Chapter II (2)

3 A song would be no song at all without notes; I must
there-fore try a few. I can assure you they are not mere
humming ones. _Allons_--"all is not gold that glitters,"
neither is it all "prunella" that blows a horn upon the
stern of a coach. The "York Highflyer" I really am not to go
down gratis "next jour-ney" for puffing it is a good coach,
and the guard is a good guard, and he ventured a "good bit"
of money on the Leger, and was "floored," for "Cleveland"
was a slow one. However, it didn't balk his three days'
holiday, nor spoil his new coat, nor blight his nosegay. I
saw him after his defeat, looking as rosy as Pistol, and
heard him making as much noise as one; "nor malice domestic
nor foreign levy" could hurt him.

~274~~

Look in that room,{4} judge for yourself;
See what a struggle's made for wealth,
What crushings, bawlings for the pelf,
'Twixt high heads and low legs.

That is Lord K----,{5} and that Lord D-----,{5}
That's Gully{6}; yon's fishmonger C;{5}
A octree-man that; that, Harry Lee,{5}
Who stirr'd Mendoza's pegs.

Or walk up stairs; behold yon board,
Rich with its thrown-down paper hoard,
But oh! abused, beset, adored
By wine-warm'd folks o' nights.

The playing cog, the paying peer,
Pigeon and Greek alike are here;
And some are clear'd, and others clear;
Ask Bayner,{6} and such wights.

4 The new subscription room; where down stairs more than
the "confusion of tongues" prevails, and above a man's
character, if in-sured, would go under the column of "trebly
hazardous." It is really a pity that hone-racing should
appear so close a neighbour to gambling as it does at
Doncastor.

5 My men of letters are not merely alphabet men, but bona
fide characters of consideration upon the turf. I confess
Lord Kennedy is a bit of a favourite of mine, ever since I
saw him so good-natured at the pigeon-shooting matches at
Battersea; and greatly rejoiced was I to find him unplucked
at the more desperate wagerings of the North. He really is
clever in the main, and no subject for St. Luke's, though he
depends much on a bedlamite. Gulley, Crock-ford, and Bland,
need no character; and every body knows Harry Lee fought a
pluck battle with old Dan. But it is "box Harry" with
fighters now.

6 Poor Rayner of C. G. T.--hundreds at one fell swoop! all
his morning's winnings gone in one evening's misfortune. Let
him think on't when next he plays "the School of Reform."

~275~~

Nay, thick as plagues of Egypt swarm
These emblems of the devil's charm,
When the fall'n angel works a harm
To Eve's demented brood;

Worse than of famish'd shark the maw,
Worse than snake's tooth, or tiger's claw,
The gambler's fish{7} spits from its maw
Hell's poison-filled food!

But, halt! Who're they so deep in port,
Who jostle thus the dons of sport,
With all th' assumed airs of court,
From which indeed they are?

But not from court of Carlton,
Nor James's Court, nor any one;
But where "the fancy" used to run
To see the creatures spar.

The one's a diamond, that you see,
But yet a black one I agree,
And in the way of chancery
A smart Ward in his time;

The other he's from Vinsor down,
And though a great gun in that town,
Has lately been quite basted brown,
And gone off--out of time.{8}

7 The spotted ball now, worse in its woe-causing than the
apple of Ida, is disgorged from a splendidly gilded fish.
What a pity it is that the eternal vociforators of "red
wins, black loses," et vice versa, could not be turned into
Jonahs, and their odd fish into a whale, and let all be cast
into the troubled waters (without a three days' redemption)
they brew for others!

8 "There never were such times." X Xs, in the ring, and
failures in the Fives Court, overcome us now without our
special wonder; for boxers are become betters to extents
that would make the fathers of the P.R. bless themselves and
bolt. Cannon and Ward were, however, both on the right side,
and the nods with which they honoured their old acquaintance
were certainly improvements upon the style of the academy
for manners in Saint Martin's Street.

~276~~

Look, here's a bevy; who but they!
Just come to make the poor Tykes pay
The charge of post-horses and chay,
That brought them to some tune;

Lo! Piccadilly Goodered laughs,
As when some novice, reeling, quaffs
His gooseberry wine in tipsy draughts,
At his so pure saloon.{9}

Good gracious, too! (oh, what a trade
Can oyster sales at night be made!)
Here swallowing wine, like lemonade,
Sits Mrs. H's man{10}!

And by the Loves and Graces all,
By Vestris' trunks, Maria's shawl,
There trots the nun herself, so tall,
A flirting of a fan,

And blushing like the "red, red rose,"
With paly eyes and a princely nose,
And laced in Nora Crinas clothes,
(Cool, like a cucumber,)

With beaver black, with veil so green,
And huntress boots 'neath skirt quite clean,
She looks Diana's self--_a quean_,
In habit trimm'd with fur.

And Mr. Wigelsworth he flew,{11}
And Miss and Mistress W.
To bow and court'sy to the new
Arrival at their Boy;

9 "Lightly tread, 'tis hallow'd ground." I dare not go on;
you have been before me, Bernard: (vide vol. i. p. 295, of
Spy). But really it will be worth while for us to look in on
Goodered some fine morning, say three, a.m., when he gets
his print of Memnon home, to which, at Sheardowns, he was so
liberal as to subscribe. He will discourse to you of the
round table!

10 "If I stand here, I saw him."--Shakespeare, Hamlet.

11 The host of the Black Boy at Doncastor, who really pro-
vided race ordinaries in no ordinary way.

~277~~

Though he was Black, yet she was fair;
And sure I am that nothing there
With that clear nymph could aught compare,12
Or more glad eyes employ.

But where there is, after all, but little reason in many of the scenes witnessed at the period I quote, why should I continue to rhyme about them? Let it therefore suffice, that with much of spirit there was some folly, with a good deal of splendour an alloy of dross, and, with real consequence, a good deal of that which was assumed. Like a showy drama, the players (there was a goodly company in the north), dresses (they were of all colours of the rainbow), and decorations (also various and admirable), during the time of performance, were of the first order; but that over, and the green and dressing rooms displayed many a hero sunk into native insignificance, and the trappings of Tamerlane degenerated to the hungry coat of a Jeremy Diddler (and there were plenty of "Raising the Wind" professors at Doncaster), or the materiel of the king and queen of Denmark to the dilapidated wardrobe of Mr. and Mrs. Sylvester Daggerwood.

_Mais apropos de le drame, Monsieur L'Espion_, what is your report of our theatres? Have you seen the monkeys? Are they not, for a classic stage, grand,

----Those happiest smiles
That play'd on her ripe lip, seem'd not to know
What guests were in her eyes, which parted thence
As pearls from diamonds dropt. In brief,
Her room would be a rarity most beloved,
If all could so become it."

Shakespeare, a little altered.

I would just say here, that if any disapprove of my picture of the lady, they may take Bernard Blackmantle's ~278~~_magnifique, et admirable_? Do they not awake in you visions of rapturous delight, as you contrast their antics and mimicry, their grotesque and beautiful grimaces, their cunning leers, with the eye of Garrick, the stately action of Kemble, the sarcasm of Cooke, the study of Henderson, the commanding port of Siddons, the fire of Kean, the voice of Young, the tones of O'Neill? When you see them, as the traveller Dampier has it, "dancing from tree to tree over your head," and hear them "chattering, and making a terrible noise," do you not think of Lord Chesterfield, and exclaim, "A well-governed stage is an ornament to society, an encouragement to wit and learning, and a school of virtue, modesty, and good manners?" Do you not feel, when you behold the flesh and blood punch and man-monkey of Covent Garden Theatre "twist his body into all manner of shapes," or "Monsieur Gouffe," of the Surrey, "hang himself for the benefit of Mr. Bradley," that we may pay our money, and "see, and see, and see again, and still glean something new, something to please, and something to instruct;" and, lastly, in a fit of enthusiasm, exclaim,

"To wake the soul by tender strokes of art,
To raise the genius and to mend the heart,
To make mankind in conscious virtue bold,
Live o'er each scene, and be what they behold;"
For this great Jocko's self first leap'd the stage;
For this was puffd in ev'ry well-bribed page,
From evening "Courier" down to Sunday "Age!"{13}

13 It is suspicious, to say the least of it, this excess of
praise to an old representation; for, after all, punch, the
original punch, punch in the street, though not so loud, is
ten times more to "our manner born," and much more original.
That the beings who banish legitimate performers should
puff, till we grow sick, a "thing of shreds and patches!"
But "the world is still deceived by ornament."

~279~~But Charles Kemble pays well on occasions, and gold would make "Hyperion" of a "satyr." Seriously, Mr. Blackmantle, the town is overrun with monkeys; they are as busy, and as importunate, as Lady Montague's boys on May day, or the Guy Fawkes representatives on the fifth of November. They are "here, there, and every where," and the baboon monopolists of Exeter 'Change and the Tower are ruined by the importation:--a free trade in the article with the patentees of our classic theatres, as the purchasing-merchants, has done the business for Mr. Cross and the beef-eaters. Like the Athenian audience, the "thinking people" of England are more pleased with the mimic than the real voice of nature; and the four-footed puggys of the Brazils, like the true pig of the Grecian, are cast in the shade by their reasoning imitator! In short, not to be prosy on a subject which has awakened poetry and passion in all, hear, as the grave-diggers say, "the truth on't."{13}

When winter triumph'd o'er the summer's flame,
And C. G. opened, Punchinello came;
Each odd grimace of monkey-art he drew,
Exhausted postures and imagined new:
The stage beheld him spurn its bounded reign,
And frighten'd fiddlers scraped to him in vain;
His seven-leagued leaps so well the fashion fit,
That all adore him--boxes, gallery, pit,{14}

13 It is suspicious, to say the least of it, this excess of
praise to an old representation; for, after all, punch, the
original punch, punch in the street, though not so loud, is
ten times more to "our manner born," and much more original.
That the beings who banish legitimate performers should
puff, till we grow sick, a "thing of shreds and patches!"
But "the world is still deceived by ornament."

14 One Dr. Samuel Johnson has something like this, but then
his lines were in praise of a "poor player," of a man who
wasted much paper in writing dramas now thought nothing of.
This is his doggrel.

~280~~But I must have done. Christmas will soon be here, and "I have a journey, sirs, shortly to go" to be prepared for its delights, and to fit myself for its festivities; and yet I am unwilling, acute Bernard, merry Echo, cheerful Eglantine, correct Transit, to "shake hands and part," without tendering the coming season's congratulations; so if it like you, dear spies o' the time, I will, like the swan, go off singing.

Marching along with berried brow,
And snow flakes on his "frosty pow,"
See father Christmas makes his bow,
And proffers jovial cheer;

About him tripping to and fro,
Picking the holly as they go,
And kiss-allowing misletoe,
His merry elves appear.

Then broach the barrel, fill the bowl,
And let us pledge the hearty soul,
Though swift the waning minutes roll,
And time will stay for none;

Lads, we will have a gambo still,
For though we've made the foolish feel,
And shamed the sinner in his ill,
Our withers are unwrung.

"When learning's triumph o'er her barb'rous foes
First rear'd the stage, immortal Skakspeare rose;
Each change of many-colour'd life he drew,
Exhausted worlds, and then imagined new;

Existence saw him spurn her bounded reign,
And panting Time toil'd after him in vain:
His powerful strokes presiding truth impress'd,
And unresisted passion storm'd the breast."

~281~~

No poison in the cup have ye,
In all your travell'd history,
Pour'd for the hearty, good, and free;
This will your book evince:

So "here's the King!"fill, fill for him,
Then for our Country, to the brim;
With it, good souls, we'll sink or swim.
Huzzah! 'tis gall'd jades wince!

But now, adieu; o'er hill and plain
I scud, ere we shall meet again;
Meantime, all prosp'rous be your reign,
And friends attend in crowds;

Before your splendid course is o'er,
And Blackmantle shall please no more,
You'll know, though yet I'm doom'd to soar,
Your Spirit in the Clouds.{15}"

November, 1825.

Adieu, thou facetious sprite, and may the graybeard Time tread lightly on thy buoyant spirits! Meet thee or not hereafter, thou shalt live in my remembrance a cherished name, long as memory holds her influence o'er the eccentric mind of Bernard Blackmantle. Here, too, must Transit and myself take a farewell of merry Cheltenham, ever on the wing for novelty: our sketches have been brief, but full of genuine character; nor can they, as I hope, be considered in any instance as violating our established rule--of being true to nature, without offending the ear of chastity, or exciting aught but

15 "A. word to the wise," &c. Get honest "Tom Whipcord" to
take you by his hand on Valentine's night to the "noctes"
muster of the _Sporting Annals_ gents. You will know me by a
brace of "bleeding hearts" in my plaited neckerchief, and a
blue bunch of ribbons in my sinister side, as big as the
Herald newspaper, the gifts of my lady-love.

~282~~the approving smile of the lovers of mirth, and the patrons of life's merriments. We had intended to have drawn aside the curtain of the theatre and the castle, and have shown forth to the gaze of the public the unhallowed mysteries which are sometimes performed there; but reflection whispered, that morality might find more cause to blush at the recital than her attendants would benefit by the exposure; and is is lamentably true, that some persons would cheerfully forfeit all claim to respectability of character for the honour of appearing in print, depicted in their true colours, as systematic and profligate seducers. To disappoint this infamous ambition, more than from any fear of the threatened consequences, we have left the sable colonel and his dark satellites to grope on through the murky ways of waywardness and intrigue, without staining our pages with a full relation of their heartless conduct, since to have revived the now forgotten tales might have given additional pain to some beauteous victims whose fair names have dropped into Lethe's waters, like early spring flowers nipped by the lingering hand of slow-paced winter; or, in other instances, have disturbed the repose of an unsuspecting husband, or have stung the aged heart of a doting parent--evils we could not have avoided, had we determined upon rehearsing the love scenes and intrigues of certain well-known Cheltenham amateurs.

Adieu, merry Chelts! we're for quitting our quarters;
Adieu to the chase, to thy walks and thy waters,
To thy hunt, ball, and theatre, and card tables too,
And to all thy gay fair ones, a long, long adieu!

Blackmantle and Transit, the Spy and his friend,
Through Gloucester and Bristol, to Bath onward bend.
To show how amused they have been in your streets,
They give you, at parting, this man of sweetmeats;

A character, famous as Mackey, the dandy,
The London importer of horehound and candy;
The cheapest of doctors, whose nostrums dispense
A cure for all ills that affect taste or sense,

I doubt not quite as good as one half your M.D.'s,
Though sweet is the physic and simple the fees;
This, at least, you'll admit, as we dart from your view
That our vignette presents you with a sweet adieu!

A VISIT TO GLOUCESTER AND BERKELEY.

Sketches on the Mood--Singular Introduction to an old
Friend--A Tithe Cause tried--A strange Assemblage of
Witnesses--Traits of Character--Effects of the Farmers'
Success--An odd Cavalcade--Rejoicings at Berkeley.

~284~~The road from Cheltenham to Gloucester affords a good view of the Cotswold and Stroudwater Hills, diversified by the vales of Evesham, Gloucester, and Berkeley, bounded on the east by the Severn, and presenting in many situations a very rich picturesque appearance. We are not of the dull race who dwell on musty records and ancient inscriptions, or travel through a county to collect the precise date when the first stone of some now moss-crowned ruin was embedded in the antique clay beneath. Let the dead sleep in peace; we are not _anti-queer-ones_ enough to wish the mouldering reliques of our ancestors arrayed in chronological order before our eyes, nor do we mean to risk our merry lives in exploring the monastic piles and subterranean vaults and passages of other times. No; our office is with the living, with the enriched Gothic of modern courts, and the finished Corinthian capitals of society, illustrating, as we proceed, with choice specimens of the rustic and the grotesque; now laughing over our wine with the Tuscan bacchanal, or singing a soft tale of love in the ear of some chaste daughter of the composite order; ~285~~trifling perhaps a little harmless badinage with a simple Ionic, or cracking a college joke with a learned Doric; never troubling our heads, or those of our readers, about the origin or derivation of these orders, whether they came from early Greece or more accomplished Home; or be their progenitors of Saxon, Norman, Danish, or of Anglo-Saxon character, we care not; 'tis ours to depict them as they at present appear, leaving to the profound topographers and compilers of county histories all that relates to the black letter lore of long forgotten days.

Gloucester is proverbial for its dulness, and from the dirty appearance of the streets and houses, was, by my friend Transit, denominated the black city; a designation he maintained to be strictly correct, since it has a cathedral, a bishop, and a black choir of canonicals, and was from earliest times the residence of a black brotherhood of monks, whose black deeds are recorded in the black letter pages of English history; to which was added another confirmatory circumstance, that upon our entrance it happened the assizes for the county had just commenced, and the black gowns of Banco Regis, and of the law, were preparing to try the blacks of Gloucestershire, out of which arose a black joke, that will long be remembered by the inhabitants of Berkeley, and the tenantry of the sable colonel.

We had made our domicile at the Ham Inn, by the recommendation of our Cheltenham host, where we met with excellent accommodations, and what, beside, we could never have anticipated to have met with in such a place, one of the richest scenes that had yet presented itself in the course of our eccentric tour.

The unusual bustle that prevailed in every department of the inn, together with a concatenation of sounds now resembling singing and speaking, and the occasional scraping of some ill-toned violins above our heads, induced us to make a few inquisitive ~286~~remarks to mine host of the Ham, that quickly put us in possession of the following facts.

It appeared, that a suit respecting the right of the vicar of Berkeley to the great tithes of that town had been long pending in the court of Chancery, in which the reverend was opposed to his former friend, the colonel, the churchwardens of Berkeley, and the whole of the surrounding tenantry. Now this cause was, by direction of the Lord Chancellor, to be tried at these assizes, and, in consequence, the law agents had been most industrious in bringing together, by subpoena, all the ancient authorities of the county, the aged, the blind, and the halt, to give evidence against their worthy pastor; and as it is most conducive to success in law, the keeping witnesses secure from tampering, and in good-humour with the cause, the legal advisers had prepared such festive cheer at the Bam, for those of the popular interest, as would have done honour to the colonel's banquet at the castle. Such was the information we obtained from our host, to whose kind introduction of us to the lawyers we were afterwards indebted for a very pleasant evening's amusement.

We were ushered into the room by one of the legal agents as two gentlemen from London, who, being strangers in the place, were desirous of being permitted to spend their evening among such a jovial society. The uproarious mirth, and rude welcome, with which this communication was received by the company, added to the clouds of smoke which enveloped their chairman, prevented our immediate recognition of him; but great and pleasant indeed was our surprise to find the most noble, the very learned head of the table, to be no other than our old Eton _con._ little Dick Gradus, to whose lot it had fallen to conduct this action, and defend the interests of the agriculturalists against the mercenary encroachments of the church militant. This was indeed no common cause; and the greatest difficulty ~287~~our friend Gradus had to encounter was the restricting within due bounds of moderation the over-zealous feelings of his witnesses. It was quite clear a parson's tithes, if left to the generosity of his parishioners, would produce but a small modicum of his reverence's income. The jovial farmer chuckled with delight at the prospect of being able to curtail the demands of his canonical adversary. "Measter Carrington," said he, "may be a very good zort of a preacher, but I knows he has no zort of business with tithing my property; and if zo be as the gentleman judge will let me, gad zooks! but I will prove my words, better than he did the old earl's marriage, when he made such a fool of himsel' before the peers in parliament." "That's your zort, measter Tiller," resounded from all the voices round the table. "Let the clergy zow for themselves, and grow for themselves, as the varmers do; what a dickens should we work all the week for the good of their bodies, when they only devote one hour in the whole seven days for the benefit of our zouls?" "That's right, Measter Coppinger," said some one next to the speaker; "you are one hundred years of age, and pray how many times have you heard the parson preach?" "I never zeed him in his pulpit in the whole courze of my life; but then you know that were my fault, I might if I would; but I'ze been a main close attendant upon the church for all that: during the old earl's lifetime, I was a sort of deputy huntsman, and then the parson often followed me; and when I got too old to ride, I was made assistant gamekeeper, and then I very often followed the parson; so you zee I'ze a true churchman, every inch of me; only I don't like poaching, and when his reverence wants me to help him sack his tithes, old Jack Coppinger will tell him to his head, he may e'en carry the bag himself." "A toast from the chair! Let's hear the lawyer' zentiments on this zubject," said another; with which request Gradus complied, by giving, "May he who ~288~~ploughs and plants the soil reap all its fruits!" "Ay, Measter Gradus, that is as it should be," reiterated a farmer on his right, "zo I'll give you, 'The varmers against the parsons,' and there's old Tom Sykes yonder, the thatcher, he will give you a zong about the 'tithe pig and the tenth child,' a main good stave, I do azzure you." A request which the old thatcher most readily complied with, to the great delight of all present; for independent of his dialect, which was of the true rich west-country character, there was considerable wit and humour in the song, and an archness of manner in the performer, that greatly increased the good-humour of the society. In this way the evening was spent very pleasantly; and as the cause was to come on the first thing on the ensuing morning, Transit and myself determined to await the issue, anticipating that, if our merry-hearted companions, the rustics, should be successful, there would be no lack of merriment, and some exhibition of good sport both for the pen and pencil.

We had strayed after breakfast to view the cathedral, which is very well worthy the attention of the curious, and certainly contains some very ancient relics of the great and the good of earliest times. On our return, the deafening shouts of the multitude, who were congregated outside the Sessions House, proclaimed a favourable verdict for the farmers, who, in the excess of their joy at having beaten their reverend adversary, gave loose to the most unrestrained expressions of exultation: a messenger was immediately despatched to Berkeley to convey, express, the glad tidings; and the head farmers of the parish, with whom were the church-wardens, determined to commemorate their victory by roasting a bullock whole on the brow of the hill which overlooked their vicar's residence, and for the preparation of which festivity they also sent their instructions. The next grand point was, how to ~289~~convey the witnesses, who were very numerous, to the scene of action, a distance of eighteen miles. To have despatched them in post-chaises, could they have found a sufficient number in Gloucester, was neither in accordance with economy, nor with the wishes of the parties themselves, who were very anxious to have a grand procession, and enjoy themselves as they went along in smoking, singing, drinking, and proclaiming their triumph to their neighbours and friends. Mine hostess of the Ram, with every female in her establishment, had been, from the moment the verdict was given to the departure of the group, busily engaged in making large blue favours, of the colonel's colour, to decorate the hats of the visitors, until Mr. Boots arrived with the dismaying intelligence, that not another yard of riband, of the colour required, could be obtained in all the city of Gloucester. With equal industry and perseverance the host himself had put in requisition every species of conveyance that he could muster, which was calculated to suit the views of the parties, and form a grand cavalcade; without much attention to the peculiar elegance of the vehicles, to be sure, but with every arrangement for social comfort. It had been decided that my friend Transit and myself should accompany Richard Gradus, Esq. the solicitor to the fortunate defendants, in a post coach in front, preceded by four of mine host's best horses, with postillions decorated with blue favours, and streamers flying from the four corners of the carriage; and now came the marshalling of the procession to follow.

One of the colonel's hay vans had been supplied with seats, lengthwise, in which the first division of farmers placed themselves, not, however, forgetting to take in a good supply of ale and pipes with them; next in order was one of the old-fashioned double-bodied stages, which had not been cleaned, or out of the coach-yard, for twenty years before, and both in the ~290~~inside and on the roof of which the more humble rustics and farmers' labourers were accommodated: this vehicle was drawn by four cart horses, of the roughest description; the rear of the whole being brought up by a long black funeral hearse, with three horses, unicorn fashion, on the roof of which the men sate sidewise, while the interior was, by Gradus's orders, well filled with casks of the best Gloucester ale. About a dozen of the farmers, on horseback, rode by the side of the vehicles; and in this order, with the accompaniment of a bugle in the hay van, and a couple of blind fiddlers scraping on the centre of the roof of the hearse, did we sally forth in most grotesque order, amid the joyous acclamations of the multitude, on our way to Berkeley, every countenance portraying exultation and good-humour, and every where upon the road meeting with a corresponding welcome. A more humorous or whimsical procession cannot well be imagined, men, animals, and vehicles being perfectly unique. By the time we had reached our destination, the potent effects of the Gloucester ale, added to the smoking and vociferous expressions of joy that attended us throughout, had left very few of our rustic friends without the visible and outward signs of their inward devotions to the jolly god. On our arrival near to Berkeley, we were met by crowds of the joyous inhabitants, and proceeded onward to the spot selected for the festive scene, where we found the bullock already roasting on the top of the hill, and where also they had pitched a tent, and brought some small cannon, with which they fired a _feu de joie_ on our arrival, taking special care to point their artillery in the direction of the vicar's residence. On the opposite side of the road was the church; and it is not a little singular, that the steeple, belfry, and tower are completely detached from the body of the building. The vicar, dreading the riotous joy of his parishioners upon ~291~~this occasion, had locked up the church, and issued his mandate to the wardens to prevent a merry peal; but these persons insisting that as the church was detached from the belfry, the vicar had no authority over it, they directed the ringers to give them a triple bob major, which canonical music was merrily repeated at intervals, to the great dismay of the parson, who, over and above the loss he was likely to sustain in his future interests, had by this defect suffered under a legal expenditure of some thousands of pounds. The colonel did not show, perhaps from prudential motives of respect to his old friend, but his agents were well instructed in their duty, and there was no lack of a plentiful supply of provision and ale for his tenantry to make right merry with. Thus ended our trip to Berkeley, where, after taking a view of the castle on the following morning, and surveying the delightful scenery with which that most ancient building is surrounded, we bade adieu to our friend Gradus, and mounted the Cheltenham coach, as it passed through, on our way to Bristol.

A DAY IN BRISTOL.

A Glance at the Bristolians--Their Pursuits and
Characteristics--The London Mail--A Walk to the Hot Wells
and Clifton--Blackmantle and Transit start for the
Territories of King Bladud.

~292~~The worthy Bristolians must not feel offended if we pass them by rather briefly; had ours been a tour of business, connected with commercial pursuit instead of a search after whim and character, we should no doubt have found materials enough to have filled a dozen chapters; but such pursuits are foreign to the eccentric volumes of the English Spy, whose sole aim is humour, localized, and embracing characteristic scenes. Such is the above sketch, which struck Transit and myself, as we took a stroll down Bridge-street while our breakfast was preparing at the White Hart; it was a bit of true life, and cannot fail to please: but, after all, Bristol resembles London so closely, at least the ~293~~eastern part of the metropolis, that although we saw much that would have been worthy the attention of the antiquary and the curious in their several churches and museums, or might, with great advantage, have been transferred to the note book of the topographer, yet we met with none of that peculiar whimsical character that distinguishes the more fashionable places of resort. The sole object of the Bristolians is trade, and every face you meet with has a ledger-like countenance, closely resembling the calculating citizen of London, whose every thought is directed to the accumulation of wealth, by increased sales of merchandize, or the overreaching his neighbour in taking the first advantage of the market.

The arrival of the London mail, which comes in about ten o'clock in the morning, afforded Transit another opportunity of picking up what little of character there was to be found. At Bristol there is always a great anxiety to obtain the London news and price current; so much so, that the leading merchants and others assemble in front of the Post-office, which also joins the Exchange, to wait the arrival of the mail (see Plate), and receive the letters of advice which are to regulate their concerns. It is but justice to add, there is no place in the kingdom of the same distance to which the conveyance is quicker, and the facility of delivery more promptly attended to. After breakfast we took a stroll round the docks, and then bent our steps towards the heights, and along the delightful walk which leads to the Hot Wells and Clifton.

To attempt a just description of the magnificent and romantic scenery which surrounds Clifton, as it is viewed from the Downs, would occupy more space than our limits will allow us to devote to the beauties of landscape; and would, besides, interfere with an intention which Transit and myself have in view at some future period of our lives, namely, the making a topographical and characteristic tour through the United Kingdoms, which being divided into counties, ~294~~and embracing not only the historical and the picturesque, will be enlivened by all the humorous vagaries, eccentric characters, and peculiar sports of each, written in a colloquial style; and embracing the lingual localisms, proverbs, and provincialisms of the inhabitants: thus producing a humorous but most correct view of the present state of society and manners. The materials for such a work have gradually presented themselves during the progress of the present eccentric volumes; but, as our object here has been good-humoured satire joined to comic sketches of existing persons and scenes, more in the way of anecdote than history, we hope to meet with the same kind friends in a more extended work, among those who have journeyed onwards with us through two years--pleasantly we must suppose, by their continued support; and profitably, we are gratefully bound to acknowledge, to all parties interested. An early dinner at Clifton, and a pleasant walk back by the terrace-road, brought us once more into the busy streets of Bristol, where after sauntering away the time until five o'clock, we mounted a Bath coach, and started forwards with a fresh impetus, and much promise of amusement, to explore the territories of King Bladud.

SKETCHES IN BATH.

~235~~

First View of the elegant City--Meeting with Old Blackstrap
--Domicile at the Castle Tavern--Matthew and Mrs. Temple
worthy Characters--Sportsmans Hall--Bath Heroes of the Turf
the Ring, and the Chace--Portraits and Peculiarities drawn
from the Life.

May I ne'er flutter in the thoughtless train
With fashion's elves, the giddy, and the vain;
May I ne'er stroll again with Milsom swells
To Tully's shop, or lounge with pump-room belles;
May I no more to Sidney Gardens stray,
If, Bath, I wrong thee in my hum'rous lay.
Court of King Blad', where crescents circling rise
Above each other till they reach the skies;
And hills o'er-topping with their verdant green
The Abbey Church, are in the distance seen:

~296~~Where inns invite ye, and where lodgings smile A ready welcome to some Grecian pile; Where chairmen wait ye, ready to attend And box ye up upon your latter end; Where summer breezes on Hygeia wait, And cards and fashion hold their courts of state. Hither we're come to Bath, to spy and tell What reigning follies mark the beau and belle; What stars eccentric move within thy sphere, Or who's the greatest lion of the year. "Have at ye all," we satirists give no quarter; Yet shall our mirth prove grateful as Bath water.

The distant appearance, or first glimpse of the city of Bath, is enough to impress a stranger with the most favourable opinions of the place. The regularity of the streets, and the tasteful character of the architecture of the principal buildings, are certainly superior to that of any other place of public resort in England; added to which, there is an attention to cleanliness apparent in the costume of the lower classes that is not so conspicuous in other places. "Blest source of health! seated on rising ground, With friendly hills by nature guarded round; From eastern blasts and sultry south secure, The Air's balsamic, and the soil is pure." Surrounded by delightful scenery, and guarded from the piercing north winds by the hilly barriers of nature, the spot seems above all others best calculated to restore the health of the valetudinarian, whose constitution has become shattered and infirm by a course of fashionable dissipation, or a lengthened residence in the pestilential climates of the Indies. "Sweet Bath! the liveliest city of the land; Where health and pleasure ramble hand in hand, Where smiling belles their earliest visit pay, And faded maids their lingering blooms delay. Delightful scenes of elegance and ease! Realms of the gay, where every sport can please." ~297~~Thus sings the Bath poet, Bayly; who, if he is somewhat too servile an imitation of Moore in his style, has certainly more of originality in his matter than generally distinguishes poems of such a local nature. One of the greatest characters in the city of Bath was the worthy host of our hotel, the Castle; at whose door stood the rubicund visage of our Cheltenham friend, Blackstrap, ready to give us a hearty welcome, and introduce us to Matthew Temple, who making one of his best bows, led the way into the coffee-room, not forgetting to assure us that Mistress Temple, who was one of the best women in the world, would take the greatest care that we had every attention paid to our commands and comforts; and, in good truth, honest Matthew was right, for a more comely, good-humoured, attentive, kind hostess exists not in the three kingdoms of his Gracious Majesty George the Fourth. In short, Mrs. Temple is the major-domo of the Castle, while honest Matthew, conscious of his own inability to direct the active operations of the garrison within doors, beats up for recruits without; attends to all the stable duty and the commissariat, keeps a sharp look-out for new arrivals by coach, and a still sharper one that no customer departs without paying his bill; and thus having made his daily bow to the inns and the outs, honest Matthew retires at night to take his glass of grog with the choice spirits who frequent Sportsman's Hall, a snug little smoking room on the left of the gateway, where the heroes of the turf and the lads of the fancy nightly assemble to relate their sporting anecdotes, sing a merry chaunt, book the long odds, and blow a friendly cloud in social intercourse and good fellowship.

I do not know that it matters much at what end of Bath society I commence my sketches; and experience has taught me, that the more fashionable frivolities of high life seldom present the same opportunity for the ~298~~study of character, which is to be found in the merry, open-hearted, mirthful meetings of the medium classes and the lower orders. The pleasure we had felt in Blackstrap's society at Cheltenham, induced us to engage him to dine in the coffee-room, with our early friends Heartly and Eglantine, both of whom being then at Bath, we had invited to meet us, in the expectation that Dick Gradus, having arranged his legal affairs at Berkeley, would, by the dinner hour, arrive to join such a rare assemblage of old Eton _cons_--a gratification we had the pleasure to experience; and never did the festive board resound with more pleasant reminiscences from old friends: the social hour fled gaily, and every fresh glass brought its attendant joke. Heartly and Eglantine had, we found, been sufficiently long in Bath to become very able instructors to Transit and myself in all that related to the haute class, and old Barnaby Blackstrap was an equally able guide to every description of society, from the mediums down to the strange collections of vagrant oddities which are to be found in the back Janes and suburbs of the city of Bath. It has been well said, in a spirited reply to the Reverend Mr. Ek--r--s--l's illiberal satire, entitled "The Bath Man," that "London has its divisions of good and bad sets as well as Bath; nay, every little set has its lower set; Bank looks down contemptuously upon wealth; those who are asked to Carlton Palace cut the muligatawny set; the ancient aristocracy call law-lords and _parvenues_ a bad set; and so downward through the whole scale of society, from Almack's to a sixpenny hop, 'still in the lowest deep a lower deep,' and human pride will ever find consolation that there is something to be found beneath it. Plain men, accustomed to form their notions of good and evil on more solid foundations than grades of fashionable distinctions, will not consent to stigmatize as bad any class of society because there may happen to ~299~~be a class above it." And what better apology could we desire for our eccentric rambles through every grade of Bath society? with us every set has its attractions, and I have known my friend Transit cut a nobleman and half a dozen honourables for the delightful gratification of enjoying the eccentricities of a beggars' club, and being enabled to sketch from the life the varied exhibition of passion and character which such a meeting would afford him. It will not, therefore, create any surprise in my readers, that our first evening in Bath should have been devoted to the social pipe; the pleasant account Blackstrap gave us of the sporting party, in Matthew Temple's snuggery, induced us to adjourn thither in the evening, where we might enjoy life, smoke our cigars, join a little chaffing about the turf and the ring, sip our punch and grog, enjoy a good chaunt, and collect a little character for the pages of the English Spy. To such as are fond of these amusements, most heartily do I recommend a visit to the Sporting Parlour at the Castle, where they will not fail to recognise many of the jovial characters represented in the opposite page; and as old Time pays no respect to worth and mellow-hearted mortals, but in his turn will mow down my old friend Matthew and his merry companions, I am desirous to perpetuate their memory by a song, which will include all of note who upon this occasion joined the festive scene.

SPORTSMAN'S HALL.

A SCENE AT THE CASTLE.

~300~~

Come all you gay fellows, so merry and witty,
Ye Somerset lads of the elegant city,
Ye sons of the turf who delight in a race,
And ye Nimrods of Bath who are fond of the chase;
Come join us, and pledge us, like true brothers all,
At old Matthew Temple's, the Castle and Ball.

Will Partridge, the father of sports, in the chair,
With honest George Wingrove will welcome you there,
While Handy, who once on two horses could ride,
And merry Jack Bedford will meet you beside;
Then for sport or for spree, or to keep up the ball,
We've an excellent fellow, you'll own, in Bill Hall.

~301~~

Captain Beaven, a yeoman of merry renown,
Will keep up the joke with the gay ones from town,
While, if you'd go off in a canter or speed,
You've only to take a few lessons with Mead;
Then Sharland can suit every beau to a T,
So haste to the Castle, ye lovers of glee.

Sweet Margerim, clerk of the course, will be found
With any young sportsman to trot o'er the ground,
Though his Honesty, since at Wells races 'twas tried,
It must be admitted, has bolted aside;
The Newcombe's are good at all sports in the ring,
While, like Chanticleer, Hunt the Cocker will sing.

Jack Langley, the fam'd 'Squire Western of Bath,
A jolly fox-hunter, who's fond of a laugh,
With mellow Tom Williams, of Brewers a pair,
Are the bacchanals form'd for to banish dull care;
Then haste to the Castle, ye true merry sprites,
Where the song, and the chase, and the fancy delights.

Give a host more to name of the jovial and free,
That my song would extend till to-morrow d'ye see:
But a truce to particulars; take them all round,
There's nothing in Bath like themselves to be found;
Where harmony, friendship, and mirth can combine,
The pleasures of life with kind hearts and good wine.

And in good truth, there is no place within the dominions of King Bladud, where the social man can find more cheerful companions, the sporting man more kindred spirits, and the lovers of the characteristic and the humorous meet with a greater variety of genuine eccentricity, unalloyed with any baser or offensive material. Matthew Temple himself is a great original, pure Somerset, perfectly good-natured, ever ready to oblige, and although for many years the commander-in-chief of the Castle, is yet in all the chicanery of his

~302~~

profession, and the usual obtrusiveness of a landlord, as unlike the generality of his brethren as a raw recruit is to an effective soldier. Old Master William Partridge is also worthy of notice as the father of the turf, and then if you would ride to hounds, no man in Bath can mount you better, or afford you such good corn, great attentions, and a warm stall for a prime hack. Rich in anecdote, and what is still better, with a charitable purse and a worthy heart, there are few men who have earned for themselves more respect in this life, or deserve it better, than William Handy, Esq. the once celebrated equestrian, who having realized a handsome competency, retired, some years since, to Bath, to enjoy his _otium cum dignitate_: here, at an advanced age, with all the spirits of youth, and a lively interest in every thing relating to sporting, you will meet with the character I have described; and, take my word for it, will not be disappointed in the likeness. Among the bon vivants of Sportsmans' Hall I must not omit that care-killing soul Captain Beaven, whose easy flow of good-humour and love of good sport is not less conspicuous than his love for a pretty lass, and his delight in a good song and a cheerful glass. Honest George Wingrove, a wealthy baker, and the patriarch of the room, will never prove a crusty customer, I am sure; and if that good-looking fellow Mead, the riding-master, does sometimes "o'erstep the modesty of nature" in his mode of addressing his pupils, adopting the familiar style of addressing them by their christian name--as, for instance, "set upright, Sally; more forward, Eliza; keep your rein-hand more square, Ellen;" and soon; he hath, however, yet many good points that amply compensate for this perverseness of habit. Among the genuine good ones, the real thing, as the sporting phrase has it, not a biped in Bath beats Tom Williams, who, agreeable to our Eton Gradus, is good at every thing: a more jovial, worthy-hearted, respected soul breathes not within the merry court of King Bladud, and very ~303~~few there that can rival him in a good horse, a long run, or as a lively companion. Tom is married to the sister of Bartley, the comedian, and carries with him into private life the estimation which ever attends him in public. For a rum story, a bit of real life, or a roguish joke, who shall excel Jack Bedford? And then, if your honour would knock the balls about, why "Jack's the lad" to accommodate you. And little Bill Hall, who keeps the Kingston billiard-rooms, will be most happy to make his best bow to you without any view to the mace. But, i' faith, I am sketching away here in Sportsman's Hall at old Matthew Temple's, and could continue so to do for another chapter; forgetting, as Transit says, that we have yet to traverse the whole city of Bath through, spying into the vagaries and varieties of the more polished, and taking a slight occasional glance at the lowest grade of society, in order to diversify and keep up the chiaroscuro of our pictures.

Merry reader, for such I hope thou art, we have now travelled on for nearly two years together; and many a varied scene in life's pilgrimage have we set before you, from the gilded dome of royalty to the humble shed of the Emeralder; but our visit to Bath will afford you a richer treat than aught that has yet preceded it. It was when the party broke up at Temple's, and that was not before the single admonition of old father Time had sounded his morning bell, that a few _bon vivants_ of the Castle, accompanied by the English Spy and his merry friends, sallied forth in quest of strange adventure; for it must be admitted, that in the elegant city

"Candles and ladies' eyes oft shine most bright,
When both should be extinguish'd for the night."