White's famed bow window is on the ground floor.
Indeed, all the
diaries and letters I've read from the era refer to Luttrell as the great wit.
The most recent edition of the Englilsh Dictionary of National Biography says
that, unfortunately, most of Luttrell's wit does not translate well two
centuries later. It's one of those cases where ya had to be there.
Luttrell was the
illegitimate son of the 2nd Lord Carhampton.
The Bow Window at White's
By Henry Luttrell
No critic-arrow now
alights
On some unconscious
passer-by
Whose cape's an inch
too low or high;
Whose doctrines are
unsound in hat,
In boots, in trousers,
or cravat;
On him who braves the
shame and guilt
of gig or Tilbury
ill-built;
Sports a barouche with
panels darker
Than the last shade
turned out by Barker;
Or canters, with an
awkward seat
And badly mounted, up
the street.
Silenced awhile that
dreadful battery
Whence never issued
sound of flattery;
That whole artillery
of jokes,
Levelled point-blank
at hum-drum folks;
Who now, no longer
kept in awe
By Fashion's judges,
or her law,
Strut by the window,
at their ease,
With just what looks
and clothes they please!
2 comments:
Very cute! I tweeted and shared on FB.
Love it! I can just imagine the snobbery in the voice :-)
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