Читать книгу The English Spy: An Original Work Characteristic, Satirical, And Humorous - C. M. Westmacott - Страница 14

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At the head of the large table on the right hand you will perceive the Honourable Lilyman Lionise, the second son of a nobleman, whose ancient patrimony has been nearly dissipated between his evening parties at the club-houses, in French hazard, or Rouge et noir, and his morning speculations with his betting book at Tattersall's, Newmarket, or the Fives-court; whose industry in getting into debt is only exceeded by his indifference about getting out; whose acquired property (during his minority) and personals have long since been knocked down by the hammer of the auctioneer, under direction of the sheriff, to pay off some gambling bond in preference to his honest creditor; yet who still flourishes a fashionable gem of the first water, and condescends to lend the lustre of his name, when he has nothing else to lend, that he may secure the advantage of a real loan in return. His patrimonial acres and heirlooms remain indeed untouched, because the court of chancery have deemed it necessary to appoint a receiver to secure their faithful transmission to the next heir.

The son has imbibed a smattering of all the bad qualities of his sire, without possessing one ray of the brilliant qualifications for which he is distinguished. Proud without property, and sarcastic without being witty, ill temper he mistakes for superior carriage, and haughtiness for dignity: his study is his toilet, and his mind, like his face, is a vacuity neither sensible, intelligent, nor agreeable. He has few associates, for few will accept him for a companion. With his superiors in rank, his precedent honorary distinction yields him no consideration; with his equals, it places him upon too familiar a footing; while with his inferiors, it renders him tyrannical and unbearable. His mornings, between school hours, are spent in frequent change of dress, and his afternoons in a lounge à la Bond-street, annoying the modest females and tradesmen's daughters of Eton; his evenings (after absence{1} is called) at home, in solitary dissipation over his box of liqueurs, or in making others uncomfortable by his rudeness and overbearing dictation. He is disliked by the dame, detested by the servants, and shunned by his schoolfellows, and yet he is our captain, a Sextile, a Roue, and above all, an honourable.

Tom Echo. A little to the left of the Exquisite, you may perceive Tom's merry countenance shedding good-humour around him. He is the only one who can

1 Absence is called several times in the course of the day, to prevent the boys straying away to any great distance from the college, and at night to secure them in quarters at the dames' houses: if a boy neglects to answer to his name, or is too late for the call, inquiry is immediately made at his dame's, and a very satisfactory apology must be offered to prevent punishment.

manage the Sextile with effect: Tom is always ready with a tart reply to his sarcasm, or a cut at his consequence. Tom is the eldest son of one of the most respectable whig families in the kingdom, whose ancestors have frequently refused a peerage, from an inherent democratical but constitutional jealousy of the crown. Independence and Tom were nursery friends, and his generous, noble-hearted conduct renders him an universal favorite with the school. Then, after holidays, Tom always returns with such a rich collection of fox-hunting stories and sporting anecdotes, and gives sock{2} so graciously, that he is the very life of dame———'s party. There is to be sure one drawback to Tom's good qualities, but it is the natural attendant upon a high flow of animal spirits: if any mischief is on foot, Tom is certain to be concerned, and ten to one but he is the chief contriver: to be seen in his company, either a short time previous to, or quickly afterwards, although perfectly innocent, is sure to create a suspicion of guilt with the masters, which not unusually involves his companions in trouble, and sometimes in unmerited punishment. Tom's philosophy is to live well, study little, drink hard, and laugh immoderately. He is not deficient in sense, but he wants application and excitement: he has been taught from infancy to feel himself perfectly independent of the world, and at home every where: nature has implanted in his bosom the characteristic benevolence of his ancestry, and he stands among us a being whom every one loves and admires, without any very distinguishing trait of learning, wit, or superior qualification, to command the respect he excites. If any one tells a good story or makes a laughable pun, Tom retails it for a week, and all the school have the advantage of hearing and enjoying it. Any proposition for a boat party, cricketing, or a toodle into Windsor, or along the banks of the Thames

2 Good cheer; any nicety, as pastry, &c.

on a sporting excursion, is sure to meet a willing response from him. He is second to none in a charitable subscription for a poor Cad, or the widow of a drowned Bargee; his heart ever reverberates the echo of pleasure, and his tongue only falters to the echo of deceit.

Horace Eglantine is placed just opposite to Lily man Lionise, a calm-looking head, with blue eyes and brown hair, which flows in ringlets of curls over his shoulders. Horace is the son of a city banker, by the second daughter of an English earl, a young gentleman of considerable expectations, and very amusing qualifications. Horace is a strange composition of all the good-natured whimsicalities of human nature, happily blended together without any very conspicuous counteracting foible. Facetious, lively, and poetical, the cream of every thing that is agreeable, society cannot be dull if Horace lends his presence. His imitations of Anacreon, and the soft bard of Erin, have on many occasions puzzled the cognoscenti of Eton. Like Moore too, he both composes and performs his own songs. The following little specimen of his powers will record one of those pleasant impositions with which he sometimes enlivens a winter's evening:

TO ELIZA.

Oh think not the smile and the glow of delight,

With youth's rosy hue, shall for ever be seen:

Frosty age will o'ercloud, with his mantle of night,

The brightest and fairest of nature's gay scene.

Or think while you trip, like some aerial sprite,

To pleasure's soft notes on the dew-spangled mead,

That the rose of thy cheek, or thine eyes' starry light,

Shall sink into earth, and thy spirit be freed.

Then round the gay circle we'll frolic awhile,

And the light of young love shall the fleet hour bless

While the pure rays of friendship our eve-tide beguile,

Above fortune's frowns and the chills of distress

The most provoking punster and poet that ever turned the serious and sentimental into broad humour. Every quaint remark affords a pun or an epigram, and every serious sentence gives birth to some merry couplet. Such is the facility with which he strings together puns and rhyme, that in the course of half an hour he has been known to wager, and win it—that he made a couplet and a pun on every one present, to the number of fifty. Nothing annoys the exquisite Sextile so much as this tormenting talent of Horace; he is always shirking him, and yet continually falling in his way. For some time, while Horace was in the fourth form, these little jeu-d'esprits were circulated privately, and smuggled up in half suppressed laughs; but being now high on the fifth, Horace is no longer in fear of fagging, and therefore gives free license to his tongue in many a witty jest, which "sets the table in a roar."

Dick Gradus. In a snug corner, at a side table, observe that shrewd-looking little fellow poring over his book; his features seem represented by acute angles, and his head, which appears too heavy for his body, represents all the thoughtfulness of age, like an ancient fragment of Phidias or Praxiteles placed upon new shoulders by some modern bust carver. Dick is the son of an eminent solicitor in a borough town, who has raised himself into wealth and consequence by a strict attention to the principles of interest: sharp practice, heavy mortgages, loans on annuity, and post obits, have strengthened his list of possessions till his influence is extended over half the county. The proprietor of the borough, a good humoured sporting extravagant, has been compelled to yield his influence in St. Stephen's to old Gradus, that he may preserve his character at Newmarket, and continue his pack and fox-hunting festivities at home. The representation of the place is now disposed of to the best bidder, but the ambition of the father has long since determined upon sending his son (when of age) into parliament—a promising candidate for the "loaves and fishes." Richard Gradus, M.P.—you may almost perceive the senatorial honor stamped upon the brow of the young aspirant; he has been early initiated into the value of time and money; his lessons of thrift have been practically illustrated by watching the operations of the law in his father's office; his application to learning is not the result of an innate love of literature, or the ambition of excelling his compeers, but a cold, stiff, and formal desire to collect together materials for the storehouse of his memory, that will enable him to pursue his interested views and future operations on society with every prospect of success. Genius has no participation in his studies: his knowledge of Greek and Latin is grammatical and pedantic; he reads Livy, Tacitus, Sallust, Cæsar, Xenophon, Thucydides, in their original language; boasts of his learning with a haughty mien and scornful look of self-importance, and thinks this school-boy exercise of memory, this mechanism of the mind, is to determine the line between genius and stupidity; and has never taken into consideration that the mere linguist, destitute of native powers, with his absurd parade of scholastic knowledge, is a solitary barren plant, when opposed to the higher occupations of the mind, to the flights of fancy, the daring combinations of genius, and the sublime pictures of imagination. Dick is an isolated being, a book-worm, who never embarks in any party of pleasure, from the fear of expense; he has no talents for general conversation, while his ridiculous affectation of learning subjects him to a constant and annoying fire from the batteries of Etonian wit. Still, however, Dick perseveres in his course, till his blanched cheeks and cadaverous aspect, from close study and want of proper exercise, proclaim the loss of health, and the probable establishment of some pulmonary affection that may, before he scarcely reaches maturity, blight the ambitious hopes of his father, and consign the son "to that bourne from whence no traveller returns."

Horatio Heartly. At the lower end of the room, observe a serene-looking head displaying all the quiet character of a youthful portrait by the divine Raphael, joined to the inspiring sensibility which flashes from the almost breathing countenance and penetrating brilliancy of eye, that distinguishes a Guido. That is my bosom friend, my more than brother, my mentor and my guide. Horatio is an orphan, the son of a general officer, whose crimsoned stream of life was dried up by an eastern sun, while he was yet a lisping infant. His mother, lovely, young, and rich in conjugal attachment, fell a blighted corse in early widowhood, and left Horatio, an unprotected bud of virtuous love, to the fostering care of Lady Mary Oldstyle, a widowed sister of the general's, not less rich in worldly wealth than in true benevolence of heart, and the celestial glow of pure affection. Heartly is a happy combination of all the good-humoured particles of human nature blended together, with sense, feeling, and judgment. Learned without affectation, and liberal without being profuse, he has found out the secret of attaching all the school to himself, without exciting any sensation of envy, or supplanting prior friendships. Horatio is among the alumni of Eton the king of good fellows: there is not a boy in the school, colleger, or oppidan, but what would fight a long hour to defend him from insult; no—nor a sparkling eye among the enchanting daughters of old Etona that does not twinkle with pleasure at the elegant congée, and amiable attentions, which he always pays at the shrine of female accomplishment. Generous to a fault, his purse—which the bounty of his aunt keeps well supplied—is a public bank, pro bono publico. His parties to sock are always distinguished by an excellent selection, good taste, and superior style. In all the varied school sports and pastimes, his manly form and vigorous constitution gain him a superior station among his compeers, which his cheerful disposition enables him to turn to general advantage. Nor is he in less estimation with the masters, who are loud in their praises of his assiduity and proficiency in school pursuits. Horatio is not exactly a genius: there is nothing of that wild eccentricity of thought and action which betokens the vivid flights of imagination, or the meteoric brightness of inspiration; his actions are distinguished by coolness, intrepidity, and good sense. He does not pretend to second sight, or a knowledge of futurity; but on the present and the past there are few who can reason with more cogency of remark, or with more classic elegance of diction: with such a concentration of qualities, it is not wonderful that his influence extends through every gradation of the juvenile band. His particular attachments are not numerous; but those who have experienced the sincerity of his private friendship must always remain his debtor—from deficiency of expression; among the most obliged of whom is—the author.

Bob Transit. Bob has no fixed situation; therefore it would be in vain to attempt to say where he may be found: sometimes he is placed next to Bernard, and between him and Heartly, with whom he generally associates; at other times he takes his situation at the side table, or fills up a spare corner opposite to Dick Gradus, or the exquisite, either of whom he annoys, during dinner, by sketching their portraits in caricature upon the cover of his Latin Grammar, with their mouths crammed full of victuals, or in the act of swallowing hot pudding: nor does the dame sometimes escape him; the whole table have frequently been convulsed with laughter at Bob's comic representation of Miss————'s devout phiz, as exhibited during the preparatory ceremony of a dinner grace: the soul of whim, and source of fun and frolic, Bob is no mean auxiliary to a merry party, or the exhilarating pleasure of a broad grin. Bob's admiral is an R.A. of very high repute; who, having surmounted all the difficulties of obscure origin and limited education, by the brilliancy of his talents, has determined to give his son the advantage of early instruction and liberal information, as a prelude to his advancement in the arts. Talent is not often hereditary (or at least in succession); but the facility of Transit's pencil is astonishing: with the rapidity of a Fuseli he sketches the human figure in all its various attitudes, and produces in his hasty drawings so much force of effect and truth of character, that the subject can never be mistaken. His humour is irresistible, and is strongly characterized by all the eccentricity and wit of a Gilhay, turning the most trifling incidents into laughable burlesque. Between him and Horace Eglantine there exists a sort of copartnership in the sister arts of poetry and painting: Horace rhymes, and Bob illustrates; and very few in the school of any note have at one time or other escaped this combination of epigram and caricature. Bob has an eye to real life, and is formed for all the bustle of the varied scene. Facetious, witty, and quaint, with all the singularity of genius in his composition, these juvenile jeux d'esprits of his pencil may be regarded as the rays of promise, which streak with golden tints the blushing horizon of the morn of youth.

As Bob is not over studious, or attached to the Latin and Greek languages, he generally manages to get any difficult lesson construed by an agreement with some more learned and assiduous associate; the quid pro quo on these occasions being always punctually paid on his part by a humorous sketch of the head master calling first absence, taken from a snug, oblique view in the school-yard, or a burlesque on some of the fellows or inhabitants of Eton. In this way Bob contrives to pass school muster, although these specimens of talent have, on more than one occasion, brought him to the block. It must however be admitted, that in all these flights of fancy his pencil is never disgraced by any malignancy of motive, or the slightest exhibition of personal spleen. Good humour is his motto; pleasure his pursuit: and if he should not prove a Porson or an Elmsley, he gives every promise of being equally eminent with a Bunbury, Gillray, or a Rowlandson.

Varied groups are disposed around the room, and make up the back ground of my picture. Many of these are yet too young to particularize, and others have nothing sufficiently characteristic to deserve it; some who have not yet committed their first fault, and many who are continually in error; others who pursue the straight beaten track to scholastic knowledge, and trudge on like learned dromedaries. Two or three there are who follow in no sphere-eccentric stars, shooting from space to space; some few mischievous wags, who delight in a good joke, and will run the risk of punishment at any time to enjoy it; with here and there a little twinkling gem, like twilight planets, just emerging from the misty veil of nature.

These form my dame's dinner party. Reader, do not judge them harshly from this hasty sketch: take into your consideration their youth and inexperience; and if they do not improve upon acquaintance, and increase in estimation with their years, the fault must in justice rather be attributed to the author than to any deficiency in their respective merits.