Your tales of Men and manners; facts, home facts,
Have you of these, Sir?
I’m familiar with them.

The design which I imparted to you a month or two since, of unfolding some of our mysteries and feelings, has it seems created some sensation, and has really carried as great a panic into parts of our circle, as was felt among the wives and daughters of Darius, when the famed Alexander was about to penetrate the Persian camp.

The two following extracts from notes received, among several others, will describe the hopes and fears with which it has filled both aged and youthful breasts, which would otherwise have remained in listlessness or repose.

“Lady Frances, sincerely hopes that Sir W. in the prosecution of his task, will not advert to the malicious and malevolent story relating to Lord —’s Opera box. She assures him, that the sentiments of purity and independence which fill her heart would prevent her acceptance of the overtures of a man of forty-five, solely on account of the pleasure derived from his comfortable, and certainly very elegant, box at the Opera.”

“In conclusion, Lady H. P —r is sure, that Sir W—- will throw a veil over the impossibility her ladyship and daughter have hitherto experienced of getting into Almack’s., Could he not give a hint, in his next writing, of the bravery and merits of her late husband, and of her own elegant receptions of the fashionable world. She thinks he might have used his influence with Lady J, y before now, but will not complain.”

The following letter is from F — , a laconic fellow , I hesitated whether I should set it down, because it is complimentary, but one of our order can afford to receive and acknowledge a compliment. It is your “would and would not,” your half-deserving and whole-wishing things that palter about it.

“Dear — You ask me to take up the subject , I can’t write, I never could in my life, I can sometimes think and talk, but to string words together like beads, is not my forte; thinking and talking are very different things from writing. If you wish for my advice , here it is, go on as you have begun , in the same spirit , Don’t indulge in the appetite for scandal which all ranks have in common. Whatever is absurd in manners or systems is a fair object of ridicule; there is no necessity for invading private life. Whose is perfect? a cheerful fellow like yourself needs no such caution, if left to his own dictates, the saturnine and moody are those only who wound in the dark.

“Since you have been at Newmarket, much has been said of your Letter in the London Magazine, , you’ll hear all about it on your arrival. I may as well tell you this, that R— does not like his portrait , you have hit him off to the life, it will do him good, for he is too intrusive. He’s as heavy in the drawing room, as Peel is in the house , He never learnt any thing but French, and the casting up of pounds, shillings, and pence, which accounts for his affectation and stinginess. He was at court the other day, I wish you had seen the difference between the king’s bow and his , “Hyperion’s to a satyr.” But who can vie with grace itself?

” Your’s truly,

F—.”

A few words will quiet all doubts , I love my fair friends, that is, those who are fair, too well wantonly to invade their peace, or by disquieting them to lessen their attractions; but if I meet with a pretender in my path, it will do much good to give her a hint that she is one. I have one or two in my eye,, I hope they will not come in my way, at all events, I will not go out of mine to seek them.

I have not noticed some curious specimens of male vanity, especially one from P, m, all the world knows this part of him,, it is his worst feature, I may perhaps, say something more of him another time.

In my last I endeavoured to display the characteristics of the Roué: but the portrait seems sketchy and requires filling up to make it faithful. , One prominent feature, and a very bright one too, was omitted, besides, some very necessary dashes of light, without which it would not be complete. And although when finished it may be glowing, yet believe me it will be true to nature and in perfect keeping, like that chef d’œuvre of Corregio in the Mareschalchi gallery at Bologna, which in its great brightness, is shewn with the shutters nearly closed.

The feature to which I allude, is his exquisite perception of the Beautiful, and his invariable and unalterable sympathy with it:, it pervades his thoughts, words, and actions, faithful as the magnet to the centre, whatever he says or does, is influenced by it. No specious semblance, or tricked-out imitation can allure him, or dull for a moment that perspicacity of vision, which is as unerring as truth. He is in practice, what your Greeks of old were in theory, the true epicure in taste, whether it be in sound, sense or substance. Take the term in its most expressive and comprehensive meaning, he is susceptible of it all, and capable of all the enjoyments it can afford. Place before the true Roué the beauty of the “human form divine,” in all its movements, under all its influences, agitated by passions or quiescent in repose, he scans it with the infallible eye of taste,, distils and imbibes the richest parts, and makes his own banquet;, or exhibit to him wisdom, the beauty of the mind, it is not above his ken:, -however the treasure may be encrusted and encumbered by worldly dross, he can extract the ore, and estimate its value. In the arts or in arms, the same sound taste (call it judgment if you will) prevails. In painting, he prefers Guido, that master of passion and of interest, to Carlo Dolce, whose chief merit is colouring, which addresses itself to the eye only. The elevated, but pure and simple style of Leonardo da Vinci, he estimates above the factitious of West, or the comparatively tame of Haydon.* In sculpture, the natural grace of the Grecian to the artificial of the Roman; in architecture, Palladio to Bernini, or even Michael Angelo, and Soane. In arms, Bayard, that “Preux Chevalier, sans peur et sans reproche,” to Wellington or Bonaparte. As the Roué is never the victim of unbridled passions, so he is never cold or morbid. His temperament, mental and bodily, is sufficiently glowing to brighten his perceptions and feelings, and to give a sunny and cheerful tone to all his views or objects. I must here guard you against the erroneous impression, that the Roué of the present day is a copy of the Roué of the latter time of Louis XV. or of the whole time of Louis XVI. In the commencement of the reign of the first of these monarchs the Roué first appeared, he was then somewhat like his namesake of the present day, excursive in his pleasures , sensual, but it was the sensuality of refinement:, with the propagation, however, of that demoralizing philosophy which pervaded society during the period of the last ill-fated monarch, came also a corresponding immorality in taste. The intellectually or tastefully sensual was deformed into bodily sensual; and the Roué realized the Pythagorean philosophy of transmigration, “the souls of men transfused themselves into the trunks of beasts.” The Roué became known only by his attenuated and debauched frame or his sickly and depraved appetite, lust was his idol, and woman his victim, and his career was unchanged, so long as he could sacrifice at the same shrine, ’till, at length, destitute of power, though not of passion, he ended by polluting the sacred altar of Hymen, in offering up a last victim, bound in the sordid chains of Pluto.**

He could not say with Lord Byron’s Doge,

‘Twas not a foolish dotard’s vile caprice.
Nor the false edge of aged appetite,
Which made me covetous of girlish beauty
And a young bride; nor was this my age
Infected with that leprosy of lust
Which taints the hoariest years of vicious men,
Making them ransack to the very last
The dregs of pleasure for their vanish’d joys;
Or hug in selfish marriage some young victim,
Too helpless to refuse a state that’s honest,
Too feeling not to know herself a wretch.

Such is not our Roué, we revert to his best days, and perhaps need not shrink from a comparison.

But, quitting this digression, let me resume my favorite subject of the Beautiful; and here I may as well premise that, with reference to it, I have just now in my mind’s eye two or three peculiar specimens, and that, while their influence is bright and vivid, I may as well display them to you., In doing so I shall be rovingly and argumentatively discursive. You will yawn, perhaps, at this declaration, and you do, good! But look at the “menus,” as the French have it, my bill of fare.

Bear, Monkey, and Badger-baiting at Mr. Caleb Baldwin’s in Westminster; pugilism; Mr. Webb’s Conversazione; Mr. Mathews’s air, earth, and water excursion; and (if I have room, time, and spirits) Almack’s! Why do you exclaim at such a combination? They are all pictures; and to form a tolerable collection, is it necessary they should all be of one school? or, even chefs d’oeuvre ?, By no means, they may each differ from the other in style, and if they do not reach excellence, they may soar above mediocrity, and have each one leading character, the beautiful. They will form no very incongruous collection, and, as the lady says, in the Critic, “I think, sir, you’ll find that we shall make the parts do very well together.”

I may say with my ancestor, Sir Symonds d’Ewes, who wrote in Elizabeth’s reign,, “These I have proposed to myself to labour in, besides divers other smaller works: like him who shoots at the sun, not in hopes to reach it, but to shoot as high as his strength, art, or skill will permit., If I can finish a little in each kind, it may stir up some able judge to add an end to the whole.”

I know of no writer of the present day, who has given any sketch of the amusements of our class of society, there are many better able, in respect of talent, than myself, but the blank ought at once to be filled up, for time flies.

We know how valuable any the least record of the past manners has become, and imperfect as mine will be, and who knows what may be its fate, what is hidden in the womb of time, why may not imagination trace your Magazine, till we see it sought for by the curious as more rare than a Caxton or Wynkyn de Worde, and fetching at another Roxburg sale, A.D. 2800, more than even the rarest of these black letter valuables, When White’s and Almack’s shall be no more! , “then is doomsday near.”

Pardon also this digression, gentle sir, and now for arrangement, aye, there’s the rub, unless the whole be well placed the effect may be destroyed., It is an axiom that to fix the attention of, it is necessary to begin by pleasing, your company.,

Mr. Mathews does this, and, therefore, I will commence with him., And here I am compelled to have a hit, (this is an antecedent expression, belonging properly to my beauty of pugilism) at that worthless and unimaginative class of beings, the critics of this metropolis. In all the criticisms which I have read, this person has been treated of as an imitator and a mimic, By all that is beautiful in humour and passion! if he is only a mimic, then Shakspeare, Ben Johnson, Beaumont, and Fletcher, Garrick, and Kean, were only mimics. This is no hyperbole;, I do not assert that he possesses all the attributes of any one, or of all these celebrated men,, but this I would enforce, that he has, in common with the triumviri first named (Beaumont and Fletcher are one and indivisible), the power of looking into the human mind, of taking any ruling passion, and with certain or minor ones, of combining and embodying them, of giving them indeed shape and feature; and that with the latter two, he has the capacity of illuminating, and of placing most forcibly before our eyes and understandings these latent, but still living conceptions., “The gayest, happiest attitude of things.”, In a word, he is actor and author, and I am justified in this conclusion by the opinion of one of the greatest living geniuses our age can boast.*** To come to example., Take the character of Major Longbow (I speak now to those who have attended Mr. Mathews’s amusements: to those who have not, I say lose no time.), Well! take this character-it is the most prominent , it is well defined in the outset, takes its natural part in, and arrives at the conclusion of, the performance highly wrought up and in perfect preservation., But, says some one, what passion or leading bias of mind does it exhibit?- Ambition, sir, a petty one, but still ambition, the desire of being lord of the ascendant in every situation and over every body, and to attain he sacrifices all regard to truth and sincerity. Macbeth would have tyrannized over a whole kingdom, and sought to keep his crown with a wanton disregard of human blood., Major Longbow would reign supreme in his little state, by an equal disregard of truth and probability, the one to sustain himself, continually lied to his conscience, the other with the same view lies to every one he meets., All tyrants are the same, great and small (except Richard, who had such a mighty grasp, that he could play with wickedness), They puff themselves into imaginary greatness, and believe the lies they have told,**** until some unfortunate event bursts the bubble, and shows them what they are, “in size and feature like the rest.”, Major Longbow exists under the self delusion, that he is the strongest man of all his acquaintance, and that he has done more, and seen more than all the world besides, and to support which belief, he has recourse to the most ludicrous fictions; his end is a mixture of the mean and the mighty., He gets into the Polly packet, a squall dashes the magnifying mirror from his eyes, his muscle gradually relaxes, he reels to and fro, his frame heaves, he is surprised, amazed , cries courage! courage!, makes a strenuous effort at recovery, but all in vain , and with the pathetic exclamation (and this is one of Mr. Mathews’s master strokes, for it really is pathetic) “Damn it Longbow! done at last!” he sinks. , The comedy of this character is exquisite, so is that of a subordinate one, the Angler, He is one of those inane creatures who dream through life, whose whole occupation is a trifle, and who are susceptible of no one agitating emotion except that of puling pettishness, when they are awakened from their slumber, There are some others in which the beauty of humour and character are equally conspicuous, but I must have done. One word only to Mr. Mathews before we part, In his illustration of the affected man of fashion, I wish he would leave out the allusion of sitting in a private box, and wearing a cravat of white gros de Naples., I was in that situation, and was so attired, both are in real good taste, and are not affected.

I was about to take you with me down to Pye-street, Westminster, but as I have heard that some children keep the tid-bit for the last, so we will, if you please, reserve Caleb’s sports for a bon bouche, and it is a “morceau recherché” I assure you. But as we do not descend at once to the antipodes, we may as well talk a little of pugilism.

It is not my intention to treat of this science, as it regards the moral character of Englishmen,, of its influence upon the habits and dispositions of the nation, &c., all this has been forcibly done by others, and to what has been said, thus far, I partly agree to and partly dissent from, but I have never met with it treated upon in respect of the beauty which it is instrumental in eliciting. As I shall not detain you long upon this theme, we will come to the scratch at once. It is admitted that no animated form is gifted with so much beauty as the human , and that that beauty is more expressive in action than in repose.***** Being so, show me any thing finer than that man, Spring, who has just peeled,

His nerves confirm’d, his languid spirits cheer’d,
He feels each limb with wonted vigour light;
His beating bosom claims the promised fight.

Observe the perfect symmetry of his manly form, the firm and steady grace with which he stands, (both of which, practice of the science has chiefly assisted to effect), but now, after shaking hands, watch his movements, his different postures, (Mr. Banks, who studies posture more than any man in the house, might get a lesson hero) the play of every part of his frame as he now throws himself back to stop, or advances to hit , this is very fine! but when, after, a round or two,, he is warmed, animated, and glowing; when his energies are wound up to their utmost tension, when every fibre, and every muscle, swells with internal force, then does a poetical influence breathe within, around, and about him, then is the epic, the very acmé of the beautiful. But, Sir, this poetic influence is not confined to the man, it irradiates and beams on all around, the dullest rogue that ever drove tandem, or the coarsest that lashed a “donkey drag” along, are filled with thin furor poetica, the homely, every-day sort of prose is no longer heard, or if heard, is disregarded, every thing is metaphorical, figurative, and fanciful. On all sides, we hear of a flush hit, a doubler- a floorer, a saucy slap, a vipe under the lug, the ivories rattling like the loose cogs of a mill wheel,, weaving, and getting his head in chancery; every thing, in fine, changes its form, and we are transported into a land of fancy., The exquisite touches of humour that one hears are not the least of the noticeable beauties. After the fight between Josh Hudson and a valet, when Hudson had beat the gemman (as the milling coves called him) and was being led off, a mad wag called out: “Vy Josh, how can you go for to mill a gemman in that ere sort o’ vay,, vy you facitious (factious) radical, if you don’t take care, you’ll ha’ the Lord Chancellor a’ter you, and he’ll suspend your habus corpus.” These and much more are derivable from occasional visits to such scenes, and I may assert, in concluding this subject, that it is highly beneficial to view and to contemplate them sometimes, for one becomes acquainted with much of the British character; which, but for such excitements, is seldom displayed. I have sometimes thought that the minister would do well to send some of the young statesmen now and then out of their nursery at the Admiralty, and initiate them in such scenes, they would afterwards be better able to legislate for all classes of their fellow subjects., W–r, who was in this political nursery, used to indulge in them, but he was “a wild and wayward boy,” and took to these and other lessons too fondly. Al, n, y too, who inherits some of, though not the legal, talent of his late father, and who is really well-fitted to play a part in public affairs, has gleaned somewhat in this field, but he is content, inertly so, to remain

Le fils inconnu d’un si glorieux pere.

The satisfaction of royal acquaintance, especially when it is concocted of liberality and good nature on the royal part, is not to be disregarded or decried; but ambition, and the desire of serving his country, ought to incite Al, v, ly to aim at a higher reputation than that of a bon-vivant, a maker of bons mots, a jackall in wit and anecdote to those of more elevated station.

I am so inclined to indulge in a desultory and roving style, and my superior breeding, as in the case of my buggy horse, makes me inclined to be so unsteady, that I must put a sharp bit upon myself, and curb myself up to the last link, otherwise I shall expend my strength, and your limits too, perhaps, before I have accomplished the end for which I set dut.

Almack’s, I could show, suggests many curious, and, odd as the declaration may appear, many profound and serious reflections, but I will not now.

For two or three years it flourished, the return of our young heroes, and of our great captain from the Peninsula, gave a freshness and vigour to it in semblance to the laurel which bound their brows, neither the one nor the other has faded, or can fade altogether, but the glow which novelty and deeper excitements then created, threw a spirit about it charming, fluttering, but evanescent, the thrill experienced by the mother, the sister, or the mistress, or even the fair one who never told her love, as they admired, and saw others admire, many an animated form waving in the mazy dance, made the pleasure of it boundless. The subsequent visit of the sovereigns, and, lastly, the introduction of quadrilles, the one following up the other in close succession, kept up a sufficient supply of stimuli for the exhausting demands of mere pleasure, but with the cessation of these importations, the over-indulged palate has comparatively lost its gusto, and to revive it, some extraordinary event must happen. Not that I would recommend, as a savory bit, another Peninsula war, or, what might effect nausea with some, a second visit of the holy Sovereigns of Europe, but still I think it might be worth while to offer a reward for some exotic novelty, and I take great discredit to myself, that before the departure of our enterprizing countrymen on the North Pole expedition, I did not suggest to the ladies patronesses the propriety of adding to the reward offered by government, a bonus for the discovery of an Icelandic or esquimaux dance. An Indian dance is certainly tasteful and picturesque, although somewhat rude, and I am sure an esquimaux set of figures could not be so absurd and spiritless as “the lancers,” which have been attempted to be pushed up to us, by a man whom I understand to be a lawyer. If he succeed no better in a suit at law than he has done in his manoeuvres of “the lancers,” I should fear little to be told of “his action of battery.” His bill would certainly be ignored. But Almack’s is still of superior enjoyment, it is the finest and most elegant assembly (confining the term to its English acceptation) in Europe. I have not been at Vienna or Petersburgh, but I have heard the Countess Lieven, and the Princess Esterhazy declare it to be more finished and entire than those of their respective capitals, and I am sure there is none such at Paris, or in Italy. Berlin, the little courts of Germany, and, lastly, that of the Netherlands, are totally out of the question; nothing can be more heavy or fade. We meet no where so numerously as at these assemblies, and they are a very agreeable two hours amusement. It is purely aristocratic, which, in this instance, is not a fault. There is an usefulness arising out of Almack’s, namely, charity. Several charity balls are given, to which are admitted the second order of fashion, and which being fancy dress ones, have three advantages, they relieve the distressed (an officer’s widow, or some such deserving object), encourage trade, and disguise the want of finish which might here and there be apparent. I mean no disrespect to this class; nothing can be more respectable than the whole of its members, but want of collision with high breeding, or want of tact, sometimes would expose the rust which an assumed character covers. I cannot now dilate further upon the subject, therefore adieu.

Yours,

A Roué.

P. S. I must take a future opportunity of noticing Mr. Webb’s conversazione; it is a national benefit to possess a man of such taste, spirit, and liberality.

* I allude to Leonardo’s “last Supper,”, West’s “Christ rejected,” and Mr. Haydon’s head of Christ in “the Entry into Jerusalem.”, The “Last Supper” is to be found in the ruins of “Santa Maria presso San Celso,” at Milan,, once a convent, afterward transformed by the enlightened French into a stable, and now under the disinterested Austrians let out to a Picture Quack, who sells vile copies to the English amateurs, and calls them originals., This wonderful production is painted in fresco., It has suffered much from time and the musquetry of the French soldiery. The wretches last named, used to amuse themselves by discharging their carbines at it. It is worthy of remark, however, that the head of our Saviour has escaped both ravages, it is quite perfect. I recommend Mr. Haydon, who is doubtless a great painter, but not yet a Leonardo, to go to Milan on purpose to see it. Leonardo da Vinci did not study only the superficies of his art, he was a mathematician, metaphysician, poet and scholar. In a word, he was a great genius.

**The term Roué, signifies racked or broken on the wheel, and was applied to these beings as figurative of the state of the body to which debauchery had reduced them.

*** I happen to know one or two geniuses, and my condition is the less gracious — Your man of genius is pleasant enough to know through his works, but personal aquaintance with him is a terrible drawback from our enthusiasm,, his necromantic power flies with it, they are no longer superior beings, but become one of the multitude “palpable to sight as to touch,” “and this is of them,”, he talks like an angel, but for his carcass and manners.

**** Like Mr. Accum, who earnestly believed that all the community of dealers were rogues except himself.

***** It is more striking in this science certainly.

Quoted from: The London Magazine. 1821