Imágenes de páginas

Sylvia. This is a goodly prospect. What a noble range of buildings on the rising ground!

Damon. Soon will we visit those. Here is Lord Spencer's house, Lord Arden's, Burdett's, and Sam Rogers’s, the fronts of which I showed you yesterday; that is Lord Suffield's, that Lord Bathurst's, and that the nautical Lord Yarborough's--amphibious Baron. Here grow the Holyoaks; and this is Lady Salisbury's, whose hospitable roof gives shelter to the world of fashion once or twice a week throughout the season. That is Lord Sefton's, whose cookery and carriages astound the world; his son, Lord Molyneux, marries next month Miss Hopwood, niece of the late Lord Torrington.

Sylvia. The next looks handsomely. * Damon. That is Lord Camden's, Sylvia; he who has given his country, from his private purse, more than two hundred thousand pounds, due to his Lordship as a teller. - Sylvia. What is a teller ? tell me pray.

Damon. Why not a teller; tallier is the word, so named because he keeps the tallies, which in the olden time were long white sticks, cut into notches. This is Lord Belfast's, the King's Vice-Chamberlain.

Sylvia. Does he keep tallies ?

Damon. No-he has indeed a long white stick to bear before his Majesty, but that is a stick his Lordship does not mean to cut.

Sylvia. Here is a lovely sheet of water. Damon. Sheet, my Sylvia ?—'tis the basin-a favourite resort of nursery-maids, who hither bring the smoke-dried children of the narrow streets to sweeten them. These rails have lately been erected'; for, while those careful guardians of the infant race were flirting with young lawyers' clerks, tailors' apprentices, or lofty grenadiers, (each to her taste,) scores of the gentle babies fell into the water.

Sylvia. Distressing thought! Whose house is that, with balls upon the walls?

Damon. It is his Grace the Duke of Devonshire's. The balls without are but the types of those within. His Grace's parties are the best in London; but pleasure oftentimes brings punishment: in practising a step, his Grace disordered much his knee, so that not e'en the staff he holds could bear him up, nor the blue garter which he wears support the joints. He is abroad bathing in brimstone, but 'tis hoped he soon will make St. James's glitter with his gaieties.

Sylvia. And that bow-window ?

Damon. Is another Duke's--St. Alban's-Hereditary Falconer to the King—married to Mrs. Coutts, the banker's widow, erst Miss Mellon, of whom it may be said she plays her part in real life as well as those which she enacted on the mimic stage. Next is my Lady Guildford's, Mr. Coutts's daughter, sister to Lady Burdett.

Sylvia. That yellow house beyond ?

Damon. Is Alexander Baring's; the wags of London call it the loan house, and yet 'tis gay enough within. That at the corner, just beyond, is Francis Const's, the able, upright magistrate, who has for many years presided at the sessions. Here is the Duke of Grafton's.

Sylvia. This street abounds in dukes. Damon. Sprung from the same illustrious ancestry with him of whom I last was speaking-Beauclerks and Fitzroys, like the Lennoxes, are of King Charles's breed.

[ocr errors]

Sylvia. So is the little dog you bought for me on Thursday.

Damon. Sweet Sylvia, so he is. Here lives a duke descended truly from a king--the Duke of Cambridge, viceroy he of Hanover, where he resides great portion of the year, See, Keat and Jones are ringing at the bell. His Royal Highness, I should think, must be expected. Next dwells a lady with a name it takes much trouble to pronounce..

Sylvia. What is this quite deserted mansion ?

Damon. Some thirty years ago, or more, it was begun by Barry, Earl of Barrymore: it was not then completed. Escudier next assailed itmade a hotel--finished the building, and eventually himself. Within its walls dwelt Alexander, Emperor of all the Russias, in those days when England's fame and glory touched their highest point, and foreign monarchs flocked around the throne of George the Fourth, to do our king and country honour. It then became Lord Hertford's, who well nigh rebuilt it, but soon quitted it; and next a Club possessed it. That Club broke down, and then broke up: the speculation failed, and its conductors vanished. Since then it has remained untenanted, Sylvia. And see what lovely flowers in


window ! Damon. That is Lord Coventry's; there he sits, conning the world and making observations;—he is a shrewd and clever peer. Nay, do not look too long: those rural roses blooming on your cheeks already catch his eye. He reads, or seems to read; but 'tis in nature's book, and not the one he holds.—This is the Baron Rothschild's.

Sylvia. The Jew of whom I heard my father speak?

Damon. A jeu d'esprit, if any. It is not now thought right to make distinctions in religion ; nature, unerring nature, has done much for him and his. We will no more of this. Leave him a loan, and let's pass on to Fuller's handsome shop, where “pomp takes physic” to its spe

Sylvia. These houses are but small.
Damon. “The cabins are convenient.”
Sylvia. Who lives in them?

Damon. Tupman and Saville, Dolphin and De Roos, Halford and Gunston, Sandilands and Dr. Thompson.

Sylvia. This is a goodly building.

Damon. 'Tis the Duke of Gloucester's, a prince of gracious kindness, -married to his royal cousin Princess Mary, in whom such grace and dignity unite with elegance, and ease, and unaffected affability, as fill all those who may approach her with gratitude, affection, and respect. Beyond lives Primrose, Earl of Roseberry.

Sylvia. Oh! what a pretty name.

Damon. What's in a name, my Sylvia ? “A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” There lives Lord Eldon, who for years adorned the judgment seat of Chancery, and did great service in the councils of his King. Beyond, the Lord Great Chamberlain resides, and further Lady Poulett, who, in other days, was called Smith Burgess; further you see Sir Edmund Antrobus, Cockerell, Sir Charles, and Admiral Tollemache.

Sylvia. And this, the last of all

Damon. This ?—this is the casket that contains the brightest gem our nation boasts,—the unconquered hero of a hundred fights,-our Wellington: he who in council can suggest, and in the field can execute his own conceptions.

cial care.

Sylvia. Is this, indeed, the Duke of Wellington's? I venerate his name. Whát tasteful blinds those are to shade his windows from the sultry sun!

Damon. No, Sylvia, no; for no such purpose are they there. The Duke can face, with eagle firmness, all the blaze of sun as he can bear the brunt of battle-fire,—but not the dastardly assassin's missile, nor the coward reptile's hidden blow;---to shield the property, perhaps the person of the idol of his country, against whom the dirty hands of those whose freedom he has saved were lifted, were these defences raised. I cannot speak of this with patience. Come, my Sylvia, come: here is the carriage waiting as we ordered.

Sylvia. You have told me much, but nothing yet which seems so strange as this.

Again did the fair-haired Sylvia enter the pink-lined vis-à-vis. Again did Damon follow, and such delights had Kensington the day before afforded, that the happy pair retraced their steps, and sought its shady bowers, enlivened by the strains of music breathed to the ambient breezes by the band of the Blues.


Deaths and Marriages-- The “ Play-Houses"-Affairs Abroad— The “Wooden

Walls "The Trades" Procession—The recent “ Cracks "-Promise of Performance "_The Fowl” Murder - Music without Harmony—The Artists-Ireland and Repeal-The Queen's Departure-The Literary Fund-4 Martyr.

DEATHS AND MARRIAGES.—The present season has been remarkable for the number of deaths of persons bequeathing vast properties; the stamp-duties upon which will have a considerable effect in swelling the receipts of revenue during the quarter. Lord Breadalbane has left a sum of nearly 500,0001. we are told, to his daughter, Lady Chandos, and his other daughter, Lady Elizabeth Pringle, all his unentailed estates; and to his son, the present Marquis, a rental of upwards of 70,0001. a year. Mr. Samuel Smith, a brother of Lord Carrington, left behind him nearly 2,000,0001. sterling. Mr. Alexander Adair has left his nephew, Sir something Roe, the Bow-street Magistrate, and two Mr. Barings (strangers), equal shares of his fortune, amounting to upwards of 150,0001. a piece. Mr. Mellish, the contractor, has left his daughters equal fortunes, and Lord Glengall, as residuary legatee, comes into something quite prodigious in amount. Mr. Bridge, a partner of Mr. Rundell's, has also left a vast sum behind him. The Duke of Sutherland, an enormous mass of property ;-in fact, we cannot at the moment recal the names of all those who have “shuffled off this mortal coil,” to the manifest advantage of the public revenue.

The Marchioness of Hertford is to be numbered in this melancholy list; but we believe all her Ladyship's bequests are to her personal relations.

On the other hand, we have had some spirited marriages. Sir Charles Ogle has married for the third time, and taken to wife Lady Thorold, who has taken to Sir Charles Ogle, her third husband. Colonel Westenra, a son of Lord Rossmore’s, has married Lady East, a lady of very extensive fortune—we have heard of the riches of the East before—but, in this case, the lady herself is the real treasure. Dr. Holland has united himself to Miss Saba Smyth, daughter of the Reverend Sidney, and has written, or caused to be written, snappish paragraph in the newspapers, deteriorating from the claims of the aristocracy, in revenge for a mistake of some penny-a-line reporter, which we think beneath him-it sounds vain, and is, at all events, pre-eminently ridiculous. Miss Fanshaw is dead; and Lady Davy, the fascinating, is going abroad for

two years.

The Duke of Devonshire is on his way home- so is Lord HertfordLord Mulgrave and his family have arrived, per Rhadamanthus steamer. We never could discover why Lord Mulgrave was recalled from his government; he certainly anticipated the Government at home, by his declaration of coming emancipation; but as they completely justified all his predictions, we cannot comprehend why he should have been removed.

Lord Nugent is also on the return—the tale of the White Horse has injured him in the main. Sir Dudley Hill, disappointed of Sir Thomas Clarges's fortune, left to Colonel Hare, just come home from Portugal, is appointed Governor of St. Lucie, which government had been offered to Colonel Leith Hay, in lieu of a seat at the Treasury Board, which, in a fit of rashness, Government had tendered to him, before they had heard him speak.

Sir Richard Keats has died; and before he was buried, Sir Thomas Hardy was gazetted into his office of Governor of Greenwich Hospital. Admiral Parker, who has commanded the neutral squadron in the Tagus, succeeds Sir Thomas Hardy at the Admiralty. Old Lord De Saumarez has got into a sad scrape at Court for not attending Sir Richard Keats's public funeral. His Lordship pleaded that he could not have been at the funeral, because, at the same hour, he was obliged to attend at the Trinity House, to be sworn in a brother. This is good—but not good enough ; for Sir James Graham, who was sworn in at the Trinity House nearly an hour before the venerable Guernsey Lord arrived, had been at the funeral.

Honest John Woolmore, the Deputy Master of the said Trinity House, and an old acquaintance of the King, has received the Guelphic Order, and is now Sir John. Lord Errol has got the Thistle; and Lords Leitrim and Donoughmore, the two ribands of St. Patrick. There are two Grand Crosses of the Bath vacant by the death of Sir Richard Keats and Sir Edward Thornborough, so that patronage, in the millinery line, has recently flowed in most copiously upon his Majesty's Ministers.

THE “ Play-Houses.”—Pretty fun here! Lotteries and masquerades on the stage of Covent-garden. We really must give them up. We have always fought manfully for the privileges of the patentees; but upon what ground-except, indeed, that the concerns are on the verge of ruin-can such displays be defended in places maintained by monopoly for the support of the legitimate drama? It really is too bad.

Abbot and Egerton have been (we suppose by competition) forced to reduce their prices at the Victoria. If this is to do them good, we care nothing for it: they are most deserving actors, and ought to be encouraged. A new play-house, called the Royal Kent, has been opened in Kensington, which we are told is particularly successful. The English Opera House is to be roofed in, they say, next week; the rapidity with which this building has risen from its foundation is quite remarkable. We have no doubt that Mr. Beazley will give another proof of his skill in the construction of this theatre, and when he has finished it, add to the obligations he will have conferred upon the public and the proprietor, by writing a drama which shall fill it, and try its stability to the utmost. The last time we visited the old house there was an overflow;—but, alas ! only from the engines pumping on the smoking embers. Arnold should call the new house The Phænix.

AFFAIRS ABROAD.—What we said last month about Portuguese affairs was pretty correct, in spite of all that had been said, and despatched, and published previous to our last publication, and for a month since. Affairs are, in fact, just as they were then, and have been for some time. The army of Don Miguel is at Santarem, strong and effective, but yet inactive. Don Pedro is at Lisbon, a constant attendant at the opera with his royal daughter. Lord Howard de Walden has succeeded Lord W. Russell; but by a precipitate movement yet unexplained, by which his Lordship meant to make very short of it, he has got himself into a sort of dilemma from which it is said he is to be rescued by a recall.

We do not pretend to know any of the facts, but it is represented to us that his extra official negotiations with Don Miguel to induce him to give up his claim to the throne have been carried on in a more abrupt and direct manner than is usual according to the established rules of diplomacy, and that we are not likely to be much further enlightened in any official way as to what really did occur; as that is the case, it would be extremely unfair to guess away his Lordship's diplomatic character, and we, poor humble folks as we are, shall wait patiently to see whether the oblivious system is to be adopted, or whether we, in common with the rest of his Majesty's subjects, are to be illuminated upon

the details of the affair. In Spain, there has been a change of ministers, but from all we can learn from the very best sources, the Carlist party is daily gaining strength and influence. Still we do, as we last month advised our readers to do, receive with caution all intelligence from quarters in which those who present it are actuated either by political feeling, or feelings of personal interest in the financial results of political questions.

In Belgium, there has been an agitation. The list of subscribers to purchase the race-horses of the Prince of Orange, advertised for sale by the Belgian government, for the purpose of presenting them to His Royal Highness, was made the ground of disturbance; and the houses of the principal persons in Brussels, whose names were appended to the subscriptions, suffered most severely ;-furniture, pictures, statues, and everything destructible, fell a prey to the mob, who were watched in the proceedings by the police and soldiery, but who were not interfered with or checked in their work of spoliation.

In Paris, a day of barricades and bloodshed occurred on Sunday, the 13th,—exactly one week after the affair at Brussels. Forty thousand men were poured into Paris, and the sovereign-people were driven from

« AnteriorContinuar »