The Amazoniad Or, Figure and Fashion: A Scuffle in High Life. With Notes Critical and Historical, Interspersed with Choice Anecdotes of Bon Ton. Second Edition, with Additions [by J. W. Croker] |
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| 3. | THIRD CANTO. |
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THIRD CANTO.
ARGUMENT.
AUTHOR regrets that the days of Chivalry are no
more, and that Ladies are obliged to fight their own
battles when questions of Precedence occur.—Fight
begins—Philothemis attempts to pull Dennira from
her seat, is foiled in the attempt, throws a bowl of
tea in her face—Dennira's brave resistance; She
drives a half-sucked orange into the mouth of Philothemis,
who returns discomfited—Themis observes
this, assumes the semblance of a Six-Clerk, and flies
to the Four-Courts for reinforcements—The names of
some who came at the call of Themis—The battle
renewed—Bellona, alarmed for the safety of Dennira,
flies to the Barracks and brings the General himself
From him who sung Belinda's ravished hair!
Oh might he borrow Forteguerri's verse,
And beauty's power and knightly deeds rehearse!
Or rival him, the banks of Seine along
Who told of Cleric feuds in lofty song,
The fatal Desk, that dire contention bred,
What hosts the Prelate and the Chanter led.
Attend, fair dames, and, courtly lovers, hear,
If martial scenes may captivate the ear.
Oh could the days of chivalry revive,
And champions bold to warring females give!
Then should the knights in listed fields decide
Claims of precedence—rival beauties' pride—
With burning hearts the soft aspiring sex:
But flow'rs of chivalry no longer bloom;
Or flourish only on the silent tomb.
The courteous knights are vanished from our ken,
In lounging days we live of little men.
What lady now may boast a courteous knight?
What errant champions now for beauty fight?
To whom shall dames their wounded pride impart?
Who slights avenge, that agonize the heart?
Election quarrels, or a cast at dice
Can rouse contending champions in a trice;
But none, like true-born knights, will take the field
When injured females must precedence yield.
Our youths are all of courtesy bereft,
Our females all to fight their battles left.
Their snow-white hands the pond'rous lance sustain,
Their shoes embroider'd tread th' embattl'd plain.
Yet some exceptions, with delighted mind,
Ev'n in degen'rate times the muse can find.
Our females yet exhibit noble rage,
When cards and dice their anxious thoughts engage.
The rival dames commenc'd their cruel fray.
This canto brings their combat to a close.—
Then let my weary Pegasus repose.
Pretensions high inflam'd each haughty mind;
Thrice with Dennira had the Duchess dined;
Philothemis recounts her noble race,
Her husband's merits and exalted place.
In force so match'd were never heroines yet,
Since Bradamantè and Marfisa met.
The Box-keepers aghast their fury view,
Then wisely cautious from the fight withdrew.
Three times Philothemis renew'd th' attack,
As oft Dennira's legion drove her back.
But wounded honour so the fair sustain'd,
She pierc'd the lines, the leader's station gain'd.
And thrice she strove to pull her from her seat,
But ev'n to raise her was no trifling feat.
Endow'd with strength and weight her place to hold,
The dame was cast in nature's solid mold.—
So, when contending parties vex a nation,
Sits firmly fix'd some broad administration.
A waiter with a bowl of tea she spies,
Fragrant the tepid steam arose, and bland;
She caught the bev'rage from the bearer's hand;
Full in Dennira's face the bowl she threw,
The tea meand'ring down her bosom flew.
On the smooth orbs the milky currents glide;
Thus thaws bedew the snow-crown'd hillock's side.
So, when her ample breast a wet-nurse shows,
The milk spontaneous from the nipple flows,
The spouting streams confess the source within,
And balmy currents irrigate her skin.
Lest pointed fragments should offend the fair,
The bowl of china was, by Venus' care,
And, as a shield, that orb of beauty prest,
Adorn'd and guarded see the fair appear,
Thus eastern dancers bosom-cases wear.
Astonish'd, not dismay'd, Dennira stood,
And soon she dried away the milky flood.
Sternly she frown'd, as when with rage possest,
She drove unbidden youngsters from the feast.
The foe came open-mouthed with rage impell'd;
An half-sucked orange as Dennira held,
Large as a cannon ball, not quite so hard;
With stedfast courage and with sharp regard,
There, where the portals of her face stood wide,
Forceful she drove her instrument of death,
And stopt at once her triumph and her breath.
Sputt'ring she fell, the Tipstaffs came in aid,
Sped their commission, and the fair convey'd
To safe retreat, with small remains of life;
Then all her partizans desert the strife.—
And now Dennira had the triumph gain'd,
And firm possession of the box retain'd:
But Themis sorrowing, mark'd her fav'rite's fate,
And new assailants join the fierce debate.—
Drest like a Six-clerk to the Courts she flew,
And summoned to the fight a motley crew.
Masters, and barristers, attorneis came,
With meek solicitors, an humble name;
Some flaunt in silks, and some in tatter'd rags;
Some were slight armed, and some with loaded bags.
Ev'n ermin'd sages came to join the fray,
Who spread her rule with delegated sway.—
The noble Eolist obeys her call,
And as he vented forth each spell of wind,
He gave a piece and parcel of his mind.
Next smooth ****, sly and sneering still,
Came, more for love of mischief than good will.
He cared not who might victory obtain,
And only wish'd that he himself should gain.
An Elephant in size, without dispute,
And ev'n in sense, a wise, half-reasoning brute,
Came solemn ****'s gigantic form and vast:
The very pavement labour'd as he past.
Then G---, in simple, plain exterior join'd
With sordid cunning of a vulgar mind:
Mild as the north wind, civil as the bear,
Half in judicial robes was Wormwood there.
With surly pride his downcast eye-ball scowl,
In deep long notes he does not speak, but growl:
Oh may he soon be placed at N---'s side
And all his sweetness to his ear confide.
The bellowing B*****, for ever forward, came.
Not him I mean in equity profound,
But him more frequently in Green-street found.
Of Macs a pair I mark'd among the croud,
Elate in hope, of courtly favour proud.
At Levee too I mark'd them in the press,
With gay pretensions, splendid as their dress.
Oh just pretensions, happy is the wight,
That Princes can approach, or Farces write!
Grim as a collier, with precursive roar,
Foaming and sweating like a hunted boar,
Axungia came, and B***** was in his wake,
Ye reeking warm his vacant chair to take.
There shall he shine another and the same,
With equal dignity and equal fame.
A dingy mist ascended as he went,
With flagging wings the breeze received the scent,
The ducklings quak'd, the sky was overcast,
The weather-glasses fell where'er he past.
He too was there, who double worth display'd,
In Chanc'ry solemn, martial on parade,
And master named for mastery in war.
With scowling brow pedantic **** goes,
Hibernian Garret, fam'd for length of nose.
Sober and prim as any ancient maid,
The thrifty ***** marches to their aid.
They claim his presence in a double right,
Master by day, Policeman in the night.
Such promptitude must win Papinian's grace,
Too long repugnant to the sale of place.
With cuffs of scarlet and with coat of blue,
Then prating M****** waddled with the crew;
“Silence and order,” D***** full oft exclaim'd,
But his and N*****'s tongues would not be tam'd;
Ambitious stationer, on objects high
Of twofold kind he squints with leering eye;
To conservator's chair at once he looks,
And pompous A*****'s shop and gilded books,
High-minded man, who scarce a nod affords
To commoners, and keeps his bow for lords.
Papinian takes his station in the rear;
The post of danger wisely he declined,
Good generals still in safety should we find.
All these and countless more to Crow-street throng,
Old Liffey wonders as they march along.
All strength and courage that her stars allow'd;
But heav'n, that always makes the brave its care,
Brought new assistance to sustain the fair.
Bellona mark'd the foe's approach from far,
And sought the General to support the war;
Her the slow cart-horse, and the scarlet cloak,
A private trooper of the guards bespoke.
She trotted slowly, 'twas her swiftest rate,
And timely enter'd at the Barrack gate.
She called as shrill as cock announcing morn,
She called as loud as loudest bugle-horn.
“Turn out the picket, and to Crow-street haste.”
—She added not, but to Kilmainham past,
The Templar's cross when streaming banners bore;
Now invalids their frugal porridge eat,
While gay Dennira spreads the sumptuous treat.
The general in the surgeon's hands she found,
On either shin appear'd a desp'rate wound;
While R***y, a Machaon in his art,
With fomentations sooth'd th' offended part:
The scars of honour on his front appear,
Tho' foil'd in fight with ambush'd tubs of beer.
So, when Achilles war with Xanthus wag'd,
The splashing fight in foaming liquor rag'd.—
His wig uncurled with amber current swims,
A petticoat invests his mighty limbs;
His small-cloaths in the conflict wet and torn,
Left his posteriors naked and forlorn.
Thy breeches, Peter, were by half too small.
That good Petrina, gentle as she's fair,
Wears not the breeches, let the muse declare.
An highlander you might the Gen'ral vote,
But dimity compos'd his petticoat,
Far happier function it perform'd of old,
Petrina's beauteous members to enfold;
Now it conceals, puff'd out in high relief,
The great posteriors of the valiant chief.
“Gen'ral arise, for this important now,
“Is fraught with ornaments to crown thy brow;
“To Crow-street haste, where laurels may be found;
“And desp'rate foes thy better half surround.”
The dangers that await his dearest dear,
He stays not to prepare his good grey steed;
(For soldiers double ride, in case of need,)
His trim forgotten and his wounds unfelt:
Behind Bellona on the crupper plac'd,
In martial mood this pair to Crow-street pac'd.
Nor helm, nor hawberk, nor the shining brand
The warrior took—a truncheon arm'd his hand.
Thus, when Albracea's beauteous maid they sought,
One steed with Ferräü, Rinaldo brought.
And mutual rancour at the prospect grew.
A pass from Crow-street leads to Temple-bar,
There light and heavy bands commence the war;
Unguarded this Papinian hop'd to find,
No 'vantage ever scap'd his wary mind;
A soldier old, in senate and in field,
Well practis'd when to strike, and when to yield.
At this eventful time the Gen'ral came;
His presence fill'd his troops with warlike flame:
The pavement trembled with his solid course,
The mud of Temple-bar a vortex rose,
Then fell in sable torrents on his foes,
Papinian stepp'd aside, and 'scap'd unhurt,
But fat M****** was tumbled in the dirt.
As o'er some steepy bridge of single arch
The warriors o'er his mountain-belly march.
The waiters mark'd him as he groaning lay,
And to a chop-house bore the chief away.
“Order, decorum, gentlemen,” he said,
“Ev'n in a battle let politeness reign.”—
Then N--- chaunted forth an Orthian strain,
“Britons strike home”—The martial sound imparts
Redoubled energy to warlike hearts.
Shoving and thrusting, furious blows and knocks.
The Deities among the crowd appear;
There Thcmis urg'd the fight, Bellona here.
But Themis ever should resistless sway;
Her bands to Crow-street cut their furious way.
In lobby and in box was fight renew'd,
Porter and blood the valiant hands embrew'd.
Tea, coffee, negus, on the ground were spilt;
And warriors sunk, not wholly dead, but kilt.
Unarm'd and naked fly the female bands;
The men pursue them, with rapacious hands.
We read in chronicles of ancient fame,
To Roman plays when Sabine ladies came,
On trembling dames impetuous warriors flew,
And every Roman blade his rapier drew.—
Oaths, shrieks, screams, scolding, groans, are heard afar,
The house presents a dreadful form of war,
Torn waistcoats, tatter'd kerchiefs, wigs and gowns.
Such beauteous wigs as Grecian ladies drest,
Such curls as flow'd o'er Agrippina's breast;
Muffs, tippets, ruffs, and pads are scatter'd round;
Divorces, purgatories, strew the ground;
Beads, bugles, tassels, ribbands, fringes, lace,
Pennaches, turbans, hats are scatter'd through the place.
And locks, that vied in blackness with the crow,
Long in alliance with Dennira tied,
A lively Amazon was at her side;
Whose hue tho' dark might shame the fairest fair;
Her form was elegance and grace her air:
In mystic rites of Cl---e a priestess fam'd,
Her sov'reign sway ferocious care had tam'd;
She curs'd, she swore, she gam'd, she drank, with ease.
The Heroine shone conspicuous in the van;
For never had she turn'd her back to man.
In ev'ry glance pernicious lightning flew,
And kill'd the victim that her arm o'erthrew:
The pride of warriors to the ground she cast,
Then spurn'd the dead, and to new triumph past.
Her fatal march a chief undaunted ey'd,
His crest was haughty and his chest was wide;
His ample jowls that red and white display'd,
Seem'd for the stalls of some cathedral made;
His mouth was form'd with an expression meet
Good things to utter, and good things to eat:
More apt he seem'd for Cytherea's war
Than wordy contests of the brawling bar.
Serene he rear'd, amid the howling storm,
His comely visage, and his portly form.
His twinkling eyes he roll'd, his smile confest
The bosom pregnant with a coming jest.
“Thyself my captive, and thy spoils my pride,
“Thou shalt in triumph to my tent be led,
“Preside at breakfast, and partake my bed;
“Thy skirt a night-cap on my head be worn:
“Thy robe a curtain shall my couch adorn;
“Thy Recamier I seize, heroic dame,
“To hold my briefs a trophy of my fame.”—
“Never, by heavens (th' indignant heroine cry'd)
“This faithful Recamier shall quit my side;
“Or blessed sun while vital air I draw,
“Shall see me captive to a man of law.
“Have I not met embattled, face to face,
“At golden hazard, a superior race;
“Youths that would stake upon a single die,
“More than whole terms to such as thou supply.
“Oh mirthful orgies, never to return!
“Oh chiefs that rest within the silent urn!
“Begone,—I fly to Albion's happy strand,
“I scorn to rest in this degraded land.”
She turn'd with sorrowing yet contemptuous mind,
The chief impetuous seiz'd her fast behind;
But light as air she disembody'd flies;
Nor stay'd her course on Erin's hated plains
While her rear-admiral the foe detains.
Not Phœbus felt more sorrow or amaze,
When, Daphne lost, he fill'd his hand with bays.
Philothemis beheld in wrathful mood;
She springs like light'ning to the foremost rank,
She smote his brows with steaming porter dank;
Then from his head the dripping wig she tore
And stamp'd contemptuous on the dusty floor;
And were it laurel it had been the same,
So full of fury was the warlike dame:
Frowning he stood with head expos'd and bare;
To guard and grace it was Dennira's care.
But whence or how?—Lo where Papinian stands,
With waving curls that equity demands;
And crowns her husband with the glorious prize.
Not with more pride did chief of ancient Rome
In triumph bear the opima spolia home
Than did the Gen'ral.—As he past the crowd,
The tipstaffs to the wig official bow'd;
The mace the wig omnipotent obey'd;
The purse before him was in state display'd:
The lawyers made obeisance as he went;
Th' attornies all in adoration bent.—
'Tis not the man that can attention call;
Symbols of pow'r, be sure, are all in all.
The crown, the sceptre, and the purple robe,
Will veneration claim around the globe.
Who cassoc short and sleeve of cambric wears,
In God right reverend to the crowd appears.
All Crow-street rung and Drury-lane replied.
From ev'ry avenue the footmen bawl,
And orange-wenches scream from ev'ry stall;
The butchers dogs are heard with open throat,
And curs and turnspits join their treble note;
Carmen and porters, to partake the sport,
Mount their gall'd jades and gallop to the court.
The barristers and agents join the race;
Such hunting ne'er was seen since Chevy Chace.
Papinian found his trusty hunter nigh,
He led the jolly train with potent cry.
O'er squeaking beldams in their haste they rode,
On sprawling pigs the fiery courser trode;
They splash'd, they dash'd, with frantic fear possest,
The mothers snatch'd their infants to the breast.
Drew off the hunters in a badger's form:
Th' attractive scent the sportsmen keen pursue,
O'er the green hills, and vanish from the view.
The Gen'ral to the courts of justice went,
For to his brain the wig some crotchets lent.
His triumph o'er the foe seem'd incomplete,
If to the wig he added not the seat.
Some plodding lawyers at their briefs had stay'd,
They read, and wondered why the court delay'd;
They made obeisance when the wig they saw,
The Gen'ral sate and gave them martial law;
Then bade the Master-adjutant report,
And so manœuvred fairly out of court.
The storm of battle raged with frightful din.
Tho' many from th' embattled field retir'd,
Those who remain'd, with double fury fir'd,
Bit, scratch'd, and tore.—their shouts spread far and wide
And what their numbers lost their rage supplied.
The lovely Duchess from her seat arose,
With looks and accents that might well controul
The wild disorder of a maniac's soul.
“Now ken you weel, (the bonny Duchess cries)
“These cheels wull mak a muckle din arise.
“What gars them thrang to sic envenom'd fra?
“Ca' the poleese and let them gang awa;
“Fou sair it makes me greet, 'tis unco strange
“Sae wild disorder thrae the hoose shad range.”
Still, still they roar'd, and still the combat glow'd;
And such the furious appetite for fight,
The play-house had been sack'd that very night,
Had not Apollo heard in gentle tones
The rising orisons of pious Joncs.
Not with more piety or more despair,
To father Jove, Eneas breath'd his prayer,
When Trojan matrons, urg'd by Juno's ire,
Or potent stingo, set his ships on fire.
In A****'s shape the God from heaven descends,
Athwart his breast the ribband blue extends;
A brisky juvenile, not quite fourscore.
He held the fiddle, and the bow he ply'd;
Like L---h, Mercury was at his side;
And sooty Vulcan with a limping pace,
Behind them carried an enormous bass.
That has not concord of sweet sounds confest!
“Hush ev'ry breeze” th' immortal fiddler play'd;
The din subsided, and the fight was stay'd.
A sweet Adagio to the tune succeeds,
A tender strain, that melancholy feeds,
Then, Siciliano, innocent and kind,
To mutual fondness sooth'd the hostile mind.
The warriors to the ground their weapons threw,
To clasp each other in embrace they flew;
By mutual aid they recompose their hair,
And all disorders of their dress repair.
Those who so late were interchanging blows,
Sate amicable now, in peaceful rows:
Discord was dumb, and Emulation dead,
All contests now, but of politeness fled,
The next Dennira quietly retain'd;
And all the rest without a murmur sate
As Macanally pleas'd, or ruling fate.
The curtain rose—the silence was profound.
Thus harmony the power of music crown'd.
There are some vile, vulgar words adopted in modern politics—Budget and Broad-bottomed administration—Budget is borrowed from the avocation of a tinker: It supposes the minister to be an itinerant hireling, who deals in the basest metal, proposes more than he can do, and undertakes to stop the chinks and cracks of the leaky state, ruinous and rusty as an old kettle.—Broad bottomed administration is a vile phrase, it is meant to express an administration of weight, pondere fixa suo, but it may be turned to denote one that shews its a—, according to the passage in Shakspeare (Measure for Measure) “Esc. What's your name, master Tapster? Pom.—Pompey. Esc.—What else? Pom.—Bum, sir. Esc. —Troth and your bum is the greatest thing about you, so that in the beastliest sense, you are Pompey the great.”—No bad description of a broad-bottomed administration.
The reader will find a very luxurious description of the dancing girls in Abbe Raynal's book. The good Abbe sometimes indulged himself, like his brother philosopher Darwin, in a strain of grave philosophical pruriency. He is truly cloquent on the subject of those bosom cases.
Alluding to a curious story of Dennira's ejecting certain beaus from a party at a late entertainment given by her to their Excellencies, she went up to two Gentlemen, (one a Mr. C—n, the name of the other I have forgot) and expressed her surprise, how Gentlemen would come uninvited: they asserted they got Tickets; she said she wrote all the Tickets herself and sent them, and that they were not of the number. The Gentlemen retired, and enclosed their Tickets the following day to her Ladyship, when she recollected she gave six Tickets to Sir C— V—, for his friends, and supposed these two were of the number.
Instrument of death.—Let not this expression be thought hyperbolical, when applied to an Orange.—We are told that Anacreon was choaked by a much smaller substance, a grape stone. The Poet has very properly adapted the weapons with which his Ladies fought to the delicacy of the female frame.
Eolists, a sect of ancient philosophers, who dealt much in puffing and ventosity.—See Swift's Essay on the mechanical operation of the spirit.
Hogs-lard, or the grease of a Cartwheel—it may be applied, to signify any thick black, gross, fetid, unctiuous substance.
I believe we should read plaice here, in allusion to some obscure story about Fishmonger's contracts.
He was peculiarly fit for the ranks of Themis, both as having a shop in the Four Courts, and being a conservator.
Kilmainbam, now an hospital for invalids, and also the residence of some general officer, was formerly a commandery of the Knights of St. John of Jerusalem.
A famous army surgeon and member of the medical board and hospital staff, in the time of the Trojan war. See Gazette d'Homere.
This alludes to an incident which actually took place at Mrs. Peter's collation.—The worthy General fell over some tubs of beer or porter and spoiled his uniform, particularly his small-cloaths.
Some copies read, “anterior,” Baudius Arsenius prefers it, and it is sanctioned by the Toledo manuscript; I should therefore be inclined to let it stand in the text.
“Ornaments to crown thy brow.” That was calculated to excite a variety of ideas, and applied equally to his hopes of honour and his fears of disgrace. The abruptness of the address has great energy and spirit.
Angelica, the daughter of Galafron—See Orlando Furioso.— Book the first.
“Con prieghi invita, & al fin toglie in groppa,
“Eper l'Orme d' Angelica galoppa.”
Something is here omitted.—The author has not expressed himself clearly. Quere; for what purpose Mr. M— was conveyed to the chop-house? was it to eat, or to be eaten? I suspect the latter.—I have heard it whispered, that his Calipash or Calipee were made into Turtle soup.
The composed and dignified character of the judge, so fond of order and decorum, so full of phlegm on every occasion, is well delineated here.
An Hibernicism.—The combatants were not killed dead; but destined to live a little longer, more Hibernorum.
“Luctus, ubique pavor, & plurima mortis
“Imago.”
Virgil.
Divorces, so called in the nomenclature of female dress, are certain articles or instruments, stiffened with iron and steel, which are applied to the Ladies breasts, to give them a proper degree of consistency and projection, by preventing their collapsing, or coming too closely in contact with each other.— The Purgatory is a part of female dress, worn lower down.— Various conjectures may be formed as to the origin of the name.
This episode is in the true Homeric spirit. The man-ners of the heroic ages are well observed in the conversation which takes place in the heat of battle, in the idea of stripping the spoils, and in the employments destined for captive ladies.
A part of female dress which has superseded the use of petticoats, and somewhat resembles a pair of small-cloaths. It is usually made of some very elastic materials.
Also a part of female dress or rather of the embodied female substance; something like it was formerly used under the name of mont en ciel; it is stationed in the rear, as the term imports.
Let not the malicious reader take an improper meaning from this line, as if the fair Dennira ever thought of adorning or fortifying the brows of her husband in a manner contrary to the Articles of War, with Hornworks, Halfmoons or the like, introduced by French engineers.
This is highly in character.—Papinian, who is a mighty hunter before the Lord, has a view hollow of his wig breakng cover, and very properly pursues it in a grand style, as is here described.
The going off thus in the middle of the fight was a truly politic stroke; this is what is called backing one's friends—as Falstaff says. This passage deserves to be studied, as containing a most excellent and instructive moral lesson.
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