that would be truly sublime. At Saint Catherine's, in the cliffs, is the gloomy ravine called Blackgang Chine, which should be visited by the traveller at sunset, when the depth of shade materially increases the savage grandeur of its stupendous and terrific effect. Tradition reports, that the awful chasm beneath was formerly the retreat of a gang of pirates, from which it derived its name. The total absence of vegetation, and the dusky hue of the soil, combined with the obvious appearance of constant decay, the dismembered fragments, and the streamlet to which it owes its origin, falling perpendicularly over a ledge of hard rock from above seventy feet high, producing a wild echo in the cavity beneath, all conspire to render it the most striking and astonishing of Nature's wildest works. The view off the Sand Rock presents the tasteful marine villas of Sir Willoughby Gordon and Mrs. Arnold, whose well-cultivated grounds and rich plantations reach down to the sea shore. Saint Lawrence brings to view the romantic cottage of Lord Yarborough, succeeded by Steep Hill, the lovely retreat of the late Earl Dysart; ~177~~the romantic flank of Saint Boniface Down, and in the distance the fairy land of Bonchurch, whose enchanting prospects and picturesque scenery have so often called forth the varied powers of the painter and the poet, where sportive nature, clothed in her gayest vest, presents a diversified landscape, abounding with all the delightful combinations of rural scenery, of rich groves, and dells, and meads of green, and rocks, and rising grounds; streams edged with osiers, and the lowing herd spread over the luxuriant land. As you approach East End, you perceive an extensive scene of devastation, caused by the frequent landslips near to Luccombe Chine, and the romantic chasm of Shanklin, from which spot Sandown comes next in view, and sailing under the towering Culver cliffs we arrive at the eastern extremity of the island. At Bimbridge a very dangerous ledge spreads out into the sea, and gaining Brading Haven the old church tower of Saint Helen's proclaims you are fast gaining upon that delightful watering-place, the town of Ryde, whose picturesque pier, shooting forth into the ocean, and covered with groups of elegant visitors, forms an object of the most pleasing description. From this point the whole line of coast to Cowes wears a rich and highly-cultivated appearance, being divided into wood, arable, and pasture lands, diversified by the villas of Earl Spencer, Mr. G. Player, and Mr. Fleming, when, having passed Wooten Creek, the next object is Norris Castle; and now, having cleared the point, you are once more landed in safety at the Vine Key, and my old friend, Mrs. Harrington, whose pleasant countenance, obliging manners, and good accommodation, are the universal theme of every traveller's praise, has already made her best curtsy to welcome you back to Cowes.

The regatta was, indeed, a glorious scene, when the harbour was literally filled with a forest of masts and streamers, the vessels of the Royal Yacht ~178~~Club spread forth their milk white canvas to the gale, many of those who were riding at anchor being decorated from head to stem, over-mast, with the signal colours of most of the squadron and the ensigns of the different nations. On the shore, and round the castle battery, the congregated groups of lovely females traversed to and fro, and the witchery of blight eyes and beauteous faces upon the manly hearts of the sons of Neptune must have been magically triumphant. The Pearl beat the Arrow, and the Julia the Liberty,--thus equalizing the victory between the contending parties. The procession of the pilot boats, about forty in number, was a very animated scene; and in the sailing match of the succeeding day, our little craft, the Rover, came in second, and received the awarded prize. The race ball at East Cowes gave the young and fair another opportunity of riveting their suitors' chains, and the revels of Terpsichore were kept up with spirit until the streaking blush of golden morn shone through the dusky veil which Hecate spreads around the couch of drowsy night. But the day of parting was at hand; the last amusement of the time was a match made between Captain Lyon and a Mr. Davey, of London, to sail their respective yachts, the Queen Mab and the Don Giovanni, upon the challenge of the last mentioned, a stipulated distance, for a sum of two hundred guineas--an affair which did not, to use a sporting phrase, _come off well_, for the Don most ungallantly refused to meet his fair opponent; and being wofully depressed in spirits, either from apprehension of defeat, or sea sickness, or some such fresh water fears, the little Queen was compelled to sail over the course alone to claim the reward of her victory.

And now the sports of the season being brought to a conclusion, and the rough note of old Boreas and the angry groanings of Father Neptune giving token of approaching storms, I bade farewell to Vectis, my ~179~~friend Horace transporting me in his yacht to Southampton Water. Reader, if I should appear somewhat prolix in my descriptions, take a tour yourself to the island, visit the delightful scenery with which it abounds, participate in the aquatic excursions of the place, and meet, as I have done, with social friends, and kind hearts, and lovely forms, and your own delightful feelings will be my excuse for extending my notice somewhat beyond my usual sketchy style.

FAREWELL TO VECTIS.

Blest isle, fare thee well! land of pleasure and peace,
May the beaux and the belles on thy shores still increase:
How oft shall my spirit, by absence opprest,
Revisit thy scenes, and in fancy be blest,
In the magic of slumber still sport on thy wave,
And dream of delights that I waken to crave.
Farewell, merry hearts! fare ye well, social friends!
Adieu! see the Rover her canvas unbends;
Land of all that is lovely for painting or verse,
Farewell! ere in distance thy beauties disperse,
Now Calshot is passed, now receding from view,
Once more, happy Vectis, a long, last adieu.

PORTSMOUTH IN TIME OF PEACE.

~180~~

Where now are the frolicsome care-killing souls,
With their girls and their fiddlers, their dances and bowls?
Where now are the blue jackets, once on our shore
The promoters of merriment, spending their store?
Where now are our tars in these dull piping times?
Laid up like old hulks, or enlisted in climes
Where the struggle for liberty calls on the brave,
The Peruvians, the Greeks, or Brazilians to save
From the yoke of oppression--there, Britons are found
Dealing death and destruction to tyrants around;
For wherever our tars rear the banner of fame,
They are still the victorious sons of the main.

A Trip to Portsmouth on board the Medina Steam-Boat--The
Change from War to Peace--Its Consequences--The Portsmouth
Greys--The Man of War's Man--Tom Tackle and his Shipmate--
Lamentation of a Tar--The Hero Cochrane--An old
Acquaintance--Reminiscences of the past--Sketches of Point-
Street and Gosport Beach--Naval Anecdotes--"A Man's like a
Ship on the Ocean of Life."

"Bear a hand, old fellow!" said Horace Eglantine one morning, coming down the companion hatchway of the Rover: "if you have any mind for a land-cruise, let us make Portsmouth to-day on board the steamer, while our yacht goes up the harbour to get her copper polished and her rigging overhauled." In earlier days, while yet the light-heartedness of youth ~181~~and active curiosity excited my boyish spirit, I had visited Portsmouth, and the recollection of the scenes I then witnessed was still fresh upon my memory. The olive-branch of peace now waved over the land of my fathers; and while the internal state of the country, benefited by its healing balm, flourished, revived, invigorated and prosperous, Portsmouth and Gosport, and such like sea-ports, were almost deserted, and the active bustle and variety which but now reigned among their inhabitants had given way to desolation and abandonment: at least such was the account I had received from recent visitors. I was, therefore, anxious from observation to compare the present with the past; and, with this view, readily met the invitation of my friend Horace Eglantine. The voyage from Cowes to Portsmouth on board the steam-boat, performed, as it now is, with certainty, in about an hour and a half, is a delightful excursion; and the appearance of the entrance to the harbour from sea, a most picturesque and imposing scene. The fortifications, which are considered the most complete in the world, stretching from east to west, on either side command the sea far as the cannons' power can reach. Nor is the harbour less attractive, flanked on each side by the towns of Gosport and Portsmouth, and filled with every description of vessel from the flag-ship of England's immortal hero, Nelson, which is here moored in the centre, a monument of past glory, to the small craft of the trader, and the more humble ferry-boat of the incessant applicant, who plys the passenger with his eternal note of "Common Hard, your honour."

One of my companions on board the Medina was an old man of war's man, whose visage, something of the colour and hardness of dried salmon, sufficiently indicated that the possessor had weathered many a trying gale, and was familiar with all the vicissitudes of the mighty deep. With the habitual roughness of ~182~~his manners was combined a singular degree of intelligence, and he evinced a disposition to be communicative, of which I found it very agreeable to avail myself. On approaching the harbour, my attention was arrested by the sight of a number of boats rowed by men arrayed in a grotesque uniform of speckled jackets, whose freights, to judge from appearances, must have been of no common weight, as the rowers seemed compelled to use a degree of exertion little inferior to that employed by galley-slaves. I inquired of my nautical Mentor who these men were, and in what description of service they were occupied. "Them, master," replied he, releasing the quid from his mouth, and looking with his weather-eye unutterable things; "they are the _Portsmouth Greys_." My countenance spoke plainly enough that this reply had by no means made me _au fait_ to the subject of my question, and my informant accordingly proceeded--"Shiver my timbers, mate, they are as rum a set, them boat's crews, as ever pulled an oar--chaps as the public keeps out of their own pocket for the public good; and it's been but just a slip, as one may say, between the cup and the lip, as has saved a good many on 'em from being run up to the yard-arm. Some on 'em forgot to return things as they _found_ rather too easy, and some, instead of writing their own name, _by mistake_ wrote somebody's else's; so government sent 'em here, at its own charge, to finish their _edication_. You see the _floating academy_ as is kept a purpose for 'em," said he, pointing to the receiving-hulk for the convicts at this station, which was lying in the harbour: "them as is rowing in the boats," added the talkative seaman, "has been a getting stones, and ballast, and such like, for the repairs of the harbour; they does all the rough and dirty jobs as is to be done about the works and place--indeed, we calls 'em the _Port Admiral's skippers_." I now fully understood the import of the term _Portsmouth Greys_, which had before been an enigma to ~183~~me; and comprehended that the unhappy beings before me were of

The ill-fated children of suff'ring and sin,
With conscience reproaching and sorrow within;
Bosoms that mis'ry and guilt could not sever,
Hearts that were blighted and broken for ever:
Where each, to some vice or vile passion a slave,
Shared the wreck of the mind, and the spirit's young grave.
Whose brief hist'ry of life, ere attain'd to its prime,
Unfolded a volume of madness and crime,
Such as leaves on the forehead of manhood a stain
Which tears over shed seek to blot out in vain;
A stain which as long as existence will last,
Embitt'ring the future with thoughts of the past.

I might have indulged much longer in these reflections, but my musing mood was interrupted by the Medina reaching her destination, and we disembarked safely at Portsmouth Point.

On landing, the worthy veteran, who had, by his confabulation during the voyage, claimed, in his own opinion, a right of becoming my companion for a time, a privilege which, in such a scene, and at such a place, it will easily be believed I was not averse from granting him, proceeded along with me _carpere iter comites parati_, up Point Street, and at one of the turnings my friend made a sudden stop. "My eyes!" he exclaimed, "may I perish, but that is my old messmate, Tom Tackle. Many's the can of flip we've scuttled while on board the _Leander_ frigate together; and when we were obliged to part convoy and go on board different ships, there was above a little matter of brine about both our eyes." At this moment Tom Tackle came up with us: the warmth of affection with which his old shipmate had spoken of him had interested me not a little in his favour, and his mutilated frame spoke volumes in behalf of the gallantry he had displayed in the service of his country. One eye was entirely ~184~~lost; one coat-sleeve hung armless by his side; and one vanished leg had its place superseded by a wooden substitute. I gazed upon the "unfortunate brave" with mingled pity and veneration; yet, so true is the observation of the ancient,

"_Res sunt humanae flobilo ludibrium_"

That is, human feelings and affairs are a singular compound of the ludicrous and the lamentable, that I could not avoid giving way to my mercurial disposition, and congratulating my fellow-voyager on the ease with which he had recognized his old comrade by his present remaining half. "Lord help your honour!" said he, "a seaman's weather-gauge is made for squalls--foul weather or fair--in stays or out of trim--sailing all right before the wind, or coming up under jury-masts; he's no tar that cannot make out an old friend at a cable's length, and bring to without waiting for signals of distress. Shiver my timbers, if I should not know my old messmate here while there's a timber rib left in his hulk, or a shoulder-boom to hang a blue jacket on. But, my toplights, Tom!" continued he, "where's all the girls, and the tiddlers, and the Jews, and bumboat-women that used to crowd all sail to pick up a spare hand ashore? Not a shark have I seen in the harbour, and all the old grog-shops with their foul-weather battens up and colours half-mast." "All in mourning for Mr. Nap, shipmate," said Tom; "we've had no fun here since they cooped him up on board the Bellerophon, and stowed him away at St. Helena. All the Jews have cut and run, and all the bumboat-women retired upon their fortunes; the poor landlords are most of them in the bilboes at Winchester: and as for a pretty girl--whew!--not such an article to be had at Point now, either for love or money: and all this comes of the peace--shiver my odd forelight! mate, if it lasts much longer, it will be the ruin of the navy.

~185~~~How I long to hear the sound of the boatswain's whistle once more! 'Up hammocks, boys--clear the decks, and prepare for action! 'that's the way to live and be merry; then the music of a good broadside pouring into an enemy's under-works, and cutting her slap in two between wind and water--that's glory, my christian! May I never taste grog again, if we are not all ruined by the peace. There's only one fighting fellow left of the old stock of commanders, and they have turned him out of the navy lest he should infect the psalm-singers. Look out a-head there, shipmate; d'ye see that fine frigate, the Peranga, now lying oft' Spithead, and can you ever forget Basque Roads and the gallant Cochrane? I just got a glimpse of his figure head t'other morning, coming up Point here; so I hauled to and threw my shattered hulk slap across his headway, lowering my top-gallants as I passed round under his bows. 'Officer,' said he, 'you and I should know one another, methinks.' 'Success attend your honour,' said I; 'do you remember your master-gunner when you captured the Spanish galleon, who carried away a spar or two in the action?' 'What, Tom Tackier said he: 'Heaven help thee, lad! I'd give the bounty of a good boat's crew if I could put you into sailing-trim and commission again; but here, officer, is something to drink to old acquaintance with, and if you can find your way on board the Peranga to-morrow, I'll take care they don't throw you over the ship's side before you have had a skinfull of grog: 'so seizing fast hold of my single tin with both his grappling-irons, I thought he would have shook it out of the goose-neck at parting; and when I went on board next day, he treated me like a port-admiral, and sent me on shore with every cranny well-filled, from my beef-tub to my grog-bucket, and put a little more of the right sort o' stuff" in my jacket pockets to pay harbour dues with. That's the commander for me! And now I hear, after having taken ~186~~and destroyed all the Spanish king's navy, he's off to give the Grand Signor a taste of his quality. My forelights! how I should like to see him with his double rows of grinders wide open, bearing down upon a whole fleet of Mussulmen--there'd be weeping, and wailing, and gnashing o' teeth among the Turks! I wouldn't give my wooden pin for the whole of the Grand Sultan's flotilla. But come, shipmate, may I never want 'bacca, if we don't drink his health, and that 'ere gemman you've taken in tow shall join us, if he likes." I was too much amused to desire to part company just yet, and the good-humoured tars perceiving my bent, linked themselves to each arm, and in this way, laughing at the curiosity we provoked, did our party reach the middle of Point-street, and brought ourselves to anchor under the head of old Admiral Benbow, where Tom assured us we should be supplied with the best of grog and ship-stores of the first quality. Horace had proceeded to escort some ladies, whom he met with on board the steamboat, to the house of a friend in the High-street, where I had appointed to meet him in the space of an hour. Sitting myself down therefore with my two jovial associates, I determined to humour the frolic which had brought me into the society of such eccentric characters. "Shiver my timbers! Jem," said the one-legged mariner, "but you never make any inquiries after Betsy Bluff, among your other old friends. It's true, the wench has got spliced again, to be sure; but then, you know, she waited three years, and had the log-books overhauled first." "Ay, ay, Tom, so they say she did; but I never believed 'em: howsomedever, that wasn't the worst of it; for having got my will and my power in her possession, she drew all my pay and prize-money, and when at last I got home from an enemy's keeping, I had not a shot left in the locker to keep myself. But the mischief did not end even there, for she disgraced me, ~187~~and the British flag, by marrying a half-starved tailor, and setting him up in the Sally port with the money that I had been fighting the enemies of my country for. May I never get groggy again, if I couldn't have forgiven her freely if she'd taken some honest-hearted fellow, like yourself, in tow, who had got disabled in the service, or consorted with a true man of war's man, all right and tight; but to go and lash herself alongside of such a crazy land lubber as this ninth degree of manhood--may I never taste 'bacca again if Bet's conduct is bearable! She's no wife of mine, Tom; and when I go to pieces, a wreck in this world, may I be bolted into old Belzy's caboose if she shall be a copper fastening the better for Jem Buntline!" During the recital of this story the countenance of the old tar assumed a fiery glow of honest indignation, and when he had finished the tale, his fore lights gave evident signs that his heart had been long beating about in stormy restlessness at the remembrance of his wife's unfaithfulness. "Cheer up, messmate," said Tom; "I see how the land lies. Come, fill your pipe, and I'll sing you the old stave I used to chant on Saturday nights, when we messed together on board the Leander.

A man's like a ship on the ocean of life,
The sport both of fair and foul weather,
Where storms of misfortune, and quicksands of strife,
And clouds of adversity gather.
If he steers by the compass of honour, he'll find,
No matter what latitude meets him,
A welcome in every port to his mind,
And a friend ever ready to greet him.
If love takes the helm in an amorous gale,
Of the rocks of deception beware,
Steer fairly for port, and let reason prevail,
And you're thus sure to conquer the fair.
For the Bay of Deceit keep a steady look out,
Steer clear of the shoals of distress,

~188~~

Yet ever be ready to tack and about
When the black waves of misery press.
Like a vessel, digest out in all colours, d'ye see,
Are the virtues and vices of life:
Blue and red are the symbols of friendship and glee,
White and black of ill-humour and strife.
True worth, like true honour, is born of no clime,
But known by true courage and feeling,
Where power and pity in unison chime,
And the heart is above double dealing."

"Ay, Tom, now you're on the right tack--a good song, and a jovial friend, and let the marines blubber about love and lullaby, it'll never do for the sailors. As we are overhauling old friends, do you remember Charley Capstan, the coxswain's mate of the Leander V "Shiver my timbers, but I do; and a bit of tough yarn he was, too: hard as old junk without, and soft as captain's coop meat within. Wasn't I one of the crew that convoyed him up this very street when returning from a cruise off the Straits, we heard that Charley's old uncle had slipt his cable, and left him cash enough to buy out and build a ship of his own? That was a gala, messmate! There was Charley, a little fat porpoise, as round as a nine-pounder, mounted on an eighteen gallon cask of the real Jamaica, lashed to a couple of oars, and riding astride, on his messmates' shoulders, up to the Point. Then such a jolly boat's crew attended him, rigged out with bran new slops, and shiners on their topmasts, with the Leander painted in front, and half a dozen fiddlers scraping away 'Jack's alive,' and all the girls decked out in their dancing dresses, with streamers flying about their top-gallants, and loose nettings over their breastworks--that was a gala, messmate! And didn't Charley treat all Point to the play that night, and engage the whole of the gallery cabin for his own friends' accommodation; and when the reefers in the hold turned saucy, didn't you and two or three more ~189~~drop down upon 'em, and having shook the wind out of their sails, run up the main haliards again, without working round by the gangway?" "Right, Tom, right; and don't you remember the illumination, when we stuck up ten pound of lighted candles round the rim of the gallery before the play began, and when Jane Shore was in the midst of her grief, Charley gave the signal, and away they went, like a file of marines from a double broadside, right and left, tumbling about the ears of the reefers and land lubbers in the chicken coops below? Those were the days of glory, messmate, when old Jack Junk, who had never seen a play before, took it all for right down arnest matter o' fact; and when poor Mrs. Shore came to ask charity of that false-hearted friend of hers, what was jealous of her, and fell down at the door, overcome by grief and hunger, poor Jack couldn't stand it no longer; so after suffering the brine to burst through the floodgates of his heart, till he was as blind as our chaplain to sin, he jumped up all at once, and made for the offing, blubbering as he went, 'May I be blistered, if ever I come to see such cruel stuff as this again!' Then didn't Stephen Collins, and Kelly, and Maxfield, the three managers, come upon deck, and drink success to the Leander's crew, out of a bucket of grog we had up for the purpose, and the ould mare of Portsmouth sent his compliments to us, begging us not to break our own necks or set fire to the playhouse? Another glass, Jem, to the crew of the Leander: don't you remember the ducking ould Mother Macguire, the bum-boat woman, received, for bringing paw-paw articles on board, when we came in to refit?" "May I never want 'bacca, if I shall ever forget that old she crocodile! Wasn't it her that brought that sea-dragon, Bet Bluff, on board, and persuaded me to be spliced to her? shiver her timbers for it!" "Avast there! messmate," said Tom: "when you ~190~~can't skuttle an enemy, it's best to sail right away from her hulk before she blows up and disables her conqueror. May I never get groggy, if I shall ever forget the joke between you and the old Sheenie, when you threatened to throw him overboard for selling you a dumb time-keeper. 'Blesh ma heart,' said the Jew, while his under works shook like a cutter's foresail going about, 'how could you expect de vatch to go well, ven de ship vas all in confushion?' an excuse that saved him from sailing ashore in a skuttle-bucket." "Have you weathered Gosport lately?" inquired Jem: "there used to be a little matter of joviality going forward there upon the beach in war time, but I suppose it's all calm enough now." "All ruined by the peace; and all that glorious collection of the kings and queens of England, and her admirals and heroes, which used to swing to and fro in the wind, when every house upon the beach was a grog-shop, are past, vanished, or hanging like pirates in tatters; the sound of a fiddle never reaches their ears; and the parlour-floors, where we used to dance and sing till all was blue, are now as smooth and as clean as the decks of Lord Nelson's flag ship, the Victory, which lies moored in our harbour, like a Greenwich pensioner, anchored in quiet, to drop to pieces with old age. You may fire a nine-pounder up the principal street at noon-day now and not hurt any body; and if the peace lasts much longer, horses may graze in their roads, and persons receive pensions for inhabiting the vacant houses." The period within which I had promised to join Horace Eglantine had now elapsed. It was no easy task to separate myself from my nautical friends, and the amusement they had afforded me demanded some acknowledgment in return; calling, therefore, for a full bowl of punch, we drank success to the British navy, toasted wives and sweethearts, honoured our gracious king, shook ~191~~hands at parting, like old friends, and having promised to renew my acquaintance before I left Portsmouth, I bade adieu to jolly Jem Buntline and what remained of his noble messmate, the lion-hearted Tom Tackle.

EVENING, AND IN HIGH SPIRITS.

A SCENE AT LONG'S HOTEL.

~192~~

Sketches of Character--Fashionable Notorieties--Modern
Philosophy--The Man of Genius and the Buck--"A short Life
and a merry one "--A Short Essay on--John Longs--Long Corks
--Long Bills--Long Credits--Long-winded Customers--The
Ancients and the Moderns, a Contrast by Old Crony.

Ye bucks who in manners, dress, fashion, and shiny,
So often have hail'd me as lord of your gang--
"O lend me your ears!" whilst I deign to relate
The cause of my splendour, the way to be great;
My own chequered life condescend to unfold,
And give a receipt of more value than gold;
Reveal t' ye the spot where the graces all dwell,
And point out the path like myself to excel.
--Pursuits of Fashion.

Only contrive to obtain the character of an eccentric, and you may ride the _free horse_ round the circle of your acquaintance for the remainder of your life. If my readers are not by this time fully satisfied of my peculiar claims to the appellation of an _oddity_, I have no hopes of obtaining pardon for the past whims and fancies of a volatile muse, or anticipating patronage for the future wanderings of a restless and inquisitive humorist. But my bookseller, a steady, persevering, inflexible sort of personage, whose habits of business are as rigid as a citizen of the last century, or a puritan of the Cromwell commonwealth, has lately suffered the marble muscles of his frigid countenance to unbend with a sort of mechanical ~193~~inclination to an expression of--what shall I say--lib--lib--liberality; no, no, that will never do for a bookseller--graciousness--ay, that's a better phrase for the purpose; more characteristic of his manner, and more congenial to my own feelings. Well, to be plain then, whenever a young author can pass through an interview with the headman of the firm without hearing any thing in the shape of melancholy musings, serious disappointments, large numbers on hand, doubtful speculation, and such like pleasant innuendoes, he may rest satisfied that his book is selling well, and his publisher realizing a fair proportion of profit for his adventurous spirit. I am just now enjoying that pleasant gratification, the reflection of having added to my own comforts without having detracted from the happiness of others. In short, my scheme improves with every fresh essay, and my friend Bob Transit, who has just joined me in a bottle of iced claret at Long's, has been for some minutes busily engaged in booking mine host and his exhibits; while I, under pretence of writing a letter, have been penning this introduction to a chapter on fashion and its follies, annexing thereunto a few notes of characters, that may serve to illustrate that resort of all that is exquisite and superlative in the annals of high ton. "Evening, and in High Spirits," --a scene worthy of the acknowledged talent of the artist, and full of fearful and instructive narrative for the pen of the English Spy. Seated snugly in one corner of Long's new and splendid coffee-room, we had resolved on our entering to depart early; but the society we had the good fortune to be afterwards associated with might have tempted stronger heads than those of either Bob Transit the artist, or Bernard Blackmantle the moralist.

"Waiter, bring another bottle of iced claret, and tell Long to book it to the king's lieutenant." "By the honour of my ancestry," said the Honourable Lillyman Lionise, "but I am devilishly cut already."

~194~~"You do well, mighty well, sir, to swear by the honour of your ancestors; for very few of your modern stars have a ray of that same meteoric light to illumine their own milky way."

"That flash of your wit, lieutenant, comes upon one like the electric shock of an intended insult, and I must expect you will apologize."

"Then I fear, young valiant, you will die of the disease that has killed more brave men than the last twenty years' war."

"And what is that, sir, may I ask?"

"Expectation, my jewel! I've breakfasted, dined, supped, and slept upon it for the last half century, and am not one step higher in the army list yet."

"But, lieutenant, let me observe that--that--"

"That we are both pretty nigh bosky, and should not therefore be too fastidious in our jokes over the bottle."

Enter Waiter. "The claret, gentlemen. Mr. Long's compliments, and he requests permission to assure you that it is some of the late Duke of Queensberry's choice stock, marked A one."

"Which signifies, according to Long's edition of Cocker, that we must pay double for the liqueur. Come, Lionise, fill a bumper; and let us tails of the lion toast our caput, the sovereign, the first corinthian of his day, and the most polished prince in the world."

"Tiger, Tiger,"{1} ejaculated a soft voice in the adjoining box; "ask Tom who the trumps are in the next stall, and if they are known here, tell them the Honourable Thomas Optimus fills a bumper to their last toast."

1 Since the death of the Earl of Barrymore, Tom has
succeeded to the "vacant chair" at Long's; nor is the Tiger
Mercury the only point in which he closely resembles his
great prototype.

~196~~A smart, clever-looking boy of about fifteen years of age darted forward to execute the honourable's commands; when having received the requisite information from the waiter, he approached the lieutenant and his friend, and with great politeness, but no lack of confidence, made the wishes of his master known to the _bon vivants_; the consequence was, an immediate interchange of civilities, which brought the honourable into close contact with his merry neighbours; and the result, a unanimous resolution to make a night of it.

At this moment our _tete-a-tete_ was interrupted by the appearance of old Crony, who, stanch as a well-trained pointer to the scent of game, had tracked me hither from my lodgings; from him I learned the lieutenant was a fellow of infinite jest and sterling worth; a descendant of the O'Farellans of Tipperary, whose ancestry claimed precedence of King Bryan Baroch; a specimen of the antique in his composition, robust, gigantic, and courageous; time and intestine troubles had impaired the fortunes of his house, but the family character remained untainted amid the conflicting revolutions that had convulsed the emerald isle. Enough, however, was left to render the lieutenant independent of his military expectations: he had joined the army when young; seen service and the world in many climates; but the natural uncompromising spirit which distinguished him, partaking perhaps something too much of the pride of ancestry, had hitherto prevented his soliciting the promotion he was fairly entitled to. Like a majority of his countrymen, he was cold and sententious as a Laplander when sober, and warm and volatile as a Frenchman when in his cups; half a dozen duels had been the natural consequence of an equal number of intrigues; but although the scars of honour had seared his manly countenance, his heart and person were yet devoted to the service of the ladies. Fame had trumpeted forth his prowess in the wars of ~196~~Venus, until notoriety had marked him out an object of general remark, and the king's lieutenant was as proud of the myrtle-wreath as the hero of Waterloo might be of the laurel crown.

But see, the door opens; how perfumed, what style! Long bows to the earth. What an exquisite smile! Such a coffee-house visitor banishes pain: While Optimus rising, cries "Welcome, Joe Hayne! May you never want cash, boy--here, waiter, a glass; Lieutenant, you'll join us in toasting a lass. I'll give you an actress--Maria the fair." "I'll drink her; but, Tom, you have ruined me there. By my hopes! I am blown, cut, floor'd, and rejected, At the critical moment, sirs, when I expected To revel in bliss. But, here's white-headed Bob, My prime minister; he shall unravel the job. And if Jackson determines you've not acted well, I'll mill you, Tom Optimus, though you're a swell." "Sit down, Joe; be jolly--'twas Carter alone That has every obstacle in your way thrown. Nay, never despair, man--you'll yet be her liege; But rally again, boy, you'll carry the siege." Thus quieted, Joe sat him down to get mellow; For Joe at the bottom's a hearty good fellow.

"Have you heard the report," said Optimus, "that Harborough is actually about to follow your example, and marry an actress? ay, and his old flame, Mrs. Stonyhewer, is ready to die of love and a broken heart in consequence."

"Just as true, my jewel, as that I shall be gazetted field-marshal; or that you, Mr. Optimus, will be accused of faithfulness to Lady Emily. Our young friend here, the rich commoner, has given currency to such a variety of common reports, that the false jade grows bold enough to beard us in our very teeth."

"Why, zounds! lieutenant," said Lionise, "how very sentimental you are becoming."

"It's a way of mine, jewel, to appear singular in some sort of society."

~197~~"And satirical in all, I'll vouch for you, lieutenant;" said Optimus.

"By Jasus, you've hit it! if truth be satire, it's a language I love, although it's not very savoury to some palates."

"Will the duke marry the banker's widow, Joel that's the grand question at Tattersall's, now your match with Maria's off, and Earl Rivers's greyhounds are disposed of. Only give me the office, boy, in that particular, and I'll give you a company to-morrow, if money will purchase one; and realize a handsome fortune by betting on the event."

"Then I'll bet Cox and Greenwood's cash account against the commander-in-chief's, that the widow marries a Beau-clerc, becomes in due time Duchess of St. Alban's, and dies without issue, leaving her immense property as a charitable bequest to enrich a poor dukedom; and thus, having in earlier life degraded one part of the peerage, make amends to the Butes, the Guildfords, and the Burdetts, by a last redeeming act to another branch of the aristocracy."

"At it again, lieutenant; firing ricochet shot, and knocking down duck and drake at the same time."

"Sure, that has been the great amusement of my life; in battle and abroad I have contrived to knock down my share of the male enemies of my country; in peace and at home I've a mighty pleasant knack of winging a few female bush fighters."

"But the widow, my dear fellow, is now a woman of high {2} character; has not the moral Marquis of Hertford undertaken to remove all ------and disabilities? and did he not introduce the lady to the fashionable world at his own hotel, the Piccadilly (peccadillo) Guildhall? Was not the fete at Holly Grove attended by H.R.H. the Duke of York, and Mrs. C--y, and all the virtuous portion of our nobility? and has she not since been admitted to the parties at the Duke of "Query--did Mr. Optimus mean _high_ as game is _high_?

~198~~Devonshire's, and what is still more wonderful, been permitted to appear at court, and since, in the royal presence, piously introduced to the whole bench of Bishops?"

"By Jasus, that's true; and I beg belle Harriette's pardon. But, I well remember, I commanded the cityguard in the old corn-market, Dublin, on the very night her reputed father, jolly Jack Kinnear, as the rebels called him, contrived to wish us good morning very suddenly, and took himself off to the sate of government."

I shall be obliged to entertain the world with a few of her eccentricities some day or other; the ghost of poor Ralph Wewitzer cries loudly for revenge. The sapient police knight, when he _secured the box of letters_ for his patroness, little suspected that they had all been _previously copied_ by lieutenant Terence O'Farellan of the king's own. A mighty inquisitive sort of a personage, who will try his art to do her justice, spite of "leather or prunella."

The party was at this moment increased by the arrival of Lord William, on whose friendly arm reposed the Berkley Adonis--"_par nobile fratrum_."

"Give me leave, lieutenant," said his lordship, "to introduce my friend the colonel." "And give me leave," whispered Optimus, "to withdraw my friend Hayne, for 'two suns shine not in the same hemisphere.'"

"The man that makes a move in the direction of the door makes me his enemy," said the lieutenant, loudly. And the whole party were immediately seated.

Hitherto, my friend Crony and myself had been too pleasantly occupied with the whim, wit, and anecdote of the lieutenant, to pay much attention to the individuality of character that surrounded the festive board; but, having now entered upon our second bottle, the humorist commenced his satirical sketches.--

"Holding forth to the gaze of this fortunate time The extremes of the beautiful and the sublime."

~199~~"Suppose I commence with the pea-green count," said Crony. "I know the boy's ambition is notoriety; and an artist who means to rise in his profession should always aim at painting first-rate portraits, well-known characters; because they are sure to excite public inquiry, thus extending the artist's fame, and securing the good opinion of his patrons by the gratification of their unlimited vanity. The sketch too may be otherwise serviceable to the rising generation; the Mr. Greens and Newcomes of the world of fashion, if they would avoid the sharks who infest the waters of pleasure, and are always on the anxious _look-up_ for a nibble at a new 'come out.'

"The young exquisite's connexion with the fancy, or rather with the lowest branch of that illustrious body, the bruising fraternity and their boon companions, had been, though not an avowed, a real source of jealousy to many of his dear bosom friends at Long's hotel, from the moment of the count's making his _debut_,

'_Imberbis juvenis, tandem custode remote_,'

into the fashionable world. That he would be ultimately floored by his milling _proteges_ it did not require the sagacity of a conjurer to foresee; nor was it likely that the term of such a catastrophe would be so tediously delayed, as to subject any one who might be eager to witness its arrival to that sickness of the heart which arises from hope deferred. But this process for scooping out the Silver (or Foote) Ball, as he has since been designated, by no means suited the ideas of the worthies before alluded to. The learned Scriblerus makes mention of certain _doctors_,{3} frequently seen at White's in his day, of a modest and upright appearance, with no air of overbearing, and habited like true masters of arts in black and white only. They were justly styled, says the above high authority,

3 A cant phrase for dice,

~200~~subtiles and graves, but not always irrefragabiles, being sometimes examined and, by a nice distinction, divided and laid open. The descendants of these doctors still exist, and have not degenerated, either in their numbers or their merits, from their predecessors. They take up their principal residence in some well-known mansions about the neighbourhood of the court, and many of the gentlemen who honoured the count with their especial notice on his _entree_ into public life are understood to be familiarly acquainted with them. Now could they have only instilled into the young gentleman a wish to be introduced to these doctors, or once prevailed upon him to take them in hand for the purpose of deciding what might be depending upon the result of the investigation; nay, could they even have spurred him on to an exhibition of his tactics, in manoeuvring

'Those party-colour'd troops, a shining train,
Drawn forth to combat on the velvet plain;'

they could have so delightfully abridged the task which to their impatient eyes appeared to be much too slow in executing, could have spared their dear friend so much unnecessary time and labour in disencumbering himself of the superfluity of worldly dross which had fallen to his share. A little _cogging, sleeving, and palming_; nay, a mere spindle judiciously planted, or a few long ones introduced on the weaving system, could have effected in one evening what fifty milling matches, considering the 'glorious uncertainty' attaching to pugilistic as well as legal contests, might fail to accomplish. By this method, too, the person in whom they kindly took so strong an interest would, even when he had lost every thing, have escaped the imputation of having dissipated his property. It would have been comfortably distributed in respectable dividends among a few gentlemen of acknowledged talent, instead of floating in air like the leaves of the

~201~~Sibyl, and alighting in various parts of the inner and outer ring; now depositing a few cool hundreds in the pockets of a sporting Priestley bookseller, or the brother of a Westminster Abbott; now contributing a small modicum to brighten the humbler speculations of the Dean-street casemen, or the Battersea gardener.

"But to this conclusion Horatio would not come. He was good for backing and betting on pugilists, but on the turf he would do little, and at the tables nothing. His zealous friends had therefore no chance in the way they would have liked best; but being men of the world, and knowing, like Gay's bear, that

'There might be picking
Ev'n in the carving of a chicken,'

they did not disdain to make the most in their power by watching the motions of his hobby, and if this was not a sufficient prize to furnish much cause for exultation, it was at least one that it would have been unwise to reject.

"A contemporary writer has exerted to the utmost the very little talent he possesses to represent the peagreen's uniform resistance to all the temptations of cards and dice, as a proof of his possessing a strength of mind and decision of character rarely found in young men of his fortune and time of life. In the elegant language of this apologist, the count, by this prudent abstinence, 'has shown himself not half so green as some supposed, and the sharps, and those who have tried on the grand mace with him, have discovered that he was no flat.' How far this negative eulogium may be gratifying to the feelings of the individual on whom it is bestowed, I will not say; in my character of English Spy I have been under the necessity of carefully observing this fortunate youth, _depuis que la rose venait d'eclore_, in other words, from the time that he became, or rather might ~202~~have become, his own master; and I should certainly not attribute his refraining from the tables to any superior strength of mind: indeed, it would be singular if such a characteristic belonged to a man whose own hired advocate could only vindicate his client's heart at the expense of his head. Pope tells us, that to form a just estimate of any one's character, we must study his ruling passion; and by adopting this rule, we shall soon obtain a satisfactory clew both to the exquisite count's penchant for the prize-ring, and his aversion to the _hells_. Some persons exhibit an inexplicable union of avarice and extravagance, of parsimony and prodigality--something of this kind is observable in the gentleman in question. But self predominates with him in all; and being joined to rather alow species of vanity, and a strong inclination to be what is vulgarly called _cock of the walk_, it has uniformly displayed itself in an insatiate thirst for notoriety. Now pugilists, from the very nature of their profession, must be public characters; while the gamester, to the utmost of his power, does what he does 'by stealth, and blushes to find it fame.' To be the patron of some noted bruiser, to bear him to the field of action in your travelling barouche, accompanied by Tom Crib the XX champion, Tom Spring the X champion, Jack Langan and Tom Cannon the would-be champions, and Lily White Richmond, is sure to make your name as notorious, though perhaps not much more reputable, than those of your associates; but the man who, like 'the youth that fired the Ephesian dome,' aims at celebrity alone, in frequenting the purlieus of the gaming-house only 'wastes his sweetness on the desert air.' Moreover, the members of the Ebony Clubs being compelled to assume the appearance, and adopt the manners, insensibly imbibe too much of the feelings of gentlemen, to be likely to pay, to the most passive _pigeon_ that ever submitted to _rooking_, the cap in hand homage rendered by a ~203~~practitioner within the pins and binders of the prize-ring to the swell who takes five pounds worth of benefit tickets, or stands a fifty in the stakes for a milling match.

"These motives seem to me sufficient to have prompted the count's predominating attachment to the prize-ring and its heroes, which, however, having as I have before remarked, been viewed with no favourable eye by some of his comrades, his recent ill-luck at Warwick could hardly be expected to escape the jests and sarcasms of his bottle companions."

"'Fore God," said Optimus, "this backing of your man against the black diamond has been but a bad spec. Out heavyish I suppose, ay, Joe?"

Count. Why, a stiffish bout, I must confess; and what's more, I'm not by any means without my suspicions about the correctness of the thing.

Optimus. What, cross and jostle work again? a second edition of Virginia Water? But I thought you felt assured that Cannon would not do wrong for the wealth of Windsor Castle?