Part 39 (1/2)
New city _specs_, new west-end rigs, New gas-blown boots, new steam-curl'd wigs, New fas.h.i.+onable schools, New dandies, and new Bond-street dons, And new intrigues, and new crim cons, New companies of fools.{4}
Maria Foote and Edmund Kean, The ”lions” just now of the scene, Shall yield to newer fun; For all our wonders at the best Are cast off for a newer vest, After a nine days' run.
Old beaux at Bath, manoeuvring belles, And pump-room puppies, Melsom swells, And Mr. _Heaviside_,{5} And Cheltenham carders,{6} every _runt_,
4 See note 3, page 6.
5 Mr. Heaviside, the polite M. C. of Bath. He has the finest cauliflower head of hair I over remember; but it covers a world of wit, for all that, and therefore however it may appear, it certainly is not the heavy side of him.
6 Cards, cards, cards, nothing but cards from ”rosy morn to dewy eve” at the town of Cheltenham. Whist, with the sun s.h.i.+ning upon their sovereigns, one would think a sovereign remedy for their waste of the blessed day--_ecarte_, whilst the blue sky is mocking the blue countenances of your thirty pound losers in as many seconds. Is it not marvellous?
Fathers, husbands, men who profess to belong to the Church.
By Jupiter! instead of founding the new university they talk about, they had better make it for the pupilage of perpetual card-players, and let them take their degrees by the cleverness in odd tricks, or their ability in shuffling. ”No offence, Gregory.” ”No wonder they have their decrepit ones, their ranters.”
~9~~
The playhouse, Berkeley, and ”the hunt,”
With Marshall{7} by their side.
All these and more I should be loth To let escape from one or both, So saddle for next heat: The bell is rung, the course is cleared, Mount on your hobby, ”nought afear'd,”
_Black-jacket_ can't be beat.
”Dum _spiro_ spero” shout, and ride Till you have 'scalp'd old Folly's hide, And none a kiss will waft her; Bind all the fools in your new book, That ”I spy!” may lay my hook, And d--n them nicely after.
An Honest Reviewer.{8}
Given at my friend, ”Sir John Barleycorn's”
Chambers, Tavistock, Covent Garden, this the 19th, day of February, 1825, ”almost at odds with morning.”
7 Mr. Marshall, the M. C. of Cheltenham. ”Wear him in your heart's core, Horatio.” I knew him well, a ”fellow of infinite jest.” A long reign and a merry one to him.
8 My anonymous friend will perceive that I estimate his wit and talent quite as much as his honesty: had he not been such a _rara avis_ he would have been consigned to the ”tomb of all the Capulets.”
CYTHEREAN BEAUTIES.
”The trav'ller, if he chance to stray, May turn uncensured to his way; Polluted streams again are pure, And deepest wounds admit a cure; But woman no redemption knows-- The wounds of honour never close.”
--Moore.
~10~~Tremble not, ye fair daughters of chast.i.ty! frown not, ye moralists! as your eyes rest upon the significant t.i.tle to our chapter, lest we should sacrifice to curiosity the blush of virtue. We are painters of real life in all its varieties, but our colouring shall not be over-charged, or our characters out of keeping. The glare of profligacy shall be softened down or so neutralized as not to offend the most delicate feelings. In sketching the reigning beauties of the time, we shall endeavour to indulge the lovers of variety without sacrificing the fair fame of individuals, or attempting to make vice respectable.
Pleasure is our pursuit, but we are accompanied up the flowery ascent by Contemplation and Reflection, two monitors that shrink back, like sensitive plants, as the thorns press upon them through the ambrosial beds of new-blown roses. In our record of the daughters of Pleasure, we shall only notice those who are distinguished as _belles of ton--stars_ of the first magnitude in the hemisphere of Fas.h.i.+on; and of these the reader may say, with one or two exceptions, they ”come like shadows, so depart.” We would rather excite sympathy and pity for the ~11~~unfortunate, than by detailing all we know produce the opposite feelings of obloquy and detestation.
”Unhappy s.e.x! when beauty is your snare, Exposed to trials, made too frail to bear.”
Then, oh! ye daughters of celestial Virtue, point not the scoffing glance at these, her truant children, as ye pa.s.s them by--but pity, and afford them a gleam of cheerful hope: so shall ye merit the protection of Him whose chief attribute is charity and universal benevolence. And ye, lords of the creation! commiserate their misfortunes, which owe their origin to the baseness of the seducer, and the natural depravity of your own s.e.x.