The Sun.
London, England, 1823-12-10 00:00:00

FASHIONABLE ARRIVALS.

Colonel John Duff, in town, from a tour; Mr. Andrew
Drummond, in Bryanstone-square, from Surrey; Mr. Lewis,
in Albemarle-street, from St. Petersburgh ; Mrs. and Miss
Bosanquet, from a tour ; Mr. John Fitzgerald, in Portland-
place, from Suffolk ; Mr. Jas. Dunlop, in Russell-square, from
Ramsgate; Mr. Lindo, in Russell-square, from Boulogne; Sir
James and Mr. Langharn, in Langliam-place, from a tour;
Captain. Percival, of the Guards, in town, from the south of
France ; Mrs. and Misses Mitchell, in Upper Harley-street, from
a tour; Baroness de Rolle, at Scaife's (late Payne's)lioteJ,Lower
Brook-street; Thomas Barnard, Esq. and Mrs. Barnard, at
ditto; Miss Porter, at ditto; John Hanson, Esq. and family,
at Batts' Hotel, Dover-street, from Paris ; J. Stellock, Esq. at
ditto, from Northampton ; Mrs. Cotton and Family, at ditto,
from Newport ; Sir Stephen Glynn, Bart. at Lord Braybrook's,
in Burlington-street, from Audley End, Essex ; Captain
Charles Fox, at Lady Afileck's„in Clarges-street, from Brighton;
Lord Henry Bentinck, at his father's (the Duke of Portland)
in St. James's-square, from Oxford; the Hon. Mr. and Mrs.
Elliott and Family, at Thomas's Hotel, Berkley-square, from
the Continent; Mr. and Mrs. Knight, at the Waterloo Hotel,
Jermyn-street, from their seat, H
Hall House, Manta; Edward
Markham, Esq. at the British Hotel, Jermyn-street, from
Yorkshire ; the Dowager Duchess of Rutland, at Lord
Forester's seat, Willie Park, Salop, from a tour ; Mr. and Mrs.
Iluskisson, from the seat of Edward Jolm Littleton, Esq. M.
P. Teddesley Park, Staffordshire.
Ctrarams.—Col. O'Neil, from Ramsgate, to Bath ; Capt.
Fawcett, for Bombay ; Captain Henry Leader, from town to
Dublin ; Major and Mrs. Armstrong, from Brighton, to Bath;
Captain Blathwaite, for Bath; Mr. B. Cave, for Kenilworth,
near Coventry; Colonel Hay, for Bedfordshire; Mrs. and
Miss Lemon, from Boulogne, for Bath Mr. J. Mackintosh
from Brighton, for Bath ' • Captain Whichcote, for Olastnn,
in Rutlandshire ; Mr. and Mrs. Howard, from Ramsgate, for
Bath ; Sir Robert Arbuthnot, Bart., for Dublin ; Mrs. and
Miss Harley, from Scarborough, for Cheltenham ; Mr. C.
Wynn, for Bath ; Major and Mrs. Carterett, from Brighton for
Bath; Mrs. and Miss Allen, from Calais, for Bath; General
Harcourt, from Paris, for Nice ; lion. Berkeley Craven, from
Boulogne, for Calaia; Captain Coles for Alton, in Hamp-
shire ; Major Cockburne, for India; Major Robarts, for York.
shire ; Mr., Mrs., and Miss S. Smith, from Ramsgate, for
Bath ' • Miss Godfrey, from Boulogne, for Bath ; Mr. and
Mrs. Windsor, from Paris, to Bath ; Mr. and Mrs. Bour.
cherett, from Boulogne, to Bath ; John Moore, Esq. from his
house in St. James's-place, for Edinburgh ; C. Ponsonby, from
Haw Hotel, for Ireland ; Mr. and Mrs. Johnson, from ditto,
for Wales ; Count and Countess St. Antonio, from their seat in
Wimbledon, for Brighton ; Sir Hussey Vivian, Bart. from the
Royal Hotel, St. James's-street, for his seat, Hants ; Captain
and Mrs. Meyrick, from ditto, for Brighton.

FASHIONABLE PARTS'.
Count Lieven entertained a distinguished party at dinner
yesterday at Ashburnham House.

The Right Hon. William Huskisson arrived in town yester-
day from Staffordshire.
Captain Parry, R. N., passed through Winchester on Fri.
day, on his way to Bishop's Stoke, where he will remain a few
days, on a visit to his sister, Mrs. T. Gardiner.

Here the music of bidding grows loud and more loud
Here the sweetener is conning his hints for the day ;
And here by the rostrum, apart from the crowd,
Billy Thus and his brethren are scribbling away
(Striving who shall bedaub Mr. Phillips the most)
Their puffs for the Chronicle, Herald and Post !
Let us pause ere we blame, for 'tie well understood,
Though some things are so so, Harry's dinners are good;
And since paying and feeding the piper's no jest,
Sure they ought to play for him the tune he likes best.
Here a black-letter hero, with rat-smelling air,
'ripping winks full of meaning, squats down In his chair,
The veteran of many a Book-auction is be,
And he'll not be bamboozled, we think, Mr. P. !
If the item is genuine, away goes his nod,
And if cheap, is knocked down with, 'tis your's Mr. Redd.'
If a "foist," and his glance of contempt is enough,
Why he dives for his snuff-box and only takes snuff!
Here the man who is neighbour to famed Mr. Squib,
(He may call us obscure and perhaps tell us we fib)
The' spirited bidder'—for whom we cha'n't say
Is beginning as usual his work of the day,
And before the great clock of the Abbey strikes four
Will have made some two hundred bold biddings or more.
Till Clarke justly incensed at the fellow's assurance
Lets him in with a look of affected endurance,
Saying Sir, 'tie your own,—give you joy of the lot, it
Has long been contested and now you 'Ave got IL'
Oh to see how he changes from
.yellow to blue,
As he answers ' I'm ready to yield it to you ;'
I have run up the thing, but if called on tops:,Why I think I must finish by runniee away i'
But a smile from his Patron sets all matters right,
And he boldly bids on in his pocket's despite 1'
Here the famous Count Buj"—witli his eye-glass and seals,
His rings on his fingers and spurs on his heels,
His straw-colored wig and magniloquent air,
And his hat cocked aside like a clown's at a fair
Strutting up to some daub—with his hand o'er his brow,
And wiping the canvas, cries Runxsts I vow !
' His coloring—relief—light and shadow are there—
' His expression—his grouping—his breadth to a hair !
Then that Cull. there beside it's as pearly and clear,
As the first break of day at the spring of the yeae;
Tho' it can't be compared with yon dewy METxtt,
So melting and mellow, so tasteful and true :
They've a charm above all that must make them divine,
(Speaking under his breath) 'entre nous, Sir, they're mine.'
Yes, you're doubtless surprised that a man of my air,
Should thus chaffer in pictures, but lid while I swear,
'Twas my love for the Arts—and I'm master of some—
That first made me a DEALER and led me to roam.
As for money, my friend, I would have you to know,
' I care nothing about a few thousands or so ;
' There's my own private income—a mere bagatelle,.....
Just five thousand a year, which you know's pretty well,—
A trifle admitted, but surely enough
• To buy ;.few baubles—and pay for one's snuff;
' Then my wife, besides beauty of which we'll be mum
' Has, 'fore God I declare it, two-thirds of a PLINK ; ,
To say nought of an Uncle who lives in the Indies,
(By the by can you tell me my friend how the wind is)
' Who has promised—and sure he can do it with ease,
' To send us erelong a few lacks of rupees !
' Then my private ' collection' is worth—so they say,
" Just a cool hundred thousand (not much by the way)
And my house and its trappings—(pray speak if I bore)
Has been valued by some at a good `hundred more !
As you guess, in my own hackney coach' I came down,
'"ro see how matters go—and look after my own—
And thanks to yon pliable knights of the quill
I shall do pretty well by the sale at Fonthill.'
Here the white-trowsered Dandy and black-whiskered Swell,
The lean sprig of fashion—the beau and the belle—
The Lord and the Lady—but few of the latter—
Have all journeyed, post-haste, not to buy but to chatter,...
To lounge, look about them, and prate At their ease,
Of Mieri, Correggio, and Paul Veronese !
But vainly the vender directs his keen glance
To many a gay groupe as the biddings advance ;
Inattentive are they to the beam of his eye,
And he turns to Clarke, Lawford, and Roild with a sign,—
Mid sunshine and storm, mid report good and ill ;
The heroes and props of the sale at Fonthill!
Here Colnaglii, Thorpe, Phillips, and Farquhar, good men,
We could sketch to the life with four strokes of our pen ;
But we think we had better not touch ofa verse on all
Lest some ill-natured booby should say we've grown personal
However to prove that no evil we mean them,
We'll give then: a sweet-tempered couplet between them.
The two first are good fellows we own with good will,
The two last are as good—as the sale at Fonthill !
There are auctions for ever unchangingly dull,
Like a long winter night ere the moon's at its full,
Selling on—selling on, but in bidders so slender,
That ere buyers are caught half asleep is the vender;
Where excepting for brokers, booksellers, and one
Like the spirited Lawford, no sale could go on.
Where Report, like a spectre call'd up.fforn the tomb,
Whispers Humbug,' and "rrick, and bids bidders be
dumb
These are not the Auctions,—'tic nothinglike these
That has taught Jemmy Christie all parties to please,
That has given him a power lie can wield at his will,
With the flower of west-enders his sale-room to fill :
And sans sweeteners and spoonies, to kick up a pother,
To get bidding. in plenty of one sort or other
'Tis plain honesty lifts him so far o'er his peers,
And has crowned him the Emperor of Town Auctioneers ;
With that sprightliness ever in motion which plays
On the eye and the pocket, and charms us both ways ;
Now here and now there, wiling cash as it flies,
From the eyes to the purse from the purse to the eyes !
If in pictures he deals,—such his elegant ease,
You would swear he was born to sell nothing but these ;
And his passing mistakes do but serve to awaken
New mirth, while his credit stands Finn and unshaken.
If on Books he dilates—he's as deftly at home,
Be they Novels from Paris or Classics from Rome;
If on Music—he knows the deep art to unriddle,
When from far-famed Cremona he sells you a fiddle •
In short, such the power of his spells, I've been told,
He can turn what he touches, like Cronus, to gold :
And dull before him, you may say what you will, •
Is the keen Auctioneer of the Sale at Fonthill !

The chief part of this Fragment is an imitation, or rather
Parody, of the celebrated description of the Vale of Caslunere,
in llfoore's Light o f the Harctn, beginning :
Who has not heard of the Vale of Cashmere,
With its roses the brightest that earth ever gave;
Its temples and grottos, and fountains as clear
As the love-lighted eyes that looks Over its wave.
Oh ! to see it at sunset—when warm o'er the Lake,
Its splendour at parting a summer eve throws ;
Like a bride full of blushes, when lingering to take
A last look at her mirror to bed ere she goes.
Here the music of Prayer from a minaret swells,
Here the Magian his urn full of perfume is swinging,
And here at the altar a zone of sweet bells,
Round the waist of some fair Indian dancer is ringing
Bcc. &c. &c.

t There are beauties for ever unchangingly bright
Like the long sunny lapse of a sunner.day's light ;
shining on—shining on—by no shadow made tender,
Till Lore fail, asleep on its sameness of splendour.
This was not the beauty, %was nothing like this,
That to young Neumuthal gave such magic of bliss.
&c. &c. er„e.— Vide Lalla