The Sun.
London, England, 1868-12-07 00:00:00

THE TEMPLE OF FOLLY.

You visit It on a Saturday evening about nine o'clock,
Ad discover that you are unfashionably early. The
attendance is as yet very small, and your first impression
is that you are in a synagogue ; there is such a leaven of
the chosen people walking about. While you listen to the
band in the gallery (an excellent one, by the bye) you are
interested in observing the dark whiskers, coarse features,
and exaggerated costume of the children of Abraham.
The German element also musters rather strongly ; your
ear is assailed with gutturals, your sense of smell
detects the full-flavoured cigar, and your vision is
dented by the number of double-barrelled eye-glasses on
the tips of the Teutonic nose. Anon the dancing begins ;
the well-prepared floor is soon occupied by the Jews and
the Germans, who dance excellently, and who find some
lighter-footed partners. The dancing is by no means quiet
enough for the exigencies of fashionable society, and some
of the couples become exhausted before they have made
half the circuit of the room. One solitary couple is going
round so slowly and imperceptibly as to have the appear.
ance of roasting before a slow fire. This is an exception.
Meanwhile the stolid Englishman looks on. The first
impression of the uninitiated would be that the West-end
clubs had turned out their occupants to visit the Temple of
Folly, but a further inspection convinces one that the
fashionable exquisites with the curly-brimmed hats and
well-fitting clothes are chiefly clerks and counter-jumpers.
They will occasionally exhibit a hand covered both with rings
and dirt ! It is a well-known fact that many an aspiring
Tittlebat Titmouse will starve himself during the week
that he may attend here on the Saturday night, smoke ill-
flavoured cigars, and fancy himself a gentleman, cherish-
ing the poor delusion that the company is deceived. The
genius of the place, or Master of the Ceremonies, is an ex-
quisite creature, with wonderful hair and whiskers, whohas
an imposing way of shaking hands with the habitues. He
is always attitudinising, and is fond of gracefully waving
his hands in the air, but the effect is somewhat spoiled by
a habit he has of drawing the back of the right one
cross his " bowsprit." The company is cautioned against
smoking downstairs, but you find the rule entirely disre-
garded, and the air becomes in time much vitiated. You
seek the gallery, but there the heat is worse than ever.
Couples are sitting at the tables, deriving mysterious
pleasure from the suction of long reeds. This is the
correct way of imbibing sherry cobbler. By eleven
o'clock the place becomes inconveniently crowded, and you
make your way with difficulty at the expense of long
trains and short tempers. How is it that you are under a
slight impression that you are in the parrot-house at the
"Zoo ?" The costumes of the women are very elaborate
and in an exaggerated fashion; but the most wonderful
feature is the mixture of colours. That bright green dress
is accompanied by a hat with a scarlet feather, perched on
the top of a golden chignon. The effect is very much that of
a bright plumaged parrot ; and the senseless chatter you hear
around keeps up the illusion. In one corner of the place there
is a crush and a rush. You seek the reason, and find that
thet h
last e
queen
half
enof
theplace has arrived to shine there during
hour. A little applause sometimes accom-
panies her entrance, and a recent newspaper notice causes
the excitement. The last galop is on, and the Queen takes
part in it. The place becomes unbearable from the
heat and noise. You reach the entrance just as the dance
is over, and find yourself in a hopeless crush. The gas
is lowered, and the place slowly cleared. Outside are the
inevitable roughs and a sprinkling of police. Amidst
chaff and a few curses one or two broughams drive away,
and then the hansom cabman has his harvest. Philo.
sophising on the way in which the English youth takes his
pleasure, you become " a sadder and a wiser man**