"They say it is right that for every gla.s.s, A tune you should take that the water may pa.s.s; So while little Tabby was washing her rump, The ladies kept drinking it out of the pump."

~318~~A very pleasant piece of satire, but somewhat, as I understand, at the expense of truth, since the well from which the water in the pump room is obtained is many feet below the one that supplies the baths; situation certainly a.s.sists the view of the satirist. I ought not to pa.s.s over here the story told us by our old friend Blackstrap, respecting the first discovery of these waters by Bladud, the son of Lud Hudibras, king of Britain; a fabulous tale, which, for the benefit of the city all true Bathonians are taught to lisp with their horn book, and believe with their creed, as genuine orthodox; and on which subject my friend Horace furnished the following impromptu.

Oh, Lud! oh, Lud! that hogs and mud{1} Should rival sage M.D.'s; And hot water, in this quarter, Cure each foul disease.

"Throw physic to the dogs, I'll have none on't,'" said Horace: "if hot water can effect such wonders, why, a plague on all the doctors! Let a man be content to distil his medicine fresh from his own teakettle, or make his washing copper serve the double purpose for domestic uses and a medicated bath.

'But what is surprising, no mortal e'er view'd Any one of the physical gentlemen stew'd.

From the day that King Bladud first found out these bogs, And thought them so good for himself and his hogs, Not one of the faculty ever has tried These excellent waters to cure his own hide; Though many a skilful and learned physician, With candour, good sense, and profound erudition, Obliges the world with the fruits of his brain, Their nature and hidden effects to explain.'

1 See the fabulous account alluded to in Warner's History of Bath, where Bladud is represented to have discovered the properties of the warm springs at Beechen Wood Swainswick, by observing the hogs to wallow in the mud that was impregnated therewith, and thus to have derived the knowledge of a cure for 'tis leprous affection.

~319~~But _allons_, lads," said Horace, "we are here to follow the fashion, and indulge in all the eccentricities of the place; to note the follies of the time, and depict the chief actors, without making any personal sacrifice to correct the evil. Our satire will do more to remove old prejudices when it appears in print, aided by Bob Transit's pencil, than all our reasonings upon the spot can hope to effect, although we followed Mr. M'Culloch's economy, and lectured upon decency from break of day to setting sun. In quitting the pump-room we must not, however, omit to notice the statue of Beau Nash, before which Transit appears, in _propria personae_, sketching off the marble memento, without condescending to notice the busts of Pope and Newton, which fill situations on each side; a circ.u.mstance which in other times produced the following epigram from the pen of the witty earl of Chesterfield.

"The statue plac'd the busts between Adds satire to the strength; Wisdom and Wit are little seen, But Folly at full length."

Such is the attachment of man to the recollections of any thing a.s.sociated with pleasure, that it is questionable if the memory of old Joe Miller is not held in higher estimation by the moderns than that of Father Luther, the reformer; and while the numerous amusing anecdotes in circulation tend to keep alive the fame of Nash, it is not surprising that the merry pay court to his statue, being in his own dominions, before they bow at the cla.s.sic shrine of Pope, or bend in awful admiration beneath the bust of the greatest of philosophers.

"'Twas said of old, deny it now who can, The only laughing animal is man."

And we are about to present the reader with a right merry scene, one, too, if he has any fun in his composition, or loves a good joke, must warm the c.o.c.kles ~320~~of his heart. Who would ever have thought, in these moralizing times, when the puritans are raising conventicles in every town and village, and the cant of vice societies has spread itself over the land, that in one of our most celebrated places of fashionable resort, there should be found baths where the young and the old, the beauteous female and the gay spark, are all indiscriminately permitted to enjoy the luxurious pleasure together. That such is the case in Bath no one who has recently partic.i.p.ated in the pleasures of immersion will dispute, and in order to perpetuate that gratification, Bob Transit has here faithfully delineated the scene which occurred upon our entering the King's Bath, through the opening from the Queen's, where, to our great amus.e.m.e.nt and delight, we found ourselves surrounded by many a sportive nymph, whose beauteous form was partially hidden by the loose flannel gown, it is true; but now and then the action of the water, produced by the continued movements of a number of persons all bathing at the same time, discovered charms, the which to have caught a glimpse of in any other situation might have proved of dangerous consequences to the fair possessors. The baths, it must be admitted, are delightful, both from their great extent and their peculiar properties, as, on entering from the Queen's Bath you may enjoy the water at from 90 to 96 degrees, or requiring more heat have only to walk forward, through the archway, to obtain a temperature of 116. The first appearance of old Blackstrap's visage floating along the surface of the water, like the grog-blossomed trunk of the ancient Bardolph, bound up in a Welsh wig, was truly ludicrous, and produced such an unexpected burst of laughter from my merry companions, that I feared some of the fair Naiads would have fainted in the waters from fright, and then Heaven help them, for decency would have prevented our rushing to their a.s.sistance. The notices to prevent gentlemen ~321~~from swimming in the baths are, in my opinion, so many inducements or suggestions for every young visitor to attempt it. Among our mad wags, Horace Eglantine was more than once remonstrated with by the old bathing women for indulging in this pleasure, to the great alarm of the ladies, who, crowding together in one corner with their aged attendants, appeared to be in a high state of apprehension lest the loose flannel covering that guards frail mortality upon these occasions should be drawn aside, and discover nature in all her pristine purity--an accident that had very nearly happened to myself, when, in endeavouring to turn round quickly, I found the water had disenc.u.mbered my frame of the yellow bathing robe, which floated on the surface behind me.

[Ill.u.s.tration: page321]

One circ.u.mstance which made our party more conspicuous, was, the rejection of the Welsh wigs, which not all the entreaties of the attendant could induce any of the wags to wear. The young ladies disfigure themselves by wearing the black bonnets of the bathing women; but spite of this masquerading in the water, their lovely countenances and soul-subduing eyes, create sensations that will be more easily conceived than prudently described. A certain facetious writer, who has published his "Walks through Bath," alluding to this practice, speaks of it as having been prohibited in the fifteenth century. How long such prohibition, if it ever took place, continued, it is not for me to know; but if the Bath peripatetic historian had made it his business to have seen what he has described, he would have found, that the practice of bathing males and females together in _puris naturalibus_ was still continued in high perfection, in spite of the puritans, the Vice Society, or the prohibition of Bishop Beckyngton.{2}

2 It appears, that about the middle of the fifteenth century it was the custom for males and females to bathe together, in puris naturalibus, which was at length prohibited by Bishop Beckyngton, who ordered, by way of distinction, the wearing of breeches and petticoats; this indecency was suppressed, after considerable difficulty, at the end of the sixteenth century, (quere, what indecency does our author of the "Walks through Bath" mean? the inc.u.mbrance of the breeches and petticoats, we must imagine). It also seems, that about 1700 it was the fashion for both s.e.xes to bathe together indiscriminately, and the ladies used to decorate their heads with all the advantages of dress, as a mode of attracting attention and heightening their charms. The husband of a lady in one of the baths, in company with Beau Nash, was so much enraptured with the appearance of his wife, that he very im-prudently observed, "she looked like an angel, and he wished to be with her." Nash immediately seized him by the collar, and threw him into the bath; this circ.u.mstance produced a duel, and Nash was wounded in his right arm: it however had the good effect of establishing the reputation of Nash, who shortly after became master of the ceremonies.

~322~~

"You cannot conceive what a number of ladies Were wash'd in the water the same as our maid is: How the ladies did giggle and set up their clacks All the while an old woman was rubbing their backs; Oh! 'twas pretty to see them all put on their flannels, And then take the water, like so many spaniels; And though all the while it grew hotter and hotter, They swam just as if they were hunting an otter.

'Twas a glorious sight to behold the fair s.e.x All wading with gentlemen up to their necks, And view them so prettily tumble and sprawl In a great smoking kettle as big as our hall; And to-day many persons of rank and condition Were boil'd, by command of an able physician."

From the baths we migrated to the grand promenade of fashion, Milsom Street, not forgetting to take a survey of the old Abbey Church, which, as a monument of architectural grandeur without, and of dread monition within, is a building worthy the attention of the antiquarian and the philosopher; while perpetuating the remembrance of many a cherished name to worth, to science, and to virtue dear, the artist and the amateur may derive much gratification from examining the many excellent ~323~~pieces of sculpture with which the Abbey abounds. But for us, gay in disposition, and scarcely allowing ourselves time for reflection, such a scene had few charms, unless, indeed, the English Spy could have separated himself from the buoyant spirits with which he was attended, and then, wrapt in the gloom of the surrounding scene, and given up to serious contemplation, the emblems of mortality which decorate the gothic pile might have conjured up in his mind's eye the forms of many a departed spirit, of the blest shades of long-lost parents and of social friends, of those who, living, lent a l.u.s.tre to the arts, of witty madcaps frost-bitten by the sable tyrant Death, nipped in the very bud of youth, while yet the sparkling jest was ripe upon the merry lip, and the ruddy glow of health upon the cheek gave earnest of a lengthened life------But, soft! methinks I hear my reader exclaim, "How now, madcap, moralizing Mr. Spy? art thou, too, bitten by the desire to philosophize, thou, 'the very Spy o' the time,' the merry buoyant rogue who has laughed all serious scenes to scorn, and riding over hill, and dale, and verdant plain upon thy fiery courser, fleet as the winds, collecting the cream of comicalities, and, beshrew thee, witling, plucking the brightest flowers that bloom in the road of pleasure to give thy merry garland's perfume, and deck thy page withal, art thou growing serious? Then is doomsday near; and poor, deserted, care-worn man left unprotected to the tempest's rage!" Not so, good reader, we are still the same merry, thoughtless, laughing, buoyant sprite that thou hast known us for the last two years; but the archer cannot always keep his bow upon the stretching point; so there are scenes, and times, and fancies produced by recollective circ.u.mstances and objects, which create strange conceits even in the light-hearted bosom of the English Spy.

Such was the train of reflections which rushed in ~324~~voluntarily upon my mind as I noted down the pa.s.sing events of the day, a practice usual with me when, retiring from the busy hum of men, I seek the retirement of my chamber to commit my thoughts to paper. I had recently pa.s.sed through the depository where rest the remains of a tender mother--had sought the spot, unnoticed by my light-hearted companions, and having bedewed with tears of grat.i.tude her humble grave, gave vent to my feelings, by the following tribute to a parent's worth.

MY MOTHER'S GRAVE.

Beneath yon ivy-mantled wall, In a lone corner, where the earth Presents a rising green mound, all Of her who lov'd and gave me birth

Lies buried deep. No trophied stone, Or graven verse denotes the spot: Her worth her epitaph alone, The green-sward grave her humble lot.

How silent sleep the virtuous dead!

For them few sculptured honours rise, No marble tablet here to spread A fame--their every act implies.

No mockery here, nor herald's shield, To glitter o'er a bed of clay; But snow-drops and fresh violets yield A tribute to worth pa.s.s'd away.

Tread lightly, ye who love or know En life's young road a parent's worth, Who yet are strangers to the woe Of losing those who gave you birth,

~325~~

Who cherish'd, fondled, fed, and taught From infancy to manhood's pride, Directing every opening thought, Teaching how Reason's power should guide.

Ye rich and bold, ye grave and gay, Ye mightiest of the sons of men, Wealth, honours, fame shall sink away, And all be equalized again;

Save what the sculptor may pourtray, And any tyrant, fool, or knave Who has the wealth, may in that way His name from dull oblivion save;

That is, he may perpetuate His worthlessness, his frauds, and crimes; No matter what his tomb relate, His character lives with the times.

Shade of my parent! couldst thou hear The voice of him, thine only child, Implore thy loss with filial tear, And deck thy grave with sonnets wild,

'Twould all thy troubles past repay, Thy anxious cares, thy hopes and fears, To find as time stole life away, Thy mem'ry brighten'd with his years.

Yes, sacred shade! while mem'ry guides This ever wild eccentric brain, While reason holds or virtue chides, Still will I pour the filial strain.

"What," said my old friend Horace Eglantine, after reading this tribute to parental worth, "Bernard Blackmantle moralizing; our Spy turned ~326~~monody-maker, writing epitaphs, and elegies, and odes to spirits that have no corporal substance, when there are so many living subjects yet left for his merrier muse to dwell upon? Come, old fellow, shake off this lethargy of the mind, this vision of past miseries, and prepare for present merriments.

'The streets begin to fill, the motley throng To see and to be seen, now trip along; Some lounge in the bazaars, while others meet To take a turn or two in Milsom-street; Some eight or ten round Mirvan's shop remain, To stare at those who gladly stare again.'

In short, my dear fellow, we are all waiting your company to join the swells in Milsom-street; where, I have no doubt, you will find many a star of fashion, whose eccentricities you will think justly ent.i.tles him to a niche in your gallery of living characters.

'Lords of the creation, who, half awake, Adorn themselves their daily lounge to take; Each lordly man his taper waist displays, Combs his sweet locks, and laces on his stays, Ties on his starch'd cravat with nicest care, And then steps forth to petrify the fair.'

Such, for instance, is that roue yonder, the very prince of Bath fops, Handsome Jack, whose vanity induces him to a.s.sert that his eyebrows are worth one hundred per annum to any young fellow in pursuit of a fortune: it should, however, be admitted, that his gentlemanly manners and great good-nature more than compensate for any little detractions on the score of self-conceit. What the son is, the father was in earlier life; and the old beau is not a little gratified to observe the estimation in which his son is held by the fair s.e.x, on account of his attractive person and still more prepossessing manners.

"You have heard of Peagreen Hayne's exploits at Burdrop Park; and here comes the proprietor of the ~327~~place, honest Tom Calley, as jovial a true-hearted English gentleman as ever followed a pack of foxhounds, or gloried in preserving and promoting the old English hospitalities of the table: circ.u.mstances, the result of some hard runs and long odds, have a little impaired the family exchequer; however the good wishes of all who know him attend him in adversity. But the clouds which have for a time obstructed his sunshine of mirth are fast wearing away, and when he shall return to the enjoyment of his patrimonial acres, he will be sure to meet a joyous welcome from all surrounding him, accompanied with the heartfelt congratulations of those to whom in Bath he is particularly endeared. The smart little fellow driving by in his cabriolet is beau Burgess, a single star, and one of no mean attraction among the fair spinsters, who can estimate the merits and admire the refulgence of ten thousand sovereign attendant satellites.

[Ill.u.s.tration: page327]

Bath is, perhaps, now the only place in the kingdom where there is yet to be found a four-in-hand club; a society of gentlemen Jehus, who formerly in London cut no inconsiderable figure in the annals of fashion, and who, according to our mode of estimating the amus.e.m.e.nts of the gay world, were very unfairly satirized, seeing, that with the pursuit of pleasure was combined the additional employment of a large number of mechanics, and a stimulus given, not only to the improvement of a n.o.ble breed of horses, but to the acquirement of a knowledge, the perfection of which in the metropolis is particularly necessary to the existence of the peripatetic pleasures of his majesty's subjects. Here we have Colonel Allen, who puts along a good team in very prime style, and having lately been spliced to a good fortune, is a perfect master in the _manage_-ment of the bit.

"Squire Richards is, also, by no means a contemptible knight of the ribbons, only he sometimes measures ~328~~his distance a little too closely; a practice, which if he does not improve upon, may some day, in turning a corner, not bring him off right. 'A follower of the Buxton school and a true knight of the throng,' says old Tom Whipcord in the Annals of Sporting, 'must not expect to drive four high-bred horses well with an opera-gla.s.s stuck in his right ogle.' A bit of good advice that will not only benefit the squire if he attends to it, but perhaps save the lives of one or two of the Bath pedestrians. The leader of the club, who, by way of distinction from his namesake the colonel, is designated Scotch Allen, is really a n.o.ble whip, putting along four horses in first-rate style, all brought well up to their work, and running together as close and as regular as the wheels of his carriage. The comical little character upon the strawberry pony is the Bath Adonis; a fine specimen of the Irish antique, ill.u.s.trated with a beautiful brogue,and emblazoned with a gold coat of arms. The amours of old B-----------in Bath would very well fill a volume of themselves; but the anecdote I gave you in the Pump-room of little Lacy and her paramour will be sufficient to show you in what estimation he is held by the ladies." "Give me leave to introduce you to a Raer fellow," said Heartly; "an old friend of mine, who has all his lifetime been a wholesale dealer in choice spirits, and having now bottled off enough for the remainder of his life, is come to spend the evening of his days in Bath among the bon vivants of the elegant city, enjoying the t.i.t bits of pleasure, and courting the sweet society of the pretty girls. By heavens! boys, we shall be found out, and you, Mr. Spy, will be the ruin of us all, for here comes our old sporting acquaintance, Charles Bannatyne, with his Jackall at his heels, accompanied by that mad wag Oemsby, the Cheltenham amateur of fashion, and the gallant little Lieutenant Valombre, who having formerly made a rich capture of Spanish dollars, is perhaps upon the look-out here ~329~~for a frigate well-laden with English specie, in order to sail in consort, and cruize off the straits of independence for life. Well, success attend him,"

said Heartly; "for he well deserves a good word whether at sea or on sh.o.r.e. The military-looking gentleman yonder, who is in close conversation with that rough diamond, Ellis, once a London attorney, is the highly-respected Colonel Fitzgerald, whom our friend Transit formerly caricatured under the cognomen of Colonel Saunter, a good-humoured joke, with which he is by no means displeased himself."

"But, my dear fellows," said Transit, "if we remain fixed to this spot much longer, we shall have the eyes of all the _beau monde_ upon us, and stand a chance of being pointed at for the rest of the time that we remain in Bath." A piece of advice that was not wholly unnecessary, for being personally known to a few of the sporting characters, our visit to the elegant city had spread like wildfire, and on our appearance in Milsom-street, a very general desire was expressed by the beaux to have a sight of the English Spy and his friend Transit, by whose joint labours they antic.i.p.ated they might hereafter live to fame.

One of the most remarkable personages of the old school still left to Bath is the celebrated Captain Mathews, the author of "a short Treatise on Whist," and the same gentleman who at an early period of life contested with the late R. B. Sheridan, upon Lansdowne, for the fair hand of the beauteous Miss Lindly, the lady to whom the wit was afterwards married. In this way did my pleasant friends Heartly and Eglantine continue to furnish me with brief notices of the most attractive of the stars of fashion who usually lounge away the mornings in Milsom-street, exchanging the familiar nod and "How d'ye do?" and holding sweet discourse among their fragrant selves upon the pursuits of the _haute cla.s.se_, the merits of the last new novel, or the fortune of the last unmarried feminine ~330~~arrival. To these may be added reminiscences of the last night's card-table and remarks upon the b.a.l.l.s at the rooms; for

"Two musical parties to Bladud belong, To delight the old rooms and the upper; One gives to the ladies a supper, no song, And the other a song and no supper."

"The _jolie_ dame to the right," said Horace, "is the mother of England's best friend, the Secretary for the Foreign Department, George Canning, a man to whom we are all indebted for the amalgamation of party, and the salvation of the country The clerical who follows immediately behind Mrs. Hunn is a reverend gentleman whose daughters both recently eloped from his house on the same morning attended by favoured lovers to bind with sacred wreaths their happy destinies at the shrine of Hymen." We had now reached the bottom of the street again, after having made at least a dozen promenades to and fro, and were on the point of retiring to our hotel to dress for dinner, when Heartly directed my attention to a dashing roue, who, dressed in the extreme of superlative style, was accompanied by a beautiful piece of fair simplicity in the garb of a Puritan. "That," said my friend, "is the beautiful Miss D**T--one of the faithful, whom the dashing Count L***c***t has recently induced to say ay for life: thus gaining a double prize of no mean importance by one stroke of good luck--a fine girl and a fine fortune into the bargain." I must not forget our friend the consulting surgeon H***ks, or omit to notice that in Bath the faculty are all distinguished by some peculiar t.i.tle of this sort, as, the digestive Physician, the practical Apothecary, and the operative Chemist; a piece of quackery not very creditable to their acknowledged skill and general respectability. At dinner we were again joined by our facetious ~331~~friend Blackstrap, who, to use his own phraseology, having made "a good morning's work of it," hoped he might be permitted to make one among us, a request with which we were most willing to comply. In the evening, after the bottle had circulated freely, some of our party proposed a visit to the theatre, but as Bath theatricals could not be expected to afford much amus.e.m.e.nt to London frequenters of the theatres royal, Transit suggested our sallying forth for a spree;"

for," said he, "I have not yet booked a bit of true life since I have been in Bath. The pump-room, the bathers, and the swells in Milsom-street, are all very well for the lovers of elegant life; but our sporting friends and old college chums will expect to see a genuine touch or two of the broad humour of Bath--something suburban and funny.

Cannot you introduce us to any thing pleasant of this sort!" said Transit, addressing Blackstrap: "perhaps give us a sight of the interior of a snug convent, or show us where the Bath wonderfuls resort to carouse and sing away their cares."--"It is some years since," said Blackstrap, "that in the company of a few merry wags, I paid a visit to the Buff-club in Avon-street: but as you, gentlemen, appear disposed for a little fun, if you will pledge yourselves to be directed by me, I will undertake to introduce you to a scene far exceeding in profligacy and dissipation the most florid picture which our friend Transit has yet furnished of the back settlements in the Holy-land." With this understanding, and with no little degree of antic.i.p.atory pleasure, did our merry group set forth to take a survey of the interior of the long room at the Pig and Whistle in Avon-street. Of the origin of this sign, Blackstrap gave us a very humorous anecdote: the house was formerly, it would appear, known by the sign of the Crown and Thistle, and was at that time the resort of the Irish Traders who visited Bath to dispose of their linens. One of these Emeralders ~332~~having lost his way, and being unable to recollect either the name of the street or the sign of his inn, thus addressed a countryman whom he accidentally met: "Sure I've quite forgotten the sign of my inn." "Be after mentioning something like it, my jewel," said his friend. "Sure it's very like the Pig and Whistle," replied the enquirer. "By the powers, so it is:--the Crown and Thistle, you mean;" and from this mistake of the Emeralder, the house has ever since been so designated. Upon our visit to this scene of uproarious mirth, we found it frequented by the lowest and most depraved characters in society; the mendicants, and miserable of the female s.e.x, who, lost to every sense of shame or decency, a.s.semble here to indulge in profligacies, the full description of which must not stain the pages of the English Spy.

[Ill.u.s.tration: page332]

As a scene of low life, my friend Transit has done it ample justice, where the portraits of Lady Grosvenor as one of the Cyprian frequenters is designated, the Toad in a Hole, and Lucy the Fair, will be easily recognised. A gallon of gin for the ladies, and a liberal distribution of beer and tobacco for the males, made us very welcome guests, and insured us, during our short stay, at least from personal interruption.

It may be asked why such a house is licensed by the magistracy; but when it is known that characters of this sort will always be found in well-populated places, and that the doors are regularly closed at eleven o'clock, it is perhaps thought to be a measure of prudence to let them continue to a.s.semble in an obscure part of the suburbs, where they congregate together under the vigilant eye of the police, instead of being driven abroad to seek fresh places of resort, and by this means increase the evils of society.