Might puzzle those who don't conceive Westminster-hall, whose oaken roof, Existed but in stones and trees When thou wert waving in the breeze, Chaucer, so old a bard that time And from his tomb outworn each rhyme And Gower, an older poet, whom The Borough Church enshrines, (his tomb Liv'd in thy time-the first perchance Who shook beneath this very tree, Was caught and eaten. Perchance, when Henry gain'd the fight Thou wert of portly size and look, And eagles in thy boughs might perch, What numerous namesakes hast thou sech Louis Quatorze has press'd that ground, A sample of the old and sound Legitimacy. There is a tradition, (though not authenticated) that Chaucer was fined for beating a friar in Fleet Street. O! of what follies, vice, and crime, Been made beholder! What wars, what feuds the thoughts appal! In earth to moulder. Whilst thou, serene, unalter'd, calm, Hast year by year renew'd thy flowers, Thou green and venerable tree! Remember that a rhymester brought Н REVOLUTION IN FASHION. POPE tells us, that the sovereign beauties who grace and govern the empire of fashion, when to our dull senses they seem to end their career, "In sylphs aloft repair, And sport and flutter in the fields of air." If any of the Belindas, or other "light coquettes" of the poet's days, should still, unfolding their "insect wings" to the sun, or more correctly, perhaps, to the brilliant chandelier, hover over the scenes of their past glories, and contemplate the vicissitudes and revolutions which have occurred in theirs, as in most other empires, they must be as deeply impressed with astonishment as "airy substance" well can be. Their surprise, and it is to be apprehended, their disapprobation may naturally be excited by the many, petty, every-day changes, which take place so gradually, that those who witness, scarcely notice them, until their attention is roused by some casual reference to the manners and customs painted in old plays, the Spectator, or the exquisite poem itself which has already been quoted. Amongst the instances of the mutability of human affairs, that have passed under the observation of beings, to whom the past and present are equally familiar, may be enumerated, the desertion of the Mall in St. James's Park for the Ring in Hyde Park; of the Ring for the road leading to Kensington; and latterly, for that between Piccadilly and Cumberland Gate; of the side box of the national Theatre for the Italian Opera; subsequently of the Coffeeroom of the Opera House for a sort of lobby, technically called the Crush-room, followed by the utter degradation of its once fashionable pit; the exchange of the mask, which heretofore protected alike the complexion, and any slight irregularities in the conduct of its wearer, for the transparent veil; the renunciation of hoops and powder by one sex, and of embroidered silks, buckles, bags, and queues by the other; the alteration of hours-yet, upon reflection, this is a novelty which cannot but be considered as an improvement, even by the most prejudiced of the sylphic race for as the hours of rising and going to bed seem always to have been for the fine world, as far back, at least, as the records of fashion extend, pretty much the same, it must be allowed a thing desirable, to make the dinner-hour harmonize with the rest of the system. In fact, as far as we have the means of judging, breakfast and dinner must, in those primitive times, have clashed most inconveniently; and, but that dejeunés à la fourchette, appear to have been unknown, we might suspect that the Lady Townleys and Lord Foppingtons enjoyed only one meal, where their successors are blest with two. But if the light militia of the lower sky" are startled by such changes as these, what can they think of the exclusion of card-tables from assemblies, from all parties indeed, except such small ones as are wholly devoted to them? What of the transmutation of fine gentlemen into coachmen, stable-boys, and boxers ?-A sort of intermediate, or chrysalis state of existence, from which they have recently emerged in the form of dandies. What of the officer's discarding the distinction of his red coat? What of the universal abandonment by the beaux (to adopt a word of former ages which, probably, became obsolete with the thing it expressed) of all polite attention to the belles?-except, indeed, what is paid by a certain description of beaux to married belles. These changes our aeriform great-grandmothers, even whilst their "lucid squadrons waft on the breeze, or sink in clouds of gold," may well deem of a nature to render their authors worthy of being, "or wedged in phials or transfixed with pins ;" yet weighed against the fearful alteration about to be mentioned, they are nothing.This great, this tremendous innovation of modern audacity, like many other innovations, gradually, and, save to the experienced and watchful observer, imperceptibly gained ground, until, arriving at maturity, it exhibited a most formidable and radical appearance. The tutelary spirits must have beheld its progress with an indignation tempered only by the sentiments of pleasing admiration, awakened by some of the effects it produced, and the talents it developed in the reigning sovereigns of their former empire-for in this respect, the potentates of whom we are speaking, seem rather to differ from those earthly monarchs better known to us, who certainly are not conceived to find any very great satisfaction in admiring their successors. Pope ascribes to the sylphs, an anxious care for the prosperity of the living who occupy their vacated situations, and, indeed, it is not difficult to imagine, that death may occasion some difference in the feelings. The awful event which has been alluded to, is the alarming invasion of the dominions of fashion by the low-born, and the countervailing effects. Who can view, without delight and admiration, the energies, the multifarious resources, the genius, in short, displayed by the legitimate rulers in their defence? If these fair creatures of the elements, are indeed still "wondrous fond of place," we may easily picture to ourselves, the disdainful displeasure with which they must, in the first instance, have regarded such unwarrantable presumption, and their progressive transition from scorn to disquietude and terror, as the enemy's forces have occasionally seemed to increase. In the halcyon days commemorated in the "Rape of the Lock,” aristocracy enjoyed its pre-eminence, undisturbed, and almost unenvied. No mushroom monied interest ventured, even at humble distance, to ape the splendours or the follies of the nobility and gentry of the land. No wit, poet, painter, actor, musician, or critic, fancied his presence capable of conferring honour upon the highest circles. The wealthy citizen resided peaceably with his family, in St. Mary Axe, or Great St. Helen's, dined with his clerk upon his substantial joint, and, when he was extravagant, upon "two puddings;" never strayed into the west end of the town, unless sent by his fellow-citizens to represent them in Parliament, or to obtain and degrade the glories of chivalry, by offering a loyal address at the foot of the throne; and if needy courtiers did occasionally condescend to grace his board, in order to marry his heiress, they sought him in the depths of the city, where he received them with all due humility. The poet, if he penetrated beyond the anti-room, was permitted to do so only to present a laudatory dedication, which, if graciously received, was repaid with a moderate bank note, and he retired from the magnificent mansion of the peer in all lowliness of mind to his lofty habitation in Grub-street. Whilst the other humbler children of the Muse never even dreamt of obtruding themselves upon public notice, except in the exercise of their especial vocations. And thus, untroubled by any apprehension of intrusion upon their undisputed privileges, "the white-gloved beaux,” and their hooped, starched, and powdered belles, danced, languished, and talked nonsense in happy security. About the time when these fortunate ladies in "all their pride expired," the first symptoms of that spirit of insubordination and encroachment which has given birth to the mighty conflict, seem to have appeared, but, appearing like specks in the horizon, were probably viewed with equal contempt by the living, who, in their own persons or those of their offspring, were to "bide the pelting of the pitiless storm," and by their aerified predecessors. What, indeed, but contempt could be felt for a bungling, ungainly imitation of high life by the uneducated and unmannered! Who could apprehend danger from any combinations of such phenomena! When the numbers of the imitators increased, and they acquired a sort of footing, the thing, though still ludicrous and despicable in the extreme, seemed worth crushing; but this was thought to be done easily, and injudicious measures were unfortunately adopted-a new proof, were any wanting, that the greatest general may suffer from too high a sense of his own superiority to his antagonist. In this first campaign, if such mere skirmishing may deserve the name, the nobles endeavoured to annihilate the upstarts by redoubled splendour. Alas! the sources of mercantile wealth proved less readily exhaustible than those of rent-rolls; and if an individual combatant sank in the battle, he was instantly replaced by another. The scale of victory turned in favour of the invaders, and the embarrassments of many an ancient family may, perhaps, derive their origin from this period of the contest. The legitimate leaders of fashion now resorted to a more appropriate species of warfare, and took to heightening their natural preeminence by an elaborate and arduous process of education; so arduous indeed, that it in some measure answered the same purpose as the Spartan practice of immersing their new-born infants in the Eurotas:-none but the strong and healthy survived the operation. For a time the success was commensurate to the exertion. But, again we must cry alas! The indefatigable enemy discovered the cause of their discomfiture, and the same purses which could eclipse the fêtes, could pay the music, dancing, drawing, French, and Italian masters of their adversaries. The daughters of the city intruded into even the first-rate establishments for finishing young ladies, and acquired, last and hardest to be gained, the arts of eating soup, and stepping into a carriage gracefully; whilst the sons, with equally meritorious and assiduous toil, emulated the achievements of the heroes they envied, guided by the scientific instructions of stage-coachmen and bruisers. It is true, to a practised eye, the difference between the originals and the copies, the inherent superiority of gentle blood, always remained manifest; but still copies to be distinguished only by the connoisseur came too near, and a new system of tactics was to be devised. But ere closing the account of this period of the eventful conflict faithfully narrated in these pages, it is proper to observe, that it was during this struggle of accomplishments, that genius, or, more correctly speaking, professional genius, first took any part in the war. Those who aspired to celebrity only through their talents, originally appeared in the field as the allies of the old established authorities, though they afterwards, in imitation of the Swiss, engaged on either side indifferently. It need scarcely be added, that the "exclusives" quickly learned to despise the genius that could be nourished upon turtle and turbot connected with the wrong side of Temple Bar. Apathy, absolute and unvarying apathy, was next adopted as the distinguishing mark of superiority, and, like all the other measures, answered for a season; but apathy was yet more readily attainable than accomplishments. It now characterises both parties equally, although still with a difference discernible by the connoisseur, and the only class branded with vivacity, is that of the aforementioned persons of genius, who, having by their instability forfeited the confidence alike of their old and new employers, are entirely hors de combat, and instead of being courted, are barely tolerated by the belligerents. Thus driven successively from every retrenchment, the haut ton were not yet routed, and they have made their last stand where it |