_working the broads_ (i.e. cards), such as fingers at whist:
toe to toe for an ace, or the left hand to the eye for a
king, and so on, until he can make the fate of a rubber
certain. On this point he must be well instructed in the
arts of _marked cards, briefs, broads, corner bends, middle
ditto, curves, or Kingston Bridge_, and other arch tricks of
_slipping, palming, forcing_, or even _substituting_,
whatever card may be necessary to win the game. Such are a
few of the elements of modern Greeking, contained in the
twelve golden rules recorded above, early attention to which
may save the inexperienced from ruin.
[Illustration: page214]
7 ELEMENTS OF DUELLING.
"The British Code of Duel," a little work professing to give
the necessary instructions for _man-killing according to
honour_, lays down the following rules as indispensable for
the practice of principals and seconds in the pleasant and
humane amusement of shooting at each other. "1. To choose
out a snug sequestered spot, where the ground is level, and
no natural, terrestrial, or celestial line presenting itself
to assist either party in his views of sending his opponent
into eternity. 2. To examine the pistols; see that they are
alike in quality and length, and load in presence of each
other. 3. To measure the distance; ten paces of not less
than thirty inches being the minimum, the parties to step to
it, not from it. 4. To fire by signal and at random; it
being considered unfair to take aim at the man whose life
you go out to take. 5. Not to deliver the pistols cocked,
lest they should go off un-expectedly; and after one fire
the second should use his endeavours to produce a
reconciliation. 6. If your opponent fire in the air, it is
very unusual, and must be a case of extreme anguish when you
are obliged to insist upon another shot at him. 7. Three
fires must be the ultimatum in any case; any more reduces
duel to a conflict for blood," says the code writer; "if
the parties can afford it, there should be two surgeons in
attendance, but if economical, one mutual friend will
suffice; the person receiving the first fire, in case of
wound, taking the first dressing. 8. It being always
understood that wife, children, parents, and relations are
no impediment with men of very different relative stations
in society to their meeting on equal terms." The _consistency,
morality, justice, and humanity of this code, I
leave to the gratifying reflection of those who have most
honourably killed their man_.
~215~~
'For, as duelling now is completely a science,
And sets, the Old Bailey itself at defiance;
Now Hibernians are met with in every street,
'Tis as needful to know how to shoot as to eat.'
The following singular challenge is contained in a letter
from Sir William Herbert, of St. Julian's, in Monmouthshire,
father-in-law to the famous Lord Herbert, of Cherbury, to a
gentleman of the name of Morgan. The original is in the
British Museum.
"Sir--Peruse this letter, in God's name. Be not disquieted.
I reverence your hoary hair. Although in your son I find too
much folly and lewdness, yet in you I expect gravity and
wisdom.
"It hath pleased your son, late at Bristol, to deliver a
challenge to a man of mine, on the behalf of a gentleman (as
he said) as good as myself; who he was, he named not,
neither do I know; but if he be as good as myself, it must
either be for virtue, for birth, for ability, or for calling
and dignity. For virtue I think he meant not, for it is a
thing which exceeds his judgment: if for birth, he must be
the heir male of an earl, the heir in blood of ten earls;
for, in testimony thereof, I bear their several coats.
Besides, he must be of the blood royal, for by my
grandmother Devereux I am lineally and legitimately
descended out of the body of Edward IV. If for ability he
must have a thousand pounds a year in possession, a thousand
pounds more in expectation, and must have some thousands in
substance besides. If for calling and dignity, he must be
knight or lord of several seignories in several kingdoms, a
lieutenant of his county, and a counsellor of a province.
"Now to lay all circumstances aside, be it known to your
son, or to any man else, that if there be any one who
beareth the name of gentleman, and whose words are of
reputation in his county, that doth say, or dare say, that I
have done unjustly, spoken an untruth, stained my credit and
reputation in this matter, or in any matter else, wherein
your son is exasperated, I say he lieth in his throat, and
my sword shall maintain my word upon him, in any place or
province, wheresoever he dare, and where I stand not sworn
to observe the peace. But if they be such as are within my
governance, and over whom I have authority, I will for their
re-formation chastise them with justice, and for their
malaport misdemeanour bind them to their good behaviour. Of
this sort, I account your son, and his like; against whom I
will shortly issue my warrant, if this my warning doth not
reform them. And so I thought fit to advertise you hereof,
and leave you to God.
"I am, &c.
"WM. HERBERT."
~216~~"The art of fencing formerly distinguished the gentleman, who then
wore a sword as a part of his dress. He is now contented with a regular
stand-up fight, and exhibits a fist like a knuckle-bone of mutton--hard,
coarse, and of certain magnitude. The bludgeon hammer-headed whip, or a
vulgar twig, succeeds the clouded and amber-headed cane; and instead
of the snuff-box being rare, and an article of parade, to exhibit a
beauty's miniature bestowed in love, or that of a crowned head, given
for military or diplomatic services, all ranks take snuff out of cheap
and vulgar boxes, mostly of inferior French manufacture, with, not
unfrequently, indecent representations on them; or you have wooden
concerns with stage coaches, fighting-cocks, a pugilistic combat, or an
ill-drawn neck and neck race upon them. The frill of the nobleman and
gentleman's linen once bore jewels of high price, or a conceit, like a
noted beauty's eye, set in brilliants less sparkling than what formed
the centre. Now, a fox, a stag, or a dog, worthily occupies the place of
that enchanting resemblance. In equitation, we had Sir Sydney Meadows,
a pattern and a prototype for gentlemen horsemen. The Melton hunt now is
more in vogue, and the sons of our nobility ride like their own grooms
and postboys--ay, and dress like them too. Autrefois, a man of fashion
might be perceived ere he was seen, from a reunion ~217~~of rich and
costly perfumes. Now, snuff and tobacco, the quid, the pinch, and the
cigar, announce his good taste. The cambric pocket-handkerchief was the
only one known in the olden times. The belcher (what a name! ) supplies
its place, together with the bird's eye, or the colours of some black
or white boxer. An accomplished man was the delight of all companies in
former times. An out and outer, one up to every thing, down as a nail
or the knocker of Newgate, a trump, or a Trojan, now carry the mode
of praise; one that can _patter flash, floor a charley, mill a
coal-heaver_, come coachey in prime style, up to every rig and row in
town, and down to every move upon the board, from a nibble at the club
to a dead hit at a hell; can swear, smoke, take snuff, lush, play at all
games, and throw over both sexes in different ways--he is the finished
man. The attributes of a modern fine gentleman are, to have his address
at his club, and his residence any where; to lounge, laugh, lisp, and
loll away the time from four to eight, when having dressed, eat his
olives, he goes to Almack's if he can, or struts into Fop's Alley at
the Opera in boots, in defiance of decency or the remonstrance of the
door-keepers; talks loud to be noticed; and having handed some woman of
fashion to her carriage, gets in after her without invitation, and, as
a matter of course, behaves rudely in return; makes a last call at the
club in his way home to learn the issue of the debate, and try his luck
at French hazard or fleecing a novice. (See Plate.)
[Illustration: page217]
If his fortune should be one thousand per annum, his income may be
extended to five, by virtue of credit and credulity. If he comes out
very early in life, say eighteen, he will scarcely expect to be visible
at twenty-four; but if he does not appear until he is twenty-one, and
then lives all his days, he may die fairly of old age, infirmity,
and insolvency, at twenty-six. His topographical knowledge of town
is bounded by the fashionable ~218~~directory, which limits his
recognition, on the north, by Oxford-street, on the east, by
Bond-street, on the south, by Pall Mall, and on the west, by Park-lane.
Ask him where is Russell Square, and he stares at you for a rustic;
inquire what authors he reads, and he answers Weatherbey and Rhodes; ask
what are their works, and he laughs outright at your ignorance of
the 'Racing Calendar,' 'Annals of Sporting,' 'Boxiana,' and 'Turf
Remembrancer;' question his knowledge of science, it consists in starch
_a la Brummel_{8}; of mathematics, in working problems on the cards; of
algebra, in calculating the long odds, or squaring the chances of the
dice; he tells you, his favourite book is his betting account, that John
Bull is the only newspaper worth reading, and that you must never expect
to be admitted into good society if the cut of your coat does not bear
outward proofs of its being fabricated either in Saint James's Street
or Bond Street; that the great requisites are _confidence, indifference,
and nonchalance_; as, for instance, George Wombwell being thrown out of
his tilbury on High gate Hill, when driving Captain Burdett, and both
being dreadfully bruised, George is picked
8 When Brummel fell into disgrace, he devised the starched
neckcloth, with the design of putting the prince's neck out
of fashion, and of bringing his Royal Highness's muslin, his
bow, and wadding, into contempt. When he first appeared in
this stiffened cravat, tradition says that the sensation in
St. James's-street was prodigious; dandies were struck dumb
with envy, and washerwomen miscarried. No one could conceive
how the effect was produced--tin, card, a thousand
contrivances were attempted, and innumerable men cut their
throats in vain experiments; the secret, in fact, puzzled
and baffled every one, and poor dandy L------d died raving
mad of it; his mother, sister, and all his relations waited
on Brummel, and on their knees implored him to save their
kinsman's life by the explanation of the mystery; but the
beau was obdurate, and L------d miserably perished.
When Brummel fled from England, he left this secret a legacy
to his country; he wrote on a sheet of paper, on his
dressing-table, the emphatic words, "Starch is the man."
~219 up by a countryman, when he inquires, very coolly, if 't'other
blackguard is not quite dead:' his amours are more distinguished by
their number than attractions, and the first point is, not attachment,
but notoriety; the lady always being the more desirable, in proportion
to the known variety of her gallants; that of all the pleasures of this
life, there is nothing like a squeeze at court (see plate), or being
wedged into a close room at a crowded rout.
[Illustration: page219]
A ruffian was never thought of by our forefathers; the exquisite was;
but he was more sublimated than the exquisite of the nineteenth century.
The dandy is of modern date; but there is some polish on him--suppose
it be on his boots alone. Shape and make are attended to by him; witness
the Cumberland corset, and his making what he can of every body. Then,
again, he must have a smattering of French, and affect to be above old
England. When he smokes, he does it from vanity, to show his _ecume de
mer_ pipe. He may have a gold snuff-box and a little diamond pin; and
when he swears, he lisps it out like a baby's lesson. Sometimes (not
often) he plays upon the guitar; and the peninsular war may have made
a man of him, and a linguist too; but he is far below the ancient
exquisites (who touched the lute, the lyre, and violoncello). And he is
an egotist in every thing--in gallantry, in conversation, in principle,
and in heart. Nor has the deterioration of the gentleman been confined
to England only--polite and ceremonious France has felt her change. The
Revolution brought in coarse and uncivilised manners. The awkward
and unsuccessful attempt at Spartan and Roman republican manners;
the citizen succeeding to Monsieur; the blasphemous, incredulous,
atheistical principles instilled into the then growing generation of
all classes; the system of equality, subversive of courtliness, and
the obliging attentions and suavities of society, poisoned at once
the source ~220~~of morals and of manners; for there can be nothing
gentlemanlike in atheism, radicalism, and the level, ling system. To
this state of things succeeded a reign of terror, assassination, and
debauchery; and lastly, a military despotism, in which the private
soldier rose to the marshals baton; a groom in the stables of the Prince
of Conde saw himself ennobled; peers and generals had brothers still
keeping little retail shops; and a drum-boy lived to see his wife--a
washerwoman, or fish vender--a duchess (Madame Lefevre). How can we
expect breeding from such materials? Bayonets gave brilliancy to the
imperial court; and the youth of the country were all soldiers, without
dreaming of the gentleman, except in a low bow and flourish of the hat;
a greater flourish of self-praise, and a few warm, loose, and dangerous
compliments to the fairer sex, became more than even the objects
of their passion, but less so of their attentions and prepossessing
assiduities. This military race taught us to smoke, to snuff, to drink
brandy, and to swear; for although John Bull never was backward in that
point, yet St. Giles's and not St. James's, was the _rendezvous_ for
those who possessed that brutal and invincible habit. These were not
amongst the least miseries and curses which the war produced; and they
have left such mischievous traces behind them, that the mature race
in France laugh at the old court, and at all old civil and religious
principles, whilst our demoralized youth play the same game at home.
And if a Bolingbroke or a Chesterfield was now to appear, he would be
quizzed by all the smokers, jokers, hoaxers, glass-cockers, blacklegs,
and fancy-fellows of the town, amongst whom all ranks are perfectly
lost, and morality is an absolute term. O tempora! O Moses! (as the
would-be Lady Sckolard said.) Nor does Moses play second best in these
characters of the day. Moses has crept into all circles; from the ring
to the peerage and baronetage, the stage, the ~221~~race-course; and
our clubs are tinged with the Israelitish: they may lend money, but they
cannot lend a lustre to the court, or to the gilded and painted saloons
of the _beau monde_. The style of things is altered; we mean not the old
style and new in point of date, but in point of brilliancy in the higher
circles. Our ancestors never bumped along the streets, with a stable-boy
by their side, in a one-horse machine, which is now the _bon ton_ in
imitation of our Gallic neighbours, whose equipage is measured by
their purse. Where do you now see a carriage with six horses, and three
outriders, and an _avant courier_, except on Lord Mayor's day? Yet
how common this was with the nobility _d'autrefois_. Two grooms are no
longer his Grace's and my Lord's attendants, but each is followed by one
groom in plain clothes, not very dissimilar from the man he serves. Do
we ever see the star of nobility in the morning, to guard him who has
a right to it from popular rudeness and a confusion of rank? All is now
privacy, concealment, equality in exterior, musty and meanness: not
that the plain style of dress would be exceptionable, if we could say in
verity--
'We have within what far surpasseth show.'
But the lining is now no better (oftentimes worse) than the coat. Our
principles and our politeness are on a par--at low-water mark. The
tradesman lives like the gentleman, and the nobleman steps down a
degree to be, like other people, up to all fashionable habits and modern
customs; whilst the love for gain, at the clubs, on the turf, in the
ring, and in private life, debases one part of society, and puts down
the other, which becomes the pigeon to the rook. Whilst all this goes
on, the press chronicles and invents follies for us; and there are men
stupid enough to glory in their depravity, to be pleased with their
own deformity of mind, body, or dress, of their affectations, ~222~~and
their leading of a party. There is something manly in the Yacht Club, in
a dexterously driving four fleet horses in hand, in reining in the proud
barb, and in gymnastic exercises: but the whole merit of these ceases,
when my Lord (like him of carroty beard) becomes the tar without his
glory, and wears the check shirt without the heart of oak--when the
driver becomes the imitator of the stage and hackney box--when the
rider is the unsuccessful rival of the jockey; and the frequenter of the
gymnastic arena becomes a bruiser, or one turning strength into money,
be the bet or the race what it may.
'Shades of our ancestors! whose fame of old
In ev'ry time the echoing world has told!
Whose dauntless valour and heroic deeds,
Each British bosom yet enraptur'd reads!
Deeds, which in ev'ry country, clime, and age,
Have fill'd the poet's and historian's page;
Of ev'ry muse the theme, and ev'ry pen:
Ye I invoke! and ye, my countrymen,
If British blood yet flows within your veins,
If for your country aught of love remains,
O make your first, your chief, your only care,
That which first rais'd and made you what you were.'"
[Illustration: page222]
CHELTONIAN CHARACTERS.
A TRIP TO THE SPAS.
CHAPTER I.
~223~~
Bernard Blackmantle and Bob Transit pay a Visit to the
Chelts--Privileges of a Spy--Alarm at Chelten-him--The rival
Editors--The setting of a great Son--How to sink in
Popularity and Respect--A noble Title--An old Flame--
Poetical _jeu d'esprit_, by Vinegar Penn--Muriatic Acid--An
Attorney-General's Opinion on Family Propensities given
without a Fee!!--The Cheltenham Dandy, or the Man in the
Cloak, a Sketch from the Life-Noble Anecdote of the Fox-
hunting Parson--Bury-ing alive at Berkeley--Public
Theatricals in private--"A Michaelmas Preachment," by an
Honest Reviewer--A few Words for Ourselves--The Grand
Marshall--Interesting Story of a former M. C.
"Oh, I've been to countries rare;
Seen such sights, 'twould make you stare."
[Illustration: page223]
"That last chapter of yours, Blackmantle, on John Long and John
Long's customers, will long remain a memorial of your scrutinizing
qualifications, and, as I think, will prevent your taking your port,
punch, pines, or soda-water in Bond-street for some time to come, lest
'suspicion, which ever haunts the guilty mind,' should in the course of
conversation convict you; and then, my dear fellow, you would certainly
go off pop like the last-mentioned article in the above reference to
the luxuries of Long's hotel." ~224~~"Bravo, Bob Transit!" said I; "this
comes mighty well from you, sir, my _fidus achates_.--'_A bon chat bon
rat_'--the _fidus and audax_ satirists of the present times. And who,
sir, dares to doubt our joint authority? are we not the very spies o'
the age?
'Joint monarchs of all we survey;
Our right there is none to dispute.'
From the throne to, the thatched cottage, wherever there is character,
'there fly we,' and, on the wings of merry humour, draw with pen and
pencil a faithful portraiture of things as they are; not tearing aside
the hallowed veil of private life, but seizing as of public right on
public character, and with a playful vein of satire proving that we are
of the poet's school;
'Form'd to delight at once and lash the age.'
At this season of the year fashion cries out of
Town; so, pack up, Master Robert, and
Let us to Chelt's retiring banks,
Where beaux and beauties throng,
To drink at Spas and play rum pranks,
That here will live in song.
What Cheltenham was, is no business of ours; what it is, as regards
its buildings, salubrious air, and saline springs, its walks, views,
libraries, theatre, and varieties, my friend Williams, whose shop at the
corner of the assembly rooms is the grand lounge of the literati, will
put the visitor into possession of for the very moderate sum of five
shillings. But, reader, if you would search deeper into society,
and know something of the whim and character of the frequenters and
residents of this fashionable place of public resort, you must consult
the English Spy, and trace in his pages and the accompanying plates of
his friend Bob Transit the faithful likenesses of the scenes and persons
who figure in the maze of fashion, ~225~~or attract attention by the
notoriety of their amours, the eccentricity of their manners, or the
publicity of their attachments to the ball or the billiard-room, the
card or the hazard-table, the turf or the chase; for in all of these
does Cheltenham abound. From the _cercle de la basse to the cercle de
la haute_, from the nadir to the zenith, 'I know ye, and have at ye
all'--ye busy, buzzing, merry, amorous groups of laughter-loving,
ogling, ambling, gambling Cheltenham folk.
'A chiel's among ye taking notes,
And faith, he'll print them.'
To spy out your characteristic follies, ye sons and daughters of
pleasure, have we, Bernard Blackmantle and Robert Transit, esquires,
travelled down to Cheltenham to collect materials for an odd chapter
of a very odd book, but one which has already established its fame by
continued success, and, as I hope owes much of its increasing prosperity
to its characteristic good-humour; so, without more preface, imagine a
little dapper-looking fellow of about five feet something in altitude,
attended by a tall sharp-visaged gentleman in very spruce costume,
parading up and down the High-street, Cheltenham--lounging for a few
minutes in Williams's library--making very inquisitive remarks upon
the passing singularities--and then the little man most impertinently
whispering to his friend with the Quixotic visage, book him, Bob--when
out comes the note book of both parties, and down goes somebody.
Afterwards see them popping into this shop, and then into the other,
spying and prying about--occasionally nodding perhaps to a London actor,
who shines forth here a star of the first magnitude; John Liston,
for instance, or Tyrone Power--then posting off to the well walks, or
disturbing the peaceful dead by ambling over their graves in search
of humorous epitaphs--making their way down to the Berkeley kennel
in North-street (See Plate), ~226~~or paying a visit to the Paphian
divinities at the Oakland cottages under the Cleigh Hills--trotting here
and there--making notes and sketches until all Cheltenham is in a state
of high excitement, and the rival editors of the Chronicle and Journal,
Messrs. Halpine and Judge, are so much alarmed that they are almost
prepared to become friends, and unite their forces for the time against
the common enemy.
[Illustration: page226]
Imagine such an animated, whispering, gazing, inquiring scene, as I have
here presented you with a slight sketch of, and, reader, you will be
able to form some idea of the first appearance of the English Spy and
his friend the artist, among the ways and walks of merry Cheltenham.
Then here
'At once, I dedicate my lay
To the gay groups that round me swarm,
Like May-bees round the honied hive,
When fields are green, and skies are warm
And all in nature seems alive.'