The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 19, No. 548, May 26, 1832

ENNUI OF FASHION

It must be owned that five years form an awful lapse in human life:—a lapse whose hours and minutes leave no where a trace more sharp and injurious than on the minds and countenances of individuals involved in the buzzing, stinging gnatswarms of fashionable life. Elsewhere, existence marches with a more dignified step, and the scenes pictured among the records of our memory assume a grander aspect; they lie in masses,—their shadows are broader,—their lights more brilliantly thrown out. But reminiscences of a life of ton are as vexatious as they are frivolous. The season of 1829 differs from that of 1830, only inasmuch as its quadrilles are varied with galoppes as well as waltzes, and danced at Lady A.'s and Lady B.'s,—instead of the Duchess of D.'s, and Countess E.'s. The Duchess is dead,—the Countess ruined;—but no matter!—there are still plenty of balls to be had. "Another and another still succeeds!" Since young ladies will grow up to be presented, lady-mothers and aunts must continue to project breakfasts, water parties, and galas, whereby to throw them in the way of flirtation, courtship, and marriage. Mischief, in her most smiling mask, sits like the beautiful witch in Thalaba at an everlasting spinning-wheel, weaving a mingled yarn of sin and sorrow for the daughters of Fashion. Although the cauldron of Hecate and her priestesses has vanished from the heath at Forres, it bubbles in nightly incantations among the elm-trees of Grosvenor Square; and Hopper and Hellway, Puckle and Straddling, now croak forth their chorus of rejoicing where golden lamps swing blazing over the écarté tables, and the soft strains of the Mazurka enervate the atmosphere of the gorgeous temples of May Fair. Never yet was there a woman really improved in attraction by mingling with the motley throng of the beau monde. She may learn to dress better, to step more gracefully; her head may assume a more elegant turn, her conversation become more polished, her air more distinguished; —but in point of attraction she acquires nothing. Her simplicity of mind departs;—her generous, confiding impulses of character are lost;—she is no longer inclined to interpret favourably of men and things,—she listens without believing,—sees without admiring; has suffered persecution without learning mercy;—and been taught to mistrust the candour of others by the forfeiture of her own. The freshness of her disposition has vanished with the freshness of her complexion; hard lines are perceptible in her very soul, and crowsfeet contract her very fancy. No longer pure and fair as the statue of alabaster, her beauty, like that of some painted waxen effigy, is tawdry and meretricious. It is not alone the rouge upon the cheek and the false tresses adorning the forehead, which repel the ardour of admiration; it is the artificiality of mind with which such efforts are connected that breaks the spell of beauty.

From the Fair of May Fair.

BAMBOROUGH CASTLE

Is situate on the romantic coast of Northumberland, "over against" an obscure town of the same name. It stands upon a basalt rock, of a triangular shape, high, rugged, and abrupt on the land side; flanked by the German Ocean, and strong natural rampires of sand, matted together with sea rushes on the east; and only accessible to an enemy on the south-east, which is guarded by a deep, dry ditch, and a series of towers in the wall, on each side of the gateway. Nature has mantled the rock with lichens of various rich tints: its beetling brow is 150 feet above the level of the sea, upon a stratum of mouldering rock, apparently scorched with violent heat, and having beneath it a close flinty sandstone. Its crown is girt with walls and towers, which on the land side have been nearly all repaired. The outer gateway stands between two fine old towers, with time-worn heads; twelve paces within it is a second gate, which is machicolated, and has a portcullis; and, within this, on the left hand, on a lofty point of rock, is a very ancient round tower of great strength; commanding a pass subject to every annoyance from the besieged. This fort is believed to be of Saxon origin. The keep stands on the area of the rock, having an open space around it. It is square, and of that kind of building which prevailed from the Conquest till about the time of our second Henry. It had no chimney; but fires had been made in the middle of a large room, which was lighted by a window near its top, three feet square. All the other rooms were lighted by slit or loop holes, six inches broad. The walls are of small stones, from a quarry at Sunderland on the sea, three miles distant: within them is a draw well, discovered in 1770, in clearing the cellar from sand and rubbish; its depth is 145 feet, cut through solid rock, of which seventy-five feet are of whinstone. The remains of a chapel were discovered here, under a prodigious mass of land, in the year 1773; its architecture was pure Saxon, and the ancient font being found, was preserved in the keep. The chapel has been rebuilt on the old foundations.

(Bamborough Castle before the general repairs.)

The founder of the Castle is stated by Matthew of Westminster to have been Ida, King of Northumberland. Sir Walter Scott sings

Thy tower, proud Bamborough, mark'd theyhere,King Ida's castle, huge and square,From its tall rock look grimly down,And on the swelling ocean frown.4

It was destroyed by the Danes in 993; but about the time of the Conquest was in good repair. In 1095, it was in the possession of Robert Mowbray, Earl of Northumberland, when it was besieged, and, after much difficulty, taken by William II. The castle lost the greatest part of its beauty in a siege after the battle of Hexham. Camden tells us "from that time it has suffered by time and winds, which throw up incredible quantities of sand from the sea upon its walls, through the windows which are open." Sir John Forster was governor of it in Elizabeth's reign; and his grandson John obtained a grant of it and the manor from James the First. His descendant, Thomas, forfeited it in 1715; but his maternal uncle, Nathaniel, Lord Crewe, bishop of Durham, purchased his estates, and bequeathed them to charitable purposes in 1720. The sunken rocks and shifting sands of this coast had long been a terror to the mariners, but under his lordship's will, Dr. Sharp, then archdeacon of Durham, fitted up the keep of the Castle, for the reception of suffering seamen, and of property which might be rescued from the fury of the ocean. Regulations were also adopted, both to prevent accidents on the coast, and to alleviate misfortunes when they had occurred. A nine pounder, placed at the bottom of the great tower, gives signals to ships in distress, and in case of a wreck, announces the same to the Custom House officers and their servants, who hasten to prevent the wreck being plundered. In addition to this, during a storm, horsemen patrol the coast, and rewards are paid for the earliest intelligence of vessels in distress. A flag is always hoisted when any ship is seen in distress on the Fern Islands or Staples; or a rocket thrown up at night, which gives notice to the Holy Island fishermen, who can put off to the spot when no boat from the main can get over the breakers. Life-boats have likewise been added to the establishment. The vast increase of the residuary rents of the Castle estates also enables the trustees to support within its walls two free-schools, a library, infirmary, thirty beds for shipwrecked sailors, and a granary, whence poor persons are supplied with provisions at the first price.5 Altogether, the establishment of Bamborough merits the epithet of "princely," which it has received from the historians of the county. Its philanthropic endowment has not been suffered to decay with the romance of olden time, but the charitable intentions of the testator are fulfilled, so as to maintain a lasting record of his active benevolence. Such magnificence may be said to eclipse all the glitter and gleam of chivalry, and make them appear but as idle dreams.

A boundless view of the ocean presents itself from the towers of Bamborough Castle, studded with small islands, having the Coquet Island on the south, and the Holy Island on the north.

Manners & Customs of all Nations

ORIGIN OF EPSOM RACES

In a pleasant little volume modestly entitled Some Particulars relating to the History of Epsom, the following facts are collected with much diligence. At the present season, they may be acceptable to our readers.

"When these races first commenced, we have not been able with certainty to trace. Few writers, who mention the district, do more than simply state the fact, that horse races are annually held at Epsom.

"Whether they were at first periodical or occasional, we will not presume to determine, though the latter is, we think, the most probable.

"Races, it is generally agreed, took their origin from, if they did not give birth to, the Olympic games. The first information we have of their existence in this country is in the reign of Henry II. At that time, and for many ages afterwards, the sport must have been merely a rude pastime, perhaps as destitute of the science of the present system, as of the vices, which are too generally engendered by it.

"There can be no doubt, that Epsom downs (or as they are frequently, though erroneously written in old writings, Banstead downs) early became the spot, upon which the lovers of racing indulged their fancy. And, perhaps, the known partiality of King James I., for this species of diversion, will justify us in ascribing their commencement to the period when he resided at the palace of Nonsuch.

"The following extract from Clarendon's History of the Rebellion, will shew, that during the troubles of his unfortunate successor, Charles I., races upon Epsom downs, were viewed as no uncommon occurrence.—'Soon after the meeting, which was held at Guildford, 18th May, 1648, to address the two Houses of Parliament, that the King, their only lawful sovereign, might be restored to his due honors, and might come to his parliament for a personal treaty, &c.—a meeting of the royalists was held on Banstead (Epsom) downs, under the pretence of a horse race, and six hundred horses were collected and marched to Reigate.'

"King James had imbibed a predilection for horse races, before he ascended the English throne; they were in high estimation in Scotland during his minority, previously to which, the English parliament seem to have turned their attention to the subject.

"We find, that in the time of Henry VII. and his successors, Henry VIII. and Elizabeth, several acts of parliament were made to prevent the exportation of horses to Scotland, and other parts.

"There is an entry in the Lord's Journal, June 15th, 1540—'At length, the bill is read this day, for encouraging the breed of horses, of a larger stature, and despatched with unanimous consent, and without a dissenting voice.'

"The great men of Elizabeth's reign, appear to have been fully disposed to profit by the example and injunctions of her father. Italian masters were invited over; the art of managing horses became an universal accomplishment, among the nobility and gentry of England; but most of the professors, both of equitation and farriery, were foreigners.

"Horses were not yet kept exclusively for the purpose of running races, but gentlemen matched their hunters or hacknies, and usually rode the race themselves.

"The most fashionable trial, however, of the speed and goodness of their horses, was hunting red herrings, or 'the train scent,' as it was then called, from the body of some animal, which had been previously drawn across hedge and ditch. Here the scent was certain and strong, and the hounds would run upon it to the end, with their utmost speed. The matched horses followed these hounds, and to be in with them, was generally accounted a very satisfactory proof of goodness.

"Markham, and that celebrated riding master, Michael Baret, describe, also, another mode of running matches across the country in those days denominated the wild goose chase; an imitation of which has continued in occasional use, to the present time, under the name of steeple hunting; that is to say, two horsemen, drunk or sober, in or out of their wits, fix upon a steeple or some other conspicuous distant object, to which they make a straight cut over hedge, ditch, and gate. We think our readers will do any thing but smile, at this rational pastime for reasonable creatures.

"The wild goose chase, however, at last became more regular and better conducted. It was prescribed, that after the horse had run twelve score yards, he was to be followed wherever he went by the others, within a certain distance agreed upon, as twice or thrice his length. A horse being left behind twelve score, or any limited number of yards, was deemed beaten, and lost the match.

"These rude and barbarous modes of horse-racing gave way, in the reign of James I., to the more scientific, accurate, and satisfactory trials, of the horses carrying stated weights, over measured and even ground.

"That monarch, as has before been intimated, brought with him from Scotland, a strong predilection for the turf, which must have prevailed to a considerable degree in that country, for we find, that during his reign there, and before his accession to the crown of England, it was deemed necessary to restrain, by an express law, the passion of the Scots for horse-racing, and laying large bets on the events.

"The reign of James I. may be fairly stated, as the period when horse-racing first became a general and national amusement. The races appear to have been at that time conducted nearly in the same style, as to essentials, as in the present day.

"They were then called bell courses, the prize being a silver bell; the winner was said to bear or carry the bell.

"Regular prizes were now run for in various parts of England. The king and his court, frequently attended races at Croydon and Enfield, in the vicinity of London.

"The first match, upon record, in this country, was one against time, which occurred in the year 1604, when John Lepton,6 a groom, in the service of King James I., undertook to ride five times between London and York, from Monday morning until Saturday night, and actually performed the task within five days.

"At this period, much attention was paid to the pedigrees of horses, for the purpose of enhancing their reputation and worth. The training discipline, in all its variety of regular food, clothing, physic, airing, and gallops, was in full use; and the weights that race horses had to carry were adjusted; the most usual of which were ten stone.

"We find that, soon after the accession of Charles I., an ordinance was issued, enjoining the substitution of bits or curbs, instead of snaffles, which had probably been of late introduction in the army. Not long afterwards, the king granted a special licence to William Smith and others, to import into this kingdom, horses, mares and geldings; further enjoining them to provide coach horses of the height of fourteen hands and above, and not less than three, nor exceeding seven years of age.

"During the civil wars, amusements of the turf were partially suspended, but not forgotten; for we find that Mr. Place, stud-master to Cromwell, was proprietor of the famous horse, White Turk, (the sire of Wormwood and Commoner) and of several capital brood mares, one of which, a great favourite, he concealed in a vault, during the search after Cromwell's effects, at the time of the Restoration, from which circumstance, she took the name of the Coffin Mare, and is designated as such in various pedigrees.

"King Charles II., soon after his restoration, re-established the races at Newmarket, which had been instituted by James I. He divided them into regular meetings, and substituted, both there and at other places, silver cups or bowls, of the value of one hundred pounds, for the royal gift of the ancient bells, which were in consequence generally dropped, both in name and effect.

"William III., though not fond of the turf, paid much attention to the breed of horses for martial service; and in his reign some of the most celebrated stallions were imported.

"George, Prince of Denmark, was a great amateur of horse-racing. He obtained from his royal consort, Queen Anne, grants of royal plates for several places, among which Epsom is, however, not mentioned.

"King George I. is not handed down to us as a sporting character; but towards the latter end of his reign, the change of the royal plates into purses of hundred guineas each took place.

"In the 13th year of the reign of King George II., an act, cap. 19. was passed, 'to restrain and prevent the excessive increase of horse races.'

"By this act, after reciting 'that the great number of horse races for small plates, prizes, or sums of money had contributed very much to the encouragement of idleness, to the impoverishment of many of the meaner sort of the subjects of this kingdom, and to the prejudice of the breed of strong and useful horses;' it was enacted that no person should, thenceforth, enter and start more than one horse, mare or gelding, for one and the same plate, prize, or sum of money. And that no plate, or prize of a less value than 50l. should be run for, under the penalty of 200l.

"It was also by the same act further enacted, that at every such race, for a plate or prize of the value of 50l. and upwards, each horse, if five years old, should carry ten stone; if six years old, eleven stone; and if seven years old, twelve stone. And that the owner of any horse, carrying less than the specified weight, should forfeit his horse, and pay the penalty of 200l."

(To be concluded in our next.)

THE SELECTOR; AND LITERARY NOTICES OF NEW WORKS

THE FAIR OF MAY FAIR

The volumes of sketches of fashionable life with this quaint title will serve to amuse a few inveterate novel-readers; while occasional pages may induce others to take up the thread of the narrative. The flying follies of high life, or rather, we think, of affected ton, are hit off with truth and vigour, and there is a pleasantry in the writer's style which is an acceptable relief to the dulness of common-place details. We shall endeavour to detach a scene or two, one, as a specimen of "the art of ingeniously tormenting," and the incipient waywardness of a newly-married pair.

"From the first months of his domestication with his wife at Wellwood Abbey, Sir Henry Wellwood had intended, had longed, to commence his little system of tender remonstrance; but the slightest insinuation of a difference of opinion was sufficient to fan the embers of Henrietta's distemperature into a conflagration. The blaze was not strong, indeed; for the lady had always been accustomed to find a fit of wilfulness, or of affected despondency, more available and becoming than one of hasty anger. But she was tolerably expert in those piquant flippancies of speech which harass the enemy like a straggling fire; and could contrive, when it suited her purpose, to make herself as disagreeable as if her face had not been that of a cherub, or her voice seraphic.

"'A woman,' quoth La Bruyère, 'must be charming indeed, whose husband does not repent, ten times a day, that he is a married man.' Sir Henry Wellwood would have scoffed at the axiom. The 'idol of his soul' was still an idol; although, like the votaries of old, he had managed to discover that it was not wholly formed of precious metals; that its feet were of clay! He still fancied himself the happiest of mortals; particularly when Henrietta, in her best looks and spirits, was riding by his side through the Wellwood plantations, listening to the project of his intended improvements;—or seated in her boudoir sketching designs and modelling plans for his two new lodges. Sometimes after dinner she would busy herself with her guitar, and insist on his attempting a second to her Italian notturno; sometimes she persuaded him to lend her his arm towards the village, to assist in executing that easy work of benevolence, the deplenishment of her silken purse. At such, moments she was indeed enchanting;—and the fascinated Wellwood was quite willing to echo the chorus of Mrs. Delafield's visiters, that he had 'drawn a prize.'

"But the sands of life are not formed exclusively of diamond sparks. Flint and granite mingle in the contents of the hour-glass; and Sir Henry often found himself required to listen to fractious complaints of old Roddington's innovations, of Lawford's negligence—of roses that would not blow at the gardener's bidding,—of London booksellers, who would not send down the new novels in proper time,—of old women who refused to be cured of their rheumatism, and young ones who declined becoming scholars at her platting school. His own misdemeanours, too, were frequent and unpardonable. He had a knack of carrying off the very volume she was reading,—of losing her place, and leaving his own marked by leaving the unfortunate book sprawling upon its face on the table, like a drunkard on the ground. He often kept her waiting five minutes for her ride, or twenty for dinner; would stop and detain her, in their walks, while he corrected the practical blunders of some superannuated hedger and ditcher; had a trick of whipping off the thistle-tops while driving her in the garden chair, to the imminent indignation of her ponies; was sometimes seen to nod after dinner, when the morning's run had been a good one; and had an opinion of his own in politics, which precisely reversed those of Lady Mandeville and her coterie.—In a word, he was often very 'tiresome!' and whenever the fair Henrietta was excited into pronouncing that sentence on his proceedings, it was a signal for ill-humour for the remainder of the day; or rather till the spoiled child would condescend to be coaxed into a more satisfactory mood of mind."

But we are more struck with the appalling fidelity of the following scene in a tale named the Divorcee. The heroine, Amelia, is married in early life to a Mr. Allanby, "a man with 10,000l. per annum, and a grey pigtail:" the match turns out a miserable one: Amelia's dishonour by Vavasor Kendal, her divorce, and Mr. Allanby's death are told in a few pages—the guilty pair, Vavasor and Amelia, flee to Paris, and we are introduced to this faithful picture of Parisian vice:—

"The infirmity of Amelia's health served at least to release her from those forced efforts of gaiety which had recoiled so heavily on her feelings. Her day for vivacity was gone.—In an atmosphere whose buoyancy is exhausted, the feather falls as heavily as the plummet.

"But instead of commiserating the languor and feebleness extending from the physical to the moral existence of the invalid, Vavasor only made her dulness an excuse for flying to the relief of society more congenial with his own tendency to vice and folly. Lady Emlyn who in London was the leader of a coterie devoted to the excitements of high-play,—a coterie that felt privileged to inveigh with horror against 'gambling,' because its members ventured their thousands on games where cunning tempers the fortuities of chance,—on the manoeuvres of écarté and whist instead of the dare-all risks of hazard and rouge-et-noir,—had now removed her card-table from Grosvenor-square to a splendid hotel in the Rue Rivoli; where she had the honour of assembling, twice a week, a larger proportion of the idle and licentious of the exclusive caste, than could be found in any other suite of drawing-rooms in civilized Europe. Her salon was in fact crowded with busy ranks of those swindlers of distinction who, in opposition to their brethren of lower pretensions, (the chevaliers d'industrie), ought surely to be termed the chevaliers de la paresse. Among these, the brilliant air and lively effrontery of Captain Kendal secured him a warm acceptance; and by frequenting the circle of Lady Emlyn, he had not only the gratification of escaping from the insipid mediocrity of the home his vices had created, but acquired the power of indulging in others which were now still dearer to his heart.

"Vavasor Kendal was an expert player. Like other frigid egotists, his head and heart were always at leisure; and his successes had been the means, on more than one occasion, of extending his means of disgraceful enjoyment. At least, however, his career lay on the verge of a precipice; for playing at a stake beyond the limit of his fortune, a single faltering step might at any hour precipitate him into an abyss of shame and ruin. Amelia was often tempted to doubt whether she had more cause to dread that intoxication of triumph, which induced him to still further excesses, or the reverses tending to aggravate the violence of temper to which she was an habitual victim. The fluctuating fortunes of the gamester,—his losses or gains,—were equally a source of suffering to herself. But the Carnival was drawing to a close; she soon began ardently to wish that his sister might grow weary of the increasing dulness of the French capital, and migrate among other swallows of the season, in search of new pleasures.