~159~~ Eglan. If I do, I am a _black horse_. She's no paces, nothing _but a shuffle_, not a _leg to stand on_.

Livery M. Every one as good as the princ.i.p.al of All-Souls. Not a better bred thing in Oxford, and all horses here gallop by instinct, as every body knows, but they can't go for ever, and when gentlemen ride steeple chases of sixty miles or more right a-head, they ought to find their own horse-flesh.

Eglan. What coming _crabb_ over us, old fellow, hey 1 Very well, I shall bolt and try Randall, and that's all about it. Come along, Blackmantle.

My friend's threat of withdrawing his patronage had immediately the desired effect. Horace's judgment in horse-flesh was universally admitted, and the knowing dealer, although he had suffered in one instance by hard riding, yet deeply calculated on retrieving his loss by some unsuspecting Freshman, or other university Nimrod in the circle of Eglantine's acquaintance. By this time Echo had arrived, and we were soon mounted on the two fresh purchases which the honest Yorkshireman had so disinterestedly pointed out; and which, to do him justice, deserved the eulogium he had given us on their merits. One circ.u.mstance must not however be forgotten, which was the following notice posted at the end of the yard. "To prevent accidents, gentlemen pay _before mounting_." "How the deuce can this practice of paying beforehand prevent accidents?" said I. "You're fresh, old fellow," said Echo, "or you'd understand after a man breaks his neck he fears no duns. Now you know by accident what old Humanity there means."

Bagley is about two miles and a half from Oxford on the Abingdon road, an exceedingly pleasant ride, leaving the sacred city and pa.s.sing over the old bridge where formerly was situated the study or observatory of the celebrated Friar Bacon. Not an object in the shape of a petticoat escaped some raillery, and scarcely 160~~ a town _raff_ but what met with a corresponding display of university wit, and called forth many a cutting joke: the place itself is an extensive wood on the summit of a hill, which commands a glorious panoramic view of Oxford and the surrounding country richly diversified in hill and dale, and sacred spires shooting their varied forms on high above the domes, and minarets, and towers of Rhedycina. This spot, the favourite haunt of the Oxonians, is covered for many miles with the most luxuriant foliage, affording the cool retreat, the love embowered shades, over which Prudence spreads the friendly veil. Here many an amorous couple have in softest dalliance met, and sighed, and frolicked, free from suspicion's eye beneath the broad umbrageous canopy of Nature; here too is the favourite retreat of the devotees of Cypriani, the spicy grove of a.s.signations where the velvet sleeves of the Proctor never shake with terror in the wind, and the savage form of the university _bull dog_ is unknown.

A party of wandering English Arabs had pitched their tents on the brow of the hill just under the first cl.u.s.ter of trees, and materially increased the romantic appearance of the scene. The group consisted of men, women, and children, a tilted cart with two or three a.s.ses, and a lurcher who announced our approach. My companions were, I soon found, well known to the females, who familiarly approached our party, while the male animals as condescendingly betook themselves into the recesses of the wood. "Black Nan," said Echo, "and her daughter, the gypsy beauty, the Bagley brunette."--"Shall I tell your honour's fortune?"

said the elder of the two, approaching me; while Eglantine, who had already dismounted and given his horse to one of the brown urchins of the party, had encircled the waist of the younger sibyl, and was tickling her into a trot in an opposite direction. "Ay do, Nan," ~161~~ said Echo, "cast his nativity, open the book of fate, and tell the boy his future destiny." It would be the height of absurdity to repeat half the nonsense this oracle of Bagley uttered relative to my future fortunes; but with the cunning peculiar to her cast, she discovered I was fresh, and what tormented me more, (although on her part it was no doubt accidental) alluded to an amour in which my heart was much interested with a little divinity in the neighbourhood of Eton. This hint was sufficient to give Tom his cue, and I was doomed to be pestered for the remainder of the day with questions and raillery on my progress in the court of Love. On our quitting the old gypsy woman, a pair of buxom damsels came in sight, advancing from the Abingdon road; they were no doubt like ourselves, I thought, come to consult the oracle of Bagley, or, perhaps, were the daughters of some respectable farmer who owned the adjoining land. All these doubts were, however, of short duration; for Tom Echo no sooner caught sight of their faces, than away he bounded towards them like a young colt in all the frolic of untamed playfulness, and before I could reach him, one of the ladies was rolling on the green carpet of luxuriant Nature. In the deep bosom of Bagley Wood, impervious to the eye of authority, many a sportive scene occurs which would alarm the ethics of the solemn sages of the cloistered college. They were, I discovered, sisters, too early abandoned by an unfeeling parent to poverty, and thus became an easy prey to the licentious and the giddy, who, in the pursuit of pleasure, never contemplate the attendant misery which is sure to follow the victim of seduction. There was something romantic in their story: they were daughters of the celebrated Mother Goose, whose person must have been familiar to every Oxonian for the last sixty years prior to her decease, which occurred but a short time since Of ~162~~ this woman's history I have since gleaned some curious particulars, the most remarkable of which (contained in the annexed note) have been authenticated by living witnesses.{1} Her portrait, by a member of All Souls, is admirable, and is here faithfully copied.

[Ill.u.s.tration: page162]

1 "_Mother Goose_," formerly a procuress, and one of the most abandoned of her profession. When from her advanced age, and the loss of her eye-sight, she could no longer obtain money by seducing females from the path of virtue, she married a man of the name of H., (commonly called Gentleman H.) and for years was led by him to the students'

apartments in the different colleges with baskets of the choicest flowers. Her ancient, clean, and neat appearance, her singular address, and, above all, the circ.u.mstance of her being blind, never failed of procuring her at least ten times the price of her posy, and which was frequently doubled when she informed the young gentlemen of the generosity, benevolence, and charity of their grandfathers, fathers, or uncles whom she knew when they were at college.

She had several illegitimate children, all females, and all were sacrificed by their unnatural mother, except one, who was taken away from her at a very tender age by the child's father's parents. When of age, this child inherited her father's property, and is now (I believe) the wife of an Irish n.o.bleman, and to this time is unconscious that Mother Goose, of Oxford, gave her birth. The person who was instrumental in removing the child is still living in Oxford, and will testify to the authenticity of the fact here related. His present majesty never pa.s.sed through Oxford without presenting Mother Goose with a donation, but of course without knowing her early history.

~163~~

Having, as Echo expressed it, now broke cover, and being advanced one step in the study of the fathers, we prepared to quit the Abingdon fair and rural shades of Bagley on our return to Oxford, something lighter in pocket, and a little too in morality. We raced the whole of the distance home, to the great peril of several groups of town raff whom we pa.s.sed in our way. On our arrival my friends had each certain lectures to attend, or college duties to perform. An idle Freshman, there was yet three hours good before the invitation to the spread, and as kind fortune willed it to amuse the time, a packet arrived from Horatio Heartley. He had been spending the winter in town with his aunt, Lady Mary Oldstyle, and had, with his usual tact, been sketching the varied groups which form the circle of fashionable life. It was part of the agreement between us, when leaving each other at Eton, that we should thus communicate the characteristic traits of the society we were about to amalgamate with. He has, in the phraseology of the day, just come out, and certainly appears to have made the best use of his time.

KENSINGTON GARDENS--SUNDAY EVENING.

Singularities of 1824.

[Ill.u.s.tration: page164]

~164~~

WESTERN ENTRANCE INTO THE METROPOLIS;

A DESCRIPTIVE SKETCH.

General Views of the Author relative to Subject and Style-- Time and Place--Perspective Glimpse of the great City--The Approach--c.o.c.kney Salutations--The Toll House--Western Entrance to c.o.c.kney Land--Hyde Park--Sunday Noon-- Sketches of Character, Costume, and Scenery--The Ride and Drive--Kensington Gardens--Belles and Beaux--Stars and Fallen Stars--Singularities of 1824--Tales of Ton--On Dits and Anecdotes--Sunday Evening--High Life and Low Life, the Contrast--c.o.c.kney Goths--Notes, Biographical, Amorous, and Exquisite.

[Ill.u.s.tration: page165]

Its wealth and fashion, wit and folly, Pleasures, whims, and melancholy: Of all the charming belles and beaux Who line the parks, in double rows; Of princes, peers, their equipage, The splendour of the present age; Of west-end fops, and crusty cits, Who drive their gigs, or sport their t.i.ts; With all the groups we mean to dash on Who form the busy world of fashion: Proceeding onwards to the city, With sketches, humorous and witty.

The man of business, and the Change, Will come within our satire's range: Nor rank, nor order, nor condition, Imperial, lowly, or patrician, Shall, when they see this volume, cry-- "The satirist has pa.s.s'd us by,"

But with good humour view our page Depict the manners of the age.

Our style shall, like our subject, be Distinguished by variety; Familiar, brief we could say too-- (It shall be whimsical and new), But reader that we leave to you.

'Twas morn, the genial sun of May O'er nature spread a cheerful ray, When c.o.c.kney Land, clothed in her best, We saw, approaching from the west, And 'mid her steeples straight and tall Espied the dome of famed St. Paul, Surrounded with a cloud of smoke From many a kitchen chimney broke; A nuisance since consumed below By bill of Michael Angelo.{1} The coach o'er stones was heard to rattle,

1 M. A. Taylor's act for compelling all large factories, which have steam and other apparatus, to consume their own smoke.

~166~~

The guard his bugle tuned for battle, The horses snorted with delight, As Piccadilly came in sight.

On either side the road was lined With vehicles of ev'ry kind, And as the rapid wheel went round, There seem'd scarce room to clear the ground.

"Gate-gate-push on--how do--well met-- Pull up--my t.i.ts are on the fret-- The number--lost it--tip then straight, That covey vants to bilk the gate."

The toll-house welcome this to town.

Your prime, flash, bang up, fly, or down, A tidy team of prads,--your castor's Quite a Joliffe tile,--my master.

Thus buck and coachee greet each other, And seem familiar as a brother.

No Chinese wall, or rude barrier, Obstructs the view, or entrance here; Nor fee or pa.s.sport,--save the warder, Who draws to keep the roads in order; No questions ask'd, but all that please May pa.s.s and repa.s.s at their ease.

In c.o.c.kney land, the seventh day Is famous for a grand display Of modes, of finery, and dress, Of cit, west-ender, and n.o.blesse, Who in Hyde Park crowd like a fair To stare, and lounge, and take the air, Or ride or drive, or walk, and chat On fashions, scandal, and all that.-- Here, reader, with your leave, will we Commence our London history.

'Twas Sunday, and the park was full With Mistress, John, and Master Bull, And all their little fry.

The crowd pour in from all approaches, Tilb'ries, dennets, gigs, and coaches;

~167~~

The bells rung merrily.

Old dowagers, their fubsy faces{2} Painted to eclipse the Graces, Pop their noddles out Of some old family affair That's neither chariot, coach, or chair, Well known at ev'ry rout.

But bless me, who's that coach and six?

"That, sir, is Mister Billy Wicks, A great light o' the city, Tallow-chandler, and lord mayor{3}; Miss Flambeau Wicks's are the fair, Who're drest so very pretty.

It's only for a year you know He keeps up such a flashy show; And then he's melted down.

The man upon that half-starved nag{4} Is an Ex-S------ff, a strange wag, Half flash, and half a clown.

But see with artful lures and wiles The Paphian G.o.ddess, Mrs. G***s,{5}

2 There are from twenty to thirty of these well known relics of antiquity who regularly frequent the park, and attend all the fashionable routs,--perfumed and painted with the utmost extravagance: if the wind sets in your face, they may be scented at least a dozen carriages off.

3 It is really ludicrous to observe the ridiculous pride of some of these ephemeral things;--during their mayoralty, the gaudy city vehicle with four richly caparisoned horses is constantly in the drive, with six or eight persons crammed into it like a family waggon, and bedizened out in all the colours of the rainbow;--ask for them six months after, and you shall find them more suitably employed, packing rags, oranges, or red herrings.

4 This man is such a strange compound of folly and eccentricity, that he is eternally in hot water with some one or other.

5 Mrs. f.a.n.n.y G-1-s, the ci-devant wife of a corn merchant, a celebrated courtezan, who sports a splendid equipage, and has long figured upon town as a star of the first order in the Cyprian hemisphere. She has some excellent qualities, as poor M---------n can vouch; for when the fickle G.o.ddess Fortune left him in the lurch, she has a handsome annuity from a sporting peer, who was once the favoured swain.

~168~~

From out her carriage peeps; She nods to am'rous Mrs. D-----,{6} Who bends with most sublime congee, While ruin'd-----------sleeps.

Who follows 1 'tis the hopeful son Of the proud Earl of H-----------n, Who stole the parson's wife.{7} The Earl of H-----------and flame, For cabriolets she's the dame,{8} A dasher, on my life.

Jack T-----1 shows his pleasant face{9}; A royal likeness here you'll trace, You'd swear he was a Guelph.

See Lady Mary's U------walk,{10} And though but aide-de-camp to York, An Adonis with himself,

6 Mrs. D---------, alias Mrs. B-k-y, alias Miss Montague, the wife of poor Jem B-k-y, the greater his misfortune,--a well known Paphian queen, one of five sisters, who are all equally notorious, and whose history is well known. She is now the favoured sultana of a ci-devant banker, whose name she a.s.sumes, to the disgrace of himself and family.

7 The clerical cornuto recovered, in a crim. con. action, four thousand pounds for the loss of his frail rib, from this hopeful sprig of n.o.bility.

8 Mrs. S------, a most voluptuous lady, the discarded chere amie of the late Lord F-1-d, said to be the best carriage woman in the park: she lies in the Earl of H------- --'s cabriolet most delightfully stretched out at full length, and in this elegant posture is driven through the park.

9 Captain T------l of the guards, whose powerful similitude to the reigning family of England is not more generally admitted than his good-humoured qualities are universally admired.

10 The Hon. General U---------, aide-de-camp to the Duke of York, whose intrigue with Lady Mary------------was, we have heard, a planned affair to entrap a very different person.