~261~~Keate's{7} learning would not have compensated for under the peculiar circumstances in which I was placed.

It was now that the mischief was done, and many a sound head was cracked, and many a courageous heart was smarting 'neath their wounds in the gloomy dungeons of the castle, or waiting in their rooms the probing instrument and plasters of Messrs. Wall, or Kidd, or Bourne, that a few of us, who had escaped tolerably well, and were seated round a bowl of bishop in the snug sanctum sanctorum of the Mitre, began to inquire of each other the origin of the fray. After a variety of conjectures and vague reports, each at variance with the other, and evidently deficient in the most remote connexion with the true cause of the strife, it was agreed to submit the question to the waiter, as a neutral observer, who assured us that the whole affair arose out of a trifling circumstance, originating with some mischievous boys, who, having watched two gownsmen into a cyprian temple in the neighbourhood of Saint Thomas, circulated a false report that they had carried thither the wives of two respectable mechanics. Without taking the trouble to inquire into the truth or falsehood of the accusation, the door was immediately beset; the old cry of Town and Gown vociferated in every direction; and the unfortunate wights compelled to seek their safety by an ignominious flight through a back door and over the meadows. The tumult once raised, it was not to be appeased without some victim, and for this purpose they thought proper to attack a party of the togati, who were returning home from a little private sport with a well-known fancy lecturer: the opportunity was a good one to show-off, a regular fight commenced, and the raff were floored in every direction, until their numbers increasing beyond all

7 The highly respected and learned head-master of Eton College.

~262 comparison, the university men were compelled to raise the cry of Gown, and fly for succour and defence to the High-street: in this way had a few mischievous boys contrived to embroil the town and university in one of the most severe intestine struggles ever remembered.



A true chronicle of ye bloodie fighte betweene the Clerkes of and Scholairs of Oxenforde, and the Townsmen of the Citie, who were crowdinge rounde the Easterne Gaite to see the Kinge enter in his progresse wostwarde.

~263~~

Sir Gierke of Oxenforde, prepare Your robis riche, and noble cheere. Ye kinge with alle his courtlie trane Is spurring on your plaice to gane. And heere ye trumpet's merrie note, His neare approache proclaims, I wote; Ye doctors, proctors, scholairs, go, And fore youre sovereigne bend ye lowe. Now comes the kinge in grande arraie; And the scholairs presse alonge the waye, Till ye Easterne gaite was thronged so rounde, That passage coulde no where be founde. Then the sheriffe's men their upraised speares Did plye about the people's eares. And woe the day; the rabble route Their speares did breake like glasse aboute. Then the doctors, proctors, for the kinge, Most lustilie for roome did singe; But thoughe theye bawled out amaine, No passage throughe the crowde coulde gane. Ye Northern gownsmen, a bold race, Now swore they'd quicklie free the plaice; With stalwart gripe, and beadle's staffe Theye clefte the townsmen's sculls in half.

~264~~

And now the wrathful rabble rave, And quick returne withe club and stave; And heades righte learn'd in classic lore Felt as they'd never felt before. Now fierce and bloody growes the fraye: In vaine the mayore and sheriffe praye For peace—to cool the townsmens' ire, Intreatie but impelles the fire. Downe with the Towne! the scholairs cry; Downe with the Gowne! the towne reply. Loud rattle the caps of the clerkes in aire, And the citizens many a sortie beare; And many a churchman fought his waye, Like a heroe in the bloodie fraye. And one right portlie father slewe Of rabble townsmen not a fewe. And now 'mid the battle's strife and din There came to the Easterne gate, The heralde of our lorde the kinge, With his merrie men all in state. "God help us!" quoth the courtlie childe, "What means this noise within? With joye the people have run wilde." And so he peeped him in, And throughe the wicker-gate he spied, And marvelled much thereat, The streets withe crimson current dyed, And Towne and Gowne laide flat. Then he called his merrie men aloud, To bringe him a ladder straighte; The trumpet sounds—the warlike crowde In a moment forget theire hate. Up rise the wounded, down theire arms Both Towne and Gowne do lie; The kinge's approache ye people charmes, And alle looke merrilie. For howe'er Towne and Gowne may fighte, Yet bothe are true to ye kinge. So on bothe may learning and honour lighte, Let all men gailie singe.{1}

~265~~

1 The above imitation of the style of the ancient ballad is founded on traditional circumstances said to have occurred when the pacific king James visited Oxford.—Bernard Blackmantle.

Intestine broils and civil wars of Oxford.—Anthony Wood, the faithful historian of Oxford, gives an account of a quarrel between the partisans of St. Guinbald and the residents of Oxford, in the days of Alfred, on his refounding the university, A.D. 886. After his death the continual inroads of the Danes kept the Oxonians in perpetual alarm, and in the year 979 they destroyed the town by fire, and repeated their outrage upon the new built town in 1002. Seven years after, Swein, the Danish leader, was repulsed by the inhabitants in a similar attempt, who took vengeance on their im-placable enemy by a general massacre on the feast of St. Brice. In the civil commotions under the Saxon prince, Oxford had again its full share of the evils of war. After the death of Harold, William the Conqueror was bravely opposed by the citizens in his attempt to enter Oxford, which effecting by force, he was so much exas- perated at their attachment to Harold, that he bestowed the government of the town on Robert de Oilgo, a Norman, with permission to build a castle to keep his Oxford subjects in awe. The disturbances during the reign of Stephen and his successor were frequent, and in the reign of John, A. D. 1209, an unfortunate occurrence threatened the entire destruction of Oxford as a seat of learning. A student, engaged in thoughtless diversion, killed a woman, and fled from justice. A band of citizens, with the mayor at their head, surrounded the hall to which he belonged, and demanded the offender; on being informed of his absence, the lawless multitude seized three of the students, who were entirely unconnected with the transaction, and ob-tained an order from the weak king (whose dislike to the clergy is known), to put the innocent persons to death—an order which was but too promptly obeyed. The scholars, justly en-raged by this treatment, quitted Oxford, some to Cambridge and Reading, and others to Maidstone, in Kent. The offended students also applied to the Pope, who laid the city under an interdict and discharged all professors from teaching in it. This step completely humbled the citizens, who sent a deputation of the most respectable to wait on the Pope's legate (then at Westminster) to acknowledge their rashness and request mercy; the legate (Nicholas, Bishop of Tusculum, ) granted their petition only on the most humiliating terms. The mayor and corporation were en-joined, by way of penance, to proceed annually, on the day dedicated to St. Nicholas, to all the parish churches bare-headed, with hempen halters round their necks, and whips in their hands, on their bare feet, and in their' shirts, and there pray the benefit of absolution from the priests, repeating the penitential psalms, and to pay a mark of silver per annum to the students of the hall peculiarly injured; in addition to which they were, on the recurrence of the same day, to entertain one hundred poor scholars "honestis refectionibus," the abbot of Evesham yearly paying sixteen shillings towards the festival expense A part of this ceremony, but without the degrading marks of it, is continued to this day. Henry III. occasionally resided at Oxford, and held there many parliaments and councils: in the reign of this king the university flourished to an unexampled degree, the number of students being estimated at fifteen thousand. Its popularity was about this time also greatly increased from the circumstance of not less than one thousand students quitting the learned institutions of Paris, and repairing to Oxford for instruction; but these foreigners introduced so dangerous a levity of manners, that the Pope deemed it necessary to send his legate for the purpose of reforming " certain flagrant corruptions of the place." The legate was at first treated with much affected civility, but an occasion for quarrel being soon found, he would, in all probability, have been sacrificed upon the spot, had he not hidden himself in a belfry from the fury of the assailants. This tumult was, by the exercise of some strong measures, speedily appeased; but the number of students was at this period infinitely too great to preserve due subordination. They divided themselves into parties, among which the north and south countrymen were the most violent, and their quarrels harassing and perpetual. According to the rude temper of the age, these disputes were not settled by argument, but by dint of blows; and the peace of the city was in this way so often endangered, that the king thought it expedient to add to the civil power two aldermen and eight burgesses assistant, together with two bailiffs. From petty and intestine broils, the students appear to have acquired a disposition for political inter- ference. When Prince Edward, returning from Paris, marched with an army towards Wales, coming to Oxford he was by the burghers refused admittance, "on occasion of the tumults now prevailing among the barons:" he quartered his soldiers in the adjacent villages, and "lodged himself that night in the royal palace of Magdalen," the next morning proceeding on his intended journey; but the scholars, who were shut in the town, being desirous to salute a prince whom they loved so much, first assembled round Smith-gate, and demanded to be let into the fields, which being refused by one of the bailiffs, they returned to their hostels for arms and broke open the gate, whereupon the mayor arrested many of them, and, on the chancellor's request, was so far from releasing them that he ordered the citizens to bring out their banners and display them in the midst of the street; and then embattling them, commanded a sudden onset on the rest of the scholars remaining in the town; and much blood-shed had been committed had not a scholar, by the sound of the school-bell in Saint Mary's church, given notice of the danger that threatened the students, then at dinner. On this alarm they straightways armed and went out, and in a tremendous conflict subdued and put the townsmen to flight. In consequence of this tumult, the king required the scholars to retire from the city during the time of holding his parliament; the chief part of the students accordingly repaired to Northampton, where, shortly after the insurgent barons had fortified themselves, on the king's laying siege to the place, the scholars, offended by their late removal, joined with the nobility, and repaired to arms under their own standard, behaving in the fight with conspicuous gallantry, and greatly increasing the wrath of the king; who, however, on the place being subdued, was restrained from pur-suing them to extremities, from prudential motives. As the kingdom became more settled, the disturbances were less frequent, and within the last century assumed the character of sportive rows rather than malicious feuds. On a recent lamentable occasion (now happily forgotten) the political feelings of the Gown and Town in some measure revived the spirit of the "olden time;" but since then Peace has waved her olive-branch over the city of Oxford, and perfect harmony, let us hope, will exist between Town and Gown for evermore.

~266~~

The veil of night was more than half drawn, ere the youthful inmates of the Mitre retired to rest; and many of the party were compelled to put up with sorry accommodation, such was the influx of ~267~~gownsmen who, shut out of lodging and college, had sought this refuge to wait the approaching morn;—a morn big with the fate of many a scholastic woe—of lectures and reprovals from tutors, and fines and impositions and denunciations from principals, of proctorial reports to the vice-chancellor, and examinations before the big wigs, and sentences of expulsion 268~~and rustication: coming evils which, by anticipation, kept many a man awake upon his pillow, spite of the perilous fatigue which weighed so heavy upon the exhausted frame. The freshman had little to fear: he could plead his ignorance of college rules, or escape notice altogether, from not having yet domiciled within the walls of a college. Although I had little to expect from the apprehension of any of these troubles, as my person was, from my short residence, most likely unknown to any of the authorities—yet did Morpheus refuse his soporific balsam to the mind—I could not help thinking of my young and giddy companions, of the kind-hearted Eglantine, immured within the walls of a dungeon; of the noble-spirited Echo, maltreated and disfigured by the temporary loss of an eye; of the facetious Bob Transit, so bruised and exhausted, that a long illness might be expected; and, lastly, of our Eton sextile, the incomparable exquisite Lionise, who, if discovered in his dangerous frolic, would, perhaps, have to leap out of a first floor window at the risk of his neck, sustain an action for damages, and his expulsion from college at the same time. Little Dick Gradus, with his usual cunning, had shirked us at the commencement of hostilities; and the Honourable Mr. Sparkle had been carried home to his lodging, early in the fray, more overcome by hard drinking than hard fighting, and there safely put to bed by the indefatigable Mark Supple, to whose friendly zeal and more effective arm we were all much indebted. In this reflective mood, I had watched the retiring shadows of the night gradually disperse before the gray-eyed morn, and had just caught a glimpse of the golden streaks which illumine the face of day, when my o'er-wearied spirit sank to rest.



A little before seven o'clock I was awoke by Echo, who came into my room to borrow some clean linen, to enable him to attend chapel prayers at Christ Church. Judge my surprise when I perceived my one-eyed ~269~~warrior completely restored to his full sight, and not the least appearance of any participation in the affair of the previous night. "What? you can't comprehend how I managed my black optic? hey, old fellow," said Echo; "you shall hear: knocked up Transit, and made him send for his colours, and paint it over—looks quite natural, don't it?—defy the big wigs to find it out—and if I can but make all right by a sop to the old Cerberus at the gate, and queer the prick bills at chapel prayers, I hope to escape the quick-sands of rustication, and pass safely through the creek of proctorial jeopardy. If you're fond of fun, old fellow, jump up and view the Christ Church men proceeding to black matins this morning. After the Roysten hunt yesterday—the dinner at the Black Bear at Woodstock—and the Town and Gown row of last night, there will be a motley procession this morning, I'll bet a hundred." The opportunity was a rare one to view the effect of late drinking upon early risers (see Plate); slipping on my academicals, therefore, I accompanied my friend Tom to morning prayers,—a circumstance, as I have since been informed, which would have involved me in very serious disgrace, had the appearance of an ex college man at vespers attracted the notice of any of the big wigs. Fortunately, however, I escaped the prying eyes of authority, which, on these occasions, are sometimes as much under the dominion of Morpheus—and literally walk in their sleep from custom—as the young and inexperienced betray the influence of some more seductive charm. The very bell that called the drowsy student from his bed seemed to rise and fall in accordant sympathy with the lethargic humour that prevailed, tolling in slow and half-sounding notes scarcely audible beyond the college gates. The broken light, that shed its misty hue through the monastic aisle of painted windows and clustered columns, gave an increased appearance of drowsiness to the scene; while the chilling air of the ~270~~morning nipped the young and dissolute, as it fell in hazy dews upon the bare-headed sons of alma mater, within many of whose bosoms the fires of the previous night's debauch were but scarce extinguished. Then came the lazy unwashed scout, crawling along the quadrangle, rubbing his heavy eyes, and cursing his hard fate to be thus compelled to give early notice to some slumbering student of the hour of seven, waking him from dreams of bliss, by thundering at his oak the summons to black matins. Now crept the youthful band along the avenue, and one by one the drowsy congregation stole through the Gothic ante-chamber that leads to Christ Church chapel, like unwilling victims to some pious sacrifice. Here a lengthened yawn proclaimed the want of rest, and near a tremulous step and heavy half-closed eye was observed, pacing across the marble floor, with hand pressed to his os frontis, as if a thousand odd and sickly fantasies inhabited that chamber of the muses. Now two friends might be seen, supporting a third, whose ghastly aspect bespoke him fresh in the sacred mysteries of college parties and of Bacchus; but who had, nevertheless, undergone a tolerable seasoning on the previous night. There a jolly Nimrod, who had just cleared the college walls, and reached his rooms time enough to cover his hunting frock and boots with his academicals, was seen racing along, to 'scape the prick bill's report, with his round hunting cap in his hand, in lieu of the square tufted trencher of the schools. Night-caps thrown off in the entry—shoes and stockings tied in the aisle—a red slipper and the black jockey boot decorating one pair of legs was no uncommon sight; while on every side rushed forward the anxious group with gowns on one arm, or trailing after them, or loosely thrown around the shoulders to escape tribulation, with here and there a sentimental-looking personage of portly habit and solemn gait moving slowly on, filled up the motley picture. The prayers were, indeed, brief, and ~271~~hurried through with a rapidity that, I dare say, is never complained of by the togati; but is certainly little calculated to impress the youthful mind with any serious respect for these relics of monkish custom, which, after all, must be considered more in the light of a punishment for those who are compelled to attend than any necessary or instructive service connected with the true interests of orthodoxy. In a quarter of an hour the whole group had dispersed to their respective rooms, and within the five minutes next ensuing, I should suppose, the greater part were again comfortably deposited beneath their bedclothes, snoozing away the time till ten or twelve, to make up for these inroads on the slumbers of the previous night. A few hours spent in my friend's rooms, lolling on the sofa, while the scout prepared breakfast, and Tom decorated his person, brought the awful hour of the morning, when all who had taken any very conspicuous share in the events of the previous night were likely to hear of their misdoings, and receive a summons to appear before the vice-chancellor in the Divinity school, better known by the name of Golgotha, or the place of skulls, (see Plate); where, on this occasion, he was expected to meet the big wigs, to confer on some important measures necessary for the future peace and welfare of the university. The usual time had elapsed for these unpleasant visitations, and Echo was chuckling finely at his dexterity in evading the eye of authority, nor was I a little pleased to have escaped myself, when a single rap at the oak, not unlike the hard determined thump of an inflexible dun, in one moment revived all our worst apprehensions, and, unfortunately, with too much reason for the alarm. The proctors had marked poor Tom, and traced him out, and this visit was from one of their bull-dogs, bringing a summons for Echo to attend before the vice-chancellor and dignitaries. "What's to be done, old fellow?" said Echo; "I shall be ~272~~expelled to a certainty—and, if I don't strike my own name off the books at the buttery hatch, shall be prevented making a retreat to Cam roads.—You're out of the scrape, that's clear, and that affords me some hope; for as you are fresh, your word will pass for something in extenuation, or arrest of judgment." After some little time spent in anticipating the charges likely to be brought against him, and arranging the best mode of defence, it was agreed that Echo should proceed forthwith to Golgotha, and there, with undaunted front, meet his accusers; while I was to proceed to Transit and Lionise, and having instructed them in the story we had planned, meet him at the place of skulls, fully prepared to establish, by the most incontrovertible and consistent evidence, that we were not the aggressors in the row. A little persuasion was necessary to convince both our friends that their presence would be essential to Echo's acquittal; they had too many just qualms, and fears, and prejudices of this inquisitorial court not to dread perhaps detection, and a severe reprimand themselves: having, however, succeeded in this point, we all three compared notes, and proceeded to where the vice-chancellor and certain heads of houses sat in solemn judgment on the trembling togati. Echo was already under examination; one of the bull-dogs had sworn particularly to Tom's being a most active leader in the fray of the previous night; and having, in the contest, suffered a complete disorganization of his lower jaw, with the total loss of sundry of his front rails, he took this opportunity of affixing the honour of the deed to my unlucky friend, expecting, no doubt, a very handsome recompense would be awarded him by the court. Expostulation was in vain: Transit, Lionise, and myself were successively called in and examined very minutely, and although we all agreed to a letter in our story, and made a very clever ~273~~defence of the culprit, we yet had the mortification to hear from little Dodd, who kept the door, and who is always best pleased when he can convey unpleasant tidings to the Gown, that Echo had received sentence of rustication for the remainder of the term; and that Eglantine, in consideration of the imprisonment he had already undergone, and some favourable circumstances in his case, was let off with a fine and imposition.



Thus ended the row of the Town and Gown, as far as our party was personally concerned; but many of the members of the different colleges were equally unfortunate in meeting the heavy censures and judgments of authority. I have just taken possession of my hospitium, and set down with a determination to fagg; do, therefore, keep your promise, and enliven the dull routine of college studies with some account of the world at Brighton.

Bernard Blackmantle.

On what dread perils doth the youth adventure, Who dares within the Fellows' Bog to enter.



THE STAGE COACH,

OR THE TRIP TO BRIGHTON.

Improvements in Travelling—Contrast of ancient and modern Conveyances and Coachmen—Project for a new Land Steam Carriage—The Inn-yard at the Golden Cross, Charing Cross— Mistakes of Pas-sengers—Variety of Characters—Advantages of the Box-seat—Obstructions on the Road—A Pull-up at the Elephant and Castle—Move on to Kensington Common—Hew Churches—Civic Villas at Brixton—Modern Taste in Architecture described-Arrival at Croydon; why not now the King's Road?—The Joliffe Hounds—A Hunting Leader— Anecdotes of the Horse, by Coachee—The new Tunnel at Reigate—The Baron's Chamber—The Golden Ball—the Silver Ball—and the Golden Calf—Entrance into Brighton.

~275~~ That every age is an improved edition of the former I am not (recollecting the splendid relics of antiquity) prepared to admit; but that the present is particularly distinguished for discoveries in science, and vast improvements in mechanical arts, every accurate observer must allow: the prodigious inventions of late years cannot fail in due time of producing that perfectibility, the great consummation denominated the Millennium. Of all other improvements, perhaps the most conspicuous are in the powers of motion as connected with the mode and means of travelling. With what astonishment, were it possible to reanimate the clay-cold relics, would our ancestors survey the accelerated perfection to which coaching is brought in the present day! The journey from London to Brighton, for instance, was, half-a-century since, completed at great risk in twenty-four hours, over a rough road that threatened destruction at every turn; and required the most laborious exertion to reach the summit of precipices that are now, like a ruined spendthrift, cut through and through: the declivities too have disappeared, and from its level face, the whole country would appear to have undergone another revolutionary change, even to the horses, harness, and the driver of the vehicle. In such a country as this, where a disposition to activity and a rambling propensity to seek their fortunes forms one of the most distinguishing characteristics, it was to be expected that travelling would be brought to great perfection; but the most sanguine in this particular could never have anticipated the rapidity with which we are now whirled from one end of the kingdom to the other; fifty-two miles in five hours and a quarter, five changes of horses, and the same coachman to whisk you back again to supper over the same ground, and within the limits of the same day. No ruts or quarterings now—all level as a bowling-green—half-bred blood cattle—bright brass harness—minute and a half time to change—and a well-bred gentlemanly fellow for a coachman, who amuses you ~276~~with a volume of anecdotes, if you are fortunate enough to secure the box-seat, or touches his hat with the congee of a courtier, as he pockets your tributary shilling at parting. No necessity either for settling your worldly affairs, or taking an affectionate farewell of a long string of relations before starting; travelling being now brought to a security unparalleled, and letters patent having passed the great seal of England to ensure, by means of safety coaches, the lives of her rambling subjects. There requires but one other invention to render the whole perfect, and that, if we may believe the newspapers, is very near completion—a coach to go without horses: to this I beg leave to propose, the steam apparatus might be made applicable to all the purposes of a portable kitchen. The coachman, instead of being a good judge of horse-flesh, to be selected from a first rate London tavern for his proficiency in cooking, a known prime hand at decomposing a turtle; instead of a book of roads, in the inside pocket should be placed a copy of Mrs. Glasse on Cookery, or Dr. Kitchener on Culinaries; where the fore-boot now is might be constructed a glazed larder, filled with all the good things in season: then too the accommodation to invalids, the back seat of the coach, might be made applicable to all the purposes of a shampooing or vapour bath—no occasion for Molineux or his black rival Mahomed; book your patients inside back seat in London, wrap them up in blankets, and give directions to the cook to keep up a good steam thermometer during the journey, 120 deg., and you may deliver them safe at Brighton, properly hashed and reduced for any further medical experiments. (See Engraving, p. 274.) The accommodation to fat citizens, and western gourmands, would be excellent, the very height of luxury and refinement—inhaling the salubrious breeze one moment, and gurgling down the glutinous calipash the next; no ~277~~exactions of impudent waiters, or imposing landlords, or complaints of dying from hunger, or choking from the want of time to masticate; but every wish gratified and every sense employed. Then how jovial and pleasant it would appear to see perched up in front a John Bull-looking fellow in a snow-white jacket, with a night-cap and apron of the same, a carving-knife in a case by his side, and a poker in his hand to stir up the steam-furnace, or singe a highwayman's wig, should any one attack the coach; this indeed would be an improvement worthy of the age, and call forth the warmest and most grateful tributes of applause from all ranks in society. For myself, I have always endeavoured to read "men more than books," and have ever found an endless diversity of character, a never-failing source of study and amusement in a trip to a watering-place: perched on the top in summer, or pinched inside in winter of a stage-coach, here, at leisure and unknown, I can watch the varied groups of all nations as they roam about for profit or for pleasure, and note their varieties as they pass away like the retiring landscape, never perhaps to meet the eye again.

The excursion to Brighton was no sooner finally arranged, than declining the proffered seat in D'Almaine's travelling carriage, I packed up my portmanteau, and gave directions to my servant to book me outside at the Golden Cross, by the seven o'clock morning coach, for Brighton; taking care to secure the box-seat, by the payment of an extra shilling to the porter.

An inn-yard, particularly such a well-frequented one as the Golden Cross, Charing Cross, affords the greatest variety of character and entertainment to a humorist. Vehicles to all parts of the kingdom, and from the inscription on the Dover coaches, I might add to all parts of the world, _via Paris_. "Does that coach go the whole way to France?" said an 278~unsuspecting little piece of female simplicity to me, as I stood lolling on the steps at the coach-office door. "Certainly," replied I, unthinkingly. "O, then I suppose," said the speaker, "they have finished the projected chain-pier from Dover to Calais." "France and England united? nothing more impossible," quoth I, correcting the impression I had unintentionally created. "Are you going by the Brighton, mam?" "Yes, I be." "Can't _take_ all that luggage." "Then you sha'n't _take_ me." "Don't wish to be _taken for a waggon-man." "No, but by Jasus, friend, you are a wag-on-her," said a merry-faced Hibernian, standing by. "Have you paid down the _dust_, mam?" inquired the last speaker. "I have paid for my place, sir," said the lady; "and I shall lose two, if I don't go." "Then by the powers, cookey, you had better pay for one and a half, and that will include luggage, and then you'll be a half gainer by the bargain." "What a cursed narrow hole this is for a decent-sized man to cram himself in at?" muttered an enormous bulky citizen, sticking half-way in the coach-door, and panting for breath from the violence of his exertions to drag his hind-quarters after him. "Take these hampers on the top, Jack," said the porter below to the man loading the coach, and quietly rested the baskets across the projecting _ultimatum_ of the fat citizen (to the no little amusement of the bystanders), who through his legs vociferated, "I'll indict you, fellows; I'll be——if I don't, under Dick Martin's act." "It must be then, my jewel," said the waggish Hibernian, "for overloading a mule." "Do we take _the whole_ of you to-day, sir?" said coachee, assisting to push him in. "What do you mean by _the whole_? I am only one man." "A master tailor," said coachee, aside, "he must be then, with the _pickings_ of nine poor journeymen in his paunch." "Ish tere any room outshide te coach?" bawled out a black-headed little Israelite; "ve shall be all shmotered vithin, ~279~~tish hot day; here are too peepels inshite, vat each might fill a coach by temselves." "All right—all right; take care of your heads, gemmen, going under the gateway; give the bearing rein of the near leader one twist more, and pole up the off wheeler a link or two. All right, Tom—all right—stand away from the horses' heads, there—ehewt, fee'e't!"—smack goes the whip, and away goes the Brighton Times like a Congreve rocket, filled with all manner of combustibles.

The box-seat has one considerable advantage—it exempts you from the inquisitive and oftentimes impertinent conversation of a mixed group of stage-coach passengers; in addition to which, if you are fond of driving, a foible of mine, I confess, it affords an opportunity for an extra lesson on the noble art of handling the ribbons, and at the same time puts you in possession of all the topographical, descriptive, and anecdotal matter relative to the resident gentry and the road.

The first two miles from the place of starting is generally occupied in clearing obstructions on the road, taking up old maids at their own houses, with pug-dogs, pattens, and parrots, or pert young misses at their papas' shop-doors; whose mammas take this opportunity of delaying a coach-load of people to display their maternal tenderness at parting, while the junior branches of the family hover round the vehicle, and assail your ears with lisping out their eternal "good b'yes," and the old hairless head of the family is seen slyly tipping coachee an extra shilling to take care of his darling girl. The Elephant and Castle produces another pull-up, and here a branch-coach brings a load of lumber from the city, which, while the porter is stowing away, gives time to exhibit the lions who are leaving London in every direction. King's Bench rulers with needy habiliments, and lingering looks, sighing for term-time and ~280~~a horse,{1} on one side the road, and Jews, newsmen, and touters, on the other; who nearly give away their goods, if you believe them, for the good of the nation, or force you into a coach travelling in direct opposition to the road for which you have been booked, and in which your luggage may by such mischance happily precede you at least half a day. At length all again is declared right, the supervisor delivers his way-bill, and forward moves the coach, at a somewhat brisker pace, to Kennington Common. I shall not detain my readers here with a long dull account of the unfortunate rebels who suffered on this spot in 1745; but rather direct their attention to a neat Protestant church, which has recently been erected on the space between the two roads leading to Croydon and Sutton, the portico of which is in fine architectural taste, and the whole building a very great accommodation and distinguished ornament to the neighbourhood. About half a mile farther, on the rise of Brixton hill, is another newly erected church, the portico in the style of a Greek temple, and in an equally commanding situation: from this to Croydon, ten miles, you have a tolerable specimen of civic taste in rural architecture.

On both sides of the road may be seen a variety of incongruous edifices, called villas and cottage ornees, peeping up in all the pride of a retired linen-draper, or the consequential authority of a man in office, in as many varied styles of architecture as of dispositions in the different proprietors, and all exhibiting (in their possessors' opinion) claims to the purest and most refined taste.

For example, the basement story is in the Chinese or Venetian style, the first floor in that of the florid Gothic, with tiles and a pediment a-la-Nash, at the Bank; a doorway with inclined jambs, and a hieroglyphic a-la-Greek: a gable-ended glass lean to on

1 A day-rule, so called.

~281~~one side, about big enough for a dog-kennel, is called a green-house, while a similar erection on the other affords retirement for the tit and tilbury; the door of which is always set wide open in fine weather, to display to passers-by the splendid equipage of the occupier. The parterre in front (green as the jaundiced eye of their less fortunate brother tradesmen) is enriched with some dozens of vermilion-coloured flower-pots mounted on a japanned verdigris frame, sending forth odoriferous, balmy, and enchanting gales to the grateful olfactory organs, from the half-withered stems of pining and consumptive geraniums; to complete the picture, two unique plaster casts of naked figures, the Apollo Belvidere and the Venus de Medici, at most a foot in altitude, are placed on clumsy wooden pedestals of three times that height before the parlour-windows, painted in a chaste flesh-colour, and guarded by a Whitechapel bull-cdog, who, like another Cerberus, sits growling at the gate to fright away the child of poverty, and insult the less wealthy pedestrian.

Happy country! where every man can consult his own taste, and build according to his own fancy, amalgamating in one structure all the known orders and varieties, Persian, Egyptian, Athenian, and European.

Croydon in 1573 contained the archiepiscopal palace of the celebrated Archbishop Parker, who, as well as his successor Whitgift, here had frequently the honour to entertain Queen Elizabeth and her court: the manor since the reign of William the Conqueror has belonged to the Archbishops of Canterbury. The church is a venerable structure, and the stately tower, embowered with woods and flanked by the Surrey hills, a most picturesque and commanding object; the interior contains some monuments of antiquity well worthy the attention of the curious. The town itself has little worthy of note except the hospital, ~282~~founded by Archbishop Whitgift for a warder and twenty poor men and women, decayed housekeepers of Croyden and Lambeth: a very comfortable and well-endowed retirement.

"This was formerly the King's road," said coachee, "but the radicals having thought proper to insult his majesty on his passing through to Brighton during the affair of the late Queen, he has ever since gone by the way of Sutton: a circumstance that has at least operated to produce one christian virtue among the inhabitants, namely, that of humility; before this there was no getting change for a civil sentence from them."

To Merstham seven miles, the road winds through a bleak valley called Smithem Bottom, till recently the favourite resort of the cockney gunners for rabbit-shooting; but whether from the noise of their harmless double-barrel _Nocks_, or the more dreadful carnage of the Croydon poachers, these animals are now exceedingly scarce in this neighbourhood. Just as we came in sight of Merstham, the distant view halloo of the huntsman broke upon our ears, when the near-leader rising upon his haunches and neighing with delight at the inspiring sound, gave us to understand that he had not always been used to a life of drudgery, but in earlier times had most likely carried some daring Nimrod to the field, and bounded with fiery courage o'er hedge and gate, through dell and brake, outstripping the fleeting wind to gain the honour of _the brush_. Ere we had gained the village, reynard and the whole field broke over the road in their scarlet frocks, and dogs and horses made a dash away for a steeple chase across the country, led by the worthy-hearted owner of the pack, the jolly fox-hunting Colonel, Hilton Jolliffe, whose residence caps the summit of the hill. From hence to Reigate, four miles farther, there was no circumstance or object of interest, if I except a very romantic tale coachee ~283~~narrated of his hunting leader, who had of course been bred in the stud of royalty itself, and had since been the property of two or three sporting peers, when, having put out a _spavin_, during the last hunting season, he was sold for a _machiner; but being since fired and turned out, he had come up all right, and was now, according to coachee's disinterested opinion, one of the best hunters in the kingdom. As I was not exactly the customer coachee was looking for, being at the time pretty well mounted, I thought it better to indulge him in the joke, particularly as any doubt on my part might have soured the whip, and made him sullen for the rest of the journey.

At Reigate a trifling accident happened to one of the springs of the coach, which detained us half an hour, and enabled me to pay a visit to the celebrated sand cavern, where, it is reported, the Barons met, during the reign of King John, to hold their councils and draw up that great palladium of English liberty, Magna Charta, which was afterwards signed at Runnymede.

There was something awful about this stupendous excavation that impressed me with solemn thoughtfulness; it lies about sixty feet from the surface of the earth, and is divided into three apartments with arched roofs, the farthest of which is designated the Barons' Chamber. Time flowed back upon my memory as I sat in the niches hewn out in the sides of the cavern, and meditation deep usurped my mind as I dwelt on the recollections of history; on the

"Majestic forms, and men of other times, Retired to fan the patriotic fire, Which, bursting forth at Runnymede, With rays of glory lightened all the land!"

Near to the mouth of this cavern stands the remains of Holms Castle, celebrated in the history of the civil wars between Charles the First and his parliament; and on the site of an ancient monastic establishment, 284~near to the spot, has been erected a handsome modern mansion called the Priory of Holmsdale, the name of the valley in which the town is situate. Returning to the inn I observed the new tunnel, which we had previously passed under, a recent work of great labour and expense, which saves a considerable distance in the approach to the town; it has been principally effected by a wealthy innkeeper, and certainly adds much to the advantage and beauty of the place. Coachee had now made all right, and his anxious passengers were again replaced in their former situations to proceed on our journey. The next stage, ten miles, to Crawley, a picturesque place, afforded little variety, if I except an immense elm which stands by the side of the road as you enter, and has a door in front to admit the curious into its hollow trunk. Our next post was Cuckfield, nine miles, where I did not discover any thing worthy of narration; from this to Brighton, twelve miles, coachee amused me with some anecdotes of persons whom we passed upon the road. A handsome chariot, with a most divine little creature in the inside, and a good-looking roue, with huge mustachios, first attracted my notice: "that is the golden Ball," said coachee, "and his new wife; he often rolls down this road for a day or two—spends his cash like an emperor—and before he was tied up used to tip pretty freely for handling the ribbons, but that's all up now, for Mamsell Mercandotti finds him better amusement. A gem-man who often comes down with me says his father was a slopseller in Ratcliffe Highway, and afterwards marrying the widow of Admiral Hughes, a rich old West India nabob, he left this young gemman the bulk of his property, and a very worthy fellow he is: but we've another rich fellow that's rather notorious at Brighton, which we distinguish by the name of the silver Ball, only he's a bit of a screw, and has lately ~285~~got himself into a scrape about a pretty actress, from which circumstance they have changed his name to the Foote Ball. I suppose you guess where I am now," said coachee, tipping me one of his knowing winks. "Do you see that machine before us, a sort of cabriolet, with two horses drove in a curricle bar? that is another swell who is very fond of Brighton, a Jew gentleman of the name of Solomon, whom the wags have made a Christian of by the new appellation of the golden calf; but his godfathers were never more out in their lives, for in splitting a bob, it's my opinion, he'd bother all Bevis Marks and the Stock Exchange into the bargain." In this way we trotted along, gathering good air and information at every step, until we were in sight of Brighton Downs, a long chain of hills, which appear on either side; with their undulating surfaces covered with the sweet herb wild thyme, and diversified by the numerous flocks of South-down sheep grazing on their loftiest summits. After winding through the romantic valley of Preston, the white-fronted houses and glazed bricks of Brighton break upon the sight, sparkling in the sun-beams, with a distant glimpse of the sea, appearing, at first sight, to rise above the town like a blue mountain in the distance: we entered the place along what is called the London Road, with a view of the Pavilion before us, the favourite abode of royalty, shooting its minaret towers and glass dome upwards in the most grotesque character, not unlike the representations of the Kremlin at Moscow; exciting, at the first glance, among the passengers, the most varied and amusing sallies of witticisms and conjectures.—Having procured a sketch of it from this view, I shall leave you to contemplate, while I retire to my inn and make the necessary arrangements for refreshment and future habitation.

By way of postscript, I enclose you a very entertaining scene I witnessed between D'Almaine and ~286~~his wife the night previous to my journey: they are strange creatures; but you love eccentrics, and may be amused with this little drama, which formed the motive for my visit.

Horatio Heartly.



THE PROPOSITION.

Family Secrets—Female Tactics—How to carry the Point.

287~"It was ever thus, D'Almaine," said Lady Mary; "always hesitating between a natural liberality of disposition, and a cold, calculating, acquired parsimony, that has never increased our fortune in the sum of sixpence, or added in the slightest degree to our domestic comforts." "All the prejudice of education" said D'Almaine, good-humouredly; "my old uncle, the banker, to whose bounty we are both much indebted, my dear, early inculcated these notions of thrift into the brain of a certain lighthearted young gentleman, whose buoyant spirits sometimes led him a little beyond the barrier of prudence, and too often left him environed with difficulties in the marshes of impediment. 'Look before you leap,' was a wise saw of the old gentleman's; and 'be just before you're generous,' a proverb that never failed to accompany a temporary supply, or an additional demand upon his generosity."—"Hang your old uncle!" replied Lady Mary, pouting and trying to look ill-tempered in the face of Lord Henry's good-natured remonstrance,—"I never ask a favour for myself, or solicit you to take the recreation necessary to your own health and that of your family, but I am pestered with the revised musty maxims of your dead old uncle. He has been consigned to the earth these ten years, and ~288~~if it were not for the ten thousand per annum he left us, ought long since to have shared the fate of his ancestry, whose names were never heard more of than the tributary tablet imparts to the eye of curiosity in a country church, and within whose limits all inquiry ends." "Gratitude, Lady Mary, if not respect for my feelings, should preserve that good man's name from reproach." Lord Henry's eye was unusually expressive—he continued:—"The coronet that graces your own soul-inspiring face would lack the lustre of its present brilliancy, but for the generous bequest of the old city banker, whose plum was the sweetest windfall that ever dropt into the empty purse of the poor possessor of an ancient baronial title. The old battlements of Crackenbury have stood many a siege, 'tis true; but that formidable engine of modern warfare, the catapulta of the auctioneer, had, but for him, proved more destructive to its walls than the battering-ram and hoarse cannonades of ancient rebels."

~288~~When a woman is foiled at argument, she generally has recourse to finesse. Lady Mary had made up her mind to carry her point; finding therefore the right column of her vengeance turned by the smart attack of D'Almaine's raillery, she was determined to out-flank him with her whole park of well-appointed artillery, consisting of all those endearing, solicitous looks and expressions, that can melt the most obdurate heart, and command a victory over the most experienced general. It was in vain that Lord Henry urged the unusual heavy expenses of the season in town,—the four hundred paid for the box at the opera,—or the seven hundred for the greys and the new barouche,—the pending demand from Messrs. Rundell's for the new service of plate,—and the splendid alterations and additions just made to the old family hall,—with ~289~~numerous other most provoking items which the old steward had conjured up, as if on purpose, to abridge the pleasures of Lady Mary's intended tour. "It was very distressing—she heartily wished there was no such thing as money in the world—it made people very miserable—they were a much happier couple, she contended, when they were merely Honourables, and lived upon a paltry two thousand and the expectancy—there never was any difficulty then about money transactions, and a proposition for a trip to a watering-place was always hailed with pleasure."—"True, Lady Mary; but then you forget we travelled in a stage coach, with your maid on the outside, while my man servant, with a led-horse, followed or preceded us. Then, we were content with lodgings on the West-cliff, and the use of a kitchen: now, we require a splendid establishment, must travel in our own chariot, occupy half a mews with our horses, and fill half a good-sized barrack with our servants. Then, we could live snug, accept an invitation to dinner with a commoner, and walk or ride about as we pleased, without being pointed at as lions or raro aves just broke loose from the great state aviary at St. James's." "We shall scarcely be discovered," said Lady Mary, "among the stars that surround the regal planet."—"We shall be much mortified then," said Lord Henry, facetiously.—"You are very provoking, D'Almaine. I know your turf speculations have proved fortunate of late: I witnessed Sir Charles paying you a large sum the other morning; and I have good reason for thinking you have been successful at the club, for I have not heard your usual morning salutation to your valet, who generally on the occasion of your losses receives more checks than are payable at your bankers. You shall advance me a portion of your winnings, in return for which I promise you good health, good society, and, perhaps, if the stars shoot ~290~~rightly, a good place for our second son. In these days of peace, the distaff can effect more than the field-marshal's baton."—"Always provided," said my sire (clapping his hand upon his os frontis), "that nothing else shoots out of such condescensions."

"But why has Brighton the preference as a watering place?" said Lord Henry: "the Isle of Wight is, in my opinion, more retired; Southampton more select; Tunbridge Wells more rural; and Worthing more social."—"True, D'Almaine; but I am not yet so old and woe-begone, so out of conceit with myself, or misanthropic with the world, to choose either the retired, the select, the rural, or the social. I love the bustle of society, enjoy the promenade on the Steyne, and the varied character that nightly fills the libraries; I read men, not books, and above all I enjoy the world of fashion. Where the King is, there is concentrated all that is delightful in society. Your retired dowagers and Opposition peers may congregate in rural retirement, and sigh with envy at the enchanting splendour of the court circle; those only who have felt its cheering influence can speak of its inspiring pleasures; and all who have participated in the elegant scene will laugh at the whispers of malignity and the innuendoes of disappointment, which are ever pregnant with some newly invented on dit of scandalous tendency, to libel a circle of whom they know nothing but by report; and that report, in nine instances out of ten, 'the weak invention of the enemy.'" "Bravo, Lady Mary; your spirited defence of the Pavilion party does honour to your heart, and displays as much good sense as honest feeling; but a little interest, methinks, lurks about it for all that: I have not forgotten the honour we received on our last visit; and you, I can perceive, anticipate a renewal of the same gratifying condescension; so give James his instructions, and let him proceed to Brighton to-morrow to make the necessary arrangements for our arrival."

~291~~Thus ended the colloquy in the usual family manner, when well-bred men entertain something more than mere respect for their elegant and accomplished partners.



SKETCHES AT BRIGHTON.

The Pavilion Party—Interior described—Royal and Noble Anecdotes—King and Mathews.

292~I had preceded D'Almaine and the Countess only a few hours in my arrival at Brighton; you know the vivacity and enchanting humour which ever animates that little divinity, and will not therefore be surprised to hear, on her name being announced at the Pavilion, we were honoured with a royal invitation to an evening party. I had long sighed for an opportunity to view the interior of that eccentric building; but to have enjoyed such a treat, made doubly attractive by the presence of the King, reposing from the toils of state in his favourite retreat, and surrounded by the select circle of his private friends, was more than my most sanguine expectations could have led me to conjecture. Suspending, therefore, my curiosity until the morrow, relative to the Steyne, the beach, the libraries, and the characters, I made a desperate effort in embellishing, to look unusually stylish, and as usual, never succeeded so ill in my life. Our residence on the Grand Parade is scarcely a hundred yards from, and overlooks the Pavilion—a circumstance which had quite escaped my recollection; for with all the natural anxiety of a young and ardent mind, I had fully equipped myself before the Count had even thought of entering his dressing-room. Half-an-hour's lounge at the projecting window of our new habitation, on a tine summer's evening, gave me an opportunity of remarking the ~293~~singular appearance the front of this building presents:

"If minarets, rising together, provoke From the lips of the vulgar the old-fashioned joke—

'De gustibus non est (I think) disputandum' The taste is plebeian that quizzes at random."

There is really something very romantic in the style of its architecture, and by no means inelegant; perhaps it is better suited for the peculiar situation of this marine palace than a more classical or accredited order would be. It has been likened, on its first appearance, to a chess-board; but, in my thinking, it more nearly resembles that soul-inspiring scene, the splendid banquet table, decorated in the best style of modern grandeur, and covered with the usual plate and glass enrichments: for instance, the central dome represents the water magnum, the towers right and left, with their pointed spires, champagne bottles, the square compartments on each side are exactly like the form of our fashionable liqueur stands, the clock tower resembles the centre ornament of a plateau, the various small spires so many enriched candelabra, the glass dome a superb dessert dish; but

"Don't expect, my dear boy, I can similies find For a heap of similitudes so undefined. And why should I censure tastes not my concern? 'Tis as well for the arts that all tastes have their turn."

If I had written for three hours on the subject, I could not have been more explicit; you have only to arrange the articles in the order enumerated, and you have a model of the upper part of the building before you. At nine o'clock we made our entre into the Pavilion, westward, passing through the vestibule and hall, when we entered one of the most superb apartments that art or fancy can devise, whether for richness of effect, decoration, and design: this is ~294~~called the Chinese Gallery, one hundred and sixty-two feet in length by seventeen feet in breadth, and is divided into five compartments, the centre being illumined with a light of stained glass, on which is represented the God of Thunder, as described in the Chinese mythology, surrounded by the imperial five-clawed dragons, supporting pendent lanterns, ornamented with corresponding devices. The ceiling or cove is the colour of peach blossom; and a Chinese canopy is suspended round from the lower compartment with tassels, bells, &c.: the furniture and other decorations, such as cabinets, chimney-piece, trophies, and banners, which are in the gallery, are all in strict accordance with the Chinese taste; while on every side the embellishments present twisted dragons, pagodas, and mythological devices of birds, flowers, insects, statues, formed from a yellow marble; and a rich collection of Oriental china. The extreme compartments north and south are occupied by chased brass staircases, the lateral ornaments of which are serpents, and the balusters resemble bamboo. In the north division is the fum{1} or Chinese bird of royalty: this gallery opens into the music room, an apartment forty-two feet square, with two recesses of ten feet each, and rising in height forty-one feet, to a dome thirty feet in diameter. The magnificence and imposing grandeur of effect surpasses all effort at detail. It presented a scene of enchantment which brought to recollection the florid descriptions, in the Persian Tales, of the palaces of the genii: the prevailing decoration is executed in green gold, and produces a most singularly splendid effect. On the walls are twelve highly finished paintings, views in China, principally near Pekin, imitative of the crimson japan.

1 The fum is said to be found in no part of the world but China. It is described as of most admirable beauty; and their absence for any time from the imperial city regarded as an omen of misfortune to the royal family. The emperor and mandarins have the semblance of these birds embroidered on their vestments.

295~The dome appears to be excavated out of a rock of solid gold, and is supported by an octagonal base, ornamented with the richest Chinese devices; at each angle of the room is a pagoda-tower, formed of the most costly materials in glass and china, with lamps attached; beneath the dome and base is a splendid canopy, supported by columns of crimson and gold, with twisted serpents of enormous size, and terrific expression surrounding them. A magnificent organ, by Sinclair, the largest and best in the kingdom, occupies the north recess, twenty feet in width, length, and height: there are two entrances to this room, one from the Egyptian gallery, and another from the yellow drawing-room, each under a rich canopy, supported by gold columns. A beautiful chimney-piece of white statuary marble, and an immense mirror, with splendid draperies of blue, red, and yellow satin, rare china jars, and ornaments in ormolu, increase the dazzling brilliancy of the apartment. As this was my first appearance in the palace, the Countess, very considerately, proposed to Sir H——T——, who conducted us, that we should walk through the other public apartments, before we were ushered into the presence chamber—a proposition the good-natured equerry very readily complied with. Repassing, therefore, the whole length of the Chinese gallery, the southern extremity communicates with the Royal Banqueting Room, sixty feet in length, by forty-two in breadth: the walls are bounded at the height of twenty-three feet by a cornice, apparently inlaid with pearls and gold, from which spring four ecliptic arches, supported by golden columns, surmounted with a dome, rising to a height of forty-five feet, and constructed to represent an eastern sky; beneath which is seen spreading the broad umbrageous foliage of the luxuriant plantain, bearing its fruit and displaying, in all the progressive stages, ~296~~the different varieties, from the early blossom to maturity: curious Chinese symbols are suspended from the trunk, and connect themselves with a grand lustre, rising to a height of thirty feet, and reflecting the most varied and magical effect, being multiplied by other lustres, in the several angles adjoining. The walls are decorated with groups of figures, nearly the size of life, portraying the costume of the higher classes of the Chinese; domestic episodes, painted on a ground of imitative pearl, richly wrought, in all the varied designs of Chinese mythology. The furniture is of the most costly description—rose-wood inlaid with mother-of-pearl, and enriched with or molu chasings of the most elegant design; the effect of which is admirably contrasted with the rich glossy jars of blue porcelain, of English manufacture, and magnificent brilliancy. Centrally, between these magnificent apartments, is the Rotunda or Saloon; an oblong interior of fifty-five feet in length, the decoration chaste and classical in the extreme, being simply white and gold, the enriched cornice being supported by columns and pilasters, and the whole decoration uniting coolness with simplicity. The passages to some of the minor apartments are unique in their style of embellishment, which appears to be of polished white marble, but is, in fact, nothing but a superior Dutch tile, cemented smoothly, in plaster of Paris, and highly varnished. There are many other private and anterooms to the west of the Chinese gallery, the decorations of which are more simple, but in a corresponding style. We had now arrived at the Yellow Room (see Plate), where we understood his Majesty would receive his evening party.



The apartment is fifty-six feet in length, by twenty in breadth, and is hung round with a rich fluted drapery of yellow satin, suspended from the ceiling, and representing a magnificent Chinese tent, from the centre of which hangs a chandelier of 237~the most splendid design, the light of which is diffused through painted glasses, resembling in shape and colour every variety of the tulip, exciting the greatest admiration. The chimney-piece is Chinese, the stove formed by chimera chased in or molu, the figures above being models or automatons, of nearly the size of life, dressed in splendid costume, occasionally moving their heads and arms. The furniture of the room is of a similar character to those already described, except the seats, which are ottomans of yellow velvet, the window draperies being of the same splendid material. It was in this truly royal apartment we had the honour of waiting the approach of his Majesty, who entered, at about a quarter before ten, apparently in the enjoyment of the most excellent health and highest spirits. He was preceded by Sir A. F. Barnard and Lord Francis Conyngham, the grooms in waiting, and entered with the Princess Augusta leaning on his arm, the left of her royal highness being supported by the Duke of York; the Marquis of Conyngham followed, leading in his Marchioness; and the beautiful and accomplished Lady Elizabeth honoured Sir William Knighton as her conductor. The old Earl of Arran came hobbling on his crutches, dreadfully afflicted with the gout. Sir C. Paget, that merry son of Neptune, with Sir E. Nagle, followed; the rear being brought up by the fascinating Countess of Warwick and her ever constant earl. (See Plate.) Do not imagine, my dear Bernard, that I shall so far outrage the honourable feelings of a gentleman as to relate every word, look, or action, of this illustrious party, for the rude ear of eager curiosity. Those only who have witnessed the Monarch in private life, freed from the weight of state affairs, and necessary regal accompaniments, can form a correct judgment of the unaffected goodness of his heart; the easy affability, and pliant condescension, with which he can divest ~298~~every one around him of any feeling of restraint—the uncommon sprightliness and vivacity he displays in conversation—the life and soul of all that is elegant and classical, and the willing participator and promoter of a good joke. Suffice it to say, the reception was flattering in the extreme, the entertainment conversational and highly intellectual. The moments flew so quickly, that I could have wished the hour of eleven, the period of the King's retiring, had been extended to the noontide of the morrow. But is this all, I think I can hear you say, this friend of my heart dares to repose with me on a subject so agreeable? No—you shall have a few on dits, but nothing touching on the scandalous; gleanings, from Sir E—— and Sir C——, the jesters of our sovereign lord the King; but nothing that might excite a blush in the cheek of the lovely Countess, to whom I was indebted for the honour and delight I on that occasion experienced. Imprimis:—I know you are intimate with that inimitable child of whim, Charles Mathews. He is in high estimation with royalty, I assure you; and annually receives the King's command to deliver a selection from his popular entertainments before him—an amusement of which his Majesty speaks in terms of the warmest admiration. On the last occasion, a little scena occurred that must have been highly amusing; as it displays at once the kind recollections of the King, and his amiable disposition. As I had it from Sir C——, you may depend upon its authenticity. I shall denominate it the King at Home, or Mathews in Carlton Palace. (See Plate.)



Previous to Mathews leaving this country for America, he exhibited a selection from his popular entertainments, by command of his Majesty, at Carlton Palace.—A party of not more than six or eight persons were present, including the Princess Augusta and the Marchioness of Conyngham. During 299~the entertainment (with which the King appeared much delighted), Mathews introduced his imitations of various performers on the British stage, and was proceeding with John Kemble in the Stranger, when he was interrupted by the King, who, in the most affable manner, observed that his general imitations were excellent, and such as no one who had ever seen the characters could fail to recognise; but he thought the comedian's portrait of John Kemble somewhat too boisterous.—"He is an old friend, and I might add, tutor of mine," observed his Majesty: "when I was Prince of Wales he often favoured me with his company. I will give you an imitation of John Kemble," said the good-humoured monarch. Mathews was electrified. The lords of the bed-chamber eyed each other with surprise. The King rose and prefaced his imitations by observing, "I once requested John Kemble to take a pinch of snuff with me, and for this purpose placed my box on the table before him, saying 'Kemble, oblige (obleege) me by taking a pinch of snuff' He took a pinch, and then addressed me thus:—(Here his Majesty assumed the peculiar carriage of Mr. Kemble.) 'I thank your Royal Highness for your snuff, but, in future, do extend your royal jaws a little wider, and say Oblige.'" The anecdote was given with the most powerful similitude to the actor's voice and manners, and had an astonishing effect on the party present. It is a circumstance equally worthy of the King and the scholar. Mathews, at the conclusion, requested permission to offer an original anecdote of Kemble, which had some affinity to the foregoing. Kemble had been for many years the intimate friend of the Earl of Aberdeen. On one occasion he had called on that nobleman during his morning's ride, and left Mrs. Kemble in the carriage at the door. John and the noble earl were closely engaged on some literary subject a very long time, while Mrs. Kemble was ~300~~shivering in the carriage (it being very cold weather). At length her patience being exhausted, she directed her servant to inform his master that she was waiting, and feared the cold weather would bring on an attack of the rheumatism. The fellow proceeded to the door of the earl's study, and delivered his message, leaving out the final letter in rheumatism.—This he had repeated three several times, by direction of his mistress, before he could obtain an answer. At length, Kemble, roused from his subject by the importunities of the servant, replied, somewhat petulantly, "Tell your mistress I shall not come, and, fellow, do you in future say 'tism."

Among the party assembled on this occasion was the favoured son of Esculapius, Sir W—— K——, the secret of whose elevation to the highest confidence of royalty is one of those mysteries of the age which it is in vain to attempt to unravel, and which, perhaps, cannot be known to more than two persons in existence: great and irresistible, however, must that influence be, whether moral or physical, which could obtain such dominion over the mind as to throw into the shade the claims of rank and courtly lions, and place an humble disciple of Esculapius on the very summit of royal favour. Of his gentlemanly and amusing talents in society every one must speak in terms of the highest praise, and equally flattering are the reports of his medical skill; but many are the fleeting causes and conjectures assigned for his supremacy—reports which may not be written here, lest I assist in the courtly prattle of misrepresentation. Sir W—— was, I believe, the executor of an old and highly-favoured confidential secretary; might not certain circumstances arising out of that trust have paved the way to his elevation? If the intense merits of the individual have raised him to the dazzling ~301~~height, the world cannot value them too highly, and sufficiently extol the discrimination of the first sovereign and first gentleman of the age who could discover and reward desert with such distinguished honour. But if his elevation is the result of any sacrifice of principle, or of any courtly intrigue to remove a once equally fortunate rival, and pave his path with gold, there are few who would envy the favoured minion: against such suspicion, however, we have the evidence of a life of honour, and the general estimation of society. Of his predecessor, and the causes for his removal, I have heard some curious anecdotes, but these you shall have when we meet. A very good story is in circulation here among the court circle relative to the eccentric Lady C—— L——, and a young marchioness, who, spite of the remonstrances of her friends and the general good taste of the ladies in that particular, recently selected an old man for a husband, in preference to a choice of at least twenty young and titled, dashing roues: the whim and caprice of the former is notorious, while the life and animation of the little marchioness renders her the brightest star of attraction in the hemisphere of fashion. "I should like to see Billingsgate, amazingly," said the marchioness to her eccentric friend, while reading a humorous article on the subject in the Morning Chronicle. "It must be entertaining to hear the peculiar phraseology and observe the humorous vulgarities of these naiades, if one could do so incog." "And why not, my dear?" said Lady C——; "you know there never was a female Quixote in existence among the petticoat blue-stockings, from Lady Wortley Montague to Lady Morgan, who was more deeply affected with the Tom and Jerry mania than I am: leave all to me, and I'll answer for taking you there safely, enjoying the scene securely, and escaping without chance of detection." With Lady ~302~~C—— a whim of this description is by no means unusual, and the necessary attendance of a confidential servant to protect, in case of danger, a very essential personage. To this Mercury, Lady C—— confided her plan; giving directions for the completion of it on the morning of the morrow, and instructing him to obtain disguises from his wife, who is an upper servant in the family, for the use of the ladies. John, although perfectly free from any alarm on account of Lady C——, should the whim become known, was not so easy in respect to the young and attractive marchioness, whose consort, should any thing unpleasant occur, John wisely calculated, might interfere to remove him from his situation. With this resolve he prudently communicated the ladies' intention to a confidential friend of the marquis, who, on receiving an intimation of their intentions, laughed at the whim, and determined to humour the joke, by attending the place, properly disguised, to watch at a distance the frolic of the ladies. The next morning, at the appointed hour, the footman brought a hackney-coach to the door, and the ladies were quickly conveyed to the scene of action, followed (unknowingly) by the marquis and his friend. Here they amused themselves for some time in walking about and observing the bustle and variety of the, to them, very novel scene; soon, however, fatigued with the mobbing, thrusting, and filthiness, which is characteristic of the place, the marchioness was for returning, remarking to her friend that she had as yet heard none of that singular broad humour for which these nymphs of the fish-market were so celebrated. "Then you shall have a specimen directly," said Lady C——, "if I can provoke it; only prepare your ethics and your ears for a slight shock; "and immediately approaching an old fresh-water dragon, who sat behind an adjoining stall, with a countenance spirited in the ~303~~extreme, and glowing with all the beautiful varieties of the ultra-marine and vermilion, produced by the all-potent properties of Hodge's full-proof, she proceeded to cheapen the head and shoulders of a fine fish that lay in front of her, forcing her fingers under the gills, according to the approved custom of good housewives, to ascertain if it was fresh.



After a parley as to price, Lady C—— hinted that she doubted its being perfectly sweet: the very suspicion of vending an unsavoury article roused the old she-dragon at once into one of the most terrific passions imaginable, and directing all her ire against the ladies, she poured forth a volley of abuse fiery and appalling as the lava of a volcano, which concluded as follows.—"Not sweet, you ——," said the offended deity; "how can I answer for its sweetness, when you have been tickling his gills with your stinking paws 1 " (See Plate.) The marchioness retreated at the first burst of the storm, but Lady C——continued to provoke the old naiad of the shambles, till she had fully satisfied her humour. Again safely escorted home by the liveried Mercury, the ladies thought to have enjoyed their joke in perfect security; but what was their astonishment, when on meeting the marquis and a select party at dinner, to find the identical fish served up at their own table, and the marquis amusing his friends by relating the whole circumstances of the frolic, as having occurred to two ladies of distinction during the laughter-loving days of Charles the Second. I need not animadvert upon the peculiar situation of the ladies, who, blushing through a crimson veil of the deepest hue, bore the raillery of the party assembled with as much good sense as good nature; acknowledging the frolic, and joining in the laugh the joke produced. Beneath, you have one of our facetious friend Bob Transit's humorous sketches of an incident said to have occurred near B—— H——: in which an eccentric ~304~~lady chose to call up the servants in the dead of the night, order out the carriage, and mounting the box herself, insisted upon giving the footman, who had been somewhat tardy in leaving his bed, a gentle airing in his shirt.



CHARACTERS ON THE BEACH AND STEYNE, BRIGHTON.

On Bathing and Bathers—Advantages of Shampooing—French Decency—Brighton Politeness—Sketches of Character—The Banker's Widow—Miss Jefferies—Mrs. F——l—Peter Paragraph, the London Correspondent—Jack Smith—The French Consul—Paphian Divinities—C—— L——, Esq.— Squeeze into the Libraries—The new Plunging Bath—Chain Pier—Cockney Comicalities—Royal Gardens—The Club House.

~305~~The next morning early I proceeded to the beach to enjoy the delightful and invigorating pleasure of sea-bathing. The clean pebble shore extending, as it does here, for a long distance beneath the east cliff, is a great advantage to those who, from indisposition or luxury, seek a dip in the ocean. One practice struck me as being a little objectionable, namely, the machines of the males and females being placed not only within sight of each other, but actually close alongside; by which circumstance, the sportive nymphs sometimes display more of nature's charms to the eager gaze of her wanton sons than befits me to tell, or decency to dwell on. I could not, however, with all the purity of my ethics, help envying a robust fellow who was assisting in clucking the dear unencumbered creatures under the rising wave.{1}

1 Some of the female bathers are very adventurous, and from the great drawback of water many accidents have occurred. I was much amused one morning with three sisters, in the machine adjoining mine, continually crying out to a male attendant "to push on, and not be afraid of the consequences; we can all swim well," said one of the Miss B——'s (well known as the marine graces). "But my machine a'n't water-tight," replied the bathing-man, "and if I trust it any farther in, I shall never be able to get it out again." A Frenchman who came down to bathe with his wife and sister insisted upon using the same machine with the ladies; the bathing-women remonstrated, but monsieur retorted very fairly thus—"Mon dieu I vat is dat vat you tell me about decence. Tromperie—shall I no dip mon femme a sour myself vith quite as much bienseance as dat vulgar brute vat I see ducking de ladies yondere?"

~306~~The naiads of the deep are a strange race of mortals, half fish and half human, with a masculine coarseness of manner that, I am told, has been faithfully copied from their great original, the once celebrated Martha Gun. It is not unusual for these women to continue in the water up to their waists for four hours at a time, without suffering the least affection of cold or rheumatism, and living to a great age. A dingy empiric has invented a new system of humbug which is in great repute here, and is called shampooing; a sort of stewing alive by steam, sweetened by being forced through odoriferous herbs, and undergoing the pleasant sensation of being dabbed all the while with pads of flannels through holes in the wet blankets that surround you, until the cartilaginous substances of your joints are made as pliable as the ligaments of boiled calves' feet, your whole system relaxed and unnerved, and your trembling legs as useless in supporting your body as a pair of boots would be without the usual quantity of flesh and bone within them. The Steyne affords excellent subject for the study of character, and the pencil of the humorist; the walks round are paved with brick, which, when the thermometer is something above eighty-six in the shade (the case just now), is very like pacing your parched feet over the pantiles of a Turkish stove. There is, indeed, a ~307~~grass-plot within the rails, but the luxury of walking upon it is reserved for the fishermen of the place exclusively, except on some extraordinary occasion, when the whole rabble of the town are let loose to annoy the visitants by puffing tobacco smoke in their faces, or jostling and insulting them with coarse ribaldry, until the genteel and decent are compelled to quit the promenade. I have had two or three such specimens of Brighton manners while staying here, and could only wish I had the assistance of about twenty of the Oxfordtogati, Trinitarians, or Bachelors of Brazennose. I think we should hit upon some expedient to tame these brutes, and teach them civilized conduct—an Herculean labour which the town authorities seem afraid to attempt. The easy distance between this and the metropolis, with the great advantages of expeditious travelling, enable the multitudinous population of London to pour forth its motley groups, in greater variety than at any other watering place, Margate excepted, with, however, this difference in favour of the former, that the mixture had more of the sprinkling of fashion about them, here and there a name of note, a splendid equipage, or a dazzling star, to illumine the dull nomenclatures in the library books of the Johnson's, the Thomson's, the Brown's, and the Levi's. The last-mentioned fraternity congregate here in shoals, usurp all the best lodgings, at the windows of which they are to be seen soliciting notice, with their hooked noses, copper countenances, and inquisitive eyes, decked out in all the faded finery of Petticoat-lane, or Bevis Marks; while the heads of the houses of Israel run down on a Saturday, after the Stock Exchange closes, and often do as much business here on the Sabbath, in gambling speculations for the account day, as they have done all the week before in London. Here, too, you have the felicity to meet your tailor in his tandem, your ~308~~butcher on his trotter, your shoemaker in a fly, and your wine-merchant with his bit of blood, his girl, and tilbury, making a greater splash than yourself, and pleasantly pointing you out to observation as a long-winded one, a great gambler, or some other such gratuitous return for your ill-bestowed patronage. To amalgamate with such canaille is impossible—you are therefore driven into seclusion, or compelled to confine your visits and amusements to nearly the same circle you have just left London to be relieved from. Among the "observed" of the present time, the great star of attraction is the rich Banker's widow, who occupies the corner house of the Grand Parade, eclipsing in splendid equipages and attendants an Eastern nabob, or royalty itself. Good fortune threw old Crony in my way, just as I had caught a glimpse of the widow's cap: you know his dry sarcastic humour and tenacious memory, and perhaps I ought to add, my inquisitive disposition. From him I gleaned a sketch of the widow's history, adorned with a few comments, which gallantry to the fair sex will not allow me to repeat. She had just joined conversation with the Marquis of H——, who was attended by Jackson, the pugilist; an illustrious personage and a noble earl were on her left; while behind the jolie dame, at a respectful distance, paced two liveried emblems of her deceased husband's bounty, clad in the sad habiliments of woe, and looking as merry as mutes at a rich man's funeral. (See Plate.)



"She has the reputation of being very charitable," said I. "She has," responded Crony; "but the total neglect of poor Wewitzer, in the hour of penury and sickness, is no proof of her feeling, much less of her generosity. I have known her long," continued Crony, "from her earliest days of obscurity and indigence to these of unexampled prosperity, and I never could agree with common report in that particular." I dare say I looked at this moment very ~309~~significantly; for Crony, without waiting my request, continued his history. "Her father was the gay and dissolute Jack Kinnear, well known in Dublin for his eccentricities about the time of the Rebellion, in which affair he made himself so conspicuous that he was compelled to expatriate, and fled to England by way of Liverpool; where his means soon failing, Jack, never at a loss, took up the profession of an actor, and succeeded admirably. His animated style and attractive person are still spoken of with delight by many of the old inhabitants of Carlisle, Rochdale, Kendal, and the neighbouring towns of Lancashire, where he first made his appearance in an itinerant company, then under the management of a man of the name of Bibby, and in whose house, under very peculiar circumstances, our heroine was born; but

'Merit and worth from no condition rise; Act well your part—there all the honour lies.'

~309~~That little Harriet was a child of much promise there is no doubt, playing, in her mother's name, at a very early period, all the juvenile parts in Bibby's company with great eclat until she attained the age of eighteen, when her abilities procured her a situation to fill the first parts in genteel comedy in the theatres-royal Manchester and Liverpool. From this time her fame increased rapidly, which was not a little enhanced by her attractive person, and consequent number of admirers; for even among the cotton lords of Manchester a fine-grown, raven-locked, black-eyed brunette, arch, playful, and clever, could not fail to create sensations of desire: but at this time the affections of the lady were fixed on a son of Thespis, then a member of the same company, and to whom she was shortly afterwards betrothed; but the marriage, from some capricious cause or other, was never consummated: the actor, well-known as Scotch Grant, is now much reduced in life, and a member of ~310~~one of the minor companies of the metropolis. On her quitting Liverpool, in 1794, she played at the Stafford theatre during the election contest, where, having the good-fortune to form an intimacy with the Hortons, a highly-respectable family then resident there, and great friends of Sheridan, they succeeded, on the return of that gentleman to parliament for the borough of Stafford, to obtain from him an engagement for our heroine at the theatre-royal Drury Lane, of which he was at that time proprietor. 'Brevity is the soul of wit,'" said Crony: "I shall not attempt to enumerate all the parts she played there; suffice it to say, she was successful, and became a great favourite with the public. It was here she first attracted the notice of the rich old banker, who having just discarded another actress, Mrs. M——r, whom he had kept some time, on account of an intimacy he discovered with the lady and P——e, the oboe player, he made certain propositions, accompanied with such liberal presents, that the fair yielded to the all-powerful influence, not of love, but gold; and having, through the interference of poor W——, secured to herself a settlement which made her independent for life, threw out the well-planned story of the lottery ticket, as a 'tub to the whale': a stratagem that, for some time, succeeded admirably, until a malicious wag belonging to the company undertook to solve the riddle of her prosperity, by pretending to bet a wager of one hundred, that the lady had actually gained twenty thousand pounds by the lottery, and he would name the ticket: with this excuse, for what otherwise might have been deemed impertinent, he put the question, and out of the reply developed the whole affair. All London now rung with the splendour of her equipage, the extent of her charities, and the liberality of her conduct to an old actor and a young female friend, Miss S——n, who was invariably seen with ~311~~her in public. Such was the notoriety of the intimacy, that the three married daughters of the banker, all persons of title and the highest respectability, thought it right to question their father, relative to the truth of the reports in circulation. Whatever might have been their apprehensions, their fears were quieted by the information, that the lady in question was a natural daughter, born previous to the alliance to which they owed their birth: this assurance not only induced the parties to admit her to their presence, but she was also introduced to, and became intimate with, the wife of the man to whom she owes her present good fortune. It was now, that, feeling herself secure, she displayed that capricious feeling which has since marked her character: poor W——r, her mentor and defender, was on some mere pretence abandoned, and a sturdy blustering fellow, in the same profession, substituted for the sincere adviser, the witty and agreeable companion: it was to R——d she sent a present of one thousand pounds, for a single ticket, on his benefit night. But her ambition had not yet attained its highest point: the banker's wife died, and our fortunate heroine was elected to her place while yet the clay-cold corse of her predecessor remained above ground; a circumstance, which brought down a heavy calamity on the clerical who performed the marriage rites,{2} but which was remedied by an annuity from the banker. From this period, the haughty bearing of the lady exceeded all bounds; the splendour of her establishment, the extravagance of her parties, and the munificence of her charities, trumpeted forth by that many-tongued oracle, the public press, eclipsed the brilliancy of the