L I B RAR.Y 
 
 OF THE 
 
 U N I VLRSITY 
 
 or ILLI NOI5 
 
 823 
 Se3b 
 
 V.I
 
 2' 
 
 {f,»
 
 THE BAROUCHE DRIVER 
 
 AND 
 
 HIS WIFE: 
 
 A TALE FOR IIAUT TON. 
 
 Containing a Curious Biography of Living 
 Characters y Kith Notes Explanatory. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. L 
 By CHARLES SEDLEV, Esq. 
 
 Author of « The Lifidel Mother" " The Mask of Faihlon^'' 
 
 ^c. \^c. l5fc. 
 
 Neither the constitution, nor the passions, are the 
 first seducers of youth ■ 
 
 But opinions and manners. J.J Rousseau. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 Printed by D.N. SHURY, Berwitk Street, Soho, 
 
 FOR J. F. HUGHES, WIGMORE STREET, 
 CAVLNDXSH SQUAUE. 
 
 1807.
 
 
 
 -5 
 
 
 V 
 
 6 
 
 DEDICATION. 
 
 
 TO THE 
 
 U 
 
 RIGHT HONORABLE THE 
 
 
 ARL AND COUNTESS 
 OF JERSEY. 
 
 4 
 f 
 
 ^, MTLORD, 
 
 ■ As these volumes are intended to sat> 
 rize the frivolities^ profusion^ and licen- 
 iiiousnessy too prevalent in the higher circles 
 
 J A3 
 
 i
 
 of fashion ; and as example is tlie most 
 impressive remonstrance ; 7 am desirous to 
 hold up^ to the imitation of the titled 
 WANDERER, a rare pattern of elevated 
 rank^ ornamented by unobtrusive worth 
 and correctly polished inanners. 
 
 To you^ my Lord^ and to your a)niablc 
 pountess^ do /, therefore^ dedicate this 
 ivork* 
 
 I have the honour to be^ 
 
 with unfeigned respect^ 
 MT LORD, 
 
 your Lordship* s most obedieut 
 and most humble servant^ 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 Brighton, Cliffs^ Julif 1 9th, 1807.
 
 PREFACE- 
 
 In the present age, when mo- 
 rality is the language of the 
 lip, and licentiousness the de- 
 votion of the heart — Authors, in 
 obedience to all prevailing fash- 
 ion, aim to sacrifice at either 
 shrine. 
 
 A 4
 
 Vlll PREFACE. 
 
 A writer of celebrity will, 
 therefore, with all becoming mo- 
 desty^ announce, in his preface, 
 that he would rather be consi- 
 dered DULL than IMMORAL ; 
 
 while the whole spirit of his 
 work is J in reality, composed 
 for the free indulgence of the 
 prevailing gw5^o : — and the mix- 
 ture is swallowed with delight. 
 
 But how shall I, a mere Ephe-
 
 PREFACE* IX 
 
 mera among scribblers — un- 
 protected and unknown — aim 
 at the meed of public approba- 
 tion? 
 
 I do not profess the art of 
 giving Protean qualities to liv- 
 ing characters — I do not em- 
 ploy a sign post painter to fur- 
 nish me with the portrait of a 
 Duchess — or select a female, 
 distinguished through life for
 
 X PREFACE. 
 
 all the milder virtues of her sex 
 — with grace, wit, beauty, pecu- 
 liarly her own — ^as the theme of 
 unlicensed ribaldry. 
 
 I do itot embody gross vices 
 with venial trespasses : nor have 
 I forgotten, that domestic apa- 
 thies will alienate the warm 
 affections of a heart teeming 
 with sensibility.
 
 PREGACE. XI 
 
 A Cynic might, indeed, snarl 
 with triumph, at these vile dis- 
 tortions — so congenial with his 
 tenets — but the enlightened 
 Moralist would hold up the 
 bright side of an illustrious ex- 
 ample to posterity, and veil its 
 foibles with the shade of pity. 
 
 I have not trembled with awe, 
 while taking notes from the 
 bribed porter of a great man's
 
 Xll PREFACE. 
 
 hall ; nor, hobbed and nobbed 
 with a powdered lacquey, as I 
 drew from his volubility the ar- 
 cana of a crouded rout: nor 
 have I mistaken the flippancy of 
 a fashionable vagabond, for the 
 real passport to polished society. 
 
 I have not, morally^ intro- 
 duced a dark walk at a masque- 
 rade — nor consulted fairy tales 
 to supply its scenery.
 
 PREFACE. XUl 
 
 I have not ridiculed the pa- 
 geantry of a BIRTH-DAY, by 
 launching a new punch's 
 
 COACH. 
 
 I have not harlequinised a 
 timid country girl, through the 
 liveried avenues of a Duke's 
 Palace, into a drawing room of 
 company, to ask the explana- 
 tion of a card of address.
 
 Xiv PREFACE. 
 
 Nor have I, like a miracle- 
 monger^ conveyed a person from 
 the Antipodes^ to turn the lock 
 of a library door, at the exact 
 moment his corroborating tes- 
 timony was wanting. 
 
 In short — 1 have not outraged 
 nature — that I might become 
 the fashion ; nor killed charac- 
 ters — TO BE ADMIRED FOR MY 
 MORALITY.
 
 PREFACE. XV 
 
 Existing Folly is my object : 
 — -Satire is my weapon — and Ex- 
 ample is my shield : let the 
 stricken deer — go weep 
 
 " Fas est ab Hoste doceri."
 
 JUST PUBLISHED 
 By J. F. HUGHES, Wigmore Street. 
 
 THE ROYAL INVESTIGATION. 
 
 THIRD EDITION. 
 
 It details the Acquittal of an Illustrious Per- 
 sonage, on Twenty-four supposed Charges, and 
 a complete Refutation of all the Calumnies that 
 have been circulated to her prejudice. Dedi- 
 cated to the Marchioness of Townshend. 
 
 This Day is Published^ Third Edition^ 
 
 THE ROYAL ECLIPSE ; 
 
 OR 
 
 DELICATE FACTS; 
 
 Exhibiting the Secret Memoirs of 'Squire 
 GEORGE and his WIFE. With NOTES. 
 
 By DIOGENES.
 
 AN APOLOGUE. 
 
 The Trial of Pleasure before Judge 
 Philosophy. 
 
 The Trial was opened, and Pleasure 
 brought to the Bar. Repentance ap- 
 peared to prosecute her. 
 
 The Judge Philosophy^ with eye severe, 
 observed her ; beneath him sat with 
 folded arm Sullen Melancholy, Refiec^ 
 
 * Pleasure being the business of our lives, and 
 the subject of these volumes, I have endeavoured 
 to give it an allegorical definitipn. 
 
 VOL. I. fi
 
 2 
 
 tion^ with wrinkled forehead and close 
 contracted brow, opened the indictment, 
 and Squint-eyed Care with Dark Distrust 
 were appointed to examine the Witnes- 
 ses. 
 
 The Senses were first called in to 
 give their testimony against her j but 
 it was objected by the prisoner's Coun- 
 sel, Desire^ Fancy^ and Hope^ that they 
 could not be witnesses, since they were 
 sure either to gain or lose by the Trial. 
 
 The Senses declared, for themselves, 
 that they were not proper to speak to
 
 it, since they were but subordinate to 
 the Will, and served only as Messengers 
 to convey the Ideas to the Mind ; that 
 they were no more than passengers in 
 a ship, while the Will stood at the 
 helm. 
 
 The Will was called in, who swore 
 that he was always ruled by the Senses; 
 that they had run him into numberless 
 inconveniences; and,not contented with 
 that, they had cruelly chained him like 
 a, slave to a whimsical tyrant called 
 Fashioriy who used him very barbarous- 
 ly •, on which > an order was immediately
 
 issued to attach him, and to bring 
 Fashion into Court : in the mean time, 
 they proceeded with the trial of 
 Fie a sure* 
 
 The first evidence that was called, 
 was a young fellow with a pallid, sickly 
 countenance; his small legs scarcely could 
 support him to crawl into court; he was 
 often obliged to. stop for want of breath; 
 and in a thin, squeaking voice, he de- 
 posed the following evidence. 
 
 That, to his knowledge ; the prisoner 
 was the greatest jilt in nature j he had
 
 thrown away a very large estate, and 
 spoiled a good constitution, in following 
 her ; that she had continually given him 
 hopes of enjoyment, but always deceiv- 
 ed him ; that his first acquaintance 
 with her was at college, where he met 
 with her in the shape of a beautiful 
 nymph, and was so struck with her, 
 that he immediately forsook his studies 
 to follow her j he set up his equipage 
 to honor her ; ran after her from as- 
 sembly to assembly, from horse-race to 
 horse-race ; followed her to the hazard 
 table; pursued her among women of 
 the town ; searched every tavern for 
 B 3
 
 6 
 
 her, but still he had missed meeting 
 her. 
 
 At the tavern, indeed, he had some- 
 times a glimpse of her; but then he 
 began drinking so young, that he was 
 seldom in a capacity to enjoy her, being 
 always either dull or drunk ; when 
 sober he was most commonly sick, and 
 when fuddled, always for fighting ; so 
 upon the whole, he told the Court — 
 swearing by his Maker — she was an im- 
 pudent jilt, and had bilked him. 
 
 The next witness was a Lady, a fine
 
 7 
 delicately moulded female ; she slid 
 gracefully into court, with her hoop 
 held high before her, and immediately 
 ran up to embrace the prisoner; but was 
 prevented by the prime Serjeant Reflec- 
 tiofiy who asked her if she knew the 
 criminal j upon which, with a full stare 
 and lips wide open, she burst into the 
 prettiest laugh, fell from thence into the 
 most innocent confusion, sweetly ex- 
 cused herself in a very becoming lisp, 
 and with a slow courtesy, sunk negli- 
 gently down on the bench between the 
 prisoner's counsel. Fancy and Hope. 
 B 4
 
 She was again interrogated about her 
 knowledge of the prisoner ; she told the 
 Court, the Lady at the bar was her in- 
 timate friend, that they had been 
 brought up from their childhood to- 
 gether; and, truly, that the judge was 
 a fright^ and the rest of the bench a 
 parcel of queer creatures, not to let so 
 fine a Lady sit down among them. 
 
 Then turning to the prisoner, she in- 
 vited her to her rout^ and told her 
 what charming company would be there; 
 as for instance, Miss Rant — Madam 
 Racquet — Widow Hurricane — and the
 
 Duchess of Helter-Skelter : then she hasti- 
 ly got up, hummed an opera tune, and 
 with a round-about sweep, whisked 
 away to her chair in an instant. 
 
 . The next evidence was an old man ; 
 though stricken in years, his counte- 
 nance had not yet lost all the marks of 
 florid health ; in his face the bloom of 
 manhood seemed to contend with the 
 winter of age. 
 
 He gave his evidence as follows :— 
 Behold, most grave judge, one of the 
 unhappiest among mankind 5 I have all
 
 10 
 
 my life been searching after Pleasure, 
 fooled by that Lady the prisoner, till at 
 last I am involved in an irremediable 
 series of misery. 
 
 In my juvenile days, I had often read 
 of the prisoner Pleasure ; I was charmed 
 with her character ; I longed to be ac- 
 quainted with her; I thought of nothing 
 but her; I fell in love with her; and, like 
 other lovers, turned poet to please her, 
 I courted the sciences for her sake : 
 but in poetry, I flattered myself I should 
 soonest find her ; therefore I imme- 
 diately became fond of making verses ;
 
 11 
 
 but, alas ! where I expected Pleasure, I 
 met with Pain. I was blamed as an 
 idler, condemned as a plagiary, or pu- 
 nished by the ignorant and envious with 
 derision. I next applied myself to traf- 
 fic, I crossed the seas for gain, 1 in- 
 creased my fortune but not my plea- 
 sure. 
 
 Tempests, robbers, breaches in trade, 
 disappointments, damped all my hopes of 
 enjoying her ; I then recollected I had 
 gained enough ; I resolved to rest my- 
 self, and was in hopes to find her when 
 at my ease. 
 
 b6
 
 12 
 
 Again I was mistaken ; while at rest, 
 I was uneasy ; I grew discontented with 
 having nothing to do 5 I then resolved 
 to exercise my mind, and I began to 
 examine the laws of Nature. 
 
 I studied them 5 1 inquired into prim- 
 ary causes 5 but, alas ! all I attained was 
 an insatiable desire to know more than 
 could be known, and a certain sorrow- 
 ful reflection that all I did know was 
 insignificant. 
 
 I then turned Builder ; I planned a 
 house, I laid out my gardens, I amused
 
 13 
 
 myself among the Artists, and then 
 thought I was arrived at true Pleasure : 
 but it was still to seek ; the Workmen's 
 delays displeased me; they fell out 
 among themselves ; I was distracted to 
 decide their quarrels : at length they 
 finished the house, and I invited my 
 friends, I treated my neighbours, I 
 settled fortunes on my children, and 
 then, once more, thought of being 
 happy. Still I am deceived ; my friends 
 I find are flatterers, my neighbours are 
 envious of my riches, my children wish 
 for my death to possess them j and, after 
 all my toils, I am at last as far from
 
 14 
 
 finding Pleasure as the first day I sat out 
 after her. 
 
 The Judge then asked the Prisoner 
 what defence she could make ? — She 
 called her witnesses. Beauty and Loie : 
 on their appearance, the whole 
 Court was most sensibly affected ; 
 Melancholy raised his head, Rcjieciion 
 smoothed his brow. Care looked pleased^ 
 and Philosophy gave a sigh ; when Pru- 
 dence, who had all this while stood con- 
 cealed, stept forth, and ordered the 
 officers of the Court, Fear and Disirusiy 
 ta seize the two Witnesses, Beauty and
 
 15 
 
 Love^ for she had an Indictment against 
 them for perjury: she therefore objected 
 against their testimony, and insisted on 
 Pleasure's making a defence without 
 their help. 
 
 Pleasure immediately entered on her 
 defence. 
 
 Let mankind use me as I deserve, 
 and I shall never be tried as a criminal, 
 but rewarded as a friend. 
 
 They c^ll upon me to help them j yet 
 I no sooner come to their assistance, than
 
 16 
 
 they bind me captive to their tempers, 
 and never give me rest. 
 
 With the youth who appeared against 
 me, I never was acquainted ; had he 
 stuck to his studies, he might have 
 found me ; but he mistook another for 
 me, whom he followed; she is drest like 
 me; her name is Folly ^ it was to her 
 and not to me, that he owes all his mis- 
 fortunes, 
 
 A Lady has deposed that I attended 
 her from her infancy : it is false ; she 
 had a waiting maid to attended her, 
 
 X
 
 17 
 
 who used my name ; but her true title 
 
 was Self 'love. 
 
 The last and heaviest charge against 
 me is the old man's j but he is an Hypo- 
 trite: I would have attended him always 
 as his wife, but he chose to use me like 
 a kept mistress, proud of shewing the 
 world he possessed me ; I despised \ im 
 for his ostentation; I left him, to be 
 more severely dealt with 5 and I 
 
 But why (raising her voice) should I 
 plead among such cold, such spiritless
 
 18 
 
 Jvidges : Cf>me to my rescue, my friends, 
 assist me, my Allies ! 
 
 Immediately the Passions came turbu- 
 lentlyinto court, drove Melancholy away, 
 and gagged Repentance ; Philosophy hid 
 himself under the table ; they trampled 
 upon Rejlectiony released Pleasure^ and 
 made Prudence prisoner to be tried in 
 her place. 
 
 Beauty and Love were to sit as Judges ; 
 but her trial, and what the messenger 
 found, who went to look for Fashion^ 
 must be deferred to another opportu- 
 nity.
 
 THE BAROUCHE DRIVER 
 
 AND 
 
 HIS WIFE. 
 
 Lt temps, qui change tout, change austi nos humeurs / 
 Chaque age a sesplaisirs^ son esprit, et ses maurs. 
 
 ** The arrows of wit, though wing- 
 ed by raillery, may be so pointed by 
 good temper, that they are rather cal- 
 culated to amuse than to wound."
 
 There is more^ certainly, of theory 
 than practice in this aphorism : wit is 
 a dangerous weapon, and may be com- 
 pared with the chariot of the sun, 
 which, entrusted to the unskilful guid- 
 ance of the presumptuous Phaeton, near- 
 ly set the world on fire. 
 
 Most of those who aspire to the 
 possession of wit, would rather lose a 
 friend than an epigram ; but we had 
 exceptions to this position in two great 
 men lately deceased, Lord North and 
 the Honorable Charles James Fox ; and 
 we still boast an exception in the zeal-
 
 21 
 
 ous friend of the latter, Richard Brins- 
 ley Sheridan. 
 
 Whatever the political dissentions of 
 the two former gentlemen, they strongly 
 assimilated to each other in their 
 social virtues and their splendid talents ; 
 and I do not know how I can better 
 describe both, than by adapting the 
 language ascribed to Mr, Fox, when 
 speaking of his Lordship : 
 
 ** He said, he was the most accom- 
 plished wit he had ever known; and 
 in domestic life, in the circle of his
 
 22 
 
 friends and followers collected round 
 his table, he displayed all the candour 
 without the grossness of Walpole. He 
 appeared as if he never felt an insult, so 
 immediately did he forgive it. His 
 face was very plain, his features coarse, 
 but his smile was heavenly. You could 
 not see him without becoming attached 
 to him. He left all his cares in the 
 House of Commons, and was no longer 
 a minister than while on the Treasury 
 bench." 
 
 -. On the latter, I do not attempt so 
 high a strain of panegyric; but I am
 
 2S 
 
 impelled by candour to state, that he 
 possesses the happy secret so to harmo- 
 nizo the most brilliant flashes of sar- 
 castic wit, that an irresistible pleasantry 
 honeys the wound, ere raillery has re- 
 moved its dart. 
 
 '^ With discretion for his tutor, he 
 suits the action to the word, the word 
 to the action ; under this especial ob- 
 servance, that he ne'er outsteps the 
 modesty of Nature." 
 
 Such is Sheridan ! — who, in spite
 
 24 
 
 of Nature, has been equally formidable 
 in the Senate and in my lady's closet, 
 armed at all points, and physically pre- 
 pared for each encounter. 
 
 Wit, thus marshalled, possesses infi- 
 nitely more seductive power, than all 
 the graces so imposingly pourtrayed by 
 the late Lord Chesterfield : but in that 
 nobleman these talismans were associ- 
 ated, and their magic wzs decisive. 
 
 All the social virtues mingled with 
 his nature ; his manners were pleasingly
 
 25 
 
 attractive, his smile conciliating, his 
 temper mild, his wit ready and felicitous, 
 his person elegant. 
 
 The Earl, however, was singularly- 
 gifted. 
 
 In searching historical records, or in 
 perusing fabulous narratives, we find 
 that every personage of peculiar wit 
 and humor is described as being re-' 
 markable for personal defects. 
 
 All the prominent characters in Rabe- 
 lais are eminently ugly. The heroes of 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 26 
 
 Cervantes form a group, so provokingly 
 ridiculous, that they are not only the 
 agents of wit in themselves, but the 
 promoters of it in others. 
 
 Hudibras and his man Ralpho, the 
 facetious FalstafF, and the ruddy Bar- 
 doiph, are monuments of wit, so conci- 
 liating in its nature, that all personal 
 imperfections vanish in the merry flashes 
 of its attic humour. 
 
 Scarron, the celebrated French wit, 
 was one of the ugliest fellows in exist- 
 ence J and yet he became the husband 
 1
 
 27 
 
 of one of the loveliest and most accom- 
 plished women of the day, afterwards 
 so renowned as Madame de Maintenon. 
 
 Indeed the wit of this man was elec- 
 tric ; it communicated its fluidity to 
 Madame Scarron ; and from her, its 
 brilliant sparks were conveyed to Lewis 
 XIV. unaided by her beauty : the King 
 became enamoured of a letter she had 
 written, and professed himself her slave 
 before he saw her person. 
 
 Our modern Bardolph, certainly not 
 rich in personal endowments, once 
 c 2
 
 28 
 
 reigned in the heart of the young and 
 beautiful Perdita. Nay ! when the 
 widowed father of a hopeful son vergifig 
 towards^ maturity ; w^hen the bloom of 
 youth had yielded to the blossoms of 
 intemperance, did he not win the hand 
 and heart of his present lovely and ac- 
 complished wife? 
 
 Pope, who in person resembled an S, 
 was the favored friend of his Stella. 
 Yorick, who was shapeless as a hop- 
 pole, warmed the bosom of Eliza wdth 
 platonic tenderness j and Peter Pindar, at 
 the age of seventy, bent with infirmity, 
 * i. e. years of discreiioji !
 
 29 
 
 has lately captivated the gay, lively, and 
 youthful Mrs. Knight. 
 
 These are immortals of the old school: 
 and though there still exist many volu- 
 ble pretenders, few are the lawful pro- 
 geny of "Wit. 
 
 In modern circles, it is ranked a- 
 mong the chastities exploded by haut- 
 ton ; and the approving smile of an all 
 accomplished female Fashionable is only 
 tributary to an elegantly ornamented 
 tale of scandal, a delicious hoax, or a 
 c 3
 
 so 
 
 wicked equivoque ; while the ne plus 
 ultra of finished education with the 
 men, is a reputation for pugilism, a 
 knowledge in horse-flesh, and a diploma 
 for driving. 
 
 In obedience to these ordinances from 
 the college of fashion, a young man of 
 rank, instead of eating his terms at 
 Oxford or at Cambridge, eats raw mjeat 
 in London to give him wind for a 
 sparring match : instead of Greek ora- 
 tions, he composes notes on Moorcroft*s 
 farriery : and instead of professing the
 
 abord of a gentleman, he practises the 
 scientific square and kiddy twist of an 
 hackney coachman * 
 
 f 
 
 The wit of John Bull is still of an- 
 other temperament. Low cunning, and 
 malicious merriment are the gods pf 
 his idolatry. 
 
 Selling bargains, smutty jests, or 
 mimickry of another's misfortunes, con- 
 stitute the wit, humor, and excellence 
 which an EngUshman is most soUcitous 
 to shine in. 
 
 c4
 
 32 
 
 Having pointed out the accomplish- 
 ments of the age in the indispensable 
 pretensions to haut-ton, I beg leave to 
 introduce my hero. 
 
 '' And will I learn to box ? — and will 
 I keep a stud ? — and will I drive four 
 in hand ?" exclaimed the enrap- 
 tured Edward, starting from his desk, 
 and dancing about the room frensied 
 with joy. 
 
 The mother of Edward Ormsby had 
 married the man of her heart in oppo-
 
 33 
 
 sition to parental authority. Her hap- 
 piness was of short duration. The first 
 year made her a parent j the second a 
 widow. 
 
 One thousand pounds, the bequest of 
 her god-mother, was the whole amount 
 of her fortune. Her father continued 
 inexorable to her entreaties : he de- 
 nounced curses on her head, and that 
 of her innocent child. The gentle 
 Eliza had offended beyond forgiveness. 
 — She had married an Irishman ! 
 
 There cannot, I think, be a more 
 c5
 
 34 
 
 interesting spectacle, in nature, than suf- 
 fering beauty weeping over her lovely 
 but ill-fated offspring. 
 
 Let us etch the scene. 
 
 In the shady recesses of a romantic 
 wood stood the isolated cottage of the 
 lovely widow. A group of elms and 
 chestnuts obscured the straw built roof; 
 and the rose bush, mingling with the 
 jessamine and honeysuckle, latticed the 
 small diamond-cut casements -, a narrow 
 meandering path led to an open unfre- 
 quented eminence commanding a view
 
 35 
 
 of the beautiful Lake of Killarney ; and 
 the rushings of a distant cascade were 
 the familiar sounds that broke upon the 
 privacy of the Recluse. 
 
 Her parlour was' small, and tastefully 
 adorned with sketches of the romantic 
 scenery around. Edward, just breeched, 
 was seated at a small work table building 
 houses with a pack of cards. His anxi- 
 ous mother bent tenderly over the en- 
 raptured boy. Sorrow had given a 
 fragility to her naturally delicate form ; 
 her features were softened by an habi- 
 tual paleness, now and then flushed with 
 c 6
 
 36 
 
 a.. momentary glow of pleasure, as she 
 helped the little trifler to renew his 
 labors : a slow and languid movement 
 dimmed her once brilliant eyes, that 
 swam in liquid clearness, expressing the 
 mild qualities of her mind. An elderly 
 domestic, the nurse of Edward, and the 
 sharer of their poverty, stood in the 
 back ground, contemplating the objects 
 before her, and raising her prayers to 
 Heaven to guard and to protect her 
 angel mistress and her darling boy. 
 
 This little recess, which in the whole 
 only boasted of four rooms, had been
 
 37 
 
 built by Mr. Ormsby immediately after 
 his marriage, and was his favorite re- 
 treat : it was the only wealth he had to 
 leave ; but it was infinitely dear to his 
 widow, who, on the interest of her 
 thousand pounds, devoted herself in this 
 beloved spot to the memory of her 
 husband, and the culture of her second 
 Edward's mind. 
 
 Scarcely, however, had he attained 
 his fifth year, when it was the will of 
 Providence to deprive him of his re- 
 maining parent. His maternal grand-
 
 38 
 
 father obstinately inhuman, persisted 
 in renouncing him ; but his paternal 
 uncle put him at a proper age to a 
 public school, and destined him for the 
 law; a profession to which his father 
 had promised to do much honor, his 
 debut in Westminster Hall having been 
 most flattering to his reputation, as a 
 logician and an orator. 
 
 He was on his first circuit, when ac- 
 cident introduced him to Eliza Dalton 
 at an assize-ball. They saw, they loved: 
 she was not seventeen ; himself only 
 two-and-twenty.
 
 This was the age of romance ! They 
 felt no difficulties to oppose their pas- 
 sion ; each yielded to the delusive im- 
 pulse ; and the empire of love imperi- 
 ously claimed the vassalage of either 
 heart, before their proposed marriage 
 explained the host of impediments that 
 stood between them and happiness. 
 
 The counsellor had no fortune. He 
 began the world with a handsome per- 
 son, a well stored mind, and unsullied 
 integrity : the cankerworm of care had 
 never visited his manly cheek, and his 
 spirits were the effect of ease, content-
 
 40 
 
 ment, and hilarity. Piis countenance 
 was open, expressive, and flushed with 
 health, animation, and candor ; he saw 
 the road of preferment open before him, 
 and adopted this motto : 
 
 Quisquis Slice fortunce faher. 
 
 The natural sensibilities of Eliza were 
 little calculated to war with such a 
 competitor. 
 
 The delicacy of her form was an 
 assurance of her mind, and when a 
 smile wantoned o'er sa petite bouche de
 
 41 
 
 rose — it was soft, thrilling, and enchant*^ 
 ing : an unknown grace pervaded her 
 whole person, insinuating as it was im- 
 pressive. 
 
 When the heart is swelled to a 
 certain pitch of tender feeling, one added 
 particle of sympathy poured into the 
 vein of joy, causes it to overflow. 
 
 Reason was lost in the stream ; they 
 eloped, and were privately married ! 
 
 Immediately after the ceremony, the 
 trembling Eliza, supported by her Ed-
 
 42 
 
 ward, sought th? presence of her- father* 
 Sh^ humbled herself at his feet ; but he 
 inhumanly spurned her with his foot. 
 
 Her husband raised her with tender- 
 ness from the ground ; clasped her af- 
 fectionately to his fond heart; and then 
 turning with offended dignity and 
 manly pride towards ber unnatural 
 father, he swore that she should never 
 enter those doors again while he had 
 breath. 
 
 With this inauspicious marriage the 
 views of Mr. Ormsby were wholly
 
 43 
 
 changed. He resolved to give his wife 
 to his own family, and to push his for* 
 tune at the Irish bar. 
 
 But alas ! how visionary are all mor- 
 tal arrangements without the concur-' 
 ring hand of Providence. An early 
 grave closed all his fairy prospects — 
 a gradual decline removed the gentle 
 mourner of his fate from worldly sor- 
 rov/ to a state of bliss! 
 
 In her last moments, she bequeathed 
 her Edward to her father; embraced him 
 with a seraphic smile; then reposing
 
 44 
 
 from the fatigue of the exertion on her 
 pillow, said she would sleep a little, 
 but awoke no more ! 
 t- 
 The elder brother of our hero's father 
 lived on the paternal estate, which 
 yielded him an income of about eighteen 
 hundred per annum. He was a man 
 little acquainted with the great world, 
 although he had been brought up at 
 college with his brother. The sports 
 of the country were more congenial 
 to his nature : he loved hard drinking, 
 and he loved hospitality : his mind was 
 stored with humanities ^ but the suavi-
 
 43 
 
 ter in modo never accompanied his 
 benevolence. He had frequently offered 
 his purse to his amiable sister-in-law ; 
 but never failed to accompany it with 
 a lesson on the imprudence of her 
 marriage. When, however, he was 
 made acquainted with her death, he 
 gave an unaffected sigh to her memory, 
 and adopted his orphan nephew. 
 
 Had Edward been educated under the 
 superintendance of his mother, his dis- 
 position naight have been moulded to 
 all the social virtues; but left to the 
 guidance of an hireling tutor, who
 
 46 
 
 knew little of the sensibilities of the 
 heart, and whose ideas of moral recti- 
 tude were confined to the negative 
 virtue of doing no harm — our hero 
 was suffered to grow up in the free 
 indulgence of his natural propensities. 
 
 Vanity is an essential qualification to 
 youth. It goads a boy on to excellence ; 
 and although it may discover itself in 
 certain touches of the coxcomb as he 
 advances to manhood, it is not without 
 its better attributes, when kept within 
 bounds by the gentle admonitions of 
 discretion.
 
 47 
 
 Edward's vanity, however, was wildly 
 exuberant j his courage made him re- 
 spected, and his gaiety made him ad- 
 mired j but he was impatient in his 
 temper, quick in his resolves, fickle in 
 his nature. 
 
 He looked with horror on the 
 drudgery to which he was doomed by 
 his uncle, and panted to mount the 
 gay cockade : he considered his finely 
 formed person as the assured harbinger 
 of conquest, and sighed for celebrity 
 among the fair. He eagerly took les- 
 sons from his more affluent companions
 
 4S 
 
 as to the essentials of a fine gentleman : 
 it was, therefore, natural in him, when 
 he found himself the unexpected heir 
 to his grandfather's large fortune,to ex- 
 claim : 
 
 ^' And will I learn to box ?. • . . and 
 '' will I keep a stud ?. . . . and will I drive 
 " four in hand ?" 
 
 He tore his indentures ; damned all 
 -attorneys and their shops ; took a hasty 
 leave of his uncle ; and with a fair wind 
 reached Holyhead.
 
 49 
 
 " First and second turn there — " 
 echo'd through the inn yard, and in a 
 few minutes our hero was rattling 
 along the London Road as hard as four 
 posters could gallop. 
 
 It was the month of December, and 
 our hero having taken a sandwich at 
 Barnet, his heart big with expectation, 
 and his imagination bewildered by fancy, 
 leaped into the carriage which he -or- 
 dered to fly to Blakely's hotel in 
 
 Street. 
 
 The postillions had just arrested their 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 
 
 speed to descend HighgateHill; the snow 
 lightly covered the ground as it fell in 
 gentle showers from the Heavens j the 
 evening was growing dark: — and the 
 fantastic reveries of our traveller had 
 long been undisturbed by the noise of 
 passing wheels, when suddenly he was 
 aroused from his corner; where — with 
 folded arms and drooping head he sat 
 communing with himself — by the pierc- 
 ing shrieks of female voices. 
 
 " Now, for the honor of St. Patrick," 
 murmured Edward, seizing a pistol in 
 1
 
 51 
 
 each hand, and springing from the car- 
 riage. 
 
 He had not run many paces before 
 he beheld a coach and four halted on 
 the hill. A ruffian held the bridle of 
 the leaders while his companions ran- 
 sacked the carriage. 
 
 The advanced robber fired as our 
 hero approached, and missed. 
 
 *' By my soul, and this is no time 
 for ceremony,'' cried Edward, and his 
 D 2 

 
 52 
 
 more successful weapon brought down 
 his man. 
 
 The two villains who were employed 
 in robbing the carriage, fled at the re- 
 port of fire arms, and left our hero 
 master of the field. 
 
 He found four females in the carriage ; 
 whom he afterwards knew as Mrs. 
 Grunter, the two Miss Grunters, and 
 their Abigail. 
 
 With the removal of danger, the
 
 53 
 
 fears of the ladies were dissipated ; and 
 the only inconvenience they had suf- 
 fered was from momentary terror. They 
 loaded their deliverer with repeated 
 thanks for his heroic protection ; and 
 on his requesting to escort them to 
 town 5 they readily consented to make 
 room for him in their coach. 
 
 It was necessary, however, to take 
 some steps for conveying the wound- 
 ed highwayman in safety up to Town; 
 and Edward returned to his chaise 
 for the purpose of securing him in 
 the bottom; but the bird was flown, 
 d3
 
 54 
 
 His blood was discernable among the 
 snow on the spot where he had fallen, 
 and traceable across the road ; but as 
 the better part of valour is discretion, 
 and the ladies were safe, Edward, for 
 once in his life, thought it prudent to 
 make the best of their way to Town, 
 lest the party might return on under- 
 standing the weakness of the enemy, 
 and efTectually wreak their vengeance 
 on his party. 
 
 Between six and seven they reached 
 an elegant house in the immediate 
 neighbourhood of Portland Place, when
 
 65 
 
 Edward took leave of his charge, and 
 retired to his own chaise, which had 
 followed, having previously accepted an 
 engagement to dinner on the following 
 day. 
 
 The whole evening — indeed thewhole 
 night — our hero's head was filled with 
 his adventure. He was in love with 
 all thr^e of the ladies, w^ho had vied 
 with each other in appearing to him as 
 agreeable as they could in the darkj 
 but as he assisted them to alight, the 
 Grecian lamp in the entrance hall had 
 reflected on the beauties of the young- 
 D 4
 
 56 
 
 est lady, who appeared to him about 
 sixteen, and he predicted that he should 
 be violently in love with her. 
 
 Love, gentle reader, is part of an 
 Irishman's creed ; inasmuch, that he 
 considers himself bound to make love 
 to every pretty woman he sees, although 
 it often means no more than the in- 
 dispensability of custom, which directs 
 a Frenchman, courteously, to offer his 
 box to those with whom he maybe 
 in company. 
 
 The airy lightness with which Maria
 
 ^1 
 
 glided through the hall — the graceful 
 tournure of her person — the momentary 
 expressive smile with which she kissed 
 her hand at parting — were so many- 
 charms wTitten in his memory, that he 
 began to feel as if he could not help 
 it. 
 
 On the following morning, Edward 
 awoke with a heigh-ho — still thinking 
 of the preceding evening, and repeating 
 to himself every word Maria had ad- 
 dressed to him; but the more he thought 
 of her, the more he thought of making 
 himself amiable, 
 
 D 5
 
 5S 
 
 Mr. Blakely was summoned to the 
 breakfast table — 
 
 " Is it me your honor would be 
 pleased to want?" — said the obliging 
 landlord, entering with a low bow. 
 
 " Indeed and it is, Mr. Blakely" — wai 
 the expressive reply. 
 
 Mr, Blakely bowed again. 
 
 *' I am a stranger and your country- 
 man, Mr. Blakely ^ I would be liberal ; 
 but hate imposition. Pray recom-
 
 59 
 
 mend to me tradesmen of fashion, on 
 whom I can rely." 
 
 " Yes, and I shall, sir ;'' re- 
 tiring with a kind of self-sufEcient smile, 
 that, like the inclination of Yorick's 
 Grisette's head, was meant to say, 
 
 M'en croyez vous capable^ Monsieur ? 
 
 But who is Mr, Blakely that his 
 reputation should be so well known in 
 Dublin? 
 
 d6
 
 60 
 
 Reader, thereby hangs a tale. Many 
 are the roads to notoriety j attend — 
 
 Same few years since, when the late 
 
 ever to be lamented Duke of B d, 
 
 in a frolic introduced the fashion of 
 cropping, a Mr. Blakely w^as preferred 
 to the honor of combing his Grace's 
 hair. This distinction soon gave him 
 fashion ; and all the haut ton, desirous 
 of becoming crops, applied to Mr. 
 Blakely to give the fashionable cut. 
 
 At length, his business so increased, 
 that it was then considered as great
 
 61 
 
 a favor to prevail on Mr. Blakely to 
 attend at a nobleman's house, as it 
 would now be to procure the enviable 
 distinction of Madame Catalani's com- 
 pany at a private concert. 
 
 '^ There is a tide in the affairs of merij 
 
 '^ Which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune : 
 
 ^' Omitted, all the voyage of their lives 
 
 '^ Is bound in shallows, and in miseries. 
 
 Mr. Blakely had launched his bark 
 into this stream, and arrogated a con- 
 sequence proportioned to his increas- 
 ing wealth.
 
 62 
 
 A namesake, and a brother strap, 
 viewing his success with jaundiced eyes, 
 as a poor curate gazes on the luxurious 
 bishop — for, in truth, he shaved for a 
 penny, while his proud rival received 
 six shillings for every block he trimmed 
 — bethought him of an expedient to 
 meliorate his fortune. 
 
 The original Mr. Blakely had long 
 since removed the outward insignia of 
 his calling, and a neat brass plate, alone, 
 announced the great man% residence. 
 "Whereupon, the poly graphic Mr. Blakely 
 took a small house in the same street,
 
 63 
 
 and nearly opposite; on the door of 
 which he announced, 
 
 Blakely^ Hair Cutter. 
 
 The cognoscenti in the art of crop- 
 ping, it is true, still crowded the morn- 
 ing levee of the gentleman with the brass 
 plate, waiting a turn as patiently as a 
 washerwoman at a chandler's shop waits 
 for her halfpenny-worth of snufFj but 
 the imitatores servum pecus, who only 
 knew that a Mr. Blakely, in such a 
 street, was the great hair cutter^ always 
 went to the wrong shop 3 and as they
 
 64 
 
 paid six shillings for the job, they sup- 
 posed, from the price, that the out- 
 sides of their heads were fashionably 
 correct. 
 
 Thus we had a Brummagem Blakely 
 as well as a Brummagem Duke upon 
 the townj the former is the landlord 
 before us. 
 
 The remainder of the morning was 
 passed with Mr. Rawlins, the steward 
 of his late grandfather's estate, whom 
 Edward had previously desired to meet 
 him on his arrival in town.
 
 C5 
 
 The history of Mr. Dalton, and the 
 event which has proved so favorable 
 to the fortunes of our hero, are brief. 
 
 With a contracted mind, which a 
 mechanical life, passed in the counting 
 house, was little calculated to expand; 
 he saw, from his earliest career, all 
 things prosper around him. 
 
 At the age of thirty-five, he engaged 
 in co-partnership with a gentleman, 
 whose daughter, much against her own 
 will, he at the same time married ; but 
 although neither his natural disposi-
 
 66 
 
 tion, nor his acquired habits, were capa- 
 ble of touching the heart of the lovely 
 and accomplished girl, who yielded to 
 him her reluctant hand 5 a steady per- 
 severance in doing that which was 
 right — an unbounded confidence in her 
 rectitude — and an unhmited indulgence 
 to her wishes — failed not to create 
 grateful emotions in her bosom, which 
 secured it from the fatality of any wan- 
 dering prepossession. 
 
 Eliza was an only child, and equally 
 the darling of her parents. At his wife's 
 death, which happened about three
 
 67 
 
 years previously to his daughter's mar- 
 riage, Mr. Dalton retired from business j 
 and in the following year Eliza was 
 removed from school to keep his 
 house. 
 
 Probably Mr. Dalton would not have 
 refused his daughter to a gentleman of 
 good moral character, even though his 
 fortune had been small. He loved his 
 Eliza fondly, and wished her happy. 
 His means were ample, and sufficient 
 for them both. But he had, unhappily, 
 imbibed so unconquerable an aversion 
 to Irishmen, whom he indiscriminately
 
 68 
 
 called fortune-hunters, and who he illi- 
 berally bespattered with abuse, as fellows 
 who crept into families to seduce their 
 wives and daughters — to revel on their 
 fortunes, and abuse their persons when 
 in their power, unrestricted by a spark 
 of honor, sentiment, or justice. 
 
 When any strong opinion once takes 
 hold in a contracted mind, it increases 
 in power, till it becomes an obstinately 
 indelible impression. Mr. Dalton was 
 not to be moved : his daughter had 
 married an Irishman — and the oratory 
 of Demosthenes would have made no
 
 69 
 
 more impression on him, than it did on 
 the sea, the forum of his early declama- 
 tions. 
 
 He, therefore, altered his will, leaving 
 a distant relation, whom he had never 
 seen, heir to his fortune ; which^ in 
 landed and funded property, together 
 with houses and warehouses in the city, 
 amounted to a yearly income of up- 
 wards of four thousand pounds. 
 
 Fate, however, averted this act of 
 injustice.
 
 70 
 
 Mr. Dalton was confined with th^ 
 gout at his seat in D — shire : the house 
 by some accident caught fire, which did 
 not discover itself till long after tlie 
 family had retired. 
 
 On the alarm being given, the flames 
 were raging with a violence that scarcely 
 gave the family time to escape with 
 life. Mr. Dalton was carried out in 
 the arms of his servants, and taking his 
 seat in an easy chair in the garden, he 
 soon after saw the roof fall in with a 
 tremendous crash.
 
 71 
 
 His plate, his papers, and every thing 
 of value was consumed. The cold he 
 caught was fatal : the gout flew to the 
 vital parts, and next day he was a 
 corpse. 
 
 To hurry over this melancholy recital, 
 we return to Edward, thus miraculously 
 vested with a fortune to indulge his 
 natural vanities. 
 
 We have placed him in the high road 
 to every gratification, whether whim- 
 sical or rational — voluptuous or senti- 
 mental.
 
 n 
 
 He put himself as regularly into train- 
 ing, as the jockey airs his racer at New- 
 Market ) he was resolved to be quite 
 the thing — he was impatient to lead, to 
 shine, to dazzle, to blaze. 
 
 Pending these elegant engagements, 
 he was almost a daily visitor at the 
 Grunters j w^ho, understanding his pre- 
 tensions to notice, had introduced him 
 to half the town. 
 
 Mamma was extremely taken with 
 his fine manly form ; and ladies at thirty 
 six are said to be better judges of pro-
 
 portion, than unskilled misses in their 
 teens. Her attentions to the stranger 
 in London were most marked. 
 
 Miss Grunter was a wit, and under- 
 took to teach him the polite art of 
 quizzing. Lessons from a young lady, 
 who had made a sentimental excursion 
 for three years with the man of her 
 heart, " over the hills and far away,'* 
 would have put our hero's philosophy 
 to the test, if the gaiety and badinage 
 of the lovely sinner had not been cor- 
 rected by the jealous austerity of a young 
 father confessor, of squinting mtorieiy^ 
 
 VOL. !• E
 
 74 
 
 when her vivacity bordered on levity 
 in favor of his handsome rival. 
 
 But the bewitching little Maria, though 
 awed by the more imposing talents of 
 her sister, had certain powers to please 
 that were not lost upon Edward. 
 
 With the one, his spirits gambolled j 
 with the other, his heart claimed kin- 
 dred J sympathy acknowledged the ap- 
 peal, and their lips had mutually con- 
 firmed the bond of union, before any 
 of the family suspected them to be in 
 love.
 
 IS 
 
 En attendant — nothing could be 
 more pointed than the civilities of Mr, 
 Grunter j he was a nabob, whose for- 
 tune was estimated at half a million— 
 Of this more anon. 
 
 Edward soon became essential to the 
 whole party ; and Mrs. Grunter could 
 not present herself at any public place 
 without her handsome chaperon. 
 
 It was the first winter of Catalani's 
 
 appearance at the Opera. Edward, 
 
 without an atom of science, possessed 
 
 great musical taste; he was dying to 
 
 E 2
 
 hear this celebrated performer, and at- 
 tended the Grunters to their box in the 
 lower tier, on the first evening of the 
 Semiramlde. 
 
 The Syren appeared. "Repeated peals 
 of thundering applause echoed around 
 the brilliant circle : it was succeeded by 
 a death-like silence. 
 
 Rapt in stillness, the whole house ap- 
 peared to gasp beneath the stupendous 
 wonders of her execution. Every or- 
 gan was dehghtedj but the feelings 
 were mere spectators, and amazement
 
 77 
 
 made them forget that the heart wa^ 
 uninvited to the feast. It was, how- 
 ever, the very singular fashion to croud 
 the house as soon as the doors were 
 open 5 and who shall oppose fashion I 
 
 Not John Bull, believe me. Witness 
 the Bottle Conjuror. 
 
 But, without any view to criticise, 
 with severity, the talents of this 
 fashionable favorite, I hope I may be 
 permitted to exclaim against the pro- 
 fusion of the great world, who, in these 
 times of scarcity, when respectable fa.-
 
 75 
 
 niilies of small landed, estates have been 
 expelled their own carriages to walk the 
 dirty pavement— v/hen the snug house- 
 keeper is metamorphosed into a first floor 
 lodger, and the first floor lodger sent to 
 vii-w •■ocrixiv:! fLoo.f. nnd SO o*x to thp 
 garrett — the garretteer to the cobler's 
 bulk : amusements^ equally gratifying to 
 the heart, might be procured \\ith the 
 thousands a year wasted on this lady, 
 by giving comfort to the houseless 
 female, and bread to her starving in- 
 fants. 
 
 I remember how liberal the subscrip-
 
 79 
 
 tions of the haut ton were in behalf of 
 the poor Emigres, who meanly fled 
 from the cause they ought to have sup- 
 ported, to feed ignobly on the eelemosy- 
 nary banquet of a foreign nation : and^ 
 would that 1 could forget, when the 
 poor half famished Spitalfields weavers 
 were thrown upon the mercy of the 
 public, that the banking house of C — d 
 subscribed two pounds two shillings, 
 and Mr. P — It — y, perhaps the richest 
 commoner of the realm, nobly set down 
 his name for one pound one* ! ! ! 
 
 * Amang others, the noble owner of 
 
 W— tw— th Castle— of M— It— n Abbey— of 
 E 4
 
 80 
 
 But wliat is still more singular, the 
 papers which announce the Catalani as 
 an actress in one paragraph, announce 
 her as the elegant hostess of a splendid 
 entertainment in another ; and enume- 
 rate among her guests foreign princes 
 and english noblesse. 
 
 It was not always so on the continent 5 
 and had Prince Esterhazy been aware 
 of the following anecdote, perhaps, he 
 would not so have honored the lady in 
 question. 
 
 R — ck' — m House, all princely residences, gare 
 SOOl. to the refugees, an4 to the poor staning 
 iteavers nouhgt I
 
 61 
 Farmelli, who rather owes the living 
 of his name ta the wayward pencil of 
 Hogarth, than to his own intrinsic 
 merit, or the munificence of his patrons^.. 
 was a subject of the Duke of Modena. 
 
 When in London, and the tide of 
 his popularity was at its height, he 
 made no scruple at treating the very 
 first of our nobility with the most un^ 
 ceremonious rudeness. 
 
 The Duke of Modena, happening to 
 be in England at this period, was in=. 
 vited to Northuc:berbnd house: for
 
 82 
 
 the amusement of His Serene Highness 
 Farinelli was also invited. 
 
 At the very moment, hdvvever, of 
 his expected arrival, he sent a verbal 
 message that he was engaged at Lady- 
 Coventry's, and could not come. 
 
 r 
 
 His grace of Northumberland was 
 extremely mortified, and made many 
 apologies to his noble guest 5 when the 
 Duke of Modena, beckoning to one of 
 his suite, said to him. 
 
 , ** Go, instantly to Farinelli, and de- 
 sire him to come here."
 
 8S 
 
 In a very few minutes Farinelli ap- 
 peared. 
 
 All the company, except the Duke of 
 Modena, arose, and a chair was placed 
 for their new guest, 
 
 " My Lord Duke," — exclaimed his 
 highness — " do you permit a singer to 
 '* sit in your presence ? 
 
 " Farinelli,*' he continued, " go 
 " stand in yonder corner of the room, 
 " and sing your best son^ in your best 
 
 manner." 
 
 e6
 
 84 
 
 He obeyed, without hesitation, and 
 excelled himself. 
 
 When he had finished, the Duke his 
 master nodded to him with great dig- 
 nity; and he retired, bowing most 
 humbly round the room. 
 
 In reading this anecdote, intelligent 
 reader, I wish you to construe it into 
 an oblique censure upon our country- 
 men, no less severe than just; who upon 
 similar occasions, and to similar charac- 
 ters, have not been sufficiently tenacious 
 of the nation's dignity.
 
 85 
 
 What would this same Duke of 
 Modena say, were he alive, when told 
 that on such a day a grand entertain- 
 ment was given by a public singer at 
 
 her house in , at which all the 
 
 Foreign Diplomacy and English minis- 
 try were present* 
 
 It is a positive libel on the nation, 
 yet true; and the following was among 
 the amusements of the evening. 
 
 My Lord C h — who had previ- 
 ously, more than once, evinced that he 
 was not born to be drowned — having 
 made copious libations at the shrine of
 
 S6 
 
 Bacchus, sought a momentary retreat 
 into the open air ; when lo ! as my 
 Lord gazed on the starry firmament, 
 and all his contemplations seemed bent 
 intently on the sign pisces* — an aromatic 
 shower from a superb vase of Seve 
 china, interrupted his philosophic re- 
 verie. 
 
 The stoutest heart might well retreat 
 from such an overwhelming attack. 
 
 * I beg to inform the ladies, thsttpisccs (signi- 
 fying the fishes) is one of the twelve signs of the 
 ■ZodiaC; or hdt that surrounds the universe.
 
 87 
 " O, cielo, che sciagura !*' — shrieked 
 the affrighted chambermaid. 
 
 Reader, have you never seen Kemble 
 start at the appearance of Banquo's 
 ghost, and then exclaim 
 
 '^ Shake not your gorij locks at mc 1" 
 
 Or, havQ you not noticed how the 
 Newfoundland dog, returning from a 
 watery excursion to the shore, will shake 
 his fleecy sides to the annoyance of all 
 who approach him ? 
 
 So started the affrighted Abigail! 
 So shook the inundated peer !
 
 By the amiable attention of his ami- 
 able hostess, my Lord was afterwards 
 carefully rubbed down; his valet brought 
 him other clothes — he again joined the 
 brilliant circle, where the malheur was 
 forgotten in the sweetness of the C — 's 
 voice; who obligingly favored the 
 company with a da capo of 
 
 <' Water parUd from the SeaV^ 
 
 Meanwhile Edward's barouche cama 
 out. 
 
 It was built in exact imitation of a 
 2
 
 89 
 
 stage coach, with an accommodation 
 boot behind, and another before, at- 
 tached to the body ; an extremely high 
 box carpeted in the seat, with an iron 
 railing round it : chains instead of pole 
 pieces. 
 
 His horses were of different colors ; 
 but trimmed alike to every individual 
 hair : he had aired them in a break 
 every morning for six weeks previously, 
 attended by a skilful coachman, who 
 taught how to sit — how to square his 
 elbows — how to tremble the reins on 
 his left ungloved hand, Uke the gamut
 
 »0 ^ 
 
 of a stringed instrument— so that ev^ry 
 horse should feel his bit and do his 
 work^ v/ithput any apparent exertion 
 from the driver. 
 
 Thus lessoned, the much longed-for 
 morning dawned. It was Sunday, and 
 the Grunters had promised to honor 
 him with their company in the Park : 
 Miss Grunter provokingly insisting to 
 occupy the driving box in despite of 
 her mother's bridled chin — her sister's 
 pouting lip — and her confessor's squint- 
 ing negative.
 
 91 
 
 She positively seized on the post of 
 honor, exclaiming with Ranger, 
 
 " Up I go — neck, or nothing." 
 
 A beautiful spring morning, enlivened 
 by a cheerful sun, invited all the idlers 
 about town to the Park : the prome- 
 nade was crowded with beauty — the 
 ride was filled with horses, such as are 
 not in equal numbers and perfection of 
 form to be seen, elsewhere, in the habit- 
 able world. 
 
 The branches of the trees were burst-
 
 92 
 
 ing inta verdure — the feathered song-, 
 ster carolled on the bough — all nature 
 wore a smile. 
 
 Dash w^nt our Barouche Driver into 
 the Park !: a double row o£ carriages 
 seemed to oppose his passage ; but the 
 high mettled steeds, obedient to his rein, 
 rushed through the middle way in de- 
 fiance of the heavy gravel. 
 
 Every eye was upon them. Miss 
 Grunter felt herself more than mortal. 
 
 " Now"— said she, placing her hand
 
 93 
 
 on the arm of her companion — " yoti 
 *' see all the world, and I will be to 
 *^ you as Asmodeus was to the scholar, 
 ** who released him from the Magician's 
 " power. 
 
 " It is only supposing the vehicle to 
 *^ which I shall point to be a chamber 5 
 ^ and that I have led you invisibly 
 ^* through the roof, to espy * the 
 " nakedness of the land*,' 
 
 * These anecdotes are given in continuity, 
 to avoid the Scheherezade-like interruptions 
 they would otherwise suffer. But the reader
 
 94 
 
 ''Look to the right ; the lady occupying 
 the back seat of that superb brown vis- 
 a-vis is the youngest of four sisters. 
 Her father ranks among the first of our 
 nobles, but devotes his life to the 
 charms of retirement ; vi^hile my Lady 
 devoted hers to popularity in the world 
 of fashion, where she out brazened every 
 7iiodest competitor, and long reigned 
 supreme arbitress of ton. 
 
 "The eldest of her daughters — that is, 
 
 will suppose that they were related at diilerent 
 times, and by different persons.
 
 95 
 
 by her own biography, for the eldest 
 having married a jcommoner is not 
 reckoned in the family — is the domestic 
 wife of a peer of very high rank, who 
 takes more pleasure in a saihr^g match 
 than a drawing room 5 and mixes little 
 
 with the beau-monde. Her G , 
 
 from this retirement, is a mere vegetable 
 in the animal world. 
 
 " The second is the amiable wife of 
 a rough and gallant soldier, lately suc- 
 ceeded to his birthright dignities, and 
 promoted to high conmiand. 
 1
 
 96 
 
 ^'In this public situation, they combine 
 their powers to make the people happy 
 whom they govern ; and hold up to the 
 v/orld, a rare instance of unobtrusive 
 virtue, ornamenting exalted rank. 
 
 " The third — pretty, lively, and satiri- 
 cal, moves in a sphere one degree below 
 her sisters. Nothing remarkable has 
 hitherto marked her life. She is an 
 exemplary wife, and a good mother. 
 
 " The youngest is married to a noble- 
 man, and bears equal rank with her 
 elders. She has moved in all the public
 
 97 
 
 pomp of ofRce, veiling the meanness of 
 domestic ceconomy — consequently, un- 
 popular. 
 
 Her Ladyship having lost some forty or 
 fifty thousand pounds to a foreign prince, 
 deceased, had recourse to a new v/ay of 
 paying old debts, by making a card 
 
 purse out of the allowances of G ; 
 
 but policy seems to have been her 
 mother's milk — Policy made her fall in 
 love with the late ever to be revered 
 D — — , and wear widow ^ weeds at his 
 lamented decease. — Policy made her 
 flirt with the elegant Beauharnois, at 
 
 VOL. I, F
 
 98 
 
 Paris — there being, then, no nearer heir 
 apparent* — till every body wondered 
 
 * H — M is said to have been so little 
 
 pleased with this Parisian tour, that he was ex- 
 tremely cool to H- — G when she appeared 
 
 at C on her return. 
 
 The Lady's indignation, at this treatment, was 
 for some time smothered : till a new r — 1 offence 
 set all her Highland blood into commotion. 
 
 '' Pray sir"-^she said, strutting up to the 
 
 P with a martial step, and almost kimboed 
 
 amis — '' how does it happen that you suffer 
 4« . to abuse me at your tabic. I know
 
 99 
 
 what would be the end of it. — They 
 were remarkable for waltz'mg* 
 
 <' that he had the impudence to say — '^ so and 
 ii so—" 
 
 •" I do not recollect any such conversation" 
 —returned II. R, H. with a bow of elegant 
 condescension — '^ nor do I ever betray private 
 '' conversation. If I knew your informant, I 
 *' would take care he never should so err again 
 *• at my table." 
 
 Foiled by this coolly-cutting reproof — the lady 
 crimsoned all over; and as rage must have its 
 F 2
 
 100 
 
 The mother of this Grace has been re- 
 markable through life for displaying a 
 settled contempt for every rule of polite 
 etiquette; which, added to anunrestrain- 
 de indulgence of her ;z^/wr^/ feelings, and 
 the convivial freedom 
 
 Tent, she turned to General G— , who was 
 in the circle, exclaiming — 
 
 " And you may tell the K— , sir, that unless 
 *' he receives me better — neither I — nor any of 
 " my family shall ever go to C — t again." 
 
 II — G — > " then stalked away, majestically »
 
 101 
 
 of a Bacchante, form the noble pedestalon 
 wliich she has reared her spotless fame. 
 
 An open chubby countenance that 
 never knew ablush*; a ready repartee ; 
 
 * The following anecdote is on record. '' A 
 rural life in the coldest climates will generate 
 warmth in the female bosom, and if opportunity 
 offer, it is rather unfortunate, if it be not suc- 
 ceeded by enjoyment. Innocent stratagems 
 are sometimes employed to encourage the diffi- 
 dence, and stimulate the desires, of timid uncon- 
 scious youth. 
 
 ^' It is related, how a certain experienced 
 F 3
 
 102 
 less remarkable for wit than effront- 
 
 matron of high Rank and Scottish extraction, 
 amidst tho interesting solitude of an evening 
 promenade, in the thickest recesses of a seques- 
 tered grove, in a gentle tete-a-t^te, once deigned 
 obliquely to court the amorous favors of a 
 young military novice on a visit at the Chateau. 
 
 " Burning to accomplish her object, she 
 tenderly asked him, if he could spell op,por,tu, 
 ni,ty — when alas ! the stupid Cymon not only 
 neglected the opportunity^ but to display his 
 innocence, or rather his ignorance, in stronger 
 colors, related at supper his simple story, which 
 served only to excite mirth in the company, and
 
 103 
 
 ery* — have enabled her to elbow 
 through the croud, and gain the throne 
 of fashion. 
 
 in no "wiee digconcerted the lady whoso bronie 
 disdained to change its colors. 
 
 '' We are bound to admire the tender inge- 
 nuity, and unshaken Jirmness of the noble LadVf 
 — Happy effect of j^o/e'iAec? education I" 
 
 * H — G formerly had a quarrel with the 
 
 late Mr. P , and not only avoided asking 
 
 him to her oivn house; but avoided meeting 
 
 him elsewhere. At length, in a sudden fit of 
 
 good humour, she deteimined to make friends 
 
 F 4
 
 104 
 Whatever may be gaid of her as a 
 wife— it must be allowed she has been 
 a good mother ; her daughters being s$ 
 greatly married. 
 
 The happy husband of the bonny 
 
 -with him, one night, -when she saw him at a 
 party, and going up to hira with a broad smile*, 
 she said, without preface, 
 
 *' Pray, Mr. P , do you talk as much non- 
 
 ** sense lately as you used to do ?" 
 
 ••' Really, Y — G /' he replied — " I am 
 
 *^ not aware ; but certainlx) I have not heard 
 ** so much nonsense lately^ as I used to do,"
 
 105 
 
 dame has also his amusements ; of less 
 eclat, certainly, but, perhaps, of equal 
 pleasantry, as a little anecdote will un- 
 fold. 
 
 " Amid the rudest scenery of the 
 Highlands, where hill contends with 
 hill, and barren heaths display the rug- 
 gedness of uncultivated nature, a sports- 
 man, lately, chanced to stray. 
 
 " His eager eye pursued the timid 
 grouse J but soon two objects of sera^ 
 phic form burst on his raptured view I. 
 f5
 
 106' 
 
 *^ He gazed in speechless ecstasy. 
 They were not of another world — for 
 all the elegancies of modern ton 
 adorned their persons. 
 
 " He advanced to cross them on their 
 path, and bent before them as to superior 
 beings. 
 
 " They returned the stranger's court e- 
 sey with unaffected smiles of polished 
 condescension. They were enrobed in 
 light drapery of the finest muslin ; and 
 their dress and manners were correspon- 
 dent with the newest fashion.
 
 " Who could they be ?— 
 
 " The stranger followed to their 
 
 Kirk they were the daughters of 
 
 theD— ofG ." 
 
 Strange reports are in circulation of 
 
 " THE MYSTERIOUS MOTHEr" - 
 
 Time will devellope all things. 
 
 But see — another subject calls for our 
 attention. Do you note that gentleman 
 who rides so near the railing, and has 
 just saluted the ladies in yon open car- 
 
 riage ? 
 
 6
 
 108 
 
 " I do," — answered Edward — " and 
 my attention hangs upon your lips." 
 
 His name is Spensur, and he is just 
 returned from the Continent, w^here he 
 was employed in a public character. 
 He is brother to our naval hero of that 
 name. 
 
 During his abode at C , he be- 
 came enamoured of a beautiful German 
 young lady^, the Doggerman's daughter, 
 and .was made happy in the possession 
 of her hand*
 
 109 
 
 His public duties, however, soon after 
 his marriage recalled him to England ; 
 and he left his lovely bride to await his 
 return. 
 
 Some time having passed, and no 
 mention being made of his return, Mrs. 
 Spensur determined to join him in 
 England. She, Accordingly, took her 
 passage, but unhappily the vessel in 
 which she salied, was captured, and 
 carried into France. 
 
 As the subject of a power in amity 
 with the French government, the fair 
 
 2
 
 1 10 
 
 voyager claimed her privilege through 
 the medium of her ambassador — ^but 
 her release was denied her, on the plea 
 of her having married an Englishman. 
 
 Personal pique might, perhaps, have 
 influenced this ungallant answer from a 
 gallant nation, as the name was hateful 
 to the ears of Buonaparte. 
 
 The unceasing application of her am- 
 bassador, however, at length partially- 
 prevailed ; and Mrs. Spensur was al- 
 lowed to go to Naples.
 
 Ill 
 
 Arrivinsr-^with her sister — and her 
 money being all expended, her only re- 
 source was in her jewels, which she 
 disposed of for their support ; when, 
 fortunately, as she imagined, an Italian 
 nobleman was about to sail for England, 
 and offered himself to be their escort. 
 
 Without further accident, they reach- 
 ed London, and put up at a fashionable 
 hotel ; of which, immediate notice was 
 conveyed to Mr. Spensur, by his impa- 
 tiently affectionate wife. 
 
 But he, fashionably elegant, merely
 
 112 
 
 paid the party a visit at their hotel — 
 was profuse in his compliments to the 
 Marquis — and departed, on some light 
 excuse, leaving them just as he found 
 them. 
 
 It appeared, afterwards, that the gen- 
 tleman was in high keeping with two 
 ladies of high fashion, when the mal- 
 a-propos visit of his wife threatened to 
 mar his domestic comforts; but Mrs. 
 Spensur was lynx eyed j and finding the 
 sort of man she had married, determined 
 on returning to her family without con- 
 descending even to upbraid him.
 
 lis 
 
 In this situation of refined non-chal- 
 ance, the Marquis told his new friend 
 he had a bill for gOOl. which he wished 
 to get discounted, but knew not how. 
 The names were unexceptionable. 
 
 " My dear fellow**— replied Mr. 
 Spensur — " how happy you make me 
 " in allowing me to serve you. I will 
 " get the bill cashed immediately.'* 
 
 He did so — but forgetting the difFer- 
 encebetween ?neum2ind tuum — the money 
 found the way into his own pocket, in« 
 stead of the poor Marquis's. !l|
 
 114 
 
 It was whispered, that Mr. Spensur, 
 on this occasion, laughed at the thing, 
 as a good joke, swearing that a fair ex- 
 change was no robbery*. 
 
 From the service of these two ladies 
 he was, shortly after, discarded; when 
 he became the favorite of a certain 
 
 widow in S e Street, with whom 
 
 he entered on present pay, and good 
 quarters, 
 
 * It would be very unpardonable indeed to 
 suffer this wit to pass without stating — That not 
 the slighte&t opprobrium has ever, in realitj, 
 attached to this injured Lady's character.
 
 115 
 
 One unlucky night — perhaps to shew 
 his authority — he took it into his head, 
 to see if the house was locked up safe ; 
 when, lo ! as he entered the kitchen, 
 he found Mrs. Cook amorously seated 
 on the lap of her enamorato, and both 
 so busied with their own happiness, that 
 he stole upon them unawares. 
 
 " Fellow" — said the intrepid Spensur 
 — *' What business have you in this 
 house?" 
 
 "Mayhap, as much as yauw — or there- 
 about, feller — '* was the laconic re- 
 ply.
 
 ii6 
 
 Speimir cursed and swor« that he 
 would charge the watch with him, 
 
 " Yauw had bttther not*' — said the 
 routed lover — but Spensur was en- 
 raged, and collared the culprit ; upon 
 which, the man gave him a Yorkshire 
 hug, that kid him flat upon the kitchen 
 floor. 
 
 The whole house was now in an 
 uproar : and in the terror of the scene, 
 the watch was called by one of the other 
 maids, who came running down stairs
 
 J17 
 
 half dressed, and screaming " murder I" 
 " thieves!" " thieves! — murder!*' 
 
 With many opprobrious terms, the 
 poor Yorkshireman was given over to 
 the watch; and, in his turn, he charged 
 Spensur. 
 
 The uproar, notwithstanding the 
 hour, collected many persons before the 
 door, when the Yorkshireman thus ad- 
 dressed his fellow prisoner. 
 
 " Yauw, a gentleman ! — to be zure,
 
 US 
 
 ^^ and so yauw be — to leave yaur own 
 " lawful wedded wife, to cum here ran- 
 " tipoling after Madam Hotapon't — I do 
 " be ashamed of ye — that I be — I ha' 
 " gotten no wife — I daunt hurten no< 
 ^' body — and where do be the law, 
 " then, to keep I, from sweethearting a 
 *' bit, when the maiden do be willing." 
 
 The next object of Miss Grunter's 
 biography w'as a famous cast off demi- 
 rep. 
 
 " Bless us!'* — exclaimed the fair
 
 119 
 
 prattler — *' What a tumble that Lady^s 
 pride has had" — pointing — " who 
 would believe that she had lately been 
 
 th€ managing clarke in a great A 
 
 concern under the firm of Frede- 
 rique, Brownwood, and Co. but a 
 jealousy have arisen among the partners, 
 and Mr. Brownwood complaining that 
 Mr. Frederique — her keeper — suffered 
 meritricious influence to exceed all 
 bounds, remonstrated, to the disgrace 
 of the Lady. 
 
 It is worthy of remark, that this 
 lady's patronage, when in power, was
 
 120 
 
 looked up to as the most promising in 
 the kingdom*. 
 
 She invented a new game — I do not 
 know whether, or not, by patent — for 
 the amusement of all little master 
 lackeys. 
 
 It consisted in making paste bqard 
 
 * When Mr. Frederique Mould, at times, be 
 low spirited with the dread of an investigation, 
 his Clarke would facetiously rally him thus, 
 
 '^ Never fear, doctor, you are a K — S 
 
 Nobodi/1/ou knowy dare touch you, ^*
 
 121 
 
 infants leap over the heads of veterans ; 
 which leap was magically facilitated by 
 the deposit of a purse, at every jump, 
 which she caught in her lap. 
 
 She also invented a machine, by 
 means of which she could write the 
 name of Frederique, and make it pass 
 current with the house — some say, for 
 thousands. — And so powerful were her 
 spells, that one of her footmen, who 
 had a handsome leg, and square shoul- 
 ders, was metamorphosed^ in a few 
 months, into a captain of foot, as a re- 
 ward for past services. 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 122 
 
 The next to be pourtrayed, is Mr. 
 Jessamy. 
 
 " neat and trimly dress'd 
 
 '^ Fresh as a bridegroom ; and his chin, new 
 
 '' reaped, 
 " Shews like a stubble land, at harvest home : 
 '' He is perfumed like a milliner; 
 "• And 'twixt his finger and his thumb, he holds 
 " A pounced box, which ever and anon 
 '^ He gives his nose — and takes' t away again*." 
 
 Early in life, with a fortune of about 
 twenty thousand pounds, this sweetly 
 
 * The person is changed from the original.
 
 123 
 
 scented Adonis married a young lady 
 who was the rich heiress of a trader in 
 the city. 
 
 The newly wedded pair, soon after, 
 made a tour of the Continent ; whence 
 the gentleman returned rich in two 
 beautiful Italian greyhounds — while his 
 Lady's travelled improvements ranked 
 her with the virtuosi. 
 
 A splendid mansion* opened with 
 
 The bronze figures that lighted Iiis side- 
 board cost 1000 guineas in Italy. 
 « 2
 
 124 
 
 sumptuous entertainments, soon became 
 the receptacle of an elegant mob. And 
 for a few seasons, their rank among the 
 haut ton was established. 
 
 The father of Mr. Jessamy had passed 
 the greater part of his life in India j and 
 about this period, a gentleman who had 
 been his youthful friend, returned from 
 the scorching plains of Hindustan, a 
 martyr to the ravages of the climate. 
 
 Mr. Jessamy hasted to greet him, on 
 his arrival — took him home as his 
 father's friend— ►and was as a son unto 
 him»
 
 125 
 
 Mrs. Jessamy, with an amiable polite- 
 ness and obliging solicitude, would often 
 pass her evening in the chamber of the 
 invalid, who ultimately repaid the friend-* 
 ship of his host with the grossest viola- 
 tion of honor and hospitality** 
 
 * A poor Swiss having been ungratefully re- 
 paid for his national hospitality to a soldier, 
 preferred the following simple, but energetic, 
 complaint against the delinquent, in the presence 
 of his officers : 
 
 ^' May it please your honors — dis shentleman 
 come up into mine house — he yas eater mine 
 g3
 
 126 
 
 Once detectedjthe lady proudlyqwined 
 her heme with her decrepit paramour, 
 leaving, contemptuously, her dear Jerry 
 Sneak, 
 
 " To sigh alone — and think on what 
 was past !" 
 
 At first, Mr. Jessamy's pride kept up 
 his resolution in finally separating from 
 
 meat — he trs drinlvcr mine drink — he Tas 
 picker mine pocket — he vas kisser mine vife — he 
 vas daiiimcr mine eyes— he vas kicker mc down 
 stairs ! ! !
 
 127 
 
 the hyena he had taken to his bosom ; 
 but when he looked into his accounts, 
 and found that his twenty thousand 
 pounds had been the ready source of 
 all their elegant expenses — and that his 
 wife, bad as she was, in taking away 
 herself, had taken away her fortune 
 — he, most philosophically, resolved to 
 forgive the dear offender — whom he told 
 her friends he could not live without — 
 and pressed them to solicit her return. 
 
 Every woman of spirit would act as 
 Mrs. Jessamy did — she spurned the 
 offer- — leaving him to the caresses of 
 G 4
 
 128 
 
 his two Italian grey-hounds, and to 
 study ways and means on the Stock 
 Exchange among the bulls and bears. 
 
 Now you shall see what you shall see 
 — huzza, for Laetitia D — of L — k — r'3 
 lane in the parish of St. G s's ! 
 
 , See how she spins along those beauti- 
 ful blood bays ; — we are very intimate, 
 and I can tell you all about her. 
 
 No woman in England drives four 
 in hand more knowingly than my Lady, 
 Not even the celebrated Mrs. H s.
 
 129 
 
 or the driving Brewer's driving dulci- 
 nea. 
 
 No woman ever rode so well up to 
 the hounds — not excepting Mrs. M. A. 
 
 T -, Lady M , or Lady S , or 
 
 comes so sportingly in at the death. 
 
 No woman can boast more fashion- 
 able principles — for she has a thorough 
 contempt for all her former associates, 
 and a dear delight in letting you know 
 she is allied to nobility. 
 > 
 
 When a certain Baronet of driving 
 g5
 
 130 
 
 notoriety, whose head is proverbially- 
 weak, was yet a boy j and the beautiful 
 Lastitia a celebrated cyprian, he won her 
 to his arms, like another Danae; but a* 
 certain personage of exalted rank, pro- 
 fessing himself also her lover ; the lady, 
 well knowing her p's and q's, swore she 
 would desert her keeper, for her more 
 illustrious gallant, unless he married 
 her. 
 
 The Baronet was over head and ears 
 in love, and they became " one bone 
 and one flesh.''
 
 131 
 
 In this new sphere of life, she moved 
 a splendid constellation. The St. 
 
 G s's bulk was transformed into an 
 
 Gpera-box ; but as the female world was 
 a little squeamish, and it was necessary 
 to give my Lady a companion of her 
 own sex — to save appearances — a pretty, 
 fair, blue eyed, flaxen haired, girl — a 
 neice of my Lady's — was transplanted 
 from the mysteries of L — rs Lane to 
 the mysteries of my Lady's boudoir, to 
 which she was admitted after divers 
 scrubbings, and a vast consumption of 
 rose and honey water. 
 g6
 
 132 
 
 The St. G s's beauty seemed as 
 
 if born to grace the new hemisphere 
 she shone in — her language refined with 
 her manners j insomuch, that when sh^ 
 sometimes caught an oath tripping glib- 
 ly along her tongue, she could give a 
 great gulp — and swallow it* 
 
 At length, at the age of eighteen or 
 nineteen, she had drilled herself into 
 ashion j and nature had made her 
 lovely. 
 
 The eye of many a rake wantoned
 
 133 
 
 o'er her charms — ^but Miss was forbid- 
 den fruit. 
 
 She would not sell her favors ; and 
 no one, as yet, had been found sufficient- 
 ly in love to ask her hand in marriage. 
 
 It happened, that a certain nobleman, 
 gay, thoughtless, extravagant, and li- 
 centious — ^but with many private vir- 
 tues — had lost a considerable sum*, at 
 the gaming table, to his friend the driv- 
 ing Baronet. 
 
 * Sixteen thousand pounds.
 
 134 
 
 They were tete-a-tete, shortly after, 
 at the Baronet's table — the Champaigne 
 had made many rounds, and my Lord 
 felt he was up to any thing. 
 
 Now was the time. 
 
 " Marry my neice, my Lord" — ex- 
 claimed the Baronet gaily — " and your 
 debt is cancelled." 
 
 " Your hand, my boy" — rejoined his 
 Lordship. 
 
 " And done, and done's, enough be-
 
 155 
 
 tween two jontlemen, according to Miss 
 Edgeworth's Dublin shoe-black." 
 
 The next mornings when my Lord 
 awoke, he found himself in a strange 
 bed, with a beautiful bedfellow ; and 
 after rubbing his eyes for a few minutes^ 
 to collect his senses, he, at length, recol- 
 lected, he had been inarricd a few hours 
 before on the leads of the Baronet's 
 house ! 
 
 Shortly after, they made their public 
 entree on the Ascot course, as man and
 
 136 
 
 wife, in a phaeton with six greys in 
 hand. 
 
 Having played his part through a 
 short but joyous scene on this stage, he 
 made a sudden exit to a better world, 
 and was succeeded in his titles, profu- 
 sion, and follies — I do not say his virtues 
 —by the present Lord Cripple ton, w^ho in 
 we shall meet presently, as he is a noted 
 Barouche driver. 
 
 Aye, here he comes, splashing along 
 at the rate of sixteen miles an hour.
 
 137 
 
 The gentleman seated with him on the 
 box, is Tom, his biifToon. He leads him 
 into parties, as a Charlatan leads his 
 ape — for the amusement of company. 
 
 Tom has an excellent knack at catch- 
 ing nutSj of which his Patron is so well 
 aware, that he lays bets at table that 
 he will lodge so many, out of so many, 
 nuts in Tom's mouth : and the bet 
 being made, my Lord gives the signal, 
 
 with a " Come, Tom" — and Tom 
 
 prepares to catch. 
 
 I am not positive whether the same
 
 13S 
 
 rewards are inflicted upon Tom, when 
 he loses his patron's money, as those 
 bestowed on the dancing dogs ; but 
 Tom appears to be in great awe of his 
 noble master. 
 
 The beautiful creature who sat alone 
 in the carriage is my Lady — her motto 
 " Variety'' — by the bye, I could tell you 
 an excellent family jest ; of, how my 
 Lord came in suddenly, and found my 
 Lady out ; and how my Lo?:d cozened the 
 cozener out of four thousand pounds, 
 for poaching on his cousin's manor —
 
 139 
 
 and how the noble delinquent took out 
 a sporting licence to knock down his 
 Lordship's gajiie at pleasure, without 
 any the least let, hindrance, or molesta- 
 tion whatsoever. But I would, for the 
 present, draw your attention to yon 
 crimson carriage. 
 
 My Lady Peppercorn — fat, fair, and 
 forty J she has been a celebrated beau- 
 ty, and was left a young widow with 
 little else than her charms to carry on 
 the war. 
 
 Her destiny led her to the Continent^
 
 140 
 
 and at Rome she captivated an elegant 
 and accomplished youth of Royal birth 
 then on his travels — but while prelimi- 
 naries were settling for yielding up the 
 garrison ; another, and more lovely 
 English- vv^oman, appeared before the 
 wdlh ; and with the artillery of her 
 eyes forced the Prince to raise the 
 siege, 
 
 A variety of adventures, at length, 
 restored this national ornament to gem 
 in the British court. Her travels had 
 not filled her purse ; and a noble Lord, 
 very benevolently, set on foot a subscrip-
 
 I4i 
 
 tion to present her Ladyship with ten 
 thousand pounds; 
 
 Lord Peppercorn, who is very af- 
 fluent, and the personification of bene- 
 volence — when beauty claims the meed — 
 was sohcited to put down his name for 
 one thousand guineas in relief of his fair 
 countrywoman — when his Lordship, 
 not liking a pig in a poke, desired to be 
 introduced. 
 
 It so fell out, that my Lord's charity 
 had devised a number of ways to ex- 
 plain itself. And this becoming ocularly
 
 142 
 
 manifest to a near relation of her Lady- 
 ship's — my Lord Peppercorn had to 
 chuse between a wife and a bullet j which 
 choice a very convenient appeal to the 
 Doctor's Commons* 5afew weeks before, 
 had enabled his Lordship philosophically 
 to adopt. 
 
 That brown chariot, with the bro\\'n 
 
 * The family memoirs are detailed at large in 
 a novel called The Lifidel Mother^ written by 
 myself, and published by Hughes of Wigraore 
 Street.
 
 \43 
 
 and sky blue liveries, is worthy your 
 attention. 
 
 Observe the antique cocked up in the 
 further corner ; with a head resembling 
 in color and effect a stewed pruin. She 
 is a West Indian ; and one of those 
 outlandish fools who presume to vie in 
 expense with our first nobility; till a 
 short reign of ridiculous profusion me- 
 tamorphoses their Turkish drawing 
 rooms to a less elegant apartment at 
 the King's Bench. 
 
 This, however, has not been the
 
 144 
 
 finale with the present lady, although 
 her routes were of the most splendid 
 nature : her husband is gone abroad 
 again, to recruit from his attorney ships, 
 and she lives during his absence — like 
 Penelope. 
 
 Their history is concise ; but spirited. 
 Madame was the wife of a gentleman 
 holding a patent place at J of con- 
 siderable emolument ; and Monsieur, a 
 raw-boned — broad-shouldered — Scotch- 
 man, whom he employed as his private 
 clerk.
 
 145 
 
 " Shortly after, the gentleman died ; 
 and supple WooUey^his clerk, was dh^ect- 
 ed by the executors to arrange his 
 private accounts. 
 
 In this situation, the disconsolate widow 
 would frequently — under pretence of 
 his fatigue and study — tempt the brawny 
 youth, with a delicate broil, and a rum- 
 mer of mixed hock, for his second 
 breakfast ; till one freedom begetting 
 another freedom — Woolley had no more 
 to ask the widow nothing more to 
 grant. 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 146 
 
 Unhappily for the lovee^ and as 
 happily for the/o'y^r5MasterWoolley had 
 a favorite fair at home. The mistress 
 of the boarding house at which he lived, 
 had long cast a sheep's eye at him. 
 
 'Twas a cheap way of paying his 
 reckoning, and oeconomy is the soul 
 of a Scotchman, 
 
 WooUey was happy here — there — 
 and every where. 
 
 But one unlucky day, when the pre-
 
 H7 
 
 sence of the executors had detained 
 Woolley much beyond his usual hour 
 at the office — and he was engaged out 
 to dinner — in his extreme hurry to 
 dress, he forgot a tender billet, which 
 " love's messenger" in the shape of 
 Mamma Quasheba, an old Mulatto wo- 
 man, had slipped into his hand, and he 
 had slipped into his pocket. 
 
 This note fell into the possession of 
 his jealous Argus at home, who had long 
 watched an opportunity to catch the 
 infidel tripping. 
 
 H 3
 
 148 
 
 She eagerly tore open the scrawl^ and 
 after some trouble, read as follows : 
 
 " My addorihhle Kretur^ 
 Kujn to de litiy dore in de bak piachy 
 wen dem.. neger all sleeps boute one a cloky 
 to 7ny lo?ighm an?is. Tours till deth. 
 
 " Cassandra.'" 
 
 This elegant morceau was nuts to the 
 finder : not a word escaped her, to 
 WooUey, that night ; but judge his 
 amazement, when he found, next day, 
 that the dear billet doux had been posted
 
 149 
 
 on the door of the Public* Buildings, 
 and the contents communicated to the 
 town, with a note explanatory of the 
 signature " Cassandra.*' 
 
 This malicious trick turned out to 
 be a rare coup de fortune for Woolley. 
 
 The widow was immensely rich, and 
 
 * The Public Building — so called from its 
 containing the House of Assembly, the Court 
 House, and the Public Offices. — It is the place of 
 public rendezvous — as the Exchange of Lon- 
 don^ or the Rialto at Venice. 
 h3
 
 150 
 
 of great family. There was no way to 
 patch up her reputation but one — 
 WooUey became her husband— succeed- 
 ed to the patent of his late master, and 
 from an originally bowing, dirty sans- 
 culotte^ soon after became, virtually^ 
 king of the i&land. 
 
 Do you observe that little oldfashioned 
 fellow, in his little old fashioned 
 cocked hat, with the landau full of 
 masters and misses ? 
 
 He is a great banker, and the young- 
 sters are his grand children. — But not- 
 withstanding you see him so amiably
 
 151 
 
 engaged in playing with his little ones, 
 he has playthings of a riper growth for 
 his move private — amusement. 
 
 A cherry cheeked actress has long 
 since made great havoc with his heart ; 
 and he ofFereH ^^ settlement of ten 
 thousand pounds to the dear object of 
 his affections j but the little minx knew 
 there was no fool like an old fool, and 
 that if he could give so much money 
 for one bite at a cherry^ she had no- 
 thing to do but play hob cherry with his 
 feelings, till he should consent to pur- 
 chase the whole fruit at her own price.. 
 h4
 
 152 
 
 How she kept her own feelings in 
 proper subjugation amid constant pro- 
 vocatives, I do not attempt to deter- 
 mine ; but it is certain they never run 
 riot, with the Banker, who is now re- 
 solved to , have her " Ccute ^u'il 
 CouTE,'' and a matrinicnial farce is said 
 to be on the tapis. 
 
 These theatrical alliances are become 
 quite fashionable. I suppose, some day 
 or other, an act of parhament will be 
 made to remove the lawful appellation 
 of vagabofids.
 
 153 
 
 Here comes beauty, purity, and self- 
 denial, in that plain open landau. 
 Three sisters, highly accomplished, and 
 valued, each, at one hundred thousand 
 pounds. 
 
 They are daughters of a great grazier, 
 who has amassed, by (economy and go^ 
 vernment contracts^ the little modicum 
 he -intends for his girls ; whose life, 
 however, is too retired to provoke 
 envy, and whose qualifications bid fair to 
 make the?n worthy members of society, 
 
 A curious discovery lately took place, 
 H 5
 
 154 
 
 on the appointment of a new inspec- 
 tor. 
 
 The quarterly day of review having 
 arrived, Mr. Contractor saluted the 
 officer with great courtesy, and attempt- 
 ed to place a fold of paper in his hand. 
 
 " What is this" — exclaimed the In- 
 spector, suffering the fold of bank notes 
 to fall on the ground. 
 
 " Oh, nothing, my dear sir ; I have 
 ^ been accustomed to bring this* trifle 
 
 * Five hundred pounds at each quarterly 
 muster— Nice pickings !
 
 155 
 
 *^ with me; it has served to lighten^ 
 " your predecessor's tY3xe\\ing expences," 
 
 The Inspector refused the money ^ 
 and reported the fact. 
 
 Here comes a ducal coronet. 
 
 That Barouche ^nd four, with sable 
 liveries, contains the British Ninon de 
 FEnclos, Lady E — Forrester, the chere 
 amie alike of the late D — ss and the 
 D.ofD . 
 
 Married early in life to a man o£ 
 H 6
 
 156 
 
 contemptible talents, and physically de- 
 ficient, her Ladyship took French leave 
 of her amiable partner, and winged her 
 flight across the water. 
 
 Of extreme beauty — great vivacity — ^ 
 and by nature a rover — she sought the 
 gratification of her vanities, and the un- 
 controled indulgence of " les egaremens 
 de son coeur," in every court of Europe. 
 
 But though a voluptuary — she was a 
 tyrant among her lovers. She knew 
 that a passive indulgence gave a same- 
 ness to the most exalted transports.
 
 157 
 
 She therefore gave a delicate seasoning 
 to her amours. — Elle scavoit les menager 
 • — while rival princes wore her chains, 
 and modern Jupiters approached her 
 with a golden shower. 
 
 At length, fatigued even with enjoy- 
 ment, she retired from the congenial 
 delights of Italy, where she had long 
 resided, to domesticate in England. 
 
 Few women have greater resources, 
 within themselves, from the horrors of 
 ennui, than this fair libertine. An im- 
 proved taste in music, painting, and all,
 
 15S 
 
 the fine arts, are the eminently conspi- 
 cuous talents of her Ladyship j and 
 travel has given so much witchery to 
 her naturally pleasing and graceful man- 
 ners, that her superiority is evident in 
 every circle she ornaments with her 
 presence. 
 
 Her Ladyship, it is expected, will 
 change her name, as soon as etiquette 
 permits the cerem^ony. 
 
 Mind, how elegaritly my Lord Hump- 
 ton bends to his work, and how gallant- 
 ly his horoes step. He is one of the
 
 159 
 
 most celebrated among the club of 
 Barouche drivers. — You will do well to 
 take a lesson ; for his Lordship has 
 neither heart nor soul for any other ob- 
 ject than his favorite blood bays, or 
 genius beyond the critical arrangement 
 of their harness. 
 
 His Lordship, formerly, had warmer 
 passions ; and was, at a very early 
 period of life, plighted to my Lady : — 
 an indefinable* novelty his object : 
 money, hers. 
 
 * NoYelty — curiosity — folly— or whatever 
 2
 
 360 
 
 Her Ladyship is descended, on the 
 mother's side, in a crooked line, from 
 
 other name may be most applicable to an incon- 
 siderate act, sanctioned, only, by the caprice of 
 the moment — an emotion which had nearly 
 proved very fatal to his Lordship — previous io 
 his marriage — while on atrip at Scarborough. 
 
 '' A lady of great notoriety — the once, fa- 
 mous Nancy Parsons — made so great a hole in 
 his heart, that he, positively, offered her his hand 
 in marriage ; and would, most probably, have 
 kept his engagement, Lad not his family, trem- 
 bling for the honor of their house, hurried him 
 into all the excesses of the metropolis, with a
 
 161 
 
 C II. which accidental honor has al- 
 most turned her brain, in visionary con- 
 view to expunge a smaller viccj by means of one 
 greater. 
 
 Here, he saw his present C— — , then in the full 
 meridian of beauty : and the forsaken Nancy was 
 blotted from his memory. 
 
 I have read a short memoir of this celebrated 
 Lady J which may not be unacceptable to the 
 reader — if an inquisitiye reader. 
 
 *' Of her origin it would be difficult to speak 
 positively — but it is believed that she was edu«
 
 162 
 
 templations on the virtues . of high de- 
 scent. She is, therefore, proud and 
 
 cated in the kitcheti o^ the renowned Mother 
 W ^h, in C dRow. 
 
 ^^ Here Nancy became acquainted with 
 Dukes, Lords, and Blacklegs, who habitually 
 paid nocturnal visits to that fashionable haunt, 
 
 ** Her beauty was accidentally discovered, and 
 she was elevated to the honors of the parlor; 
 when she improved her acquaintance with the 
 great world, till she, at length, became the mis- 
 tress of a ducal prime minister, with whom she
 
 J6S 
 
 overbearing in her usual demeanor;, but 
 yielding, as the melting wax, with those 
 
 she loves. 
 
 iived many yearif, in all the p&mp of oflSce and 
 plenitude of power, 
 
 " From his G— of G— — she was trans* 
 
 formed to his G of D with whom she 
 
 made the grand tour, and perfected herself in all 
 those imposing qualities, called trayelled accom- 
 plishments. At her return she married Lord 
 
 V M d, and ornamented the circle of 
 
 British noblesse, to which she was — unsqueamish* 
 ly — admitted according to her rant."
 
 164 
 
 His Lordship is frivolous, petulant, 
 and whimsical — so that, his fretful in- 
 quietudes, invading her natural com- 
 placencies 5 and her high blood spurning 
 at opposicl« '11, gentle bickerings are wont 
 to break forth between this noble pair. 
 
 And ^o powerfully resolute is my Lady 
 in not yielding one inch of her autho- 
 rity, that when she cannot break the 
 force of his argument, she, forcibly, 
 breaks the head of the argumentor, and 
 thereby gains a complete victory. And 
 while his Lordship's sublime pursuits are
 
 165 
 
 divided between the stable, and the park; 
 my Lady — when not airing in the car- 
 riage, by way of proving, to the world, 
 how happily they live together — has al- 
 ways contrived little innocent amusements 
 at home, to console her delicate feelings, 
 and expel the blue devils from her 
 sentimental boudoir. / 
 
 See — what ease — what grace — what 
 elegance — in the carriage of that female 
 figure riding yon iron grey ! How 
 sweetly she smiles upon the Adonis who 
 accompanies her ! but the family is re- 
 markable for their attractions — ^the
 
 166 
 
 mother almost disputing the palm of 
 beauty with her daughters — the 
 daughters, certainly, the lovely rivals of 
 each other. 
 
 The fair equestrian is married, and 
 her husband in the K — B . 
 
 What charming sensibility ! 
 
 I observe another lady on horseback, 
 just entering the Park — Oh ! — 'tis my 
 Lady Melbrow — the sylph companion 
 of an old flannelled Peer : unhappily, 
 bondaged companion — ^for with her
 
 167 
 
 spirit she would break less galling fetters 
 than the matrimonial chain. 
 
 Her father — a noble Lord — sold her, 
 when very young, to the slippered 
 Pantaloon whose name she bears ; but 
 though he sold her person, he could 
 not make over her inclinations in the 
 deed 5 those she had, already, given to 
 an officer in the guards. 
 
 With a bewitching archness, and vo- 
 luptuous smile, her light airy form was 
 irresistibly impressive: and although 
 education, I believe, might have attem-
 
 168 
 
 pered the almost wanton expression of 
 her charms, a French governante, who 
 had been taught moraUty behind the 
 scenes of the Itahan Opera, encouraged, 
 rather than repressed, its too exuberant 
 growth. 
 
 When, therefore, the petite brunette 
 flew to the chamber of her governess, 
 and related, all in tears, the commands 
 she had received from her cruel father 
 to marry the nasty, gouty, good for 
 nothing, old E — 1 : Madame, most phi- 
 losophically taking a pinch of snuff, re- 
 plied.
 
 169 
 
 " Eh bien, ma mie — and what of 
 that ?" 
 
 " What of that" — re-echoed the in- 
 dignant Iphigenia. 
 
 " Que tu es foUe, ma charmante"— 
 replied the considerate Duenna, patting 
 her pupil's neck — " look round the 
 " fashionable world, ma petite — ^what 
 " constitutes all great marriages ? 
 
 " Why, the desire to be great. You 
 " marry my Lord, and you become ex- 
 *' traordinairement riche. You love 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 • ' 170 
 
 " the Capitaine — he will become extra- 
 " ordinairement heureux. — Voila I'af- 
 " faire. — Marriage will give you a li- 
 '^ cense to be happy. The Capitaine 
 " will make you so.'* 
 
 This elegant sophistry won, at once, 
 upon the yielding heart of Iphigenia. — 
 She wiped her eyes, and throwing her 
 arms around her dear instructress, de- 
 clared herself ready to meet the cere- 
 mony. 
 
 Every thing was soon arranged : the 
 happy day arrived, and Iphigenia— clad
 
 I7i 
 
 in all the decorative pomp which for- 
 merly graced the appearance of her 
 namesake at the sacrifice in Aculis — 
 blushed her consent to become the 
 Countess of Melbrow. 
 
 The day was passed in bridal pomp 
 with her Lord — ^but the night was de- 
 voted to love and to the Captain. 
 
 Here the curtain drops — and we re- 
 sume our narrative. 
 
 Edward, an enthusiast in pursuit of 
 12
 
 172 
 
 fashion, took his daily lesson in all the 
 polite arts. 
 
 He became a subscriber to the Berke- 
 ley hounds — entered himself a member 
 of the Newmarket meeting — rode his 
 own horse " Dennis Brulgruddery^* at 
 Bibury — became one of the Swaffham 
 Coursing Society — and was balloted in 
 at the Bedfont Driving Club. 
 
 But with all his desire to be the 
 thing, the thing is not so easily ac- 
 quired j and nothing could be more
 
 173 
 
 mortifying to his pride, than the ex- 
 clamation of a Hackney Coachman, who, 
 coolly taking off our hero's near wheel 
 in a croud on Ludgate Hill, exclaimed 
 with a sarcastic grin, 
 
 *' By Jasus, your honor, you may 
 " look like a Jarvey ; but you drive like 
 " a JontlemanJ' 
 
 Meanwhile, the loves of Edward and 
 Maria were not forgotten. 
 
 Mr. Grunter was engaged at a dis-
 
 174 
 
 tant county election* — Mrs. Grunter, 
 Joo much wrapped up in the contempla- 
 
 * At a certain county election, -where party 
 spirit was the order of the day — a team of oxen, 
 belonging to one of the candidates, happened to 
 pass, in a waggon, under the park wall of an- 
 other candidate, while a powdered lacquey was 
 entertaining his companions at the gate with 
 electioneering jests. 
 
 Tipping the wink, he said, 
 
 " So I suppose, Joey, your team is going to 
 be roasted for your party to day ?^' 
 
 " Yez, master Tummas, and we do be a going 
 << to stew our waggon for yearn pearty."
 
 175 
 
 tion of her own charms and the gallan- 
 try of Edward, to suspect he had another 
 passion — and Miss Grunter was so jea- 
 lously watched by her squinting lover^ 
 and so agreeably flattered by Edward, 
 that she never dreamt of a rival in her 
 sister. 
 
 Thus was the field left open for the 
 young adventurers ; who, rather than 
 await the dull formalities of asking 
 leave, especially, as that leave was very 
 dubious, procured themselves to be 
 
 thrice asked at Church, without 
 
 discovery : and on the much wished for
 
 176 
 
 morning, Edward in the paraphernalia 
 of a livery servant, ai(il' the bride 
 modestly attired as my Lady's maid, 
 united their fates. 
 
 Four posters awaited at the door, in 
 their barouche; and, without any wit- 
 ness to their happiness, they set off to 
 their country seat, where a tasteful cot- 
 tage had been hastily finished ; and in 
 each other's arms forgot, awhile, that 
 there was a habitable world beyond 
 their honey-suckle hedge. 
 
 END OF VOL, I. 
 SHURT, PRINTER, BERWICK-STREET; SOHQv