BELOVED FRIEND,

After I had sent away my letter to you, and made an excursion into the

country with some ladies, I drove to a party at the Duke of Clarence's,

where there was, this time, such a genuine English squeeze, that I and

several others could by no means get in; and went away, after waiting

half an hour, 're infectâ,' to console ourselves at another ball. The

mass in the first room was so jammed together that several men put on

their hats, that they might have their arms more at liberty for active

service. Ladies, covered with jewels were regularly 'milled,' and fell,

or rather stood, fainting: cries, groans, curses, and sighs, were the

only sounds to be heard. Some only laughed; and, inhuman as it was, I

must accuse myself of having been among these latter; for really it was

too droll to hear this called _society_. To say truth, I never saw any

thing equal to it before.

Early the next morning I rode to Cobham Hall, to spend a few days there

on occasion of Lord D----'s birthday, which was celebrated to-day in a

rural and unpretending manner. Excepting myself, there was no one but

the family, which was increased by the presence of the elder son and

his beautiful and charming wife, who usually reside in Ireland. All was

ordered for domestic enjoyment. We dined early, in order that we might

be present at a supper in the open air, which Lord D---- gave to all his

labourers, about a hundred in number. It was managed with the greatest

decorum. We sat next to the iron fence in the pleasure-ground, and the

tables for the people were placed on the new-mown grass. First, about

fifty young girls, from the Lancasterian school which Lady D---- has

established in the park, were regaled with tea and cakes. They were all

dressed alike, and very prettily too; they were children of from six to

fourteen. After them came the labourers, and seated themselves at a long

table plentifully furnished with enormous dishes of roast beef,

vegetables, and pudding. Each brought his own knife and fork and earthen

pot. The servants of the house set on the dinner, did the honours, and

poured out the beer from great watering-pots. The village musicians

played all the while, and were really better than ours; they were also

better dressed. On the other hand the labourers did not look so well or

so neat as our Wends in their Sunday clothes. No one was invited except

those who constantly worked for Lord D----. The health of every member

of the family was drunk with nine times nine; on which our old coachman

Child, (now in Lord D----'s service,) who is a kind of English

improvisatore, got upon the middle of the table, and delivered a most

comical speech in verse, in which I was introduced, and truly with this

wish,--

To have always plenty of gold,

And never to become old;

the double impossibility of which sounded rather ironical.

During all this time, and till it was dark, the little girls danced and

skipped about incessantly, with great gravity, on the grass, without any

sort of plan or connectedness, like puppets,--whether the music played

or not. Our party in the pleasure ground was at length attacked by the

dancing mania; and I myself constrained to break my vow, for I could not

possibly refuse to dance with such a partner as lady D----.

_July 4th._

I have not been so happy and amused for a long time as here. In the

morning I make excursions in the beautiful country, or drive in lady

D----'s little one horse phæton about the fields and park, without road

or path; and in the evening I, like the rest, take only just so much

part in the conversation as I like. Yesterday after dinner we all sat

(nine persons) at least a couple of hours together in the library,

reading,--each, of course I mean, in his own book,--without one single

word being spoken. At which peripatetic silence we at last, all by

common consent, laughed. We thought of the Englishman at Paris, who

maintained 'que parler c'étoit gâter la conversation.' After visiting

the Lancasterian school I mentioned,--where one person teaches sixty

girls, some of whom come from the remotest parts of Lord D----'s

estate, many miles, daily--I rode to Rochester to see the fine ruin of

the old castle. What has not been destroyed by violence stands like a

rock, from the time of William the Conqueror. The remains of the

eating-hall, with its colossal pillars united by richly ornamented Saxon

arches, are singularly fine. The stone ornaments were all carved in

Normandy, and sent hither by water. I mounted the highest point of the

ruin, whence I had a noble view of the union of the Thames and the

Medway, the towns of Rochester and Chatham, with the dockyards of the

latter, and a richly cultivated country.

At dinner our company received an addition,--Mr and Mrs P----, Mr M----,

and a nephew of Lord D----'s. Mrs P---- told a good anecdote of Kemble

the actor. On a professional tour in the provinces, he acted in a piece

in which a camel is introduced. He told the 'décorateur' that, as he had

just seen, there was a camel actually in the town, and that he had

better therefore go and look at it, that he might make his artificial

one as like it as possible. The man seemed extremely annoyed, and

replied, he was sorry gentlemen in London thought people in the country

were so ignorant; for his part, he flattered himself that, without going

to look at any thing, he should produce a more natural camel this

evening than any that was walking about the streets.

The following day we rode out, and this time in company with the ladies,

after which we went on the water in Lord D----'s elegant yacht. I was

to drive the party down to the Thames, four-in-hand, in which I have had

so little practice of late years, that at a crossway the leaders, in

spite of my efforts, ran their heads against a stage-coach driving

across us:--this occasioned a scream in both the carriages, which

greatly incensed old Child, who looks upon me as his pupil.

Thus, like the great Corsican, in one day I lost all my renown in the

high art of guiding the reins--from the throne, ycleped ruling,--from

the box, driving. I was therefore obliged to abdicate the latter, since

the ladies maintained that my possession of this exalted seat was

attended with too much danger to them. This mortified me so sorely, that

when we got on board the yacht I climbed up the shrouds, and seated

myself at the mast-head, where, fanned by a mild zephyr, I admired at my

ease the ever-changing prospect, and philosophized on my downfall.

_July 5th._

After I had vigorously assisted in hewing out some new prospects in the

thicket, (at which we all lent a hand,) and planned a road through the

park which is to be so far honoured as to bear my name, I took a cordial

leave of this most estimable family, (who might serve as a pattern to

the nobility of any country,) and returned to London, provided with many

letters of introduction for Ireland.

_July 8th._

As before I depart I mean to send you all sorts of things, with my

horses, carriage and birds, (of the latter you will receive a complete

cargo of the rarest sorts), I have had enough to do to-day to complete

my purchases. In the course of this occupation I fell upon an exhibition

of machinery and manufactures, among which are many interesting things;

as, for instance, a machine which draws of itself, (if I may say so,)

all the objects visible within its horizon, in perspective: a

piano-forte which, besides serving the usual purpose, plays (extra) a

hundred pieces by itself, which you may accompany with extemporary

`fantasie' on the keys: a very compendious domestic telegraph, which

spares the servants half their labour, and us nearly all their

burdensome presence: a washing machine, which requires only one woman to

wash a great quantity of linen: a most elegant churn, with which you can

make butter on your breakfast table in two minutes; and other novelties

of the like kind.

From hence I drove to the greatest nursery garden in the neighbourhood

of London, which I had long wished to see. The multifold wants of such a

number of rich people raise private undertakings to a magnitude and

extent in England which they reach nowhere else. On such a scale I

found a collection of green-houses in this garden. In many were small

leaden tubes, carried along the edges of the glass roof,--three or four

on each side: the tubes are perforated with very small holes: by only

turning a cock, a stream of water is carried through them; and in one

moment the whole house is filled with a thick shower, just like natural

rain. This makes the labour of watering almost unnecessary, has a much

more powerful and uniform effect, and only requires some aid where the

leaves are too large and thick to allow the rain to penetrate.

Without going into the details of the innumerable sorts of pines, roses,

&c., I must only remark, that in the department of esculent vegetables,

there were four hundred and thirty-five sorts of salad, two hundred and

sixty-one of peas, and two hundred and forty of potatoes,--and all other

articles of garden commerce in the same proportion.

On my way back I met the Tyrolers, who had been making holiday, and

asked my old acquaintance (the girl) how she was pleased with her stay

here. She declared with enthusiasm that her Saint must have brought her

here; for that they had made 7000_l._ sterling in a few months, which

they had earned--hard money--only with singing their dozen songs.

Prince Esterhazy has made this _Gejodle_[88] the fashion here, and

fashion in England is every thing. Sontag and Pasta, with their

wonderful talents, have chiefly this to thank for their success--they

were the fashion; for Weber, who did not understand the art of making

himself fashionable, gained, as is well known, almost nothing;--the two

Bohrers, Kiesewetter, and other men of real genius, were not more

fortunate.

While I am talking of fashion, it seems a suitable occasion, before I

quit England, to enter a little more at large on the subject of the

structure and tone of English society, which is certainly rather more

striking to a stranger in this admired land, than fog, steam-engines, or

stage-coaches. It is not necessary to remark here, that in such general

descriptions only the most prominent and reigning peculiarities are

taken into consideration, and that, in the censure which is passed on

the whole, the hundred honourable exceptions which exhibit the

praiseworthy contrast in such full perfection, are left wholly out of

the account.

England is now--viewed, certainly, with relation to a totally different

universal spirit of the age--in a similar state to that of France thirty

years before the revolution. And it will fall out with her as with her

great rival, if she does not avert the storm by radical but continuous

reform. Nearly-allied fundamental evils are present here, as there. On

the one side, the undue preponderance, misused power, inflexible stony

arrogance, and heartless frivolity of the great; on the other,

selfishness and rapacity are grown into the national character of the

mass of the people. Religion no longer dwells in the heart and spirit,

but is become a dead form; notwithstanding the most unenlightened

_spirit_ of Catholicism,--with fewer ceremonies, indeed, but combined

with like intolerance, and a similar hierarchy; and which besides the

bigotry and the pride of Rome, has this over and above, that it

possesses an enormous share of the property of the country.[89]

Like causes have also given an analogous tone and direction to what is

pre-eminently called, Society. Experience will confirm this to every man

who has access to what is called high life in England; and it will be

highly interesting to him to observe how different a growth and aspect

the same plant has assumed in France and England, in consequence of the

original difference of the soil; for in France it grew rather out of

chivalry and poetry, combined with the dominant vanity of the nation,

with levity of character, and a real delight in social existence:--in

England, out of a brutal feudal tyranny, the commercial prosperity of

later years, an ill-humour and moroseness innate in the nation, and a

cold stony self-love.

People on the continent generally form to themselves a more or less

republican picture of English society. In the public life of the nation

this is certainly very observable,--as also in their domestic habits, in

which selfishness is strangely prevalent. Grown-up children and parents

soon become almost strangers; and what we call domestic life[90] is

therefore applicable only to husband, wife, and little children living

in immediate dependence on their father; as soon as they grow up, a

republican coldness and estrangement take place between them and their

parents. An English poet maintains, that the love of a grandfather to

his grandchildren arises from this--that in his grown-up sons he sees

only greedy and hostile heirs,--in his grandchildren, the future enemies

of his enemies. The very _thought_ could never have arisen but in an

English brain!

In the relations and tone of society, on the other hand, from the

highest step to the very lowest, not a trace of any element of

republicanism is to be found. Here, everything is in the highest degree

ultra-aristocratic--it is caste-like. The present so-called great world

would probably have taken a different form and character if a Court, in

the continental sense of the word, had given tone and direction in the

highest instance.

Such a one, however, does not here exist. The Kings of England live like

private men; most of the high officers about the Court are little more

than nominal, and are seldom assembled except on occasions of great

ceremony. Now, as somewhere in society a focus must be organized, from

which the highest light and the highest authority in all matters

connected with society must emanate, the rich aristocracy seemed here

called to assume this station.

It was, however, spite of all its wealth and puissance, not yet

qualified to maintain such a station unquestioned. The English nobility,

haughty as it is, can scarcely measure itself against the French in

antiquity and purity of blood (if any value is to be attached to such

things), and in no degree against the higher German nobility, which is

for the most part intact.[91] It dazzles only by the old historic names

so wisely retained, which appear through the whole of English history

like standing masks; though new families, often of very mean and even

discreditable extraction, (such as descendants of mistresses, and the

like), are continually concealed behind them. The English aristocracy

has indeed the most solid advantages over those of all other

countries--from its real wealth, and yet more from the share in the

legislative power allotted to it by the Constitution: _but as it is not

upon these grounds that it chooses to assert or to justify its

supremacy, but precisely upon its assumed noble blood and higher

extraction_, the pretension must, unquestionably, appear to the rest of

the world doubly ludicrous. The members of the aristocracy probably had

an instinctive feeling of this; and thus, by a tacit convention--not

nobility, not wealth, but an entirely new power was placed upon the

throne, as supreme and absolute sovereign--Fashion: a goddess who in

England alone, reigns in person, (if I may so express myself), with

despotic and inexorable sway,--though always represented to mortal eyes

by a few clever usurpers of either sex.

The spirit of _caste_, which, emanating from this source, descends

through all stages of society in greater or less force, has received

here a power, consistency and full development, wholly unexampled in any

other country. The having visited on an intimate footing in a lower

class is sufficient to ensure you an extremely cold reception in the

very next step of the ladder; and no Brahmin can shrink with more horror

from all contact with a Paria, than an 'Exclusive' from intercourse with

a 'Nobody.'--Every class of society, as well as every field, in England

is separated from every other by a hedge of thorns. Each has its own

manners and turns of expression,--its 'cant' language, as it is called,

and, above all, a supreme and absolute contempt for all below it. Of

course every reflecting person sees at a glance, that a society so

constituted must necessarily become eminently provincial

(_kleinstädtisch_, i. e. _small-townish_) in its several coteries; and

this strikingly distinguishes it from the large and cosmopolitan society

of Paris.

Now, although the aristocracy, as I have remarked, does not stand _as

such_ on the pinnacle of this strange edifice, it yet exercises great

influence over it. It is indeed difficult to become fashionable without

being of good descent; but it by no means follows, that a man is so in

virtue of being well born--still less of being rich. It sounds ludicrous

to say, (but yet it is true), that the present King for instance, is a

very fashionable man; that his father was not in the least degree so,

and that none of his brothers have any pretension to fashion;--which

unquestionably is highly to their honour:--for no man who has any

personal claims to distinction, would be frivolous enough long to have

either the power or the will to maintain himself in that category. On

the other hand, it would be a doubtful and critical matter to affirm

decidedly what are the qualities which secure the highest places in that

exalted sphere. You see alternately the most heterogeneous qualities

occupy a post in it; and political motives, in a country like this,

cannot be entirely without influence: yet I believe that caprice and

luck, and, above all, women, here, as in the rest of the world, do more

than anything else.

On the whole, fashionable Englishmen, however unable they may be to lay

aside their native heaviness and pedantry, certainly betray the most

intense desire to rival the dissolute frivolity and 'jactance' of the

old Court of France in their fullest extent; while in exactly the same

proportion the French now seek to exchange this character for old

English earnestness, and daily advance towards higher and more dignified

purposes and views of existence.

A London Exclusive of the present day is in truth nothing more than a

bad, flat, dull impression of a 'roué' of the Regency and a courtier of

Louis the Fifteenth: both have, in common, selfishness, levity,

boundless vanity, and an utter want of heart; both think they can set

themselves above everything by means of contempt, derision and

insolence; both creep in the dust before one idol alone--the Frenchman

of the last age, before his King--the Englishman of this, before any

acknowledged ruler in the empire of fashion. But what a contrast if we

look further! In France, the absence of all morality and honesty was at

least in some degree atoned for by the most refined courtesy; the

poverty of soul, by wit and agreeableness; the impertinence of

considering themselves as something better than other people, rendered

bearable by finished elegance and politeness of manners; and egotistical

vanity in some measure justified, or at least excused, by the brilliancy

of an imposing Court, a high-bred air and address, the perfect art of

polished intercourse, winning 'aisance,' and a conversation captivating

by its wit and lightness.--What of all this has the English 'dandy' to

offer?

His highest triumph is to appear with the most wooden manners, as little

polished as will suffice to avoid castigation; nay, to contrive even his

civilities so, that they are as near as may be to affronts:--this indeed

is the style of deportment which confers upon him the greatest

celebrity. Instead of a noble, high-bred ease,--to have the courage to

offend against every restraint of decorum: to invert the relation in

which our sex stands to women, so that they appear the attacking, and he

the passive or defensive party;--to treat his best friends, if they

cease to have the stamp and authority of fashion, as if he did not know

them,--"to cut them," as the technical phrase goes; to delight in the

ineffably 'fade' jargon, and the affectation of his 'set;' and always to

know what is 'the thing:'--these are pretty nearly the accomplishments

which form a young 'lion' of the world of fashion. If he has, moreover,

a remarkably pretty mistress, and if it has also happened to him to

induce some foolish woman to sacrifice herself on the altar of fashion,

and to desert husband and children for him, his reputation reaches its

highest 'nimbus.' If, added to this, he spends a great deal of money, if

he is young, and if his name is in the 'Peerage,' he can hardly fail to

play a transient part; at any rate he possesses in full measure all the

ingredients that go to make a Richelieu of our days. That his

conversation consists only of the most trivial local jests and scandal,

which he whispers into the ear of a woman in a large party, without

deigning to remark that there is anybody in the room but himself and the

happy object of his delicate attentions; that with men he can talk only

of gambling or of sporting; that, except a few fashionable phrases which

the shallowest head can the most easily retain, he is deplorably

ignorant; that his awkward 'tournure' goes not beyond the 'nonchalance'

of a plough-boy, who stretches himself at his length on the ale-house

settle; and that his grace is very like that of a bear which has been

taught to dance,--all this does not rob his crown of a single jewel.

Worse still is it, that, notwithstanding the high-bred rudeness of his

exterior, the moral condition of his inward man must, to be fashionable,

stand far lower. That cheating is prevalent in the various kinds of play

which are here the order of the day, and that when long successfully

practised it gives a sort of 'relief,' is notorious: but it is still

more striking, that no attempt is made to conceal that 'crasse'

selfishness which lies at the bottom of such transactions,--nay, that it

is openly avowed as the only rational principle of action, and

'good-nature' is laughed at and despised as the 'comble' of vulgarity.

This is the case in no other country: in all others, people are ashamed

of such modes of thinking, even if they are wretched enough to hold

them. "We are a selfish people," said a favourite leader of fashion, "I

confess; and I do believe that what in other countries is called 'amor

patriæ' is amongst us nothing but a huge conglomeration of love of

ourselves: _but I am glad of it; I like selfishness_; there's good

sense in it;"--and he added, not satirically, but quite in earnest,

"Good-nature is quite 'mauvais ton' in London; and really it is a bad

style to take up, and will never do."

It is true that if you choose to analyze and hunt down every feeling

with the greatest subtlety, you may discover a sort of selfishness at

the very bottom of everything; but in all other nations a noble shame

throws a veil over it; as there are instincts very natural and innocent,

which are yet concealed even by the most uncivilized.

Here, however, people are so little ashamed of the most 'crasse'

self-love, that an Englishman of rank once instructed me that a good

'fox-hunter' must let nothing stop him, or distract his attention when

following the fox; and if his own father should be thrown in leaping a

ditch, and lie there, should, he said, 'if he couldn't help it,' leap

his horse over him, and trouble himself no more about him till the end

of the chase.[92]

With all this, our pattern 'dandy' has not the least independence, even

in his bad qualities: he is the trembling slave of fashion, even in the

extremest trifles; and the obsequious, servile satellite of the

fortunate individuals who are higher than himself. Were virtue and

modesty suddenly to become the fashion, nobody would be more

exemplary,--difficult as would be the task to accomplish.

Destitute of all originality, and without a thought he can properly call

his own, he may be compared to a clay figure, which, for a while,

deceives one with all the properties of a human being, but returns into

its native mud as soon as you discover that it has not a soul.

Whoever reads the best of the recent English novels--those by the author

of Pelham--may be able to abstract from them a tolerably just idea of

English fashionable society; provided (N.B.) he does not forget to

deduct qualities which national self-love has claimed, though quite

erroneously:--namely, grace for its 'roués,'--seductive manners and

amusing conversation for its 'dandies.' I mixed for a while with those

who dwell on the very pinnacle of this fool's world of fashion; with

those who inhabit its middle regions, and with those who have pitched

their tents at its foot, whence they turn longing, lingering looks at

the unattainable summit; but rarely did I ever find a vestige of that

attractive art of social life, that perfect equipoise of all the social

talents, which diffuses a feeling of complacency over all within its

sphere;--as far removed from stiffness and prudery as from rudeness and

license, which speaks with equal charm to the heart and the head, and

continually excites, while it never wearies; an art of which the French

so long remained the sole masters and models.

Instead of this, I saw in the fashionable world only too frequently, and

with few exceptions, a profound vulgarity of thought; an immorality

little veiled or adorned; the most undisguised arrogance; and the

coarsest neglect of all kindly feelings and attentions haughtily

assumed, for the sake of shining in a false and despicable 'refinement,'

even more inane and intolerable to a healthy mind, than the awkward and

ludicrous stiffness of the most declared Nobodies. It has been said that

vice and poverty are the most revolting combination:--since I have been

in England, vice and boorish rudeness seem to me to form a still more

disgusting union. * * *

* * * * *

Passing over some of the most remarkable English rulers of fashion, I

must mention one foreign potentate, who has placed herself on the same

throne with the highest.

The haughty and masculine spirit of this lady, which, when she chooses,

she knows how to conceal under the most engaging affability, combined

with all the diplomatic craftiness of her station, have enabled her to

set her foot on the neck of English supremacy; but she has not been able

to give to the court that surrounds her and bows blindly to all her

decrees, either her wit and tact, or her high-born air, or that

repulsive politeness _to all_, which is the 'ne plus ultra' of the

manner which it is the main object of an Exclusive's life to attain. The

distance in these respects between her and her associates in sovereignty

is almost burlesque; yet they rule side by side in Olympus. But even the

immortal gods have to encounter opposition; and thus we find a gigantic

antagonist in the monarch of the nether world. * * *

* * * * *

At his house are to be seen many of the 'Dii minores gentium,' such as

actresses turned into duchesses and countesses, &c. who are not admitted

into the circle 'par excellence.' * * *

* * * * *

A high degree of influence is also possessed by a foreign ambassador;

and without doubt he would possess the very highest, if the best tone,

kind-hearted amiability, high rank, the finest taste, and

(notwithstanding an assumed English 'tournure') a perfect absence of

that heaviness and pedantry, of which English fashionables can never

divest themselves, constituted the sole claims to pre-eminence. But it

is precisely because he is too far removed from the English, both by

that native amiability which continually gains an involuntary conquest

over his 'Anglo manie,' and by his German cordiality, that he excites

their envy rather than their admiration; and though 'recherche' by most,

because he is the fashion, remains a strange meteor in their system,

whom they attack where they can, and whom, at all events, they cannot

take to their hearts as they do their own Jupiter Ammon, nor acknowledge

in him 'autorité sans replique' with that blind submission they pay to

their Autocratess. Perhaps the wife of the ambassador might easily have

played the part of that lady, whom she excels in beauty as well as in

youth; and for a time the chances stood equal between them; but she was

too heedless, too natural and good-tempered to obtain a definitive

conquest. However high therefore be her place in the fashionable world,

her rival has unquestionably achieved the highest. Nobody who knows the

causes will think the loser the less amiable.

Among the other female rulers of the first category, I must mention one

or two whom no one may omit who seeks entrance into the sanctuary. At

the very top, is a no longer young but still lovely Countess; one of the

very few Englishwoman of whom it can be said, that she possesses a

perfect, and truly distinguished 'tournure.' With her natural gifts she

would, in any other country, have been thoroughly amiable and

delightful; but here none can escape the deadening impress of that

spirit of caste, so utterly blighted to all that is lovely and loving in

the human heart. * * *

* * * * *

In the age of innocence of the English world of fashion, when the

natives as yet were fain to copy continental manners, and had not

attained to that independence which now asserts its claim to serve as

model to other countries, a Dandy governed by means of his coat; and the

celebrated Brummel tyrannized over town and country, by this simple

instrument, during long years of glory. But this is no longer the case:

the sublime Exclusive, on the contrary, affects a certain inattention to

his dress, which is almost always alike; and is quite above running

after or inventing new fashions: his dress is at most distinguished only

for exquisite neatness and delicacy of texture. Far other qualities are

now necessary to constitute a man of fashion. He must, as formerly in

France, have the reputation of a heartless seducer, and be a _dangerous_

man. But as, with all the good-will in the world, it is not so easy for

men of graceless manners and invincible awkwardness to rival the

brilliant charm and captivating address of the Frenchman of the 'Vieille

Cour,' it is necessary, like Tartuffe, to play the soft and insidious

hypocrite; with the subdued voice which is now the fashion, and false

words, to make a way in the dark to unprincipled acts; such as false

play, or the 'gulling' of a novice in every species of sport, in which

so many young Englishmen find despair and suicide, where they sought

recreation and excitement;--where these arts are not applicable, to

seek, by all sorts of intrigue, to destroy the fortune and reputation of

those who stand in their way, or, at the least, to rob them of all

influence in exclusive society.

He who is intimately acquainted with England's dark side, will not

accuse me of exaggeration in this description. * * *

* * * * *

Let a man's moral and intellectual qualities be what they may, if he is

the fashion, he can say or do nothing that will not be received with

admiration and applause. His words are oracles; his wit _must be_

exquisite, since he has received his patent for it from fashionable

society; and where Fashion speaks, the free Englishman is a slave.

Besides, the vulgar feel that in all matters of art, talent or taste,

they are no very competent judges; they therefore think it safer blindly

to applaud a 'bon mot' when they see it has made their superiors laugh;

or to repeat an opinion which has proceeded from privileged lips:--just

as the public were in the third heavens with ecstasy for a whole winter

at a party of Tyrolese ballad-singers, and rained down money, which the

green butcher-family pocketed with a laugh. * * *

* * * * *

The far-famed Almack's, and the unrivalled puissance of the

Lady-Patronesses, I have already described to you. I must add two signal

acts of their power.

In a fit of pretty ill-humour these high and mighty Ladies ordered that

no person who came after midnight should be admitted. Soon after, the

Duke of Wellington came from the House of Lords a few minutes too late,

and thought he should be certain to find an exception in his favour.

'Point du tout'--the hero of Waterloo could not carry this fortress, and

was obliged to retreat.

Another time the Lady-Patronesses issued a decree, that only gentlemen

who were bow-legged should be permitted to appear in loose pantaloons:

all others were ordered to wear breeches;--in England, where the very

name is forbidden, certainly a bold decree.

The dread of the new tribunal of inquisition was so great, that at first

even this edict was obeyed. But a reaction followed. A great number of

gentlemen appeared at the door in the prohibited pantaloons, and

demanded admittance on the plea of crooked legs, of which they declared

themselves guilty; and, in case they were not believed, invited the

Lady-Patronesses to convince themselves of the fact by personal

inspection. From that time the Ladies have winked at this offending

portion of male attire.

_July 10th._

To-morrow I hope to be able to take my way to wider and freer regions;

and it will be some time before I resume the pent-up life of a city.

Lord Byron somewhere says of himself, that his soul never enjoyed its

full activity but in solitude. This truth is applicable to lesser

people, for it is just so with me. In wearisome society I am but half

conscious of a soul: and I am oppressed by the horrible thought--Now, if

possible, you must be 'amiable.' On the other hand, I am, as you know,

least alone when alone; for then do I the least miss your society, my

best of friends!

However distant you may be, my spirit hovers around your waking and your

dreaming hours; and over sea and mountain my heart feels the

affectionate pulse of yours.

Tour in England, Ireland, and France, in the years 1826, 1827, 1828 and 1829. with remarks on the manners and customs of the inhabitants, and anecdotes of distiguished public characters. In a series of letters by a German Prince. · 第 124 / 212 题