daughter of Hibernia; her maiden name was P-r, and her
father an Irish magistrate of high respectability. Her first
matrimonial alliance with Captain F-r proved unfortunate; an
early separation was the consequence, which was effected
through the intervention of a kind friend, Captain J-s of
the 11th. Shortly afterwards her fine person and superior
endowments of mind made an impression upon the earl that
nothing but the entire possession of the lady could allay.
The affair of Lord A- and Mrs. B- is too well known to need
repetition--it could not succeed a second time. Abelard F-
having paid the debt of nature, there was no impediment but
a visit to the temple of Hymen, on which point the lady was
determined; and the yielding suitor, wounded to the vital
part, most readily complied. It is due to the countess to
admit, that since her present elevation, her conduct has
been exemplary and highly praiseworthy.
~195~~
Conceited, simple, rash, and vain,
Comes lib'ral master G-e,{56}
A dandy, half-fledged exquisite,
Who paid nine thousand pounds a night
To female Giovanni.
Reader, I think I hear you say,
"What pleasure had he for his pay?"
Upon my word, not any;
For soon as V-t-s got the cash,
She set off with a splendid dash
From Op'ra to Paris;
Left Cl-t and this simple fool,{67}
Who no doubt's been an easy tool,
To spend it with Charles H-s.
See, Carolina comes in view,
A Lamb, from merry Melbourne's ewe,
Who scaped the fatal knife.
H-ll-d's blue stocking rib appears,
Who makes amends in latter years
For early cause of strife.
Catullus George, the red-hair'd bard,
Whose rhymes, pedantic, crude, and hard,
He calls translations,
Follows the fair; a nibbling mouse
From Westminster, by Cam Hobhouse
Expell'd his station.
Now twilight, with his veil of gray,
The stars of fashion frights away
The carriage homeward rolls along
To music-party, cards and song,
56 A very singular adventure, which occurred in 1823. The
enamoured swain, after settling an annuity of seven hundred
pounds per annum upon the fair inconstant, had the
mortification to find himself abandoned on the very night
the deeds were completed, the lady having made a precipitate
retreat, with a more favoured lover, to Paris. The affair
soon became known, and some friends interfered, when the
deeds were cancelled.
57 Captain citizen Cl-t, an exquisite of the first order,
for a long time the favourite of the reigning sultana.
~196~~
And many a gay delight.
The Goths of Essex-street may groan,{58}
Turn up their eyes, and inward moan,
They dare not here intrude;
Dare not attack the rich and great,
The titled vicious of the state,
The dissolute and lewd.
Vice only is, in some folks' eyes,
Immoral, when in rags she lies,
By poverty subdued;
But deck her forth in gaudy vest,
With courtly state and titled crest,
She's every thing that's good.
"Doth Kalpho break the Sabbath-day?
Why, Kalpho hath no funds to pay;
How dare he trespass then?
How dare he eat, or drink, or sleep,
Or shave, or wash, or laugh, or weep,
Or look like other men?"
My lord his concerts gives, 'tis true,
The Speaker holds his levee too,
And Fashion cards and dices;
But these are trifles to the sin
Of selling apples, joints, or gin--
58 The present times have very properly been stigmatized as
the age of cant. The increase of the puritans, the
smooth-faced evangelical, and the lank-haired sectarian,
with their pious love-meetings and bible associations, have
at last roused the slumbering spirit of the constituted
authorities, who are now making the most vigorous efforts to
impede the progress of these anti-national and hypocritical
fanatics, who, mistaking the true dictates of religion and
benevolence, have, in their inflamed zeal, endeavoured to
extirpate every species of innocent recreation, and have
laid formidable siege to honest-hearted mirth and rustic
revelry. "I am no prophet, nor the son of one; "but if
ever the noble institutions of my country suffer any
revolutionary change, it is my humble opinion it will result
from these sainted associations, from these pious opposers
of our national characteristics, and the noblest institution
of our country, the foundation stone of our honour and
glory, the established church of England. There is (in my
opinion) more mischief to be apprehended to the state from
the humbug of piety than from all the violence of froth,
political demagogues, or the open-mouthed howl of the most
hungry radicals. Let it be understood I speak not against
toleration in its most extended sense, but war only with
hypocrisy and fanaticism, with those of whom Juvenal has
written--"_Qui aurios simulant el baechemalia vivinit_."
~197~~
Low, execrable vices.
Cease, persecutors, mock reclaimers,
Ye jaundiced few, ye legal maimers
Of the lone, poor, and meek;
Ye moral fishers for stray gudgeons,
Ye sainted host of old curmudgeons,
Who ne'er the wealthy seek!
If moralists ye would appear,
Attack vice in its highest sphere,
The cause of all the strife;
The spring and source from whence does flow
Pollution o'er the plains below,
Through all degrees of life.
[Illustration: page197]
THE OPERA.
The Man of Fashion--Fop's Alley--Modern roue and
Frequenters--Characteristic Sketches in High Life--Blue
Stocking Illuminati--Motives and Mariners--Meeting with the
Honourable Lillyman Lionise--Dinner at Long's--Visit to the
Opera--Joined by Bob Transit--A Peep into the Green Room--
Secrets behind the Curtain--Noble Amateurs and Foreign
Curiosities--Notes and Anecdotes by Horatio Heartly.
~198~~ The Opera, to the man of fashion, is the only tolerable place of
public amusement in which the varied orders of society are permitted
to participate. Here, lolling at his ease, in a snug box on the first
circle, in dignified security from the vulgar gaze, he surveys the
congregated mass who fill the arena of the house, deigns occasionally
a condescending nod of recognition to some less fortunate _roue_, or
younger brother of a titled family, who is forcing his way through the
well-united phalanx of vulgar faces that guard the entrance to _Fop's
Alley_; or, if he should be in a state of single blessedness, inclines
his head a little forward to cast round an inquiring glance, a sort of
preliminary overture, to some fascinating daughter of fashion, whose
attention he wishes to engage for an amorous interchange of significant
looks and melting expressions during the last act of the opera. For the
first, he would not be thought so _outre_ as to witness it--the attempt
would require a sacrifice of the dessert and Madeira, and completely
revolutionize ~199~~ the regularity of his dinner arrangement. The
divertissement he surveys from the side wings of the stage, to which
privilege he is entitled as an annual subscriber; trifles a little
badinage with some well-known operatic intriguant, or favourite
danseusej approves the finished movements of the male artistes, inquires
of the manager or committee the forthcoming novelties, strolls into the
green room to make his selection of a well-turned ankle or a graceful
shape, and, having made an appointment for some non play night, makes
one of the distinguished group of operatic cognoscenti who form the
circle of taste in the centre of the stage on the fall of the curtain.
This is one, and, perhaps, the most conspicuous portrait of an opera
frequenter; but there are a variety of characters in the same school all
equally worthy of a descriptive notice, and each differing in contour
and force of chiaroscuro as much as the one thousand and one family
maps which annually cover the walls of the Royal Academy, to the
exclusion of meritorious performances in a more elevated branch of
art. The Dowager Duchess of A------ retains her box to dispose of her
unmarried daughters, and enjoy the gratification of meeting in public
the once flattering groups of noble expectants who formerly paid their
ready homage to her charms and courted her approving smile; but then her
ducal spouse was high in favour, and in office, and now these "summer
flies o' the court" are equally steady in their devotion to his
successor, and can scarcely find memory or opportunity to recognise
the relict of their late ministerial patron. Lord E------ and the
Marchioness of R.------ subscribe for a box between them, enjoying the
proprietorship in alternate weeks. During the Marchesa's periods of
occupation you will perceive Lady H., and the whole of the blue stocking
illuminati, irradiating from this point, like the tributary stars round
some major planet, forming ~200~~ a grand constellation of attraction.
Here new novels, juvenile poets, and romantic tourists receive their
fiat, and here too the characters of one half the fashionable world
undergo the fiery ordeal of scrutinization, and are censured or
applauded more in accordance with the prevailing on dits of the day, or
the fabrications of the club, than with any regard to feeling, truth, or
decorum. The following week-, how changed the scene!--the venerable
head of the highly-respected Lord E------ graces the corner, like a
Corinthian capital finely chiseled by the divine hand of Praxiteles;
the busy tongue of scandal is dormant for a term, and in her place
the Solons of the land, in solemn thoughtfulness, attend the sage
injunctions of their learned chief. Too enfeebled by age and previous
exertion to undergo the fatigues of parliamentary duty, the baron here
receives the visits of his former colleagues, and snatching half an hour
from his favourite recreation, gives a decided turn to the politics of
a party by the cogency of his reasoning and the brilliancy of his
arguments. The Earl of F------has a grand box on the ground tier, for
the double purpose of admiring the chaste evolutions of the sylphic
daughters of Terpsichore, and of being observed himself by all the
followers of the cameleon-like, capricious goddess, Fashion.
The G------B-----, the wealthy commoner, Fortune's favoured child,
retains a box in the best situation, if not on purpose, yet in fact, to
annoy all those within hearing, by the noisy humour of his Bacchanalian
friends, who reel in at the end of the first act of the opera, full
primed with the choicest treasures of his well stocked bins, to quiz the
young and modest, insult the aged and respectable, and annihilate the
anticipated pleasures of the scientific and devotees of harmony, by the
coarseness of their attempts at wit, the overpowering clamour of their
conversation, and ~201~~ the loud laugh and vain pretence to taste and
critic skill.
The ministerialists may be easily traced by their affectation of
consequence, and a certain air of authority joined to a demi-official
royal livery, which always distinguishes the corps politique, and is
equally shared by their highly plumed female partners. The opposition
are equally discernible by outward and visible signs, such as an assumed
nonchalance, or apparent independence of carriage, that but ill suits
the ambitious views of the wearer, and sits as uneasily upon them as
their measures would do upon the shoulders of the nation. Added to
which, you will never see them alone; never view them enjoying the
passing scene, happy in the society of their accomplished wives and
daughters, but always, like restless and perturbed spirits, congregating
together in conclave, upon some new measure wherewith to sow division
in the nation, and shake the council of the state. And yet to both
these parties a box at the opera is as indispensable as to the finished
courtezan, who here spreads her seductive lures to catch the eye, and
inveigle the heart of the inexperienced and unwary.
But what has all this to do with the opera? or where will this romantic
correspondent of mine terminate his satirical sketch? I think I hear
you exclaim. A great deal more, Mr. Collegian, than your philosophy
can imagine: you know, I am nothing if not characteristic; and this, I
assure you, is a true portrait of the place and its frequenters. I
dare say, you would have expected my young imagination to have been
encompassed with delight, amid the mirth-inspiring compositions of
Corelli, Mozart, or Rossini, warbled forth by that enchanting siren, De
Begnis, the scientific Pasta, the modest Caradori, or the astonishing
Catalani:--Heaven enlighten your unsuspicious mind! Attention to the
merits of the ~202~~ performance is the last thing any fashionable of
the present day would think of devoting his time to. No, no, my dear
Bernard, the opera is a sort of high 'Change, where the court circle and
people of ton meet to speculate in various ways, and often drive as
hard a bargain for some purpose of interest or aggrandisement, as the
plebeian host of all nations, who form the busy group in the grand civic
temple of commerce on Cornbill. You know, I have (as the phrase is),
just come out, and of course am led about like a university lion, by
the more experienced votaries of ton. An accident threw the honourable
Lillyman Lionise into my way the other morning; it was the first time we
had met since we were at Eton: he was sauntering away the tedious
hour in the Arcade, in search of a specific for ennui, was pleased
to compliment me on possessing the universal panacea, linked arms
immediately, complained of being devilishly cut over night, proposed
an adjournment to Long's--a light dinner--maintenon cutlets--some of the
Queensberry hock{1} (a century and a half old)--ice-punch-six whin's
from an odoriferous hookah--one cup of renovating fluid (impregnated
with the Parisian aromatic {2}); and then, having reembellished our
persons, sported{3} a figure at the opera. In the grand entrance, we
enlisted Bob Transit, between whom and the honourable, I congratulated
myself on being in a fair way to be enlightened. Bob knows every
body--the exquisite was not so general in his information; but then
he occasionally furnished some little anecdote of the surrounding
elegantes, relative to affairs de l'amour, or pointed out the
superlative of the haut class, without which much of the interesting
would have escaped my notice.
1 The late Duke of Queensberry's famous old hock, which
since his decease was sold by auction.
2 A Parisian preparation, which gives a peculiar high
flavour and sparkling effect to coffee.
3 An Oxford phrase.
~203~~
In this society, I made my first appearance in the green room; a
little, narrow, pink saloon at the back of the stage, where the dancers
congregate and practise before an immense looking-glass previous to
their appearance in public.
To a fellow of warm imagination and vigorous constitution, such a scene
is calculated to create sensations that must send the circling current
into rapid motion, and animate the heart with thrilling raptures of
delight. Before the mirror, in all the grace of youthful loveliness
and perfect symmetry of form, the divine little fairy sprite, the
all-conquering Andalusian Venus, Mercandotti, was exhibiting her soft,
plump, love-inspiring person in pirouette: before her stood the now
happy swain, the elegant H------ B-, on whose shoulder rested the
Earl of Fe-, admiring with equal ecstasy the finished movements of his
accomplished protegee{4}; on the right hand of the earl stood the single
duke of D--------------e, quizzing the little daughter of Terpsichore
through his eye-glass; on the opposite of the circle was seen the noble
4 It was very generally circulated, and for some time
believed, that the charming little Andalusian Venus was the
natural daughter of the Earl of F-e: a report which had not
a shadow of truth in its foundation, but arose entirely out
of the continued interest the earl took in the welfare of
the lady from the time of her infancy, at which early period
she was exhibited on the stage of the principal theatre in
Cadiz as an infant prodigy; and being afterwards carried
round (as is the custom in Spain) to receive the personal
approval and trifling presents of the grandees, excited such
general admiration as a beautiful child, that the Earl of F-
e, then Lord M- and a general officer in the service of
Spain, adopted the child, and liberally advanced funds for
her future maintenance and instruction, extending his bounty
and protection up to the moment of her fortunate marriage
with her present husband. It is due to the lady to add, that
in every instance her conduct has been marked by the
strictest sense of propriety, and that too in situations
where, it is said, every attraction was offered to have
induced a very opposite course.
~204~~
musical amateur B-----h, supported by the director De R-s on one hand,
and the communicative manager, John Ebers, of Bond-street, on the other;
in a snug corner on the right hand of the mirror was seated one of his
majesty's most honourable privy council, the Earl of W-----d, with a
double Dollond's operatic magnifier in his hand, studying nature
from this most delightful of all miniature models. "A most perfect
divinity," whispered the exquisite. "A glorious fine study," said
Transit,--and, pulling out his card-case and pencil, retired to one
corner of the room, to make a mem., as he called it, of the scene.
(See Plate.) "Who the deuce is that eccentric-looking creature with
the Marquis of Hertford?" said I. "Hush," replied the exquisite, "for
heaven's sake, don't expose yourself! Not to know the superlative roue
of the age, the all-accomplished Petersham, would set you down for a
barbarian at once." "And who," said I, "is the amiable fair bending
before the admiring Worter?" "An old and very dear acquaintance of the
Earl of F-e, Mademoiselle Noblet, who, it is said, displays much cool
philosophy at the inconstancy of her once enamoured swain, consoling
herself for his loss, in the enjoyment of a splendid annuity." A host
of other bewitching forms led my young fancy captive by turns, as my eye
travelled round the magic circle of delight: some were, I found, of
that yielding spirit, which can pity the young heart's fond desire; with
others had secured honourable protection: and if his companion's report
was to be credited, there were very few among the enchanting spirits
before yet with whom that happiness which springs from virtuous pure
affection was to be anticipated. If was no place to moralize, but, to
you who know my buoyancy of spirit, and susceptibility of mind, I must
confess, the reflection produced a momentary pang of the keenest misery.
[Illustration: page205]
THE ROYAL SALOON.
Visit of Heartly, Lionise, and Transit--Description of the
Place--Sketches of Character--The Gambling Parsons--Horse
Chaunting, a true Anecdote--Bang and her Friends--Moll Raffle
and the Marquis W.--The Play Man--The Touter--The Half-pay
Officer--Charles Rattle, Esq.--Life of a modern Roue-B------
the Tailor--The Subject--Jarvey and Brooks the Dissector--
"Kill him when you want him"
~205~~ After the opera, Bob Transit proposed an adjournment to the Royal
Saloon, in Piccadilly, a place of fashionable resort (said Bob) for
shell-fish and sharks, Greeks and pigeons, Cyprians and citizens,
noble and ignoble--in short, a mighty rendezvous, where every variety
of character is to be found, from the finished sharper to the finished
gentleman; a scene pregnant with subject for the pencil of the humorist,
and full of the richest materials for the close observer of men and
manners. Hither we retired to make a night of it, or rather to consume
the hours between midnight and morning's dawn. The place itself is
fitted up in a very novel and attractive style of decoration, admirably
calculated for a saloon of pleasure and refreshment; but more resembling
a Turkish kiosk than an English tavern. On the ground floor, which is of
an oblong form and very spacious, are a number of divisions enclosed on
each side with rich damask curtains, having each a table and seats for
the reception of supper or drinking parties; at the extreme end,
and ~206~~ on each side, mirrors of unusual large dimensions give an
infinity of perspective, which greatly increases the magnificence of the
place. In the centre of the room are pedestals supporting elegant vases
filled with choice exotics. A light and tasteful trellis-work surrounds
a gallery above, which forms a promenade round the room, the walls being
painted to resemble a conservatory, in which the most luxuriant shrubs
are seen spreading their delightful foliage over a spacious dome, from
the centre of which is suspended a magnificent chandelier. Here are
placed, at stated distances, rustic tables, for the accommodation of
those who choose coffee and tea; and leading from this, on each side,
are several little snug private boudoirs for select parties, perfectly
secure from the prying eye of vulgar curiosity, and where only the
privileged few are ever permitted to enter. It was in this place,
surrounded by well-known Greeks, with whom he appeared to be on the
most intimate terms, that Transit pointed out to my notice the eccentric
Vicar of K**, the now invisible author of L****, whose aphorisms and
conduct bear not the slightest affinity to each other--nor was he the
only clerical present; at the head of a jolly party, at an adjoining
table, sat the ruby-faced Parson John A-----e, late proprietor of the
notorious Gothic Hall, in Pall Mall, a man of first rate wit and talent,
but of the lowest and most depraved habits. "The Divine is a character"
said Bob, "who, according to the phraseology of the ring, is 'good at
every thing:' as he came into the world without being duly licensed, so
he thinks himself privileged to pursue the most unlicensed conduct in
his passage through it. As a specimen of his ingenuity in horse-dealing,
I'll give you an anecdote.--It is not long since that the parson invited
a party of bucks to dinner, at his snug little villa on the banks of the
Thames, near Richmond, in Surrey. Previous to the repast, the reverend
~207~~ led his visitors forth to admire the gardens and surrounding
scenery, when just at the moment they had reached the outer gate, a fine
noble-looking horse was driven past in a tilbury by a servant in a
smart livery.--'What a magnificent animal!' said the parson; 'the finest
action I ever beheld in my life: there's a horse to make a man's fortune
in the park, and excite the envy and notice of all the town.' 'Who does
he belong to?' said a young baronet of the party, who had just come out.
'I'll inquire,' said the parson: 'the very thing for you, Sir John.'
Away posts the reverend, bawling after the servant, 'Will your master
sell that horse, my man?' 'I can't say, sir,' said the fellow, 'but I
can inquire, and let you know.' 'Do, my lad, and tell him a gentleman
here will give a handsome price for him.' Away trots the servant, and
the party proceed to dinner. As soon as the dessert is brought in, and
the third glass circulated, the conversation is renewed relative to the
horse--the whole party agree in extolling his qualities; when, just in
the nick of time, the servant arrives to say his master being aged
and infirm, the animal is somewhat too spirited for him, and if the
gentleman likes, he may have him for one hundred guineas. 'A mere
trifle,' vociferates the company. 'Cheap as Rivington's second-hand
sermons,' said the parson. The baronet writes a check for the money, and
generously gives the groom a guinea for his trouble--drives home in high
glee--and sends his servant down next morning to the parson's for his
new purchase--orders the horse to be put into his splendid new tilbury,
built under the direction of Sir John Lade--just reaches Grosvenor-gate
from Hamilton-place in safety, when the horse shows symptoms of being a
miller. Baronet, nothing daunted, touches him smartly under the flank,
when up he goes on his fore-quarters, smashes the tilbury into ten
thousand pieces, bolts away with the traces and shafts, and leaves
the baronet with a broken head ~208~~ on one side of the road, and his
servant with a broken arm on the other. 'Where the devil did you get
that quiet one from, Sir John!' said the Honourable Fitzroy St-----e,
whom the accident had brought to the spot.
'The parson bought him of an old gentleman at Richmond yesterday for
me.' 'Done, brown as a berry,' said Fitzroy: 'I sold him only on
Saturday last to the reverend myself for twenty pounds as an incurable
miller. Why the old clerical's turned coper{1}--;a new way of raising the
wind--letting his friends down easy--gave you a good dinner, I suppose,
Sir John, and took this method of drawing the bustle{2} for it: an old
trick of the reverend's.' After this it is hardly necessary to say, the
servant was a confederate, and the whole affair nothing more or less
than a true orthodox farce of horse chaunting,{3} got up for the express
purpose of raising a temporary supply."{4}
1 A horse-dealer.
2 Money.
3 Tricking persons into the purchase of unsound or vicious
horses.