KECOLLECTIONS,
loIiW, Jrmatii, SÉ PkíIIsMB,
of the
LAST HALF-CENTURY,
containing
ANECDOTES AND NOTES OP PERSONS OP VARIOUS RANKS PROMINENT IN THEIR
VOCATIONS, WITH WHOM THE WRITER WAS PERSONALLY ACQUAINTED.
"Q,uicquid agunt homines."—Juvenalis, Soi.
RY
THE REY. J. RICHARDSOJSr, LL.B.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. I.
LONDON:
C. MITCHELL, RED LION COURT, ELEET STREET.
1856.
LONDON- ;
SAVILL AND EDWABDS, PEINTERS, CHANDOS STREET,
COVENT GARDEN.
INTlRODÜCTORY MATTER
It will be necessary, as preliminary to his labours,
for the author of the notices contained in these
volumes to explain the scope and nature of his under¬
taking, as well to prevent his meaning from being
misunderstood as to afford the public the option of
reading his pages or of desisting from their examina¬
tion. By this means criticism will be rightly directed
and disappointment avoided; the writer and the
reader will meet in fairness, proceed in unity, and it
is hoped part company with mutual sympathies and
good feeling.
Amidst the heaps of publications with which the
whole length and breadth of the land is overwhelmed,
and which are somewhat absurdly called the modern
literature of England, no publication has yet appeared
a 2
iv INTEODUCTOKY MATTER.
which contains the sort of information hereby sub¬
mitted to the reader. There is an abundance of
historical books, books which relate in new phrase-
«
ology and new words old facts and old falsehoods ;
events with which most people were weary long ago,
and everybody previously acquainted. There is a
plentiful supply of novels, assuming to describe and
paint the modes and manners and characters of the
times ; these volumes, for the most part too dull for
fiction and too extravagant for truth, ridiculous from
their dictation and tedious from their insipidity,
mislead the very ignorant, and them only, instruct
nobody, and as the temperament of those who read
them may be, consign to sleep or keep open the eyes
of dreary drowsiness.
Again there is a multitude of memoirs, biographical
notices, autobiographies, adventures, and so forth.
The press has recently teemed with such productions,
and its fertility threatens an accumulation of produc¬
tiveness. This class of books is, perhaps, the most valu¬
able aequisition that can be made by modern literature,
provided what is acquired be authentic in its sources,
important in its notifications, and veracious in its
INTKODUCTOKY MATTEE.
V
details. That the majority of the books of this class
combine these qualifications can scarcely be conceded ;
that many of them are of great worth and great
utility can be easily admitted ; but that many more
are but the frivolous effusions of egotism, the drawl
of antiquated twaddlers, or the precipitate veneration
of misjudging friends, is sufficiently apparent to every
person by whom their pages have been examined.
But be this as it may, a criticism on contemporaries
is not now about to be written. What these volumes
will attempt to supply is some account of the state of
a portion of English society for the last half century,
as it has existed and does at this moment exist, not
only amongst the higher or more exclusive castes in
this country, but as it has existed and does exist
amongst the middling and the more humble grades.
It will be attempted to show some sections of the
moral strata of the strange compound which consti¬
tutes civilization, to develop the characteristics of
the times, and to furnish to all who are interested in
the progress of mankind a statement of facts on which
they may rely for contrasting the past with the pre¬
sent, and means of forming their own conclusions
o
VI
INTRODUCTORY MATTER.
from their own judgment as to the improvement or
deterioration of the present generation.
This information will not assume the formality of
a continuous narrative. It will arise from a mass of
anecdotes, descriptions of persons and things, events,
incidents, conversations, and correspondences, with
which, and in which, he who attempts to convey it
has been mixed up, or with the chief actors in which
he has been personally acquainted. It is submitted
that this method of conveying intelligence will be at
least as effective, and certainly more pleasing than
the pretence of wisdom or the authority of dictation.
The writer is avrare of the force of example, he would
rather enlighten by the analogy of precedent than the
vehemence of precept.
Of his qualifications for the task he has under¬
taken, it may be necessary to say something, even
at the expense of an accusation of vanity, and the
shorter the saying on this subject the better. He
was from his earliest days educated for a learned
profession, and till he reached the age of twenty-
three furnished with the means of pursuing it ; cir¬
cumstances subsequently occurred which threw him
INTRODUCTORY MATTER.
• »
VII
entirely and suddenly on his own resources, and
changed the prospects of his apparent destiny. After
passing through the rough training of a metropolitan
grammar-school and the discipline of several years
at Eton, he graduated at the University of Cam¬
bridge, and afterwards entered as a student at Lin¬
coln's Inn, and was for upwards of three years pupil
of a celebrated special pleader in the Inner Temple.
He subsequently entered into holy orders, and after
various vicissitudes, exemplifying the words, " that
one man in his time plays many parts," and under¬
going the miseries without attaining the honours of
a literary life—
"Toil, envy, want, the garret, and the gaol,"
become connected with the public press of this
country, to which for nearly five-and-twenty years
he has been continuously and closely attached.
During the whole of a long career he may be
said to have lived in the world, and to have been in
contact with " all sorts of men." Some of the results
of his experience he now puts before the reader.
CONTENTS OF VOL. T.
CHAPTER I.
Alterations in the Appearance of London — Whitehall — West¬
minster—Tothill Fields—The Willow Walk—Slender Billy-
Dying in Christian Charity—St. James's Park in the Olden
Time—Celebration of the Peace in 1814—^Bill Bichmond-—
Delphini—The Five Fields—Tyburn—Kilbum—Beau Brumm el
when a Boy—Memory Thompson—Cardinal Wolsey's Bedstead
—Barnard Gregory pp. 1—26
CHAPTER II.
Proposition to write Leaders in a Morning Joumal—What embit¬
tered the Last Moments of George IV.—^Who reconciled the
Royal Brothers—Ancient Mode of Lighting the Streets—St.
Giles's, the Rookery, the Hare and Hounds, Stunning Joe Banks,
&c.—Charlies—Blood Money—^Amateur Thief-takers—Lee, the
High Constable of Westminster—St. Martin's Watchhouse—
Vine Street—Outrages at West-End Fair—^-Resurrectionists—
A Specimen of the Oenus—Adventure in Off Alley—The
Key pp. 27—52
CHAPTER III.
(
Archdeacon Pott—Presentation Plate—Hedge Lane—Sir Richard
Birnie—Justice Bond—Phillips — Townsend, the Bow Street
Officer—Sam Butcher : supposed cause of his Death—Archbishop
Tenison's School—Liston—A Scholastic Row—John Palmer
the Actor—»A Ghost Story—Mr. Morris, Proprietor of the Hay-
market Theatre—Miss Biffin—Sinbad the Sailor—George Bolton
—^Advertisement for a Wife—Jerry Sneak Russell—A Dram-
Drinker—Deighton the Caricaturist pp. 53—81
X
CONTENTS OF VOL. I.
CHAPTER lY.
Education at Public Schools—Eton—Br. Barnard—Br. Goodhall—
Br. Keate—Barnes—Miss Angelo—The late Provost Hodson
—Lord Burham—Wretched System of Biscipline and Instruc¬
tion—Notorious Abuses—Opposition to projected Improve¬
ment pp. 82—107
CHAPTER V.
Eton, continued—Enormous Income of the Head Master: heavy
charges for teaching nothing—The late Rev. 0. Yonge—Trinity
Hall, Cambridge—The Rev. Mr. Walker—^University Vultures
—^Br. Jowett, Regius Professor of Civil Law—Sir W. Wynne,
Bean of the Arches, &c.—Mr. Buval, the Conveyancer—Mr.
Leblanc, Master of the Court of K. B.—Br. Battine ; his four
female servants—^William IV.—Parson Beevor and Ikey Bittoon,
&c. &c.—Br. Blake and Mr. Furbey—Necessity makes strange
bed-fellows pp. 108—135
CHAPTER VI.
Contemporaries at Cambridge—A Real Tar—What the celebrated
Lord Chesterfield thought of Trinity Hall—Supper Parties at
Trinity Hall—The Chesterfield Cup—Milk Punch — Bishop—
The Combination Room—Br. Isaac Milner—How to enjoy a
Shower-bath—Br. Clarke, the Traveller—^Br. Mansell, Bishop of
Bristol—Mr. Beverley, Esquire Bedell—.Temmy Gordon—King's
College—Provost Sumner—Anecdote of Edmund Burke—Befi-
nition of a Fly-fisher—Scrope Bavis—^The Rev. Mr. Mandell—
Proctors, Prostitutes, and Bull Bogs—The Spinning House-
Recommendation of Br. Prideaux pp. 136—164
CHAPTER VII.
Br. Prideaux's strictures on Fellowships—Notions of a Noble
Marquis and Marchioness on Comparative Morality—Keeping
Acts—The Latin of the Schools—A Visitor from the Fens—
Botsam—Snipe-Shooting — I am stopped by a Footpad—The
Auriga of Cambridge—Bill Jones-r-Bick Vaughan—A Cam¬
bridge Cockpit—Mr. H. Villebois—Sir Henry and Lady Smyth,
Lady Sykes, &c. &c.—The chère amie of the Buc de Berry—
How to cancel an Apprentice's Indentures—Installation of the
Buke of Gloucester as Chancellor of the University of Cambridge
—Lord Erskine—Captain Bisney—Br. Parr . . pp. 165—192
CONTENTS OF VOL. I.
xi
CHAPTER VIII.
Thomas Barnes—Christ's Hospital—Morality of a City Madam—
Richard Porson—A Greek Professor in the Workhouse—Men¬
doza at Cambridge : he explains the Transit of the Red Sea—
Scene at a Supper Party in St. John's College—Pack of Hounds
kept in the University — Races at the Gogmagog Hills —
Barnwell—Pot Fair—Muster Richardson's Booth—Town and
Gown—The recent Smokers and Non-smokers—Anecdote of
Lord Erskine—An Original—Desperate Struggle with Burglars
—Dan Dawson, the Horse Poisoner—Strictures on Mathematical
Studies pp. 193—228
CHAPTER IX.
The Owls—Sheridan Knowles—^Augustine Wade—Major Anati—
Proposal of Marriage ; its consequences—Leman Rede—Pierce
Egan—Frederick Yates—Newgate Noctes Ambrosianse—Mon¬
sieur Jacques and Jacko the Monkey—A Foreign Nobleman—
Mr. Raymond Percival—The Pursuit of Knowledge attended
with Danger—A Whale, &c. &c pp. 229—257
CHAPTER X.
A Newspaper Savon and Foreign Correspondent—Expedient to
raise the wind—A Sham Corpse—Two Sons of Mars—A Real
Corpse—Deaf Burke—See how a Christian can die—Kenneth,
the Theatrical Agent—Ingenious mode of Piracy of Dramatic
Pieces—Edmund Kean : a Tablet to his Memory in Richmond
Churchyard—The Shakespeare's Head in Wych Street—Mr.
Mark Lemon : the Company at his Tavern, &c. . pp. 258—282
CHAPTER XI.
The First Marquis of Londonderry: the Cause and Manner of
his Death; the Coroner's Inquest; Observations upon it, &c.
pp. 283—304
KECOLLECTIONS
OF
THE LAST HALF CENTUKY.
CHAPTER L
Alterations in the Appearance of London — Whitehall — West¬
minster—Tothill Fields—The Willow Walk—Slender Billy—^
Dying in Christian Charity — St. James's Park in the Olden
Time — Celebration of the Peace in 1814 — Bill Richmond —
Delphini—^The Five Fields—Tyburn—Kilburn—Beau Brummel
when a Boy — Memory Thompson — Cardinal Wolsey's Bed¬
stead—Barnard Gregory.
Those who remember what this metropolis was at the
commencement of the present century will be best
qualified to form an estimate of the alterations and
improvements it has undergone during the last fifty
years. Such persons will^ moreover, be most compe¬
tent to judge of the accuracy of what the waiter is
about to describe ; and it is to them, therefore, that
he at the outset of his narrative more particularly
addresses himself: it is hoped the reminiscences of
his own experience will be corroborated by their
vol. i. b
2
EECOLLECTIONS OE
recollections, and at all events that the truth of his
descriptions will be admitted by the candour of con¬
temporaneous observation.
To that more numerous section of the population
which has come into the world more recently than
the sexagenarians above addressed, it is submitted
that some account of the state of this city (that is, of
London and Westminster), in which many of the
incidents hereinafter described occurred, will not be
uninteresting. It will, at any rate, have the effect of
making them more contented with what they now see
around them, from the contrast with things from
which they have escaped ; it will show them the pro¬
gress which time, the ^;iost irresistible of reformers,
had made in the modes, customs, habits, and conve¬
niences of society, and enable them to understand
what, in these accounts, would otherwise appear in¬
comprehensible and perhaps mendacious.
The writer must claim the privilege of telling his
story in his own way. If he be to teach at all, it must
be by examples. He does not profess, nor does he
wish to be preceptorial, in the usual acceptation of
that term : he will attempt to tell people a good
deal they never heard before; and if his manner, at
times, be digressive and desultory, he will anticipate
the severity of criticism in his readers by candidly
THE LAST HALE CENTURY.
3
avowing, that in what he has done he has come very
short of what he intended to do, and what he thought
he was able to perform.
Fifty years ago this metropolis, which now contains
two millions and a half of people, did not contain
above one million of inhabitants. The extent of the
city was commensurately small ; and yet the inhabi¬
tants of the different districts were less acquainted
with each other, and more distinct in their manners,
habits, and characteristics, than they are in these
days.
The inhabitants of the extreme east of London
knew nothing of the western localities but from hear¬
say and report, and, vice versa, those of the w^est were
in equal ignorance of the orientals. There was little
communication or sympathy between the respective
classes by which the tw^o ends of London were occu¬
pied. They differed in external appearance ; in the
fashion of their clothes, in their pursuits, in their
pleasures, and in their toils ; and on those occasions
in which they came into contact, which were but
seldom, surveyed each other with much the same
kind of curiosity and astonishment as would now-a-
days be exhibited by a native of this great town at
the appearance of an Esquimaux or a Laplander in
Hyde-park or Regent-street.
B 2
4
KECOLLECTIONS OF
The causes of this mutual ignorance arose from the
almost total want of communication which existed,
and which prevented the one portion of the commu
nity from very frequently visiting the other. It was
a laborious operation to walk from Hyde-park-corner
to Whitechapel, or from Whitechapel to Hyde-park-
corner ; and it was an expensive business, as well as
a tedious one, to be transported in a hackney coach
from one terminus to the other. Each district was
s
comparatively isolated ; the state of isolation produced
peculiarities, and the peculiarities corroborated the
isolation, and thus the householders of Westminster,
whether noblemen, gentlemen, tradesmen, shopmen,
or of any other grade of society, were as distinct
from the householders of every sort of Bishopsgate
Without, Shoreditch, and all those localities which
stretch towards the Essex side of the city, as in these
days they are from the inhabitants of Holland or
Belgium.
The precincts and purlieus of Westminster Abbey
were unknown to those who inhabited within half a
mile of them! The ramifications of the Seven Dials,
and that division of the town which may be called
t/
" St. Giles Proper," was to the timid and to the
respectable, very properly, a perfect ¿e?Ta incognita.
The site on which formerly stood St. James's Market,
THE LAST HALF CENTUKY.
5
and the filthy passage called " Market-lane/' though
"within a stone's throw of the palace of the heir-appa¬
rent to the throne, were very properly avoided by all
persons who respected their characters or their gar¬
ments, and were consequently only known to a
"select few," whose avocations obliged, or whose
peculiar tastes induced them to penetrate the laby¬
rinth of burrows which extended to Jermyn-street,
and westward towards St. James's-square, and the
formerly dirty district now occupied by more stately
and appropriate edifices.
Whitehall and the approaches to the Houses of
Parliament were in a very different state from that
which exists at this day. A little below the " Ban¬
que tting-house" of the ancient palace, that admirable
specimen of the genius and architectural knowledge
of Inigo Jones, was a wretched brick wall, which
extended nearly to the spot now occupied by Rich¬
mond-terrace. The wall was covered with printed
ballads, ^^last dying speeches and confessions," and
publications of a nature which might alarm the deli¬
cacy, and perhaps justify the interference of the
Society for the Suppression of Vice. The vendors
of this sort of literature were of the peripatetic school,
and ambulated backwards and forwards along the
pavement, proclaiming the scope and tendency of
6
EECOLLECTIONS OF
their wares^ and striving with an energy not met
with in modern bibliopolists to force a market.
On the opposite side of the street, stood the ruinous
old building, called the Treasury," on the site of
which is now erected the modern " Treasury." The
old building presented a most dilapidated appearance,
and was in good keeping with the dingy tone of the
neighbourhood. Beyond this, to the west, passing
down King-street, and crossing Great George-street,
he who penetrated further would have found him¬
self involved in a maze of streets, courts, avenues,
and abominations, which the progress of improve¬
ment has gradually swept away, and on the site of
which are now the gardens and enclosures opposite
Palace-yard and the open spaces and streets behind
them, the Westminster Sessions House, irreverently,
but not inappropriately, called the " Goose-pie" house,
whether in allusion to the peculiarities of its design
and construction, or to the characteristics of the
Abethdins, whose decrees have been promulgated
within its crusty walls, is matter of doubt. Beyond
was the " Sanctuary," a den of infamy, which for¬
tunately exists no longer, and clusters of low brothels,
lodging-houses for trampers, beggars, thieves, pros¬
titutes, hoc genus omne, and many other genera of
persons and things, of which the records will be
THE LAST HALF CENTURY.
7
best consigned to the custody of oblivion. Pie-street,
Duck-lane, being passed, a comparatively spacious
piece of ground presented itself to the eye, then
known as To thill-fields," or by the aborigines of
the district, called " Tuttle Downs." The " Campus
Martius" of blackguardism. This was the arena for
bull-baiting, badger-baiting, dog-fighting, and such
like "manly sports," of which the celebrated Mr.
Windham was so enlightened an advocate in his
place in parliament and elsewhere, and with which
so many philosophic and patriotic noblemen and
gentlemen of the olden time considered the national
character and constitutional liberties of the country
to be too closely bound up for the severance of the
connexion.
It may be appropriate to mention, that the then
scholars (query) or pupils of the royal foundation of
Queen Elizabeth, Westminster School, had the ad¬
vantage or disadvantage of witnessing the scenes
transacted in this locality. The academic retirement
of Dean's-yard was frequently deserted by the togati
of the college, whose "careless childhood" strayed
more than " once" to the places here alluded to, and
that in return for such condescension, the élite of
their oppidanic neighbours frequently returned the
visits, if neither numerous, nor select, at least in such
8
RECOLLECTIONS OE
numbers, and of such a quality, as to ensure the suc¬
cessful progress of their youthful patrons in the various
processes in which they themselves were proficient.
The " Downs" had little of that viridity of verdure
by which the downs of most other parts of England
gladden the eye. Their surface was partly covered
with patches of stunted grass, subdued by dust and
the trampling of many feet to the neutrality of
" invisible green." Looming in the future," or in
the distance, which has since become a more happy
present, was an extent of gardener's ground, divided
by ditches filled with stagnant water, and fringed
with dwarfish withy trees, stretching towards the
Thames, from which it was separated by a causeway.
Mill Bank, which Bank, as it now exists, bears little
resemblance to its state in former days. There were
few houses, or even hovels, to diversify the sameness
of the prospect. The Penitentiary prison was not
built, Vauxhall Bridge and its approaches were then
in the womb of time ; and nobody predicted the
parturition of the parent. A gloomy, dilapidated
house, which had the reputation of being haunted,
relieved the monotony of the pathway from West¬
minster to Chelsea ; whilst a " halfpenny hatch," a
toll for pathway through the domain of a cultivator
of cabbages, enabled the tourist to gain a sort of
THE LAST HALE GElSTTUEY
9
tavern, or so-called by courtesy, " place of public
entertainment," known by the not unsuitable title of
the "Monster." Then came another embankment,
the " Willow-walk," which is now covered with
houses. It was at one end of this, in the days of
which I am speaking, dangerous and gloomy cause¬
way, that the house of one William Aberfield, better
known as " Slender Billy," was to be seen ; and it is
not above ten or a dozen years ago that it was pulled
down to make room for the present improvements of
the neighbourhood. It was an isolated abode, and in
connexion with the locale had as complete a cut¬
throat appearance as the most enthusiastic admirer of
the Jack Sheppard school could desire.
Mr. Aberfield himself was a fitting tenant for such
an abode. He was in person thin, gaunt, and bony,
and properly entitled to the nam de guerre by which
he was distinguished. In this house were held bear-
baitings, dog-fights, and pastimes of a similar character.
" Slender Billy" presiding, directing the sports, and
pocketing the profits derived from them. The place
was the haunt of blackguards of all ranks, peers,
pickpockets, gamblers of high and low degree,
pugilists, professors and pupils in the science of
roguery and cruelty. " Slender Billy," in addition
to the gains he derived from this pursuit, had other
10
EECOLLECTIONS OF
means of increasing his store, which he practised for
a considerable time with success, but which at length
led to a fatal climax.
He was connected with a gang of persons who
fabricated Bank of England notes ; the gang had
numerous agents, and the ramifications of their system
in passing their forgeries were extended in many
directions throughout the metropolis into the country.
This nefarious occupation of course attracted the
attention of the police ; and after some time Aber-
field was taken into custody, tried for, and convicted
at the Old Bailey of forgery. A conviction of forgery
was at that time invariably attended with the punish¬
ment of death, and the culprit was aware of the fact.
Nevertheless, as drowning men are said to catch at a
straw, so did he endeavour to catch at what he
thought might extricate his neck from a halter.
Amongst his patrons were some who had the entree at
Carlton House, and were on terms of intimacy with its
proprietor ; to one of these he applied, and entreated
him to use his influence to obtain a remission of the
sentence of death that had been passed upon him.
The influence was not exerted altogether in vain, and
after some consultation with the Bank authorities, it
was made known to the applicant for mercy that if
he would give up the plates from which the forged
THE LAST HALF CEHTÜKY. 11
notes were printed, discover the secrets of the system
by which they were got into circulation, and betray
his confederates, mercy would be extended to him.
" Billy" possessed in a strong degree that quality
called "honour among thieves," and at once repu¬
diated the acceptance of the proposed terms. He
even indulged in an affected ignorance of what was
meant, and put into the hands of the negotiator
the plate on which he had been eating his prison
meal. He made up his mind to die "game," and
without letting the ordinary of Newgate into all his
secrets, persuaded the reverend gentleman and the
governor that he was perfectly penitent and prepared
to die.
In this apparent repentant and Christian state of
mind he,requestedto be allowed to shake hands with his
prosecutors, and with the witnesses whose testimony
had brought about the ignominious termination of his
o o
days. This charitable request was granted, and he took
leave of them with most edifying resignation and
forgiveness, hoping to meet them in a better world,
and so forth. To the principal witness, the Bow-street
officer, by whom the case against him had been got up,
he wished all manner of happiness, and presented him
at parting with a brace of partridges, which he said
bad been sent to him by an old friend, but which he
12
EECOLLECTIONS OE
had neither the inclination nor the opportunity to eat.
Whether the officer was more suspicious of the real
and rather sudden conversion of the prisoner than the
ordinary and other people, or whether, from natural
astuteness, he acted on the principle, " timeo Dañaos
et Dona ferentes,' he had the partridges examined by
a competent person, and the fact was then ascertained
that they had been injected with poison, and that if
he had eaten thereof, he would certainly have accom¬
panied the donor out of this world, though whether
he would have renewed his acquaintance with him in
another is a matter of speculation.
" Slender Billy" was hanged at Newgate, and in
accordance with his resolution, divulged no names, and
died game." An immense mob attended his last
moments, and cheered him as he passed into »eternity
with approving shouts.
Leaving the causeway and the house of this, in
his timej well-known man, and retreating upon that
part of Pimlico on which the brewery of Messrs.
Elliot is erected, the wanderer found himself some¬
where about the site of the modern House of Cor¬
rection, or Bridewell, with the choice of extending
his explorations through the " Broadway," or Stret-
ton's-ground," and streets of an equally inviting
aspect, and of ultimately reaching Queen-square, and
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 13
descending by a flight of filthy steps into the " Bird¬
cage-walk."
This short notice of the locality as it then existed,
will serve to show the contrast which it now presents.
Streets, squares, crescents, churches, commodious
dwelling-houses, and spacious manufactories, occupy
the ground which was formerly, with occasional ex¬
ceptions, a morass and a nuisance.
A host of vagabonds has been removed from a
locality which, bad as it was in their days, was dese¬
crated by their presence. Many score acres have
been recovered from desolation, and become the
abode of respectable people, and the " busy haunts"
of industry. The health and the moral condition of
the population have been alike improved by the
alterations, and what was before a dangerous neigh¬
bourhood, even for the purposes of transit, has become
a desirable locality for permanent residence.
St. James's Park, in its present state, bears little
resemblance in its appearance to what it was half-a-
century ago. Buckingham Palace, with all its ab¬
surdities and bad taste of architectural construction,
is certainly a more regal abode than Buckingham
House, which formerly occupied a part of the ground
on which it stands. The last-named edifice, a mean-
looking building of red brick, had nothing of a palatial
14
RECOLLECTIONS OF
character to recommend it. It might, if it still ex¬
isted, be mistaken for a county union," a lunatic
asylum, or a huge boarding-school. The enclosure
which now fronts the palace, and reaches to the
parade before the Horse Guards," was a long dirty
field, intersected by a wide dirty ditch. It was thinly
planted with rotten lime trees, and surrounded by a
wooden railing, through which scores of ragged boys
and girls were continually passing and repassing, dis¬
porting on the banks of the ditch or canal in a manner
peculiarly their own, but which drew forth the
indignation of half-a-dozen somewhat corpulent
guardians of the place, who were to be seen pursuing
them, not pari passu, nor with anything approaching
to it, and whose vigilance was easily evaded by the
culprits.
The grass of this enclosure was rank and weedy,
such as might be expected to fringe the sluggish
stream which slowly crawled along. So precious was
this enclosure considered by those who had authority
over it, that no person was allowed to trespass"
upon its sanctity. No gate or entrance was visible,
although, by some means or other, ingress and egress
were certainly afforded to the functionaries above
alluded to. Groups of sheep, of which the fleeces
would never have tempted a visit from Jason, enjoyed
THE LAST HALE CENTURY.
15
the luxury of the herbage, and roamed at their dis¬
cretion throughout the pastures.
The first attempt at improvement in this place was
made in the year 1814, when, on the occasion of the
visit of the Emperor of Russia and the King of
Prussia to this country, after the relegation of the
Emperor Napoleon to Elba, a grand fête was given
in the public parks in celebration of the peace. It is
not intended to describe this fête in these memorials ;
the reader will find full and particular accounts of all
that happened, and of all that was intended to have
happened, in the newspapers and publications of the
day. It will be sufficient to say, that a bridge of
wood was thrown across the canal, and a road made
across the enclosure, from Westminster into that part
of the park which runs in front of St. James's Palace
and Sutherland and Marlborough Houses. The
bridge was built in the Chinese taste, or rather in the
taste attributed to that people, and was surmounted
by a lofty wooden pagoda, similar to that which still
exists in Kew Gardens. From the summit of this
piece of grotesque absurdity fireworks were exhibited
on the first night of the fête, when, unfortunately, the
pagoda caught fire, and after blazing away in a manner
that illuminated the whole district, broke in half ; the
upper part fell into the water, and the lower, by great
16
RECOLLECTIONS OF
exertions, was rescued from the flames. The accident
was deplorable, from being attended by the death of
several of those who were employed in the manage¬
ment of the fireworks. They were precipitated with
the burning mass into the canal and perished.
On the occasion of the fête, the enclosure was
thrown open to all persons who could afford or who
chose to pay half-a-guinea for the privilege of the
promenade. Booths and tents and stalls, for refresh¬
ments and for other purposes, were erected all over
the extensive field ; and for three days and nights.
Saturnalia^ such as London has never witnessed since,
and which it is to be hoped it will never witness
again, were kept up without intermission. A vast
number of the more active participators in the
amusements, both male and female, voted themselves
on the " free list," and being " regardless of expense,"
because they paid nothing, managed to effect an
entrance every evening about dusk, by getting over
the railing, or between the rails, as the case might
be ; and in spite of the regulations in support of tem¬
perance and decency, transgressed very considerably
the laws of decorum, and got drunk and disorderly
with perfect impunity.
One of the most successful sutlers in this huge
camp of the " Peace Society" of that day, was the
THE LAST HALE CENTURY. 17
well-known William Richmond, the black, a pugilist
of considerable eminence in his time. This man was
in stature upwards of six feet, exceedingly muscular,
and very clean made from the hip upwards. His
lower limbs were the reverse of symmetrical ; one leg
being bent inward at the knee, and acting as a prop
to its companion, which, when the owner was in
" attitude" for either assault or defence, it appeared
to support, as what is termed a " spur" does a ricketty
post. The black had been a military servant to the
then Duke of Northumberland (the father of the pre¬
sent duke) in the American War of Independence,
and was an aged man. Yet, notwithstanding his age
and his deformity of limb, his agility was most extra¬
ordinary, and on occasion of Ireland, the celebrated
vaulter at Astley's amphitheatre, being incapacitated
from illness, he supplied his place, and performed
most of the astonishing feats for which the sick man
was famous.
A frequenter of this temporary fair was Delphi ni,
at that time employed as ballet-master, or under
ballet-master at the Italian Opera House. Of this
person it is intended to say more by and by, in con¬
nexion with the freaks of royalty at Brighton. Some
anecdotes have already appeared in print, describing
the difficulties and annoyances experienced by John
VOL. I. C
18
KECOLLECTIONS OF
Kemble^ the tragedian^ instructmg Delphini to repeat
half-a-dozen words on the stage of Covent-garden
Theatre, to entitle him to become a member of the
Theatrical Fund; and the all but failure of the pupil,
who, though an admirable actor in dumb show, was
totally incompetent to the utterance of a sentence.
This then celebrity had the entrée at Carlton-house, and
was amongst the many oddities with whom the owner
of the building amused himself, admitting them to his
presence for the purpose of creating mirth, or for im¬
parting that sort of intelligence for which it would be
in vain to search in written or printed documents, and
from the conveyance of which more exalted, or, at
least, more decorous guests might shrink with dismay.
Delphini was also occasionally employed in the kitchen
of the establishment, to prepare macaroni for the
royal table, a talent which, like most of his country¬
men, he possessed in an eminent degree.
St, James's Park was, after many years' delay, laid
out in the manner in which it now appears; and in
place of the old residence of George III. and Queen
Charlotte, the palace of her present Majesty, of which
it is unnecessary to speak, was erected.
The site now covered by Belgrave-square, Eaton-
square, and the adjacent streets, was at the time to
which reference has been made, an open space, known
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 19
by the name of the " Five Fields," in which the most
conspicuous object was the " Ebury Chapel," an
edifice now completely surrounded with houses, and
insignificant amidst its more stately and more modern
neighbours. It was intersected by a road, elevated
above the fields through which it passed, and termi¬
nating in Sloane-street. The "Five Fields" were
not remarkably for good character, and were not un-
frequently, after dusk, the scene of robbery and assault
upon the unfortunate passers-by, who might from
necessity or choice have wandered into them.
Knightsbridge and Hyde-park-corner have, like
other places, been improved. The handsome shops
and houses which now form the southern side of the
road have succeeded the small, dirty row of shops
and sheds that stood there once. The turnpike has
been removed; a weighing-house for wagons, that
partly blocked up the road, has disappeared ; the wall
which blocked out all view from the road into the
park has been superseded by iron rails; triumphal
arches, &c., have been erected, where once plain
wooden gatewa3^s stood; and Apsley House, originally
a dingy brick building, and very appropriatelj' called
by Sheridan the " Dusthole" of London, has been
transformed into an edifice of stone, with some pre¬
tensions to architectural beauty.
c 2
20
EECOLLECTIOíí'S OE
To proceed. The northern boundary of the old
metropolis, then called " Oxford-road," terminated
abruptly at the entrance of the park where now
stands the Triumphal Arch lately removed from the
Buckingham Palace. The now fashionable district
forming one side of the Bayswater-road, and occupy¬
ing the angle between that road and the Paddington-
road was, in the eyes of respectable people, a locality
to be avoided. Ragged fields stretched over scores
of acres of ground, and the ominous name of
Tybourn frightened, not indeed those whom it ought
to have deterred from visiting the place, but effectually
kept at a distance those who assumed a character for
decency as well as those who really possessed one.
The place was a blank in the improvements of
London for years after other suburbs had been built
upon, and it was not till comparatively recently that
the tea gardens and sirnfiar haunts of low debauchery
gave way to the elegant and stately buildings with
which the ground is how covered.
The road to Kilburn was such a road as is now
only to be seen twenty miles out of town. West-
bourne-green was really what its name implied, and
any one having gone northward, a mile from Oxford-
street, found himself amidst fields, farm-houses, and
such-like scenes as are only to be met with now-a-
THE LAST HALF CENTUKY.
21
days by a trip by railway, or an actual country
excursion.
At Kilburn lived, some fifty years ago, a lady who
possessed a handsome old-fashioned house and some
broad acres of the best meadow land in the county of
Middlesex. Here, on a Sunday, it was her custom
to entertain her friends with such good fare as was
then seen on the hospitable boards of people in the
middle ranks of life; and here, when a lad, was,
on one Sabbath day, brought the well-known George,
alias Beau Brummell. This formerly fashionable
authority in all things connected with the external
decencies of society, was, when a boy, as afterwards
when a man, a greedy, selfish, empty, conceited
coxcomb, whose luck it was in life to meet with
greater fools than himself ; and by bullying them into
a notion of his superiority, to cajole and direct them.
At the dinner-table of the old lady he gave a good
specimen of the physical greediness of his nature and
the essential vulgarity of his disposition. Having
stuiFed himself almost to bursting with the viands of
the feast, he actually burst into tears, and sobbingly
regretted that his belly could not stretch itself to
O 1/
dimensions commensurate with his desire to gorman¬
dize. The admirers, imitators, and pupils of this
precious coxcomb may feel astonished at this
22
EECOLLECTIONS OF
passage in his career. They may^ nevertheless, rely
upon the truth of it; it is vouched for by one who
knew him well.
Leaving Kilburn on the left, and crossing the fields
to the right, the pedestrian would, after a pleasant
walk, find himself at Frognall, on the western side of
Hampstead, which was at the time described most
truly a beautiful and suburban village. The view
from the most elevated spot of this locality is one of
the finest in England. The late Dr. White, who
held the living of Hampstead some years back, and
also the living of Nettlebed in Oxfordshire, affirmed
that on a clear day, with the aid of a good telescope,
he could discern the windmill at the last-named
place from his garden at Frognall, the distance in a
direct line being about thirty-five miles.
A house still exists in this immediate neighbour-
hood in which a remarkable character ended his
days, and in the possession of which another
character of equal notoriety (who died a year or two
ago) became his successor.
The persons here alluded to are Mr. Thompson,
better known as " Memory Thompson," and Barnard
Gregory, proprietor and editor of that most notorious
publication, the " Satirist," now as defunct as its
owner.
THE LAST HALF CENTURY.
23
This Memory Thompson" was a man of coarse
exterior and uncultivated mind; he possessed a sort
of taste for collecting antiquated rubbish, and had he
had the knowledge and refinement of Horace Wal-
pole, he might, perhaps, have made his house at
Hampstead as respectable a toy-shop as Strawberry-
Hill. As it was, he crammed it tolerably full of
specimens of foolery and impertinence. His voca¬
tion had been for many years that of a brewer's
valuer, a functionary whose business it is, on the
retirement of one Boniface from a public-house, to
value the stock, furniture, &c., of the house, at the
price to be paid by another who takes the concern."
In the course of many years' practice in this pursuit,
he had contrived to get into his possession a vast
number of what are termed " bits"—viz., objects of
mrtû^ pictures, nicknacks, and those strange things
which are only curious from their rarity and remark¬
able from their ugliness. Amongst the uncouth
furniture of the house was a huge unwieldy bed¬
stead, blackened with age, and polished by continual
friction. The wood was inlaid with devices and
so forth in ivory, and the initials C. W." were
eminently conspicuous. This he affirmed to be
the bedstead of Cardinal Wolsey. Had he lived a
little later, he might have assigned the letters to
24
RECOLLECTIONS OE
Cardinal Wiseman with equal sagacity of interpre¬
tation.
Memory Thompson" derived the prefix to his sur¬
name, from the reputed extent and accuracy of his
memory. It was affirmed by himself and his par¬
ticular friends, that he would name the shops and
the occupation of those by whom they were held,
from end of London to the other ; for instance, that
he could begin at Temple-bar, and end at Pall Mall,
describing the trades carried on both sides the Strand,
Charing-cross, and Cockspur-street, with the pre¬
cision and correctness of the " Post-office Directory."
This, like most other wonderful stories, was a mere
assertion. His memory was very little better than
that of other people ; and the mode he adopted to
support his pretensions was this. If he were asked
what was the trade carried on at a specific number in
a specified street, he would reply, "It is either a
linen-draper's, or a shoemaker's, or a hatter's, or a
bookseller's," &c., taking half-a-dozen trades at a
venture, and thereby securing the almost certainty of
making a fortunate guess as to one or other of them.
However, his fame in memories was established, and
he was stared at as a phenomenon of no small im¬
portance. Having amassed a very considerable pro¬
perty, and grown foolish as he grew old, he was
THE LAST HALE CENTURY. 25
surrounded by a parcel of people whose object it was
to be mentioned in his will. He professed the greatest
respect and kindness to everybody who would flatter
his weaknesses and listen to his twaddle, and he
executed such a number of conflicting wills, tes-
taments, and bequests, that a perfect host of persons
who imagined themselves the lucky depositaries of
his munificence, found themselves at his death most
miserably disappointed. The will of one day being
revoked by the will of the following day, and fresh
wills being discovered after his decease, destroyed the
expectation of those who considered his wealth as
certainly their own.
Barnard Gregory, who understood the character of
the old fellow better than anybody else, kept close to
him, and adopting the maxim of Peter Pindar, that
the way to most men's hearts is through their sto¬
machs, supplied the house with such good things as
the wine-merchant, the butcher, the poulterer, and
the fishmonger can furnish, succeeded in getting him
to make a will in his favour, and adopted all the
means in his power to prevent its revocation, or the
signature of the testator being put to any subsequent
one. But notwithstanding all his vigilance, he was
very nearly losing the reward of his assiduity. After
Thompson's demise, another will was found, claiming
26
KECOLLECTIONS OF
to be of later date than that which conveyed the pro¬
perty to Mr. Gregory. The relations of the deceased
made their claims^ the lawyers went to work, and
made a tolerable harvest of the disputants. Having
once got into " Doctors' Commons," the litigants
found no little difficulty in getting out ; and the con¬
test was finally settled by Gregory marrying a female
relative of the man of memory, his most formidable
antagonist, and by so doing defeated the efforts of all
others to dispossess him of his gains.
THE LAST HALE CENTUKY,
27
CHAPTEE IL
Proposition to write Leaders in a Morning Journal — What em¬
bittered the Last Moments of George lY.—Who reconciled
the E-oyal Brothers—^Ancient Mode of Lighting the Streets—■
St. Giles's, the Bookery, the Hare and Hounds, Stunning Joe
Banks, &c.—Charlies—Blood Money—^Amateur Thief-takers—•
Lee, the High Constable of Westminster—St. Martin's Watch-
house—Yine Street — Outrages at West-End Fair—Besurrec-
tionists—A Specimen of the Genus—Adventure in Off Alley—•
^The Key.
Barnard Gregory, whatever may have been his
virtues or his vices—and those who have read the sort
of notices that appeared, under his management, in
t-
the Satirist," must form their own estimate of their
existence and extent—had one good quality, a quality
which, if it were more generally diffused amongst
newspaper writers, would be a great relief to the
community : in private society he never talked of the
^^shop," or in less homely phrase, he never made
allusion to his own affairs as connected with the pub¬
lication of which he was the proprietor. He was
gentlemanly and retiring in his manners, and having
a good fund of anecdote, was amusing in his conver-
28
RECOLLECTIONS OF
sation. He was, moreover, an actor of no small
merit, and could play several Shakesperian characters
as well as most of the theatrical professionals of his
day. The public, however, would not tolerate his
appearance on the stage; the moment he made his
entrance in the scene, uproar and menace assailed
him, threats of vengeance and abuse from those who
considered themselves libelled in his paper, or took
upon themselves the office of protectors of morals,
were heard on all sides ; and the most tremendous
confusion and discord forced him to retire.
In his abstinence from the obtrusion of his lucu¬
brations in the " Satirist," and his almost studious
avoidance of talking about himself, he differed widely
from a gentleman who was his contemporary as a
public writer, in a peculiar and sui generis style, in a
paper conducted on somewhat similar principles
(query) to the Satirist." It wdll be as well to omit
the name of this last-mentioned gentleman, who has
for some time retired from his literary labours. His
career has been diversified by the profits and penalties
by which persons of his pursuits are rewarded or
punished. He has been kicked, horsewhipped, and
cudgelled; but conscious rectitude, or the conscious¬
ness of something else, has acted as a sedative upon
the irritability of his temperament.
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 29
populus me sibilat ; at mihi plaudo
Ipse demi, simul ac nummos contemplor in
he might have appropriately assumed as his motto ;
and probably would have so done, had not his limited
acquaintance with the classics prevented the know¬
ledge of the existence of such lines in the writings of
Horace.
The knowledge, however, which this gentleman
did possess, if reliance is to be placed on his own
assertions, was, with respect to the mysteries of state,
the policy of empires, and the secrets of noble fami¬
lies, as extensive as miinute. Nor were his literary
merits, estimated at his own valuation, of a character
to be despised. At the " Café" in the Haymarket,
a place wherein wits, critics, savans, &c., and those
who court their society, are accustomed occasionally
to muster in great force, Mr. ■ proposed to a
gentleman connected with one of the morning jour¬
nals to write " leaders" for five pounds a column ;
and to induce the acceptance of his proposition,
magnanimously undertook to affix his name to the
articles he might write. The gentleman acknow¬
ledged the liberality of his offer, but regretted that it
was not in his power, without consulting with other
people, to accept it. He could however undertake,
upon his own responsibility, to say, that if his services
30
BECOLLECTIONS OE
should be accepted, five guineas a column,, instead of
five pounds, would be paid, conditionally that he
consented to be an anonymous contributor to the
publication—"What's in a Name," &c.
Mr. was accustomed to enlighten his auditors
with many curious, and not very delicate anecdotes
of his late Majesty, George IV., whose last mo¬
ments, he affirmed, were embittered with the con¬
sciousness, when it was too late to amend the over¬
sight, that he had neglected to confer a baronetcy on
him, Mr. which he had promised to do spon¬
taneously, in consideration of the great services ren¬
dered by that gentleman, and the trouble to which he
had been put in the management of family affairs, and
in the characterof conciliator of differences between the
monarch and his Royal Highness the Duke of Sussex.
Mr. was frequently in the habit of relating the
affecting interviews brought about by his instrumen¬
tality, at the desire of the illustrious personages, who
many times pledged their royal words to him to be¬
have in future more consonantly with the advice of
Dr. Watts, and as often broke them when the restraint
of his admonitions was relaxed. Indeed, so annoying
had been the inefficacy of his repeated interference
to his own feelings, that shortly before the death of
the elder brother, he had, in language such as the
THE LAST HALE CENTURY. 31
intimacy he enjoyed allowed him to use, declared that
he " washed his hands" of any subsequent inter¬
position in matters which produced no permanent
results !
In nothing, perhaps, has a greater improvement
been made, than in the mode of lighting the streets of
the town, and in the manner in which the lives and
property of the inhabitants and sojourners are pro¬
tected. Forty years ago, the lighting of the streets
was effected by what were called " Parish Lamps."
The lamp consisted of a small tin vessel, half-filled
with the worst train oil that the parochial authorities,
for the most part the " chosen" of the select vestries,
could purchase at the lowest price to themselves and
the highest charge to the rate-payers. In this fluid
fish blubber was placed a piece of cotton twist, which
formed the wick. A set of greasy fellows, redolent of
Greenland dock, were employed to trim and light
these lamps, which they accomplished by the apparatus
of a formidable pair of scissors, a flaming flambeau of
pitched rope, and a ricketty ladder, to the annoyance
and danger of all passers-by.
The oil vessel and wick were enclosed in a case of
semi-opaque glass, resembling in shape what Grose,
the antiquary, has called the Night urn of Venus,"
and of which the material, being the very coarsest of
32
EECOLLECTIONS OF
vitreous manufacture, obscured even the little light
which it encircled. These gleaming meteors loomed
through the darkness of the fogs of London to little
other purpose than to warn the inhabitants to avoid
the posts on which they were plâced.
The general appearance of St. Giles's has been of
late years very greatly improved; and let us hope
the improvement in habits and morals of the in¬
habitants who now occupy the once horrible district
called Dyott-street, and the courts and alleys which
led in and out it, has been commensurate with the
improvement of the buildings.
Those who have witnessed the scenes of infamy
and vice which daily and nightly were in former
times unblushingly exhibited in this squalid Alsatia
of beggary and crime, must congratulate themselves
and the present generation on the general sweep that
has been made of the hovels and the inmates with
w^hich the place abounded. It was here that the
great " Rookery" existed, and from hence did colonies
migrate to other parts of the town, as the officina
volucrum became too crowded to contain the increas¬
ing numbers of its population. One and nearly the
last vestige of what was the mode of life in this
locality, has been in existence within a comparatively
recent period, and many, who, either for curiosity or
THE LAST HALE CENTUEY. 33
other motives, have visited it, will be perfectly able
to testify to the truth of my description.
I allude to that foul hostel known as the Hare
and Hounds," and kept by one Mr. Joseph Banks,
better known as Stunning Joe," himself a perfect
anomaly, apparently formed by nature and education
for the express purpose of filling the positions to
which he devoted his faculties.
The " Hare and Hounds" was to be reached by
those going from the West-end towards the City by
going up a turning on the left hand, nearly opposite
St. Giles' Churchyard. The entrance to this turning
or lane was obstructed or dèfended by posts with
cross bars, which being passed the lane itself was
entered. It extended some twenty or thirty yards
towards the north, through two rows of the most
filthy, dilapidated, and execrable buildings that could
be imagined, and at the top or end of it stood the
citadel of which Stunning Joe" was the corpulent
castellan.
I need not say that it required some determination
and some address to gain this strange place of rendez¬
vous. Those who had the honour of an introduction to
the great man" were considered safe wherever his
authority extended, and in this locality it was certainly
very extensive. He occasionally condescended to
VOL. I. D
34
RECOLLECTIONS OE
act as a pilot through the navigation of the alley to
persons of aristocratic or wealthy pretensions, whom
curiosity, or some other motive best known to them¬
selves, led to his abode. Those who were not under
his safe conduct" frequently found it very unsafe to
wander in the intricacies of the region.
In the salon" of this temple of low debauchery
were assembled groups of all unutterable things," all
that class distinguished in those days, and I believe in
these, by the generic term " cadgers,"
! cadgers, who in rags arrayed
Disport and play fantastic pranks
Each Wednesday night in full parade
Within the domicile of Banks,"
of which the varieties are too numerous to be men¬
tioned.
A " lady" presided over the revels, collected largess
in a platter, and at intervals amused the company
with specimens of her vocal talent. Dancing was
^^kept up till a late hour" with more vigour than
elegance, and many Terpischorean passages, which
partook rather of the animation of the Nautch" than
the dignity of the minuet, increased the interest of
the performance. It may be supposed that those
assembled were not the sort of people who would
have patronized Father Matthew, had he visited St.
Giles in those times. There was, indeed, an almost
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 35
incessant complaint of drought, which seemed to be
increased by the very remedies applied for its cure,
and had it not been for the despotic authority with
which the dispenser of the good things of the esta¬
blishment exercised his rule, his liberality in the
dispensation would certainly have led to very vigorous
developments of the reprobation of man, and of
woman also. In the lower tier, or cellars, or crypt of
the edifice, beds or berths were provided for the com¬
pany, who, packed in bins, after the " fitful fever" of
the evening, " slept well."
The gloom of the streets was occasionally, indeed,
too frequently enlivened by the screams of women,
the imprecations of bullies, the conflicts of drunkards
and disorderlies, and the " springing of rattles."
Police, it may truly be asserted, there were none.
The parochial watchmen, alias the " Charlies" of this
period, were for the most part totally inefficient for
the performance of their duties; old, feeble, dishonest,
and in many instances connected with gangs of depre¬
dators, could not, or would not render the required
assistance to those who were insulted or attacked.
The admirers of local self-government might have
been satisfied to the heart's content with the organi¬
zation of these "guardians of the night." The
" Charlies" never quitted their respective " beats."
D 2
36 RECOLLECTIONS OF
A robbery might have been committed within a
dozen yards of the boundary of one parish, and in
sight of its constables, without their going to the
rescue of the party robbed in the adjoining parish.
One side of Charing-cross was, at the time described,
watched" by the Charlies" of St. Martins-in-the-
Fields, and the other by the " Charlies" of the
" Board of Green Cloth." A transverse line of
pavement marked the division of the jurisdictions,
and it is a fact that robberies were continually com¬
mitted in the locality with perfect impunity to the
perpetrators.
The "blood money" system engaged the energies
and cupidity of certain persons in the capture of
criminals, or those accused of criminality. The late
Mr. Lee, for many years high constable of West¬
minster, and well known at the Houses of Parliament
and elsewhere, was, before his appointment to office,
an amateur thief-taker; and in his pursuits in that
line obtained a sum not very short of eight hundred
pounds, by securing and bringing to justice criminals
who set at nought the energies of hired watchmen.
The lower part of St. Martin's-lane, which has
undergone great alterations within these thirty years,
formerly extended to the Strand, and terminated
nearly opposite Northumberland House. Opposite
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 37
to St. Martin's Chureli was the watch-house of the
parish, one room of which was used as the hall of
justice, or injustice, the terms being synonymous in
the administration of the law as then and there put
into force. One Mr. Pilgrim presided as the Prefectus
Vigilum^ or constable of the night, surrounded by
kindred Dogberries, and assisted in his adjudications
by two or three Amici Ouriœ^ whose judgments were
matured by sundry potations of beer and spirits, and
whose presence was courted on account of the libe¬
rality with which they shared the source of their
inspiration. Before this quorum were arraigned the
culprits captured in the " beat." It may be conjec¬
tured that the guilty had as good a chance of escape
as the innocent; an indiscriminate discharge or
" locking up" of the accused was the usual result,
until the police offices were open in the morning.
On the opposite side of St. Martin's-lane, close by
the church, was a dirty lane. Vine-street, to the south
of Chandos-street, leadin«: to a " rookery" infested
O *j
by birds of most notorious reputation and ill omen.
Several murders were committed in the villanous
nests with which it abounded. A sailor, covered
with blood, one night made his escape from one of
these haunts, and reached the watch-house ; before,
however, he could obtain assistance, he was dragged
38
RECOLLECTIONS OE
up the lane, and never heard of more. When this
place was pulled down some years after, several
skeletons and remains of bodies were discovered
concealed in the cellars and foundations.
Some further notion of the police, and the little
protection which was afforded to the public before
the institution of the present " Force," may be formed
from the accopnt of what took place at West-end
Fair on Monday and Tuesday, the 28th and 29th
July, 1819, which I transcribe from an authentic
account published at the time, and to which, as I was
present on the first of those days, and narrowly
escaped being murdered by a gang of ruffians who
seemed to have a peculiar animosity against me, I can
add the corroboration of my own testimony.
On Monday evening a most disgraceful and
daring scene of riot and plunder took place at West-
end Fair, Hampstead. The number of the ruffians
has been estimated as high as two hundred. Many
of them were armed with bludgeons, and those who
were not, tore up the trestles of the stands for weapons
to attack the police officers and constables, whom
they overpowered. This daring and outrageous
tumult took place principally between six and seven
o'clock, when every person passing the two entrances
to the field in which the fair is held, was attacked
THE LAST HALF CENTÜßY. 39
and rifled. Numbers, whose pockets could not be
opened easily, had the skirts of the coats cut off, and
the pockets of their small-clothes turned inside out.
The conduct of these ruffians towards the females was
most brutal, their arms were held up, their clothes
cut, and every article of wearing apparel torn from
them."
This account is by no means exaggerated. I
myself saw much more infamous outrages committed
upon women than are here specified. I saw villains
in gangs of ten, twenty, or thirty, assault, rob, and
rifle every person whom they supposed to have money
or any valuable articles about them ; and in addition
to such atrocities, attack and inflict most dangerous
wounds, out of mere wantonness, upon those who, they
must have known from their appearance, had neither
money nor property to lose. Knives were used to
cut clothes to pieces, and would, if resistance had
been offered, have been used to silence those resisting.
The earrings were torn from the ears of the women,
who were screaming in terror and pain on every
side, and several were nearly strangled in the attempts
of the miscreants to free the necklaces and chains
from their necks. I was beset by a division of these
wretches, and I should probably have been maimed
for life, had I not been fortunately rescued by the
40
KECOLLECTIONS OF
exertions of several resolute men and one of the
constables, and managed, after a somewhat desperate
skirmish, to make good my retreat.
I have certainly been at various times and places
in many dangerous riots, political and otherwise, but
I was never in more imminent peril than on the occa¬
sion of this disgraceful scene.
O ^
But the most surprising part of the affair is, that on
the following day, Tuesday, similar outrages, but to
a much greater extent, were repeated by the same
persons and their associates at the same place, and
people were foolish enough to visit the fair and
the neighbourhood of it, either out of curiosity or
from some motive that, to those in possession of their
senses, appears incomprehensible. On Tuesday, the
gangs of rufhans assembled in greater force than on
the former day, and set the police at defiance. The
account of that Tuesday's proceedings will appear to
the present generation almost incredible. Here it is—
"In consequence of the outrageous daring, scenes
of disorder, robberies, wounding and ill-treating of a
number of persons at West-end fair, on Monday
evening, an additional number of constables, belong¬
ing to Bow-street and Hatton-garden police offices,
were ordered to attend on Tuesday, and a number of
special constables were sworn in by the magistrates at
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 41
I
Hampstead, to render their assistance to the regular
police. They were not equal altogether to cope with
the villains, who assembled in numerous bodies, armed
with bludgeons and other weapons, acting in a more
daring and outrageous ,manner than on Monday,
The ruffians were divided into gangs, and were esti¬
mated at about two hundred. Not satisfied with
obtaining the property, they beat and otherwise mal¬
treated the persons of their victims. Money was not
sufficient ; they deprived those who came under their
grasp of even their wearing apparel, and left them
nearly naked. Hats, shoes, coats, handkerchiefs, all
were considered as booty. Nor was the riot and
plunder confined to the fair. Similar acts of violence
and depredation were practised in the fields and on
the roads in the vicinity. The police, by great
exertion and at much personal risk, succeeded in
securing thirty prisoners."
One would have supposed that such scenes as these
would have reconciled people to the proposition,
which was made some time after by Sir Robert Peel,
for the formation of an efficient metropolitan police,
and that it would have met with no opposition. Such
was not the case. Meetings were convened, at which
mob orators assured their auditory that the proposition
was a covert stratagem to enslave the people, and put
42
RECOLLECTIONS OE
the whole population of London under thé power of
the Home Secretary. What then assumed to be the
" Liberal" press was loud in its clamour and abuse,
and the most absurd yet shameless insinuations were
thrown upon the honourable baronet for his pains and
solicitude to prevent a recurrence of such disgraceful
outrages. That minister was not, however, to be
deterred by senseless clamour from carrying out his
intentions, and it is to the fulfilment of them that
the inhabitants of this great city are indebted for the
preservation of their lives and property from the
thousands of blackguards by which it is infested.
One consequence of this business was, that the
fair at West^end was abolished. The fields ,in which
it was accustomed to be held, are now covered with
bricks and mortar, and the once rural spot is a
populous district of the town.
In the year 1829 the Legislature passed a bill for
the prevention of the unlawful disinterment of human
bodies, and for the regulation of schools of anatomy.
As this circumstance is connected in some degree
with what I am about to relate, and as it throws some
light upon the state of the morals and manners of the
metropolis in those days, I will, in connexion with
it, transcribe from the evidence given before the
select committee of anatomy the examination and
THE LAST HALE CENTUEY. 43
answers of three of the witnesses, referring those who
require more information on the subject to the bill
itself, and to the whole of the evidence.
First Resurrection Man,—"Every ground in Lon¬
don is watched by men put into them at dark, who stop
till daylight, with firearms. You are subject to be shot;
and if you are taken the parish prosecutes you, and you
may get six or twelve months' imprisonment. A man
may make a good living at it if he is a sober man and
acts with judgment. There is a great many of them that
profess to get subjects that do not get four subjects in
a twelvemonth ; a great many of them that has lately
got into the business, they are nothing but petty, com¬
mon thieves. Being out late at night, if they are met
by the police, they can say they are getting subjects
for the surgeons. They have usually a horse and
cart. I should suppose there are at present in London
between forty and fifty men that have the name of
raising subjects, and there is but two more, beside
myself, that get their living by it. If you are friends
with a grave-digger, the thing will be all right to
know what bodies to get ; if you are not, you cannot
get them. The bodies I have got was twenty-three
in four nights. It was only one year that I got one
hundred. Perhaps the next year I did not get above
fifty or sixty. They would not mind shooting a man
44
RECOLLECTIONS OE
as dead as a robber if they caught him in a church-^
yard. If you are pointed out that you are a resurrec¬
tion man, they are prejudiced against you. Once, I
suppose, I was not above two yards from the man
that shot at me. It was a little bit of ground behind
a chapel. They laid by in the chapel for me and
another man. We were after two subjects. When
I go to work I like to get those of poor people buried
from the workhouses, because, instead of working for
one subject, you may get three or four. I do not
think, during the time I have been in the habit of
working in the schools, I got half a dozen of wealthier
people."
" Of the other men who are employed in raising
bodies, how many are there you would consent to go
out with ?"
" Not above two or three."
" Why would you not go with the others ?"
Because they are all thieves, and they never sup¬
plied the schools in their lives ; they get a subject or
two, and call themselves resurrection men."
Examination of the second Resurrection Man^ for¬
merly the captain of the only band in London^ nom
retiring from business,—" The course I should take
would be to have the workhouse subjects ; we can get
them out of the burial ground without any difficulty
THE LAST HALE CENTÜEY.
45
whatever. I am satisfied that there are three or four
workhouses that would supply every subject that would
be wanting. That was the point I laid down before an
honourable member who consulted me. But he would
not consent to it. I believe the custom of claiming
bodies as those of relatives is constantly done ; I never
did so myself. I did áttempt it once myself, but was
detected. It was at St. John's, and we should have
obtained the body, but a committee was sitting that
evening of the parish at the workhouse, where the
body lied to be owned. The constable happened to
come into the workhouse at the time ; he knew me>
and that prevented it, or else we should certainly had
the body I left off in 1820. To be sure I did go
out at different times afterwards ; but, then, we had
our men shot away from us, and it was very dan¬
gerous. On one occasion one man was shot in four
places, and we took him away with us. To be sure^
I had never gone out with him before, and he was an
incautious hand."
Third Resurrection Man,—" We could not obtain
the rich so easily, because they are buried so deep."
" If the law were altered in the manner alluded to,
would you continue the practice of exhumation ?"
"No; I would never open a grave."
One of the proficients in the abominable trade was
46
EECOLLECTIONS OE
"Israel C./' commonly called Izzy, a Jew, well
known to surgeons and sextons. By the surgeons
he was patronized; of the sextons, he was the
patron ; and so complete was the understanding be¬
tween the profession to which he belonged, and the
two with which he was connected, that the interest of
all three were advanced by the coalition. He was a
square built, resolute sort of ruffian, with features
indicative of his Hebrew origin, black whiskers, &c.,
and that peculiar obliquity of vision by which cunning
and rapacity are denoted, and which gives warning to
honest men to be on their guard in the presence of
him by whom it is possessed. He was, moreover,
a bit of a pugilist, and had displayed his pugnacious
propensities as a prize-fighter. In the " ring," how¬
ever, he acquired but barren laurels and hard blows.
On one occasion the estimate of his character procured
his immersion in a horsepond, from which on his
escape he made a rapid retreat, and relinquished for
ever the honors of the Fancy."
In addition to the profits he derived from his pur¬
suits as a " body-snatcher," he made a sort of supple¬
mentary income by supplying dentists with dead men's
and dead women's teeth: he flourished before the
invention of terro-metallic substitutes for decayed
grinders and absent incisives, and, as he was accus-
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 47
tomed to boast^ it was by his means that gluttons
chawed their wittles/' and old women grinned like
young girls.
/
However incomprehensible^ there is nothing strange
in the fact, that the most apparently repulsive of men
meet with admirers in the opposite sex. There is
nothing unusual in finding an ill-looking, vulgar,
ignorant blackguard to be a garçon de bonnes fortunes^
and those who attend the sittings of a police court, or
read the reports of the proceedings therein, will find
innumerable instances of women, young, good look¬
ing, decorous for the class to which they belong,
attached with a sort of infatuation to scoundrels who
have not the smallest attractions of person, manners,
or temper, from which any explanation of the devo¬
tion of their paramours can be drawn. But so it
is! The eye is said to create its own beauty, and
from what passes around us every day, it would
appear, that no one, however deformed by ugli¬
ness, degraded by vice or brutality, by drunkenness
and debauchery, need despair of meeting with an
admirer.
Mr, C. had met with several admirers, and when
his professional pursuits were suspended, or produced
profits insufficient to meet his expenses, availed himself
of the earnings of the miserable creatures who were
48
RECOLLECTIONS OE
captivated by his merits, and spent at the public-
house what they procured at the brothel.
However disgraceful ,this source of revenue may
appear to those who are happily ignorant of the
manifold iniquities and mysteries of great cities,
it will excite no surprise in the initiated, who are
perfectly aware that such infamies are but too common,
and that not only such low scoundrels as the one to
whom allusion is more particularly made are partners
in the wages of prostitution, but that scoundrels in
more elevated classes of society avail themselves of
the same means to revel in idleness and debauchery.
This fellow being, in the slang of the day, " hard
up," had, with a view to "business," quartered himself
upon a young female, who, from vice and profligacy,
had descended from being under the special " protec¬
tion" of a noble duke, to the general " protection"
which the vicissitudes of her profession afforded.
She having considerable personal attractions, Mr. C.
derived for some time no small amount of money
from his connexion with her, and might possiblj''
have derived still more had not the brutal treatment
and continuous ill-usage to which he subjected his
victim at length changed into loathing the feelings
she originally entertained towards him. She was
resolved, at all hazards, to extricate herself from his
THE LAST HALF CENTUEY.
49
clutches. This was, however, not so easy a task as
may be imagined. His threats of vengeance, she
was aware, he had the means as weli as the disposition
to carry into execution. Her life became a burden,
and she was about to put an end to her terrors and
her misery in the manner which has been a hundred
times adopted by persons of her unfortunate class.
It was at this time that her excited appearance one
night, in the neighbourhood of Hungerford-market,
attracted the attention of a gentleman, whose name it
is not important to mention. In fact, she implored his
aid to rescue her from the ruffian who was in pursuit
of her. He accompanied her along what was then
a dismal, dreary, cut-throat court, Off-alley." They
ascended an almost interminable staircase, to a garret
in one of the ricketty and antique houses of the place,
which had probably been the scene of as many in¬
famous deeds as any in that notorious locality. The
gentleman had made up bis mind, let the conse¬
quences be what they might, to protect the woman.
In the garret which they entered, in addition to the
usual furniture of such receptacles, was a mangle, out
of which the weights or ballast had been removed,
and in this the woman was immediately concealed,
and the lid drawn over her. The gentleman placed
a rushlight, by which the den was illumined, upon the
VOL. I. E
50
RECOLLECTIONS OF
lid, and stood between the door and the mangle
awaiting the result of the adventure.
He had not long to wait; the footsteps of Mr.
C ascending the staircase were heard, and he
rushed into the room in a state of furious excitement,
and in some degree out of breath by his rapid ascent
from the street. It was immediately apparent that
he had no expectation of meeting anybody but the
woman of whom he was in search, and the " cur,"
which in his nature prevailed over the " bull-dog,"
quailed before the steady indifference of the intruder.
He saw at once that he would have to deal with a
person who was neither to be bullied by words nor
intimidated by gestures, and fully prepared to resist
violence by violence to the utmost. With a blas¬
phemous accompaniment to the interrogation, which
it would not be fit to transcribe, he demanded who
the intruder was, and what brought him there ? To
this he received an answer, directing him to mind his
own business, and give himself no trouble with what
did not concern him. The remainder of the colloquy
was speedily cut short ; a struggle ensued, which ter¬
minated in the body-snatcher being kicked down stairs,
uttering in his descent threats of future vengeance,
to the great relief of the woman in the mangle and
her protector.
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 51
No time was, however, to be lost in quitting the
garret and securing the woman in a place of safety,
and this was accordingly done.
Upon a further inquiry into the history of this
unfortunate creature, and her intercourse with this
vagabond, it came out that he had, on her refusal to
be subservient to his purposes, and to supply him
with the means of living in idleness, persecuted
her in every w^ay he could devise ; and that he had,
on more than one occasion, by threats and violence,
forced her to give him money. The knowledge of this
last part came to my ears, and I immediately recom¬
mended an application to a police-office and the
swearing a robbery against him. My recommenda¬
tion was followed ; proceedings were taken in con¬
junction with it at Clerkenwell, where a true bill for
a felony was found against him. It was not, however,
necessary to proceed with it ; for whilst the officers of
justice were in search of the fellow, he was appre¬
hended for a highway robbery in the outskirts of
London, tried, convicted, and transported.
The woman subsequently abandoned her disgraceful
course of life, and married a man with whom she was
settled in a way of business sufficiently lucrative for
her future support.
The Vine-street " rookery" came in close contact
£ 2
52
RECOLLECTIONS OF
with the equally infamous den long known as the
" Key/' a place remarkable in the annals of vice, as
being the haunt of some of the more eminent and
wealthy patrons of debauchery. The entrance for
" carriages" was down a gateway which stood nearly
opposite Bedfordbury. The door at which the
select" alighted was furnished with sliding screens,
which prevented the too curious from seeing who
entered and who retired, and spared, if not the
blushes, at least the reputation of the visitors.
This place was burnt down one night, and on that
occasion a clerical gentleman, who had engaged an
apartment, was burnt to death.
THE LAST HALF CENTURY.
53
CHAPTER TIL
Archdeacon Pott—Presentation Plate—Hedge Lane—Sir Richard
Bimie — Justice Bond — Phillips — Townsend, the Bow-street
Officer — Sam Butcher : supposed cause of his Death — Arch¬
bishop Tennison's School—Liston—A Scholastic Row—John
Palmer the Actor—A Ghost Story—Mr. Morris, Proprietor of
the Haymarket Theatre — Miss Biffin — Sinbad the Sailor —
George Bolton—Advertisement for a Wife—Jerry Sneak Russell
—^A Dram-drinker—Deighton the Caricaturist.
The parochial authorities of the parish being resolved
to do honour to the late Archdeacon Pott, on his re¬
tirement from his pastoral duties as Vicar of St. Mar¬
tin's, set on foot a subscription for the purchase of a
piece of plate, to be presented to the venerable man
who had been translated to the more lucrative living
of Kensington. The subscription was a tolerably
large one. The committee of the subscribers intrusted
with the selection of the gift being resolved to make
the money go as far as it could, and thinking one
piece of plate to be as good as another, invested the
sum intrusted to them in the purchase of a large
salver, which had been among the heirlooms of the
" Key" for many years. The devices and legend
54
EECOLLECTIONS OF
engraved upon the salver were of a character totally
incompatible with clerical delicacy and decorum, and
were very properly removed. The salver was re-
polished, and a respectful and complimentary inscrip¬
tion engraved on the site of the obliterated original.
Sundry glass coaches, vehicles long obsolete, were
engaged to convey the deputation of the donors to
Kensington, to place the offering in the hands of the
donee. In the mean time, certain persons, who were
in opposition to the intended manifestation of respect,
informed Mr. Pott, by an anonymous letter, of the
character of the place from which the presentation
plate had been procured, and of the sort of company
by whom it had been used. The Archdeacon, though
a most placid and amiable gentleman, became indig¬
nant at what he considered an insult; refused the
contaminated gift, rebuked the astonished deputation,
and dismissed them from his presence.
What became of the rejected article is not known
to the writer.
On the spot now occupied by the Union Club
House, at the corner of Trafalgar-square, before the
improvements of the neighbourhood were even pro¬
jected, stood a tavern, the " Cannon Coffee House,"
at the end of a street originally known as " Hedge-
lane," but subsequently as Whitcomb-street. The
THE LAST HALE CENTUEY. 55
portions of this street which yet remain, though posi¬
tively wretched and mean, are comparatively elegant
when considered in reference to the state of those
removed. The lane was so badly paved that the
whole surface was full of holes and inequalities. Upon
his first arrival in London, the late Sir Richard
Birnie, afterwards so well known as the chief police
magistrate of the metropolis, practised the humble
craft of a saddler and harness maker, and lodged in an
attic in Hedge-lane. The lower floor was occupied
by a baker, a thrifty, affluent man. One evening a
coal wagon wended its way along the lane, and from
the jolting of the wheels lumps of coal fell from the
sacks ; Birnie descended, made his way in the wake
of the wagon, and having possessed himself of what
he considered the hona waviata of the dealer in black
diamonds, returned with his prize to his garret. The
baker, who witnessed his proceedings, was delighted
with the spirit of economy and prudence from which
they sprang, and resolved that the man should become
his son-in-law and heir. Birnie spoke upon the hint,
which was soon conveyed to him, married in due
time the daughter of the baker, and from that hour
became a personage of some importance. He had
received a tolerable education in his own country,
Scotland, and being a shrewd and self-relying man
56
EECOLLECTIONS OP
began to push his fortune with industry and judg¬
ment. He became a parochial officer, graduated to
be overseer of the parish, and was appointed church¬
warden and member of the select vestry. " Cawdor,
Glamis, all."
Magistrates were wanted in Westminster to take
affidavits in various matters too numerous for the
magnates of Queen-square and Bow-street to attend
to. Birnie was appointed a Westminster magistrate
by Lord Sidmouth, attended closely to his duties,
relieved the stipendiary^ sluggards at the police offices
when they wanted a holiday, paid court to the news¬
paper reporters, by whom his name was continually
inserted in the records of the courts; was promoted
to the magistracy of the county of Middlesex,
gazetted as a police magistrate, and ultimately
ascended the justice seat of Bow-street itself, a knight
of no mean reputation and notoriety !
His knowledge of the law was, as may be supposed,
but limited ; but his knowledge of the town was per¬
fect, and he contrived to be generally correct in his
decisions. Altogether he was a very fit person, in
his day, to preside where he did.
Before his time the appointment to the police
courts was capricious and disgraceful. Bond, origi¬
nally a thief-taker, was a Bow-street magistrate, and
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 57
in his time the law was administered much after the
manner described by the novelists Fielding and
Smollett. During the time Bond presided at Bow-
street, one Phillips, who afterwards rose to be a man
of great opulence, and what is termed respectability,
but who was at the commencement of his career
rather a ^^fast" young gentleman, and 'prentice to a
button-maker in St. Martin's-lane, was committed by
his worship to Newgate on a charge of having com¬
mitted a highway robbery on Hounslow Heath. At
the trial at the Old Bailey, a post-boy, whose evidence
at the committal was returned in the depositions, was
non est, and the prisoner was acquitted. Years after,
the matter was forgotten, and nobody was aware that
the man at whose house they were entertained at the
west end of the town was the accused of bygone days.
Bond, the stipendiary magistrate, was dead, and all
recollection of the business buried. The son of Bond,
however, yet lived, and possessed, not amongst other
good things, but without any other things \^'hatever,
certain documents derived from his father. He made
a communication to Phillips of the nature of some
part of his inheritance. Phillips was either indignant,
or assumed indignation at the communication. %
some means or other Bond became the tenant of a
prison, from which he shortly emerged and lived in
58
RECOLLECTIONS OF
/
comparative affluence, from means supplied by the
hand of some invisible philanthropist.
In the time of Bond flourished old Townsend,
well-known as the principal constable at Bow-street.
This man, who was said to have commenced life as a
costermonger, became, by effrontery and impudence^
enhanced by a certain share of low cunning and low
wit, the head of his profession. Hé derived a large
income from the Christmas-boxes of the nobility and
people of fa<shion, at whose routs and parties he was
employed to keep away or detect the improper
characters who, he persuaded his patrons, would be
present if he were not in attendance. Royalty itself
recognised his claims ! At the promenades on
Sundays at Windsor Terrace he might be seen in
familiar conversation with George III., whose good-
humoured face was convulsed with laughter at his
stories. On an occasion of an installation of the
Knights of the Garter, the then Duchess of North¬
umberland was feign to put herself under his
protection, and accept his arm, as he conducted her
through a mob of nobles and others to her place in
St. George's Chapel.
At the Pavilion, at Brighton, he had the entrée^
and William IV. was pleased to express his sorrow at
the demise of poor" Townsend; not probably
THE LAST HALF CENTURY.
59
aware that " poor Townsend dïed worth nearly twenty
thousand pounds at the time the monarch was oifer-
ing his condolence.
He was once asked by Bond what George III. had
said to him at a recent interview ? " His Majesty,"
replied Townsend, " talked about the state of the
police, and regretted he could not advance me to such
a situation as your worship enjoys, he having come to
a resolution to raise no more thief-takers to the
bench."
It may be supposed Bond asked no more questions
about the conversation of the king and the constable.
Townsend was a very smart little man, clean as
paint," to use his own phraseology, and rather peculiar
in bis costume. He was generally encased in a light-
coloured suit, knee-breeches, and short gaiters, a
white hat of the breadth of brim and Stuart-shaped
crown. He was in the habit of bathing in the
Thames, near Millbank, early in the morning. Once,
whilst so engaged, some thieves, or some wags,
removed his clothes, and, consequently, he was under
the necessity of retreating to his home puris natu-
ralihus, with a speed which he rarely exhibited when
covered by his artificial integuments.
But to return for a moment to Hedge-lane. There
lived, about forty years ago, nearly on the northern.
60
KECOLLECTIONS OF
extremity of it, where it runs into Coventry-street,
on the right hand side, or eastern side, a Mr. Butcher,
better known, and certainly very extensively known,
as Sam Butcher." Mr. Butcher carried on the
business of a wine merchant, and was understood to
have supplied in the City of Westminster: upwards of
four hundred establishments of a parties ar descrip¬
tion with the commodity in which he dealt. He
was, moreover, a patron of pugilism, ( og-fighting^
and all such sports as in his day were mere in vogue
than now. He took the "chair" at taverns, was
referee in disputes in bets, sang a good song, and was
possessed of other recommendations unnecessary to
detail. Those who frequented the haunts alluded to,
and adopted the motto of the Anacreontics,
" Let's merrily entwine
The myrtle of Yenus with Bacchus's vine,"
sustained no injury from the absorption of the mis¬
used" compound delivered from his crypts. They were
probably protected by the deities at whose shrine
they sacrificed. Complaints were occasionally made
by other customers, and on Mr. Butcher's departure
from this life, it was reported that his death was
occasioned by his inadvertence in drinking a bottle of
the fluid with which he was in the habit of supplying
the public.
THE LAST HALE CENTÜEY. 61
This story was told some years ago in the company
of gentlemen, amongst whom was the late Mr. Morris,
formerly proprietor of Aldridge's horse repository in
St. Martin's-lane. It occasioned a laugh from every¬
body but Mr. Morris, whose countenance became sud¬
denly overcast, and who suddenly retired as if taken
unwell ! The cause of his gloom and retreat arose
from his having become the purchaser of the stock of
Mr. Butcher, with the merits of which he was
probably unacquainted.
The piece of ground called Trafalgar-square was,
before it was laid out in its present style, the site of
the royal stables, and called the " King's Mews."
Along the northern side of Charing-cross, stretching
from west to east, or from Hedge-lane to St. Martin's-
lane, was a gloomy, dirty, dingy-looking brick-wall,
intersected by still more dingy-looking houses, the
largest of which was occupied by the father of the
present Lord Chief Baron Pollock, the king's saddler.
There was a gate about midway, leading into the
spacious yard which was used for exercising the royal
stud. The stables were somewhere on the spot now
forming the carriage road in front of the National
Gallery. They were in good taste, the principal
entrance having great claims to architectural beauty.
Beyond this yard or quadrangle was a smaller court,
62
RECOLLECTIONS OF
in which were houses for the deputy master-of-the-
horse and persons attached to the establishment.
The mews was closed at night, but in the day-time it
was used as a thoroughfare by pedestrians to Castle-
street. Castle-street is much the same now as it was
sixty years ago. A sort of outhouse, which abutted
on the wall of the Mews, and which has been removed
many years back, was, in his day, occupied by Sancho,
the black bibliopolist, as his place of business.
Nothing else appears to have been removed, improved,
or attended to in this locality.
A school, founded by Archbishop Tennison, still
remains ; and a valuable theological library, be¬
queathed to the parish by the same prelate, and
endowed by his munificence, is also there. If the
inhabitants of the neighbourhood derived much benefit
as to learning or morals from these institutions, they
were too modest to make it apparent. There is an
inherent appearance of destitution and dirt pervading
the aspect of the street.
The school was intended by the founder to foster
the study of the learned languages, and still retains
the titular distinction of a Grammar" school.
Upwards of fifty years ago it was the scene of a
conflict, of which he who writes these lines was a
witness, which operated upon the destiny of a man of
THE LAST HALE CENTUKY. 63
great celebrity in his profession, and from the results of
which many thousands of people derived amusement.
This man was the late Mr. Liston, the comedian.
The pœdagogus of the institution was the curate of
the parish, the Rev. Mr. Somebody, whose name is
forgotten. Liston was the assistant, or rather Liston
did the principal duties, whilst his reverence re¬
ceived the principal remuneration. There were all
the peculiarities without the decorum of the ragged
schools of modern times in this place. The pupils
were noisy, vulgar, and violent—-precocious in mis¬
chief, tardy in improvement. The " soothing system"
was not then understood in establishments of this
sort. A discipline unqualified by mercy prevailed,
the consequence of which was, the silence requisite
for the cultivation of literature was continually broken
by the bellowing of those under punishment. The
reverend gentleman who presided used to boast, that
his system was " adapted to the meanest capacities
and certainly no one who has ever experienced its
application would mistake its meaning. In addition
to the screams of the victims may be mentioned the
incessant altercations of the principal with the mothers
of those on whom his vengeance had alighted. The
school was ripe for a revolution ; it was not long be¬
fore it burst forth.
64
RECOLLECTIONS OF
Liston, presuming on the popular support within,
and the parental pressure from without, refused obe¬
dience to the commands of his superior. The superior,
enraged at his disobedience, rebuked him in terms
more consonant with indignation than politeness.
Liston retorted; recrimination and abuse succeeded;
from words to blows the transition was easy and rapid ;
the combatants grappled, the divine, in all senses
of the phrase, " an ugly customer," would have demo¬
lished his antagonist, when the pent-up vengeance
of the boys exploded—
"Furor arma ministrat."
A shower of slates, books, inkstands, rulers, &c.
&c., rattled against the head and body of the priest,
who would have received still rougher usage from his
assailants, had not sundry passers-by, alarmed by the
din of the conflict, rushed into the school-room and
rescued him, in an exhausted state, from his perilous
position !
The scandal of this unseemly brawl was too great
for the parish to tolerate. The school was for a time
closed, and the nuisance abated. Liston returned no
more to his academic duties. He commenced the
courtship of Thalia from the date of his dismissal, and
became, as everybody knows, the most favoured of
her suitors.
THE LAST HALF CENTUEY. 65
At the time Liston was engaged as an assistant
at the school in Castle-street, he was acquainted with
a young man named Tucker, who lived in the house
of a gentleman, whose name it is unnecessary to
mention, in Spring-gardens. In this house resided at
the same period a Mrs. Vernon, widow of a celebrated
comedian and vocalist, whose histrionic fame arose
from his excellency in the part of Macheath in the
^'Beggar's Opera." Mrs. Vernon was a lady of generous
disposition, and habits somewhat extravagant. It is
no wonder that a house under her arrangement was
the resort of actors, authors, and idlers. Amongst
the number of these was Mr. John Palmer, an actor
whose great talents, and whose death under circum¬
stances sufficiently awful, combine to rescue his name
from oblivion. He was a man of handsome exterior,
elegant manners, and cultivated mind. He was on
intimate terms with the widow ; he had, in fact,
what was called the " run of the house came in
when he thought proper, and went out when he
thought proper ; and as he was employed at one or
other of the patent theatres, neither did, nor was ex¬
pected to keep very early hours. He had a latch-key,
with which, when the performance at the theatre was
over, he could let himself into the house at Spring-
gardens, and join the company assembled at supper,
VOL. I. F
66
EECOLLECTIONS OF
or after supper in the drawing-room, which was on
the first floor.
As the story about to be told is what is called a
" ghost story," lest, contrary to rule of such stories it
should lose in telling, it is necessary to be particular
in the description of the premises.
Tucker slept in the hall of the house ; his couch
being a plagiarism on Cowper's piece of furniture,
A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day,"
and as his services were sufficiently laborious by day,
he was allowed to retire long before the rest of the
inmates sought the repose of sleep. Those who
entered the house and were about to go up stairs,
had to pass by the aforesaid couch ; Tucker being in
some sort a guardian of the premises, or at least a
dummy," by wffiom thieves and depredators might
be deterred from their ways.
On the 2nd of August, 1798, Mr. John Palmer
played the part of the " Stranger" at Liverpool, at the
Theatre Royal : immediately after he had given
utterance to the memorable words in Kotzebue's play
of the " Stranger," " There is another and a better
world than this," he reeled across the stage and fell
dead in the arms of one of the servants of the theatre,
who ran from the wing to support him. Medical
assistance was immediately procured, but it was use-
THE LAST HALE CENTUKY. 67
less, life had become extinct instantaneously, and he
died without a struggle or a pang. A benefit was
got up at Liverpool for his children, the receipts of
which amounted to upwards of and on the
occasion of it an appropriate address, written by Mr.
Roscoe, was spoken by Mr. Holman. The fact of
his absence from London was known to Tucker, but he
was not aware about his arrangements for his return.
On the night just mentioned. Tucker had retired at
an earlier hour than usual ; but the company in the
drawing-room was numerous, and the sound of their
merriment prevented him from falling asleep ; he was
in a sort of morbid drowsiness produced by weariness,
but continually interrupted by noise. As he described
the scene, he was sitting half upright in his bed, when
he saw the figure of a man coming from the passage
which led from the door of the house to the hall.
The figure paused in its transit for a moment at the
foot of the couch, and looked him full in the face :
there was nothing spectral or like the inhabitant of
the world of spirits in the countenance or outline of
the figure, which passed on, and apparently went up
the staircase. Tucker felt no alarm whatever: he
recognised in the figure the features, gait, dress, and
general appearance of John Palmer, who he sup¬
posed had returned from Liverpool, and having the
F 2
68
RECOLLECTIONS OE
entree of the house, had, as usual, availed himself of his
latch-key. He nevertheless marvelled at the want of
politeness in the visitor who had not condescended
to ask after his health, or to wish hirn good night.
He shortly after fell asleep.
Next morning, in the course of some casual con¬
versation, he informed Mrs. Vernon that he had seen
Mr. Palmer pass through the hall, and expressed a
hope that his trip to Liverpool had agreed with his
health. The lady stared at him incredulously, said
he must have been dreaming, or drinking, or out of
his senses, as no Mr. Palmer had joined the festivities
in the drawing-room. His delusion, if delusion it
were, was made a source of mirth to the people who
called in the course of the day. He, however, per¬
sisted in his assertion of having seen Mr. Palmer, and
on the arrival of the post from Liverpool on the day
after he had first made it, laughter was turned into
mourning, and most of the guests were inclined to
think there was more in it than they were willing to
confess.
With respect to stories of this sort, like marvellous
stories of all sorts, they must stand or fall by the
evidence with which they are supported. The story
is here told as it was told to the writer by the prin¬
cipal party connected with it. It was told some years
THE LAST HALE CENTURY
69
ago in the shop of Mr. Maxwell, the law bookseller,
«
in Bell-yard, Fleet-street (a dissenter, with a strong
disposition to the supernatural), to the late Mr.
Butler, the learned editor of " Coke upon Lyttleton,"
Mr. Butler appeared to have in some degree a wish
to believe such things, but his good sense and habit
of minute investigation and careful examination of
proofs continually prevented its indulgence. He
said with the fairness of an unprejudiced man, " Give
me sufficient evidence of the truth of such things as
these, and I shall not be deterred by any ridicule
from professing my belief in their existence."
Now that theatres and people connected therewith
have been mentioned, it may be as well to introduce
an anecdote or two of the late Mr. Morris, the pro¬
prietor and patentee of the Hay market Theatre, a
man whom everybody knew, and who in return knew
everybody.
He was the successor of the Colmans, father and
son, and if he did not possess much of their dramatic
talent or wit, exhibited in his habits and arrange¬
ments, much of the decorum and discipline of their
dynasty and rule.
He was an incessant talker ; a Thespian thesaurus,
bursting with theatrical reminiscences. When once
unclasped, it was with difficulty he could again be
70
RECOLLECTIONS OF
closed. Those who were aware of this tendency to
impart informatiçn were generally on their guard, and
avoided interrogatory ; those who were not acquainted
with the propensity, felt, as it might be, the pain or
the pleasure of their heedlessness. He was, more¬
over, a hater of " half-price," detested gas, and de¬
lighted in the vapour of wax-lights.
It was his custom personally to inspect the theatre
after the retirement of the audience, to see that
nothing was left in the boxes, that the subordinate
servants of the establishment performed their duties,
covering the fronts of the boxes with cloths to
prevent injury from dust, and to ascertain that no
calamity could arise from fire.
It happened one night, after the departure of the
company, and the extinction of the lights, as he made
his inspection of the house, he perceived a rather
bulky object in a corner of one of the back seats of
the boxes. He immediately advanced to ascertain
who or what it was. The object in question ap¬
peared to be a female, the head surmounted by a coal-
skuttle bonnet, the face obscured by a thick veil, and
the body enveloped in an ample shawl. With the
politeness, natural or acquired, of which he was the
owner, he invited the presumed female to accept his
arm. The female protested her inability to accede
THE LAST HALE CENTURY. 71
to his request. He then informed her that the
theatre being closed, she must walk out ; she replied,
such a process on her part was an impossibility. He
was waxing wrath at what appeared to be imper¬
tinence, and was about to use " a little gentle force,"
Molliter manus imposuit, on the shoulders of the lady ;
a scream for assistance escaped her, and rushing at
the critical moment into the box, came a burley-
looking gentleman to the rescue. The gentleman
caught up the lady in his arms, disappeared with the
celerity that had attended his entrance, made his way
into the street with his burden, and was seen no
more. On inquiring, it was ascertained by Mr.
Carter, the home secretary of the establishment, that
the lady was the celebrated Miss Biffin, and the gen¬
tleman her husband 1
Miss Biffin, as many people will recollect, was un¬
incumbered with legs, arms, hands, or feet, and
earned a tolerable income by the employment of her
teeth, mouth, and jaws, in cutting watch-papers and
painting miniatures.
A gentleman connected with theatrical criticism,
and who was ever a welcome visitor at the Hay-
market, was one evening during the last season of
the management of Mr. Morris, invited by him into
his private box. He found Mr. Morris in a state of
72
EECOLLECTIONS OF
excitement and indignation. The cause was no
secret; the expenses of the season had been enormous,
and the receipts next to nothing. There was a
corps-de-ballet which nobody went to see. There
were vocalists whom everybody had heard and cared
not to hear again. A corps of légitimists, and
others, who failed to attract the public. All, to use
a stale quotation, was "stale and unprofitable."
The manager commenced the conversation by
asking the visitor abruptly.
Have you ever read the Arabian Nights ?"
" I have."
" Do you remember the story of Sinbad the
Sailor ?"
" Certainlj'' I do."
" Do you recollect an old vagabond called the Old
Man of the Sea, who got, through the folly and good
nature of Sinbad, upon his shoulders, stuck fast there,
and weighed him down to the ground ?"
" Yes, I recollect the circumstance."
" In me, then, you see a three-times greater fool
than Sinbad!"
" How so ?"
" Three old fellows have got upon my shoulders
and weighed me down."
" Explain."
THE LAST HALE CENTURY. 73
will. I am the theatrical Sinbad; the three
old men are D'Egville^ Jerry Sneak Russell, and
Sinclair. They draw twenty pounds a-piece of me
every week. The first is worn out, and this I have
found out. The second was to have given me his
assistance and advice ; his assistance was not worth
having, and his only advice is, to advise me to increase
his salary. The voice of the third is not what it was,
as you may perceive "
At this moment the last mentioned gentleman ap¬
peared on the stage, and commenced—
''The mistletoe hung in the castle hall/'
when Mr. Morris, whose feelings had got the better
of his good manners, exclaimed,
you and the mistletoe too; I wish you
were hanging alongside of it," and rushed out of the
box.
At Mr. Morris's house, Mr. George Bolton, whose
sister was married to the first English tenor in the
world, John Braham, and mother of the Countess of
Waldegrave, was a frequent guest. Mr. Bolton was
a medical man, and had a good share of practice
amongst the nobility and persons of rank. He was
known and esteemed by a large circle of friends, and
was altogether an agreeable acquaintance and a kind-
hearted man. Like most people, indeed, like every-
74
RECOLLECTIONS OF
body, he had his weak points and his peculiarities ;
they were, however, harmless to all but to himself,
and to himself they did but little injury. He was a
handsome, comely, tall, upright, somewhat portly
person, of good address, and well dressed ; and he was,
in some degree, vain of his person. It was this vanity
which led to his annoyance, and the following story
will show, on one occasion, in what way.
He had married early in life; his marriage had
been an unhappy one. A separation from his wife
took place, and he lived some years as a single man.
At length by the death of his wife he w^as a single
man to all intents and purposes. As he was one
morning reading the advertisements of a fashionable
journal, an advertisement, something to the following
effect, met his eye —
"A gentleman, passed the boyhood, but in the
meridian of life, is desirous of entering into a matri¬
monial connexion with a lady of good family, accom¬
plishments, beauty, and adequate fortune. The gen¬
tleman is a member of a liberal profession, superior con¬
nexions, and increasing practice. He is above the com¬
mon height, and in person and features is considered to
bear no distant resemblance to his majesty George IV.
His complexion is florid, his hair an auburn brown,
his eyes blue, his eyelashes originally long, from his
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 75
sympathy with the misfortunes of others, and his own
sorrows, have in some degree been washed away by
his tears; in other respects his good looks have
suffered little from time and trouble."
Who can the gentleman be ?" said Bolton, as he
read the description, chuckling at the absurdity and
vanity of the writer. In the next sentence his curi¬
osity was more than satisfied—
" For further particulars, which will be given at a
personal interview, apply at No. —Pall Mall" (the
address of the astonished reader himself), and ask
for G. B."
To describe the rage of the indignant Bolton would
be a difficult task ; it must be left to imagination, to
which an almost unlimited licence may be given. To
summon his servant and order his carriage was the
work of a minute ; in a few minutes more he was on
his way to the office of the newspaper in which the
offensive advertisement had been published. He in¬
sisted on an immediate interview with the editor, or
the responsible agent of the publication. It was
granted. To his demand of an explanation as to
how the advertisement got into the columns of the
paper, and by whom it had been brought to the office,
he received the only answer that could be given—
" It was impossible for the clerks to recollect who
76
RECOLLECTIONS OF
brought advertisements ; it had been brought by
somebody, and being paid for, inserted as a matter of
course." An apology was made for the unintentional
injury that had been committed ; and an offer was
made to contradict, in the next number of the journal,
that he himself had been the painter of his own
portrait.
By the amenity with which he was treated his fury
was somewhat cooled ; he had the good sense to per¬
ceive that the more he stirred in the affair the more
ridiculous he should become ; that the less said about
the matter the better; and having declined the offer
of contradiction, took his departure, and went home
to guess who could be the perpetrator of the annoy¬
ance, in the discovery of which he was not successful.
Of Russell, the comedian, many anecdotes have
been related, and little that is new can be told. He
was limited in his range of characters, but within his
limits he was unrivalled. His performance of Jerry
Sneak, in the Mayor of Garrett," identified the actor
with his part, and the part with the actor ; not that
in his domestic arrangements off the stage he was at
all under the trammels of petticoat government ; on
the contrary, his habits were the antithesis of his
assumed identity. His wife, or the lady by whom
that title was claimed, was abandoned by him, and
THE LAST HALF CENTUEY.
77
offered herself as a servant in the family of one of
his acquaintance^ who of course declined her services.
At his farewell benefit at the Hay market-theatre,
on his final retirement from the stage, he got a large
sum of money, which he unfortunately placed in the
hands of a money-lender, in hopes of obtaining a
large interest. The money-lender failed, and passed
through the Insolvent Debtors' Court. Russell, w^hose
claim was a milk-score compared with the debts and
liabilities of the insolvent, was fool enough to apply for
the assigneeship of the estate and effects. He was
examined as to the state of his affairs and position by
Mr. Woodruffe, one of the leaders of the Court, who
addressed him as Jerry Sneak, and got up a laugh at
his expense. The Chief Commissioner, Reynolds,
came to his aid, and, with that delicacy of feeling for
which he was distinguished, rescued him from the
rude ferocity of his tormentor. Poor Jerry did not
long survive this scene.
The name of Carter has been mentioned in con¬
nexion with the Hay market-theatre. As he was for
some years a sort of fixture in the place, and tolerably
well known in his day, it will be as well to say a word
or two about him.
Fifty years ago he was a lady's shoemaker, and a
smart little man. He had a relation who was a great
78
KECOLLECTIONS OF
friend of Morton, the dramatist, and one of the
clique of Morton's admirers. This gave him a taste
for the stage, that is, for seeing plays, not for acting
them. He despised the rule—
"Ne sutor ultra crepidam,"
failed in his business, and became a sort of man of all
work to Morris, and afterwards to Mr. Webster. He
was to be seen every evening at the theatre, or in the
immediate neighbourhood of it; and there was scarcely
a tavern in the verge of the establishment, which, in
the course of the evening, he did not visit. His
capacity for spirituous potations was continuous and
almost unlimited. It is on record that on one occa¬
sion, in company of a Bardolph of his own habits and
tastes, he performed the almost incredible feat of
walking from Hyde-park-corner, along Piccadilly,
and down the Haymarket to the theatre, and drinking
a glass of gin, rum, or brandy, or whiskey, at each
and every gin-shop in his road ! He arrived at his
post at his usual hour in the evening, apparently little
the worse from his exertions, and professing his rea¬
diness to repeat the experiment at the expense of any
person who would patronize his attempt.
Being on the subject of theatres, and those by whom
they were frequented, it will not be inappropriate to
make mention of a man, who, having a large con-
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 79
nexion amongst playgoers (and being, moreover, a
remarkable character), occasionally took a benefit at
a playhouse, and appeared on the stage in the
character which he enacted when off of it.
This man was Deighton, the celebrated carica¬
turist, the successor to Rowlandson and Bunbury,
and the precursor of the more celebrated " H. B."
The public were for many years, and during the
long war brought on by the French Revolution,
indebted to Deighton for an infinity of humorous
political caricatures. Some of these were excellent
for their wit and for their designs. The drawing was
not remarkable for correctness, and the subjects were
treated with more breadth of design than purity of
taste ; nevertheless, they pleased, and it may be said
instructed.
The artist obtained a great reputation from his
faculty of representing with great fidelity, and no
little bitterness, the ridiculous characteristics of re¬
markable people. He was as much feared as respected.
He drew caricatures of everybody of any sort of
notoriety, and having for a time exhausted London
betook himself to the Universities for subjects. The
heads of houses," professors, tutors, and all college
notabilities, were his game. He caricatured them all
in spite of their efforts to escape his vigilance. It is
80
RECOLLECTIONS OF
a fact, that at Cambridge, his arrival was the signal
for the magnates to confine themselves to their apart¬
ments. Their attempt at concealment was in vain.
He was quite aware that hunger would tempt them
from their retreats, and the sound of the College
dinner bell informed him of the time of their coming
forth.
The verœ effigies of these people, sufficiently
grotesque without the necessity of exaggeration, were
secured, and still remain, though they themselves are
no more.
He returned to London, " showed them up" in the
windows of his shop, and made a good sum by the
excursion.
From his position as an artist he had access to the
print-room of the British Museum, and from his visits
there became acquainted with Beloe, the translator of
Herodotus (if not from the Greek, from some language
into which the Greek had been transformed), under
whose care the prints were at that time placed, Beloe
was a good natured, careless man ; the last man in the
world to commit a premeditated dishonest action, and
of too charitable a disposition to suspect another of
being capable of so doing. Deighton took advantage
of the confidence that was placed in his honour, and
possessed himself of certain rare prints of which Beloe
THE LAST HALE CENTURY.
81
was the guardian. A certain print-collector^ or dealer
in prints^ in his search for rarities on the continent,
was shown an engraving after Rembrandt, known as
the Hundred Guilder Print," from the circumstance
of one of the impressions having fetched that sum, not
from its intrinsic merit, but because after only three
impressions had been taken from the plate, the plate
had been cut into four parts, so that no perfect
impression could thereafter be obtained. The print-
dealer, or collector, was aware that three only of these
prints were understood to be in existence. He knew
that two of them were in collections on the Continent,
and that a third belonged to the British Museum.
His suspicions were awakened, and he forthwith wrote
to his agents in London, and at the towns in which
the other collections were, to go to the respective
keepers and ask to see the " Hundred Guilder Print."
Those in the continental collections were found to be
forthcoming, but the one which ought to have been
in the British Museum could not be produced.
The consequence may be easily divined ; Deighton
kept out of England, and Beloe lost his situation.
VOL. I.
G
82
RECOLLECTIONS OE
CHAPTER IV.
Education at Public Schools—Eton—Dr. Barnard—Dr. Goodhall—
Dr. Keate—Dames—Miss Angelo—^The late Provost Hodson—
Lord Durham—Wretched System of Discipline and Instruction—
Notorious Abuses—Opposition to projected Improvement.
A VAST deal formerly, and a vast deal more, has
%/
latterly been said about the education of the people.
All sorts of schemes and projects have been proposed,
rejected, or carried into partial execution, and found
to be but partially beneficial. These schemes have
been adapted, or propounded as adapted, to the wants
of what are termed the lower orders. The other
orders have complacently assumed education as affect¬
ing themselves to be susceptible of little or no im¬
provement; their wants, in that respect, to be
adequately supplied: that, in their generation, they
are wise enough, and no alteration in the mode or
extent of instruction to be necessary for their
edification.
A very little commerce with mankind, and more
especially with that portion of it with which he who
enters into mixed society will become acquainted,
THE LAST HALE CEHTUKY. 83
will show the fallacy and pretence of this assumption.
He will be astonished at the inveteracy and extent of
ignorance with which all classes are imbued; and
where he discovers one really well informed, or mode¬
rately well informed individual, he will find hundreds
of people whose ignorance of everything beyond the
most commonplace subjects is as much a matter of
commiseration as wonder.
The inquiry into the causes of this will lead to
some recollections of what was the state of the public
schools and universities of this country some forty years
ago. It is submitted that these institutions have un-
dergone little radical change since the time specified,
and if so, it is to be deplored that the spirit of reform
has not penetrated into places in which its presence
is so much required.
Ex uno discite omnes¡^ or ex duo discite omnes^"^^
for the description of one or two of these places will
convey a very fair notion of the rest. There is a
similarity about the supposed haunts of learning that
will save an inquirer the trouble of searching into
the details of each and every of them. The instruc¬
tion they respectively convey is in quality and extent
so much alike that it is sufficient to select a couple of
specime.'^S.
Some fifty years ago Eton College was under the
G 2
84
EECOLLECTIONS OF
provostship of Dr. Barnard, a man of considerable
learning, and one of the most impressive readers of
his day of the Church Service. His was a day when
more attention was paid to the elocution of the pulpit
than in these times prevails: he took pains in the
mode of his delivery, and when he officiated at the
Communion in the chapel of the College, he secured
the truant attention of the most indifferent auditor.
He was, as most provosts of Eton have been, and
from their close propinquity to Windsor will probably
continue to be, of the tribe courtier. He is men¬
tioned in the memoirs of Madame D'Arblay with
respect.
He interfered but little in the discipline of the
school, the head master of which was the Bev. Joseph
Goodhall, D.D., a man of considerable classical
attainments, an elegant, but not a profound scholar.
Indeed, Dr. Goodhall, with a large stock of showy
talent, was not of the stuff of which profound scholars
are made. Neither w^as it requisite that his erudition
should be very deep. He had just the necessary
learning to fill his office with éclat, and tact enough
to make people suppose he had more to spare if the
occasion demanded its exhibition. He could "make"
Latin verses with fluency and ease. Of poetry he
had no ideas beyond the commonplace rules to be
THE LAST HALF CENTUEY.
85
found in books. With these he was acquainted, and
wisely, perhaps, took that for granted which he could
neither comprehend nor feel.
He was admirably adapted for the station in which
he was placed. A dignified demeanour; a tall and
w^ell-shaped figure; a not unpleasing expression of
countenance; a suavity of manner; a pleasing, and
occasionally humorous mode of expression, made him
a favourite with the boys and with the parents. The
ladies were particularly charmed with his affability.
The costume of a college gave additional distinction
to his appearance, and the wig of a doctor of divinity
conferred an importance on features not naturally
impressive or intellectual.
His voice was clear, loud, and not unmusical. He
had a felicitous and almost intuitive discrimination
of emphasis ; so that in reciting such passages of the
Greek and Roman writers as the business of the school
required, he had an opportunity for a display, and it
was for those in whom a taste for classic beauty of ex¬
pression existed a treat to hear him. Unfortunately,
there were but few such pupils. The Doctor, like
other excellencies, occasionally wasted not his " sweet¬
ness," but his breath upon the desert air.
A pattern pedagogue, and for the rest a gentle¬
man of amiable disposition, with few vices, but many
86
RECOLLECTIONS OF
weaknesses, sufficiently vain of his acquirements, of
his position, and with such sympathy for others, as a
harmless egotist may be supposed to feel.
The master of the lower school, the Rev. Dr.
Keate, was a man of a totally different sort. He was
probably a better scholar than Goodhall, and he cer¬
tainly was better acquainted with the business of the
world, and knew better how to bustle through it than
his collaborator. He had no dignity of demeanour,
no elegance of manner, no talent of elocution ; rugged
in address, and somewhat vulgar in exterior, he pos¬
sessed the feelings and displayed the conduct of a
gentleman. Severe in discipline, he yet managed to
secure the affections and respect of the unruly host
of which his subjects consisted.
Of the subordinate, or assistant masters, it will not
be necessary to say much. Indeed of some, of wffiom
much might be said, the less said the better. Taken
as a body, they were tolerable classical scholars ; pos¬
sessed no knowledge beyond the curriculum of a
college education ; with few exceptions, narrow in
sentiment, and not very liberal in their estimation of
others. They trudged leisurely on in the beaten
track of school literature, and got through their
routine duties with passable respectability.
Another class of persons who formed part and
THE LAST HALF CENTUKY.
87
parcel of the college, are far too important to be for¬
gotten. These were the " Dames/' in whose houses
the great majority of pupils were lodged and boarded.
This great majority, called " oppidans," amounted to
nearly four hundred (the pupils on the foundation
were in number some seventy or eighty, and went by
the name of " Collegers").
The dames, whose number was restricted, made a
great deal of money in their calling. Their charges
were high ; though it must be admitted their expenses
were considerable, their duties onerous, and their
responsibility heavy. They may be said to have
had committed to them the moral conduct of the
pupils during the whole time they were within doors,
whilst their only mode of enforcing order and de¬
corum was by complaint to the masters, whose
absence at their own homes was not seldom the
cause of much insubordination and evil.
Of this class (dames) was a lady of considerable
celebrity ; a sort of female Nestor, as respects the
generations of which she beheld the advent and
exodus, and whose preternatural juvenility exceeded
the almost incredible stories of Ninon de l'Enclos.
Miss Angelo was born upwards of ninety years
ago ; she has departed this life five or six years back.
She was the daughter of the original Angelo, the
88
EECOLLECTIONS OF
celebrated fencing-master, by whom George III. in
his early years was taught the use of the small sword,
and from whom has descended a progeny of many
generations of fencers, eminent in their profession,
and of considerable acquirements and reputation in
other pursuits. This lady when young possessed
more than ordinary personal attractions. When some¬
what on the shady side of forty, she might have been
taken for twenty-five ; at sixty she looked little older
than thirty, and twenty years after, might have
passed muster at the census, as one who numbered
no more years than fifty ! Her figure was light,
elastic, and good.
As the gifts of nature departed, the assistance of
art took their place. The " make up" was perfect,
and with the help of well-fashioned clothes, good taste,
and an air of fashion, she to the very last retained
an appearance of youth, which nothing but a close
inspection could discover to be fallacious and illusive.
She considered her position as a dame at Eton a
descent from the pedestal she had, according to her
own showing, previously occupied in society, and was
accustomed to lament the degradation inflicted by
fortune, in having placed a person of her merits and
claims in a situation which required her presence at
the refectory of her boarders, and constrained her
THE LAST HALE CENTUEY. 89
attention to the requisitions for beef, mutton, and
pudding of the hungry groups collected at the table.
The more laborious and coarser duties of her house¬
hold were intrusted to a deputy of coarser mould ; so
that by the united efforts of the two ladies, the
arrangements of the house were well carried out, and
little cause of complaint existed as to the economy of
the commissariat.
Miss Ano;elo after a certain time assumed the
brevet rank of mistress ; a title very properly adopted
by spinsters whose maturity is incongruous with the
maiden prefix. The title " dame" was her abhorrence ;
she on one occasion requested the boys to abstain
from coupling it with her name. Call me mother,"
said she, in an excess of amiability ; the boys com¬
plied with the request, and for some time mother"
Angelo was the designation by which she was dis¬
tinguished.
In the house of Miss, Mistress, or Mother Angelo,
were located the late Lord Durham, then Mr.
Lambton, and his brothers. They occupied a sort of
wing of the premises, under the inspection of a
private tutor, the late Rev. Mr. Hodson, who after¬
wards became provost of Eton ; a man very much in
advance of the people amongst whom he was thrown,
and who, to good scholarship, united an acquaintance
90
RECOLLECTIONS OF
with the world, and a heart uncorrupted with its
contaminations.
Of John Lambton, no eulogiuin is here about to
appear ; he was from a mere boy an embryo tyrant
and a bully whenever he could find a victim. A
compound of pride, pretence, and superciliousness.
His reputation for veracity whilst at Eton was not
particularly high. He made fevv friends, and the
coldness of his nature and the lofty estimation he
set upon his own merits kept him apart from the
general intercourse of his fellow-scholars. He himself
neither regretted his isolation, nor was it regretted by
others.
The system of education at this royal foundation
of Henry VI. has been the subject of much criticism.
It is, in some degree, a trite subject on which to
digress ; nevertheless, when abuses continue to exist
and flourish, it is proper that the continuance of their
exposure should be of corresponding tenacity.
The education given at Eton forty or fifty years
ago has received but little improvement of late years ;
it is true some alterations have been made; more
attention has recently been paid to the study of
modern languages ; examinations of the proficiency
of the pupils have been more frequent and more
strict, and various minute details have been attended
THE LAST HALF CENTURY.
91
to ; all which have been in a right direction as far as
they have gone; unfortunately, they have gone so
short a way that, as yet, but little good has arisen from
their adoption, though it may be hoped that the spirit
of improvement once recognised, will ultimately lead
to results by w^hich great and important advantage
may be gained.
But in the days of Dr. Goodhall, everything that
was suggested as an improvement was resisted as
a dangerous innovation. Danger certainly was
threatened to the repose and to the pockets of the
people who were accustomed to idleness and the
exorbitant charges of the system. There were three
vacations in the year, the aggregate duration of which
vacations was upwards of three months. In addition
to this long period, supplementary weeks were con¬
tinually being joined to the vacations on the futile
pretence of rejoicing that a victory had been won by
the British army, or at the marriage of some illustrious
person, or on other pretences, by which the master and
his assistants would escape the due fulfilment of their
duties, and the dames avoid the expense of furnish¬
ing; a table for their boarders.
Thus, the boys were rarely above five-and-thirty
weeks out of fifty-two actually at the school, and for
this, upon an average, the parents or guardians.
92
EECOLLECTIOîiS OF
taking all the varieties of the intermixed items of
charge into the account, had to pay a sum little
short of a hundred and fifty pounds a year for each
and every boy educated at the place.
For this formidable expense, as far as learning was
concerned, the quantum supplied was very trifling
indeed; and the manner in which it was supplied,
was as absurd, unintelligible, and tedious as can be
imagined.
The consequences were, that out of hundreds of
pupils a very small minority became masters of what
was professed to be taught. The overwhelming
majority had neither the wish nor the means of
acquiring anything that might be called literature.
The masters took very little pains to excite a spirit of
emulation, or cherish a desire for knowledge. They
were perfectly content to move in the dull routine of
daily duties, and rarely gave themselves any trouble
beyond the mere performance of the dull task assigned
them by their position.
Many boys, in that division of the school called the
upper division of the fifth form, would be for months
in attendance in their places in the school-room with¬
out being once called upon to construe or interpret a
single line or word of the lesson they were required
to prepare and study. The time allowed for the
THE LAST HALE CENTUEY. 93
examination of a hundred, or a hundred and fifty
boys, was three-quarters of an hour, eight or ten
times a week ! Out of this term of three-quarters of
an hour must be deducted a quarter of an hour, or
twenty minutes, which was occupied by one of the
boys of the sixth form in construing aloud the whole
of the lesson to the head master, Goodhall, who took
the opportunity of showing off his own erudition, and
scarcely gave the pupils time to follow him in his
explanations and observations. This part of the
business being concluded, a boy of the upper division
of the fifth form was called upon to construe some
three or four lines of the lesson he had just heard
construed all through by the joint labours of his prede¬
cessor and the master ; and to give the etymology of
such words as occurred in the process. He was
expected to be prepared with a scrap of paper, on
which it was his duty to write down the " derivations"
from the original roots of the words.
The want of this important documentary proof of
his attention to literature, was an offence invariably
followed by punishment. The unfortunate individual
was ordered to " stay," a term which implied that, at
the conclusion of the school hour, his presence would
be required in an apartment called the Library,"
and that he would be subjected to the degrading
94
EECOLLECTIONS OE
punishment of the birch ; a punishment^ in the inflic¬
tion of which Dr. Goodhall appeared to enjoy con¬
siderable pleasure, and in which he rarely failed to
act upon the system of "preachee and floggee too."
That the boys might be prepared for their display
in the school-room, they were, shortly before the
school-hour commenced, assembled in the pupil rooms
of the respective assistant masters, who construed and
explained to them at the railroad pace which the time
required, the lesson which they were supposed to
comprehend; and thus instructed, they were expected
to pass muster.
The hours that intervened between attendance in
the school-room and the pupil-room were, as far as
classic learning was concerned, devoted to the making
of verses, some thousands of which were turned
out to measure" every week by the ingenious
mechanism of the system, but
' ' Quam male Phœbicolis convenit ilia locus"
may be inferred from the fact that two or three small
printed volumes contain all, during half a century,
in any degree meritorious, that the inspiration and
the labours of tens of thousands of votaries to the
Muses have been able to produce.
This was the method of instruction pursued in the
higher forms of the school ; in the lower forms, the
THE LAST HALF CENTUEY. 95
method was similar^ with the exception that the
tasks were comparatively easier, and the poetic
effusions avowedly within the " category," nonsense
verses.
The greater part of the day was devoted to the
games of cricket and foot-ball, rowing and sculling on
the Thames, &c., in all which things, it must be con¬
fessed, the boys displayed more proficiency than in
the litterœ humaniores of the establishment.
A notion has been entertained, and still exists, that
what is termed fagging" is a method of discipline
productive of many advantages ; that it prepares the
youth for the duties of the man, and instructs, be¬
times, those subjected to it to the requisitions of
command and obedience which will arise in their
destinations after they have left school and entered
on the business of the world.
Such a consummation is at least doubtful. That a
system, by which the worst tendencies of the human
heart are encouraged and strengthened in youth, can
be productive of good in maturity, appears a contra¬
diction ; and that this system does cultivate evil ten¬
dencies will hardly be doubted by those who will
laj^ aside prejudices, and consider the thing with
fairness.
A boy in the fifth or sixth form of the school is.
96
EECOLLECTIONS OF
by the regulations, allowed to treat any boy in a lower
position as a servant ; to bid him go here, go there,
do this, or that, anything that caprice or a tyrannical
nature may suggest. If the under boy refuses or
declines to obey, he is punished by blows at the dis¬
cretion of his tj^ant, and if he resist such indignity,
his fate is made more intolerable by the united ven¬
geance of the whole class of petty tyrants being
brought to bear upon him without any power of
appeal, or any protection afforded him from any
higher quarter. He is, in short, a species of slave
during his graduation through the successive ranks
which terminate in emancipation from his slavery, to
commence a tyrant, which he usually does, with a
feeling of general revenge upon all below him, as a
requital for the injuries he has received from all
above him.
This discipline, unless where the natural disposition
is more than usually humane, and where the human
passions are more than usually under control than
in the case of most young people, engenders a
truckling subserviency and a domineering demeanour.
It makes sycophants and bullies. On entering the
world, the necessity of suppressing or concealing
such tendencies compels those by whom they are
possessed to be cautious ; nevertheless, they latently
THE LAST HALE GENTUEY.
97
exist, and, as may be seen every day, await only the
time and the opportunity for their development and
activity.
It is not intended to infer that the evils set out
have infected everybody who has received his edu¬
cation at Eton. On the contrary, there exists in the
world a multitudinous class of exceptions to such an
inference. But in the case of these exceptions, it
must be taken into consideration that many persons
of the higher and more wealthy orders of society have
been little acted upon by " fagging" whilst in such a
form in the school as would have rendered them liable
to the tyranny of those above them. Their wealth
or their rank protected them from its exertion just in
the same way as wealth and rank, notwithstanding
the boast of equality of rights, &c., protect their pos¬
sessors in any community ; and that when they reached
a form which gave them the power to enforce obe¬
dience in others they found little necessity for so
doing, because they had actual domestic servants at
their disposal, beyond whose services little else was
required.
It is submitted, that the existence of such a dispo¬
sition of things never did, and never will, produce
present or ultimate advantage to those amongst whom
it is tolerated.
VOL. I. H
98
RECOLLECTIONS OE
Some improvement has, of late years, been made in
the examination of the " collegers," and in the conse¬
quent location of them as to their rank and precedence,
•with the view to their ultimate " election" to scholar¬
ships at King's College, Cambridge. Improvements
have also been made in the board and lodging of this
class, and in the general economy with which the
foundation" is governed.
These improvements were certainly not very spon¬
taneously produced. For years, all improvement was
unflinchingly resisted. Ignorance and prejudice did
garrison duty at Eton, with most indomitable obstinacy,
for many years. Every change was opposed. So ner¬
vous were the possessors of the place, that even the
instincts of self-interest, which in many instances
supply the place of reflection and prescience, were
misled by the delusion of panic. The establishment
of a station at Slough, by the directors of the Great
Western Railway Company, was opposed hj every
means at the command of the College. Old Etonians,
who had become Members of Parliament, or who had,
from their position in society, influence with the
Legislature, were canvassed and exhorted with ridi-
culbus importunity, to exert themselves to prevent
what was predicted as an approaching destruction to
the retreat of learning being carried into effect.
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 99
All sorts of evils were anticipated from the visits of
A
those whom the trains might convey to " Henry's
holy shade."
Disdainful anger, pallid fear,
Grim visaged, comfortless despair,"
enlisted their forces to prevent the desecration of the
College, and made a stand in defence of the
" Antient solitary reign."
All their attempts were futile, and it was fortunate
for them that they were so. They made the discovery
after some time, that the influx of visitors to Eton
brought by the trains, made the place better known to
the public ; that by the facility afforded by railway
travelling, many parents were induced to send their
sons to be educated at an establishment which they
could reach with comparatively little difficulty and
little delay, and that in consequence, the number
of the boys in the school, which had been on the
decrease, was rapidly augmented, and the pockets
of those who derived a profit from such augmenta¬
tion correspondently filled.
Before the recent alteration in the '^election" to
King's College, Cambridge, of the collegers," the
mode of operation in that business was a piece of
perfect humbug; and be it remembered this piece of
humbug lasted for years without the slightest move-
H 2
100
RECOLLECTIONS OE
ment on the part of those in whom the power of
alteration existed, for its abatement. It existed, more¬
over, in contradiction to the statutes of the founder,
as well as in opposition to common sense, and it may
be added, common honesty. The only criterion of
fitness was seniority. There might be at King's
College, Cambridge, upon an average, five vacancies
of fellowships every year ; to these the scholars
of that foundation succeeded, leaving five vacant
scholarships to be filled up by five " collegers" to be
elected" from Eton. The boy who stood first upon
the list at Eton when a vacancy occurred, and who
had obtained that pre-eminence, not by merit but
simply by seniority, was the first to be sent off to
King's. It might happen that he was infinitely
inferior in classical attainments to the boy next
below him ; nevertheless, obtain the scholarship he
did ; and it not unfrequently happened, that the
boy next below him lost his chance of a scholarship
at King's College altogether, by being superannuated
before another vacancy occurred there.
The present Dean of St. Paul's, one of the best
classical scholars Eton has for a long time produced,
was superannuated in this manner. The present Mr.
Justice Coleridge, and several other eminent scholars,
were likewise sufferers by this system, while some
THE LAST HALE CENTURY
101
persons, whose names it would be invidious to
mention, became scholars of King's without pos¬
sessing the slightest claim to learning of any sort,
and without the smallest taste for anything whatever
connected with literature. Be it remembered, that a
scholarship at King's College, Cambridge, is no
trifling appointment. At the end of three years the
scholar becomes a fellow, the emoluments of his fel-
low^ship being about three or four hundred a-year,
and that when he becomes a senior fellow, the emolu¬
ment he receives is nearly double that sum. He
may, should he enter holy orders, be presented to
a living, the average amount of the benefices belong¬
ing to the College ranging from five hundred to a
thousand a-year.
Let it also be borne in mind, that until very
recently, the members of King's College, Cambridge,
had their degrees conferred on them without any
university examination whatever, the College being,
in fact, a sort of university itself, and possessing pri¬
vileges which rendered the members of it exempt
from the general laws of the University of Cambridge,
by which all the other colleges were governed.
This state of things naturally begot a great deal of
indirection and manoeuvring. Those who were ac¬
quainted with the abuses of the school at Eton
102
EECOLLECTIONS OF
availed themselves of their knowledge to make pro¬
vision for a son or sons, or a nephew or nephews, out
of the funds set apart bj the royal founder for the
encouragement and reward of learning. They were
aware that the average of vacancies at King's College
was, as has been said above, five in a year, and they
took care so to enter their children or relations on
the foundation that it became almost a certainty that
the anticipated vacancies at King's College would
take place at the periods at which they would become
capable of sliding into them, without talent, learning,
or any other qualification than the position in the
school, which the prudent prescience of their parents
or relations had contrived to secure for them.
The consequence of this abuse was, that sometimes
three brothers of one familv were at the same time
scholars on the foundation at Eton, and subsequently
fellows of King's College, Cambridge, receiving out
of the funds of that institution, in the course of years,
thousands and ten thousands of pounds, whilst to the
advancement of learning, they never contributed
enough to pay for the outfit of the meanest applicant
to a ragged school.
In fact, the abuses of the sj^stem were carried still
further, and boys were so cunningly placed, and
arrangements so cleverly made, that in addition to
THE LAST HALE CENTUKY. 103
their obtaining scholarships at King's, they had the
chance, and in some instances the certainty, of what
was called the Montern," a triennial festival, at
which a collection was made from those present^
generally to the amount of a thousand pounds, to
which the fortunate youth at the head of the foun¬
dation was entitled.
It is only recently that this state of things has been,
in some degree, modified. The general inquiries
into the management of public charitable institutions
have forced, even upon the authorities of Eton, the
conviction that it was necessary to do something in the
way of improvement within, to prevent a great deal
more from being done from without ; but in such a
case, the public have a right to expect a much more
extensive alteration of rules, regulations, and laws, a
much more sweeping abatement of obvious nuisances ;
changes more suitable to the wants and requisitions of
the present state of society, and at the same time
more conformable to the intentions of the founder of
the College. Laws and regulations must be adopted
for giving a better education at a much smaller charge.
The diligent and the meritorious must receive the
rewards which the idle and the incompetent have
purloined. Eton must become, what it was originally
intended to be, an institution for the cultivation and
104
RECOLLECTIONS OF
encouragement of real learning, open to the public ;
a nursery for scholarship, and a national institution
for the rearing of those who may be expected some
day to become the ornaments, the directors, and the
ministers of a great empire.
King's College, Cambridge, is so closely connected
wdth Eton College that the mention of one necessarily
introduces some notice of the other. The abuses,
also, by which the advantages intended to be con¬
ferred upon the people of England have been inter¬
cepted at one of these foundations exist in equal
strength at the other ; and if some tardy progress has
been made by the former in the right road, it is
scarcely important enough to be much cause of boast
to the members of the College, or of much congratu¬
lation to the public.
An ignorant, raw lad, or .youth, or young man, of
eighteen or nineteen years of age, crammed wdth the
contents of the incomprehensible heap of paradoxical
absurdities, errors, and blunders, called the " Eton
Latin Grammar," gorged to repletion with the
" quantities" of the Gradus ad Parnassum, inca¬
pable of digesting the incongruous load by which
he was oppressed; '^well up" in the class books
of Eton, and able to flounder through a scene or
two of " Greek play," was about an average specimen
THE LAST HALE CENTUKY. 105
of the genus which the wet-nurse on the banks
of the Thames periodically supplied to the dry-
nurse on the banks of the Cam. Having left the one
and being arrived at the other, the unambitious
scholar was located in an apartment, which, in com¬
parison with the accommodation of the " Long
Chamber" at Eton was a palace. The " Long
Chamber" being a long, narrow, badly-ventilated,
and not particularly cleanly, gallery ; along which
were arranged some sixty wretched bedsteads and
bedding, covered with dingy rugs, and resembling
the wards of a workhouse or a hospital. Indeed, so
wretchedly dirty and deplorable was the place, that
when seen by the great Lord Nelson on a visit to
Eton, at which school his nephew was a "colleger,'
his lordship expressed his disgust at the arrangements,
which he considered inferior to the economy of a
ship's cockpit, and forthwith removed his relation
from so degrading a dormitory.
Being located, as I said before, the neophyte had
to pass his period of novitiate, about three years, in
such pursuits as best suited his tastes. The restric¬
tions of the College were too lax to be any restraint
upon him, and the attention at lectures and chapel,
&c., were neither irksome nor very rigid. He
might, or he might not, employ his hours and his
106
RECOLLECTIONS OE
intellects in the acquisition of learning or science,
and when it is considered what sort of instruction he
had received at Eton in such things, and to what
temptations of indolence and dissipation he was
exposed at Cambridge, it is not to be much marvel¬
led at that he lost what little knowledge he originally
possessed, and in the course of a few years became
alike unwilling and unable to attempt or accomplish
anything for the advancement of those interests for
which he had received an eleemosynary education,
and enjoyed the endowments of a royal foundation.
Thus, where one scholar, or one eminent man in
any profession, has been the product of these two
enormously rich and noble institutions, a swarm of
college drones has been generated: fox-hunting par¬
sons, dull parish priests, and loitering idlers, have
thriven wonderfully ! Let us hope that the parlia¬
mentary investigations which have been commenced
into the state of the Universities will be carried out
to the full; that the laws by which they have hitherto
been governed will be to the full amended; that such
restriction wdll henceforth be put upon misgovern-
ment and corruption as will afford to succeeding
generations a guarantee from the injustice and the
abuses to which the present and former generations
have been subjected.
THE LAST HALF CENTUEY. 107
It is, of course, not against the character of indivi¬
duals connected with either of these places of educa¬
tion that imputations are specifically levelled. The
working of the system is what is intended to be
exposed. Those who have enjoyed, and those who
do enjoy the advantages and the revenues derived
therefrom, have, in the common movements of society,
got into those channels and those paths which have,
almost without any co-operation on their own parts,
led them to indifference and wealth. It would be
too much to expect their notions of their rights, no
doubt conscientious, and their prejudices, corroborated
by self-interest, to be removed by mere argument or
exhortation ; much less can it be expected that they
will resign to others what they have secured, however
much others may be qualified more worthily to fill
their places.
The public will be fully satisfied by enactments,
by which, in future, provision shall be made for better
management, and for the rightful distribution of those
most liberal funds which royal beneficence has be¬
queathed for public good.
108
RECOLLECTIONS OF
CHAPTER V.
Eton, continued—Enormous Income of the Head Master: heavy
charges for teaching nothing—The late Rev. C. Yonge—Trinity
Hall, Cambridge—^The Rev. Mr. Walker—University Vultures—
Dr. Jowett, Regius Professor of Civil Law—Sir W. Wynne, Dean
of the Arches, &c.—Mr. Duval, the Conveyancer —Mr. Leblanc,
Master of the Court of K. B.—Dr. Battine ; his four female
servants—William IV.—Parson Beevor and Ikey Bittoon, &c.&c.
—Dr. Blake and Mr. Furbey—Necessity makes strange bed¬
fellows.
A PRINCIPAL cause of the little attention which was
paid at Eton to the studies, the discipline, and the
general management of the bojs, was the fact that
the masters appointed to attend to these things were
above their work.
They were above their work because they were
too well paid for it ; and as the fewer labourers the
greater the pay disbursed among them, care was
taken that the number should be kept as low as pos¬
sible, and what would have required at least twenty
or thirty masters to perform, was monopolized by ten
or a dozen.
I think I may state, and yet my statement will be
THE LAST HALE CENTUEY.
109
within bounds, that Dr. Goodhall, who was at no ex¬
pense in keeping house for anybody but himself and
his own family, did not derive, during the many years
that he was head master of Eton School, less than
four thousand a-year from his situation. This large
income arose from an annual payment by every boy
of the upper school of, I believe, five pounds, or there¬
abouts, and in the upper school there were, during his
tinie, upon an average, three hundred boys; this
would produce fifteen hundred pounds. Every boy
paid an entrance fee of five pounds, and as the
number of entrances was annually a hundred, an
income of five hundred pounds was produced from
that source alone. Every boy on leaving the school
was expected, and in point of fact every boy did pay to
the head master a sum varying from ten to twenty-five
guineas, but averaging, at the least, at fifteen guineas;
and as a hundred boys left the school every year,
hence was derived an annual income of fifteen hun¬
dred pounds. This, which is a very moderate calcula¬
tion, produced the aggregate of three thousand six
hundred and seventy pounds a-year, in addition to
which certain other fees and payments brought up
the whole amount to what I have stated.
The master of the lower school derived from the
same sources an income proportionally as large, and
110
KECOLLECTIONS OF
in addition received Into his house a number of
boarders, say thirty or forty, from each of whom he re¬
ceived a payment of eighty or a hundred pounds a-year.
The assistant masters or tutors had divided amongst
them (with the exception of those who were boarders
with the master of the lower school) the whole of the
five hundred boys, who paid them in the aggregate
about four thousand pounds a-year. They also
received into their houses about twenty or thirty
boarders each master, at a rate of eighty or a hundred
pounds each boarder ; and in addition each pupil on
leaving the school paid a valedictory fee of ten,
fifteen, or twenty pounds to his respective tutor. I
have already stated the hours of study, the amount of
labour performed, and the extent of information
obtained, and I think any unprejudiced person will
agree with me, that the article supplied, and the
manner of its supply, wmre infinitely below the im¬
mense charge which found its way into the pockets of
the suppliers.
It should further be borne in mind, that as all the
masters were appointed from King's College, Cam¬
bridge, many of them derived from that college the
incomes of fellows, and had besides, whether married
or single, the prospect of being elected fellows of
Eton College, worth about six hundred a year each
THE LAST HALF CENTUEY.
Ill
fellowship, with the chance, or rather the certainty,
of ultimately obtaining a college living, on which to
retire.
This inordinate income, instead of obtaining the
services of really effective men, men of the working
order of classical instructors, induced men much
above the business of their calling to come to Eton
as masters, where they were secure to revel in easily-
acquired wealth, and,provided their moral deportment
was correct, to enjoy a life of comparatively light
labour, and almost total exemption from the drudgery
to which less fortunate instructors of vouth are
«/
subjected.
On the death of Mr. Yonge, in whose house I and
my two brothers were located for some years, at an
expense to my father of many hundred pounds, an
application was made to me, having been one of his
pupils, to subscribe to a sum about to be raised for
placing a monument to his memory in the chapel of
the college. I at once declined to subscribe one
farthing for w^hat I considered, as far as I was con¬
cerned, a most undeserved testimonial. During the
whole time I resided in his house, which was about
five years, he never gave himself the slightest trouble
about my progress in my studies. He was contented
with the most routine and mechanical discharge of
112
EECOLLECTIOKS OE
his duties towards me, and appeared to regard me
and my brothers not as pupils placed under his
direction for the purpose of receiving instruction,
but as machines from which an income was to be
derived.
How he behaved to others, and how his behaviour
was adopted by other tutors or masters, I leave to
others to conjecture.
In the year 1809, at the commencement of
Michaelmas Term, I entered as a fellow commoner at
Trinity Hall, Cambridge. I intended to study the
law as a profession, and having understood that that
college was almost exclusively set apart for legal
studies, I placed my name on the books.
Upon my arrival at Cambridge, I was introduced
to the then senior tutor of the College, the Rev.
Mr. Walker, to whom I presented a letter containing
a testimonial from Dr. Goodhall of my good conduct,
&c., whilst at Eton, and an estimate of what that
learned person considered my proficiency in what I
ought to have been taught during the time he and
others were paid to superintend my education. This
testimonial the Rev. Mr. Walker appeared to consider
a mere superfluity, and having run his eyes over it,
quietly deposited it in his coat pocket, amidst a
quantity of papers of apparently equal insignificance.
THE LAST HALE CENTUHY.
113
I was then informed of the amount of the necessary
payments I was required to make, which having
defrayed, the reverend gentleman accompanied me
round the college, and pointed out the different apart¬
ments, specifying the respective rents, which were at
the time vacant ; and congratulated me on my having
come up'' to the University at the commencement
of term, before the arrival of the expected Fresh¬
men," by which circumstance I had secured a priority
of selection of the rooms in which I was to be lodged.
It was finally arranged that I was to become the
occupant of what were termed a "keeping-room"
and a bedroom, together with a lobby in the principal
quadrangle of the building, adjoining the chapel,
which I was assured were peculiarly eligible ; inas¬
much that the chapel bell, which was within a few
yards of the couch on which I was to repose by
night, could not fail to arouse me at an early hour
every morning and summon me to prayers.
I cannot say my appreciation of religious duties
was at that time sufficiently strong to make me coin¬
cide in the sentiment which Mr. Walker, no doubt
properly, endeavoured to impress upon me.
The out-going tenant of the rooms was a Mr.
Pease; I am not sure, whether or no, he was the
gentleman who has since become remarkable for his
VOL. I. I
114
EECOLLECTIONS OF
love of peace and quietness ; but be that as it may,
Mr. Pease got as far from the chapel bell as he could,
and I took his place.
I had to pay £4.0 for the furniture of the rooms,
to which, having made some necessary additions, in
eight-and-forty hours after my arrival at Alma M at er^
I removed from the Sun Inn to the College, assumed
the costume of my " order," and was fairly launched
statu pupilari into the stream of university life.
I had scarcely entered upon my new premises,
when an incessant knocking at the door announced
the visits of a host of people, consisting of tailors,
bootmakers, dealers in linen, ostlers, stable-keepers,
and classes peculiarly sui generis^ and such as are only
to be met with in Oxford and Cambridge. All these
proffered their services, and invited my patronage and
support. I had seen something of this sort at Eton,
and as my knowledge of the world was rather more
precocious than that by which many young men were
distinguished, I resisted the pressing allurements of
my visitors, and dismissed them with a general pro¬
mise, that when their services should be required, I
would not fail to remember their politeness in calling.
This promise I kept somewhat in a Jesuitical
manner, by remembering to have nothing whatever
to do with them thereafter.
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 115
As I arrived at the commencement of term, I
had nearly six weeks to prepare myself for the lectures,
which I was expected to attend after the division.
The rule was, that the students must " keep," as it was
called, the largest half of the term, a phrase which did
not speak very correctly for the mathematical pre¬
cision of those by whom the rule was laid down, but
which was sufSciently understood to cause the multi¬
tude to make their appearance at their respective col¬
leges a few days before the division. I had therefore
plenty of time to look about me, and employed my
time as well as I could, in examining the wonders of
the place, inspecting the lions, and renewing some ac¬
quaintances with the " King's" men, several of whom
I had known at Eton, and who, being less governed
by the rule of the division than the rest of the
undergraduates, were in residence in their college.
The dinners in " Hall" I found to be very good,
and the expenses of living, provided the student was
content to live according to the regular tariff of the
college, not exorbitant. The misfortune was, that
very few were content so to live, and as the temp¬
tations to run in debt were offered on all sides, and
the facilities of so doing multifarious, it is little to be
wondered at that very few were able to resist them,
or to confine their expenditure within their income.
i2
116
EECOLLECTIONS OE
The tradesmen were importunate in the applica¬
tions for orders, the college authorities apathetic in
enforcing such powers as they possessed to prevent
extravagance, the young men too ignorant of the
value of money, or of what they were to have in
exchange for it, and too careless to calculate con¬
sequences. The result of this was, that most persons
lived beyond their means, that almost everybody was
in debt, that those w^ho paid, paid on the tradesmen's
principle of " making the living pay for the dead,"
and that those who could not pay were dunned
incessantly, haunted by creditors, threatened and
abused, and forced to undergo such annoyances as
completely incapacitated them from the pursuit of
learning, banished " learned ease" altogether, and in
the end compelled the unfortunate debtors to seek,
in self-banishment from the University, escape from
the pertinacious harpies by whom they had been.
originally lured into expense and fo%.
The prevalence of this system is too notorious for
the necessity of mentioning any specific cases of the
ruin of individuals. There is scarcely a family of
moderate means, the members of which have had
what is called the advantage" of a university edu¬
cation, which cannot furnish an instance of the evil
effects which have arisen from the facility with which
THE LAST HALE CENTURY. 117
debts can be incurred at Oxford and Cambridge, and
in very many instances the prospects of a future life
of honourable exertion and concomitant success have
been completely blighted by its existence.
It is not my intention to say more upon this sub¬
ject ; they who read the law reports in the news¬
papers will readily concur in the truth of what I have
stated.
I was introduced to the " Hall" dinner b}'' Mr.
Walker, and for several davs he and I had the Fellows'
table to ourselves, there being nobody in residence.
I had, therefore, an opportunity of forming a tolerably
good estimate of the character and attainments of my
companion ; and I will take the occasion in this place
I
of stating them, because a fair average calculation of
what many such functionaries were may be made from
the contemplation of this gentleman.
I will begin with his personal portrait, though that
has little to do with the personal peculiarities of others
of his class. He was a short, plump, happy-looking
little man, with something of a rustic appearance ; a
good-natured countenance, indicative of no great intel¬
lectual power, and little furrowed with the anxieties of
thought or care. His classical attainments had not
been very great, neither was he at any pains to in¬
crease them. Like the learning of Shakespeare, his
118
EECOLLECTIONS OE
learning consisted of " small Latin and less Greek."
What little he had^ he had the good sense to reserve
for occasions on which it was absolutely required, and
these only occurred in hearing the undergraduates who
were intended for "holy orders" construe, three or four
times a-week, a few verses of the Greek Testament.
Mr. Walker explained, or was supposed to explain,
any difficulties that the text presented ; and as neither
he nor his pupils were particularly anxious to push
inquiry beyond the most commonplace interpretation
of the passages, everything passed off smoothly, and
all parties were content.
As a mathematician, this gentleman's acquirements
were understood to be more extensive. He had been
a wrangler," and from the turn of his mind, there
is no doubt but his knowledge in that branch of
science was sound, and that he w^as perfectly com¬
petent to give instruction to others; but, unfortu¬
nately for the display of his talent. Trinity Hall was
not a college in which mathematical studies were
much pursued. With one or two occasional excep¬
tions, everybody " went out" in law. The geometry
of Euclid was almost as little studied as the Koran of
Mahomet. The fifth problem of the first book,
known as the pons asinorum^ once passed over by the
students, their zeal for works of scientific supereroga-
THE LAST HALE CENTUEY.
119
tion was allayed, and thenceforth their energies were
directed to the studies by which they were to insure
their passage through the law schools.
Mr. Walker was also bursar of the college, and in
this capacity, it is right to say, he performed his duty
with ability, and with satisfaction to everybody.
As a relaxation from mere routine labours, he de¬
voted part of his time to chemistry, in which he made
a tolerable progress ; and in connexion with it, was
very fond of " dabbling in Galencials," in which
occupation he was of considerable service in admi¬
nistering remedial assistance to several of his friends,
whose tendency to plethora required at intervals the
intervention of cathartics, &c. &c.
In temper he was patient and conciliatory, and in
his principles and his practice just and honest. How¬
ever unfit to direct or assist the studies of those who
were anxious to obtain high eminence in learning, he
had some admirable qualities for the government of a
college. He could listen to explanations, admit ex¬
tenuation, rebuke with kindness, and overlook all
minor breaches of discipline in which the necessary
economy of the community was not compromised.
In consequence of this he was a favourite with every¬
body, and everybody treated him with respect.
I have been something particular in describing this
120
EECOLLECTIONS OF
man^ because, however deficient he might be in
classical learning, he was but little more deficient
than certain others then filling similar situations at
Cambridge whose arrogance concealed their igno¬
rance, and who had neither the temper nor the good
sense to confer half the benefits on the undergraduates
which were rendered by his unpretending but judi¬
cious conduct.
The Magnus Apollo of the College was expected
to arrive every day, and from the manner in which
mention was made of him, I was prepared to expect
something beyond what I had already seen.
Dr. Jowett, the gentleman to whom I allude, at
length made his appearance, and I was introduced to
him in form. I found him a person of considerably
greater attainments than Mr. Walker. He had, in
addition to a natural taste for literature, a facility in
the acquisition of it ; and although he had never been
a laborious student, he had succeeded in picking up
a much more general acquaintance with the treasures
of antiquity than is usually to be met with in college
tutors and professors. He was not very deeply read
in anything, but he had something more than a
superficial knowledge of most things and of authors
both ancient and modern. He was a good Latin
scholar, and from repeated readings of Plautus and
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 121
Terence had acquired a fluency in speaking Latin,
which in the law schools, over which he presided in
his capacity of Regius Professor of Civil Law, and
in which the public " acts" or exercises for law degrees
were " kept," gave him great advantages, and enabled
him to establish a reputation as a disputant to which
his actual knowledge of the Roman law would never
have raised him. In short, his amount of knowledge
of the science of which he was professor was confined
to the routine stock of intelligence handed down in
the lectures of Bishop Halifax, printed in the form of
an analysis of the civil law, and illustrated by such
manuscript notes as in the course of its descent had
been collected from time to time by the lecturer.
The students designed for the law schools were
required to attend these lectures, which were delivered
in the Combination Room of Trinity Hall, during
the "larger half" of every term ; and were understood
to be listened to by them with the attention the
gravity of the subject required. I regret to say I
cannot confirm this understanding. The majority
heard with listless inattention the history of " things
corporeal or incorporeal, existing at present or in
futurity ;" caring not whether they " belonged to a
testator or any other person," and entertaining an
ignorant indifference for Legatum liberationis nominis^
122
EECOLLECTIONS OE
generis optionis, pœnœ nomine^ which all the extracts
from Hoppius, Heinecciiis, Wood, Burn, and Black-
stone, failed to arouse or enlighten. Some were
employed in sketching portraits of the professor or
caricatures of each other ; and I myself, on several
occasions, actually found refuge from the intolerable
dulness of the discourse in the pages of " Fearne on
Contingent Remainders," not exactly a book for
intellectual relaxation, but which, being at hand, I
gladly made use of to escape a heavier infliction.
In addition to his presumed professional attain¬
ments, Dr. Jowett possessed some knowledge of the
fine arts, and might be called a man of cultivated
mind. Fie was fond of music, and was a good pianist.
He had seen something of the world, not very much,
and having always mixed with people of his own
views and opinions, the prejudices with which he had
been originally imbued were rather strengthened than
relaxed; consequently, he was contracted in his
notions of men and things ; not over liberal in his
estimate of those who thought diiferently ; impatient
of contradiction, and either not willing or not able to
enter into any discussion in which his own concep¬
tions of right and wrong were questioned or assailed.
His temper was hot and hasty, but he soon cooled,
and had the candour to regret and to apologize for
THE LAST HALE CENTUKY.
123
the trifling bursts of impatience into which he had
been betrayed.
He had little or nothing of the pedant in his
deportment ; was pleasing and affable in manner ;
willing to impart what he knew ; of an independent
mind ; active in benevolence, and of sound religious
principles. He had made many friends, and had he
been more worldly minded, he might have turned
their friendship to worldly advantage. I never heard
that he had succeeded in making an enemy.
There were two other persons who filled the sub¬
ordinate tutorships of the College, but of them I
have nothing worth while to notice.
I had forgotten to say that the Master, Custos of
this ancient foundation of Bishop Bateman was Sir
William Wynne, not the well-known Welsh baronet
of that style and title, but a totally different person,
equally well known to the members of his particular
class, and for many years Dean of the Arches.
The " Master" was very rarely an occupant of the
Lodge ; indeed, his judicial duties fully occupied his
time, and the visits he paid to Cambridge took place at
the Christmas holidays in each year, when the under¬
graduates were absent;, so that any benefit which might
have been derived from his residence in the College,
from precept, example, exhortation, investigation of
124
KECOLLECTIONS OF
complaints and grievances, as far as they were con¬
cerned, was out of the question. I doubt if the
majority of them had ever beheld the venerable
Head of the House." There was, indeed, a sort of
examination in theology held shortly before Christmas,
at the Lodge, and books were distributed as prizes,
but, if I remember rightly, few persons attended.
The festival of Christmas was celebrated in the
Hall for twelve days, not certainly by prayer and
fasting. A succession of good dinners attracted a
host of visitors ; and guttling, such as most corporate
bodies exhibit, was amongst the relaxations in which
the learned and pious remanets indulged.
Sir William Wynne was little more than a " dummy"
in this establishment ; his age and his avocations at
other places rendered it scarcely possible that he
could attend to what was going on. His authority
delegated to another individual relieved him from
the labours, if it did not excuse him from the respon¬
sibility, of his situation.
He was respected in the University from his office
of judge and his rank of privy councillor ; the last
placed him in the order of noblemen, and gave him
the privilege at St. Mary's Church of taking his seat
in the gallery set apart for persons of noble birth. He
had the good sense not to avail himself of this
THE LAST HALE CENTUEY. 125
privilege^ and thought it more dignified to sit amongst
the heads of colleges than exhibit his somewhat
incongruous partnership in greatness with the youth¬
ful patricians for whom the reserved seats in the
house of prayer and humility were set aside.
Amongst the fellows of the College with whom I
became acquainted were the late Mr. Duval^ whose
eminence as an equity draftsman was the merited
result of a clear intellect sedulously applied to the
labours of his profession. He was, moreover, a man
of the world, one who enjoyed its pleasures without
neglecting his duties, or trespassing upon the time
which belonged to his clients. Among the minor
merits he possessed was that of riding well. He was
fond of a gallop with the fox-hounds, and contrived
to be always in a good place when going across a
country. He was always well mounted, and in the
field, as well as elsewhere, exhibited the bearing of a
gentleman and a man of talent.
This gentleman was kind enough, shortly after my
acquaintance with him commenced, to become one of
my securities to the Society of Lincoln's Inn, at which
I entered as a law student; my other security to the
honourable Benchers was Mr. Vernon, who at that
time was at the head of an office in the Treasury. I
shall have occasion to mention him again.
126
RECOLLECTIONS OE
Another of the fellows who shortly before the
division of the term passed a few days at the College,
was Mr. Leblanc, nephew of the judge, Sir Simon
Leblanc, and Master of the Court of King's Bench.
This gentleman, though a complete man of the world,
and much in advance of the residentiary drones who
fatten and batten on college fellowships, and neither
improve themselves nor suffer improvement to operate
upon others, was a man of a different temper from
Mr. Duval. He was arbitrary in disposition, and
vigilant in protecting what he considered the rights of
the College and the University ; hostile to innovation,
and prejudiced towards all that prescription had con¬
firmed. He subsequently became Master of Trinity
Hall, and Vice Chancellor of the University. I was
not resident at Cambridge at the time he filled these
offices, but I have understood that with the under¬
graduates he was the reverse of popular.
In the performance of his functions of Master of
the Court of King's Bench, the attorneys found in
him an active and vigilant ofiScer. He knew per¬
fectly well the practice of taxation of costs, and as far
as the fetters of an absurd and extravagant system
would admit, he exercised a very wholesome control
over the enormous charges and expenses of law-suits
and legal proceedings. I experienced this in my own
THE LAST HALF CENTÜEY. 127
business long after I had left Cambridge, and whilst
I was resident in London. I was sued for a debt
which I had never contracted, but from which to
relieve another person I had undertaken to pay in a
given time : before the expiration of the time the
creditor took out proceedings against me. I considered
I had the "conscience" of the case on my side, and
having been sued by a wrong Christian name, I
instructed my attorney to plead in abatement. This
was done, and the plaintiiF found out to his dismay,
that he was further off from the attainment of his
object than if he had acted a straightforward part.
He was, in fact, in the hands of a pettifogging
scoundrel, who was only anxious to extort money in
the shape of costs. This fellow urged him on, and I,
being willing to do w^hat was right, stopped the pro¬
ceedings by tendering payment. An appointment
for taxation was made, and I in person attended
before the Master to take care of my own interests.
The Master was somewhat surprised at my appear¬
ance, but very soon comprehended the business, and
I had the satisfaction of seeing an inordinate attempt
to victimize a party to a suit reduced to comparatively
insignificant results.
I had known Dr. Battine, another fellow of Trinity
Hall, before I entered at the University ; he never,
128
RECOLLECTIONS OE
during niy residence there, honoured the place with
his presence; confining himself to his professional
duties in Doctors' Commons, and to such amuse¬
ments as an eccentric bachelor may contrive to enjoy
in such a place as London. That he was an eccentric
bachelor, I think may be supposed from one amongst
many other eccentricities which he practised in his
household, which I will mention.
He was fond of the pleasures of the table, and kept
good society. In his own house, though a man of
fortune, he kept neither footman, butler, nor any
domestic of the male sex. In the place of these he
was waited upon at table by four very good looking
(
young females, who stood at the sideboard as stiff
and erect as Caryatides. These were accustomed to
administer to his wants, and acted as the Hebes of
the banquet. Some little scandal was incurred in
consequence of his predilection ; and on one occasion,
when he entertained William IV., then Duke of
Clarence, that royal personage, who during the
dinner divided his regards between the viands and
the servitors, interrogated both the host and the
females with a closeness of inquiry which showed him
somewhat sceptical as to the purity of the connexion
which existed between them. Battine was, however,
but little abashed by the investigation, and the females
THE LAST HALF CENTUEY,
129
maintained their ground with a courage which pro¬
bably resulted from the purity of their position.
Dr. Adams, a man of high reputation as an advo¬
cate, was a fellow of the College. He was remarkably
gentlemanly in his manners, and was one of those by
whom the place was rendered respectable. Dr. Goss¬
ling was another fellow; I have lost sight of him for
years. I believe he made little figure in the courts
of civil law. He had a brother, a clergyman, whose
tastes were more suited to the direction of horses
than the cultivation of theology. I believe this gen¬
tleman is dead. The only member of the common
law bar, amongst the fellows in my novitiate, was
Mr. Beevor, a gentleman of very pleasing manners,
descended from the Beevors of Norfolk, an ancient
and honourable family. This gentleman had a rela¬
tion, the Rev. Mr. Beevor who in his day was
tolerably notorious amongst a particular clique. He,
the parson, was in person upwards of six feet high,
and proportionably stout. His arms were so long
that, like Rob Roy, his hands, when he stood upright,
reached to his knees ! The reverend gentleman was
a patron of what has been termed the art of self-
defence," but what might with equal propriety be
called of " self-offence," and more particularly so as
developed in his person. His reverence was accus-
VOL. I. K
130
RECOLLECTIONS OF
tomed to attend places in which his talent as an
athlete was duly estimated, and distinguished himself
on several occasions, in what some people call "taking
his own part," which, nine times out of ten, means
insulting others and bullying the company. The
companion of these hours of relaxation was a Jew
pugilist, "Ikey Bittoon." The parson and the
pugilist, in order "to keep their hands in," when they
had nobody else on whom to inflict their favours,
would "set-to" with the "gloves," and as they warmed
in the contest, inflict on each other, notwithstanding
their knuckles were muffled, blows which would have
demolished a clergyman or a boxer of less pluck and
hardihood. Mr. Beevor, who, in his zeal for such
secular amusement, never lost sight of his higher
clerical duties, and fully aware of the scandal which
his face might excite in the pulpit from discolor¬
ation, was accustomed to compound with Ikey in this
way :—the Jew was not to "bung up" the eyes of the
parson, and the parson was to respect the ribs of the
Jew. These preliminaries being established, the par
nobile went to w^ork wdthout fear of the bishop or the
surgeon, and pegged aw^ay to the great delight if not
ediflcation of the beholders.
This man was said to be a scholar of no mean pre¬
tensions, and to possess considerable information. I
THE LAST HALE CENTUEY.
131
confess I was too dull to make the discovery of his
attainments in the opportunities I had of being in his
company.
He was one night returning home at a late hour,
when, passing by a stable-yard in an obscure street in
the neighbourhood of Tottenham-court-road, he was
insulted by a fellow standing at the entrance of the
/
yard. His blood was soon up, and he pursued his in¬
sulter up the yard. After a short contest he struck him
a blow on the head; the fellow's head was driven against
the wall, and though he was apparently stunned and
motionless, he stood bolt upright. The parson was
surprised at so unusual a circumstance, and suspecting
the man was in a state which might lead to a coroner's
inquest, he made a very rapid retreat. Some time
afterwards the inhabitants of the yard began to go
forth to their labours. They discovered the man still
upright against the wall, crying out for assistance, and
upon examining him they found that his head had been
driven against a hook, which had penetrated the inte¬
guments, caused temporary suspension of animation,
and held him fast in his awkward position.
Drs. Haggard and Blake, with whose names in the
reports of the courts in which they practise the public
are well acquainted, were my contemporaries. The late
Mr. Cottingham, so long a stipendiary magistrate at the
K 2
132
RECOLLECTIONS OE
Thames Police Office, was a pensioner and scholar of
the foundation of Trinity Hall during ray time there.
He was looked upon by the authorities of the College
as a young man of great promise. Of what he pro¬
mised then I am not aware ; if it were much, the
fulfilment was miserably defective, tie had certainly
a sufficient estimation of his own qualifications, which
was by no means lessened by the injudicious flattery
of those by whom he was surrounded. I have some
reason to think that his very moderate success at the
common law bar, operating upon wounded vanity,
embittered his after life, and rendered him less willing
to mix in general society than he otherwise would
have been, and in which the many good qualities he
possessed would have secured and diffused enjoyment.
As it was, after indulging in youthful visions of the
ermine, and undergoing for some years the drudgery
of the bar, he found repose from unprofitable labours
on the bench of a police court, passing six hours a
day in the investigation of such causes as river-side
brothels and gin-shops supply, amidst the contro¬
versies of thieves, drunkards, prostitutes, and the
vilest scum of the town.
Having mentioned Dr. Blake, I will introduce an
anecdote connected with him. It will show the
inconveniences which arise from a large crowd being
THE LAST HALF CENTURY.
133
collected in a small town, and the style of accommoda¬
tion which existed some forty years ago, when there
" was no going thence, nor tarrying there."
The father of this gentleman was a provincial bar¬
rister, of considerable eminence in Norwich. The
son, in his journeys up" to Cambridge, and in his
journeys from thence to Norwich, was sometimes de¬
tained at Newmarket, and on those occasions slept at
the Greyhound, or the Coach and Horses, I forget
which of the two. He had one night retired as usual
to bed, unconscious that the conflux of guests in the
house would militate against his inclinations for
repose. Fatigue had for several hours consigned him
to the influence of Morpheus, in spite of the noisy
mirth which reigned throughout the premises, and,
fettered in the leaden chains of the god, he was wholly
unconscious of the short tenure of his repose. About
one o'clock in the morning he was aroused by the
chambermaid, who entered the room, accompanied
by precisely such a person as no one would like to
encounter " by moonlight alone." Starting up in bed,
he demanded the cause of the unseemly intrusion
upon his privacy, and of the interruption of his
slumbers.
" This gentleman," said the chambermaid, is
come to occupy his half of the bed in which you are
134
RECOLLECTIONS OE
lying ; it was my fault that I did not let you know
before that he * uses' our house at the ^ meetings/ and
always has half of that bed at such times. We take
him and other sporting gentlemen by contract^ and
the gentlemen never object to share the beds between
them when ^ we are full.' "
Mr. Blake felt a sentiment somewhat between sur¬
prise and disgust at this arrangement. A system of
clinical partnership with a stranger of his own sex he
at once repudiated, and ordered the intruders forth¬
with to quit the room.
Upon this the stranger gentleman advanced, and
argued his title to half the bed with a vehemence of
language and gesture which left no doubt whatever
that he was resolved, without delay, to enforce what
he considered his rights.
He had," he said, " on many occasions had half
the bed; he had never objected to another gentleman
occupying the other half, and no other gentleman
had ever objected, during the meetings, to admit his
claims, and he was not now going to give them up."
Mr. Blake, who found that matters were growing
serious, demanded his name. " He was not ashamed
of his name ; Mr. Fearby was his name, but he was
better known as the ^ Young Ruffian,' and there were
plenty of people in the house who could vouch
THE LAST HALE CENTURY. 135
for his identity." This announcement, so far from
reconciling Mr. Blake to the proposition of share
and share alike," confirmed him in his resolution to
retain the whole of the bed to himself, or to give it
up entirely. He opened a negotiation with the
claimant, and it was ultimately arranged that Mr.
Fearby should content himself with " a shake-down"
on the floor, while he should retain sole possession of
the disputed couch.
This arrangement was of course not made without
a " consideration both parties were, however, satis¬
fied, the law student and the Young Ruffian mutually
respecting each other's claims, and an acquaintance
which, commenced under circumstances most unpro-
pitious to the mutual esteem, might have ripened into
future friendship, was shortly afterwards completely
severed, Mr. Fearby had the misfortune to come
within the scope of an Act of Parliament which
rendered him obnoxious to the penalty of transpor¬
tation. I believe he is now beyond such pleasures
and inconveniences as Newmarket can afford, or such
perils as an infraction of the laws confers.
136
RECOLLECTIONS OE
CHAPTEE VI.
Contemporaries at Cambridge—A Real Tar—What the celebrated
Lord Chesterfield thought of Trinity Hall—Supper Parties at
Trinity Hall—The Chesterfield Cup—Milk Punch—Bishop—
The Combination Room — Dr. Isaac Milner—How to enjoy a
Shower-bath—Dr. Clarke, the Traveller—Dr. Mansell, Bishop
of Bristol—Mr. Beverley, Esquire Bedell—Jimmy Gordon—King's
College—Provost Sumner—Anecdote of Edmund Burke—Defi¬
nition of a Fly-fisher—Scrope Davis—'The Rev. Mr. Mundell—■
Proctors, Prostitutes, and Bull Dogs—The Spinning House—
Recommendation of Dr. Prideaux.
Mr. Stephenson^ a natural son of the then Duke
of Norfolk, was also a pensioner and scholar of
Trinity Hall. This gentleman is a well-known
member of the Fox Club," and rarely omits attend¬
ance at the dinners of that association; he is one of
the commissioners of land revenue, and may be
recognised in the thoroughfares of London as one of
the few persons whose legs are encased in the clumsy
imitation of fire-buckets, called Hessian boots, a
peculiarity of costume to which he appears to be
pertinaciously attached. His progress at the Uni¬
versity was not distinguished by anything remark-
THE LAST HALF CENTUEY.
137
able; I found him a straightforward, open-hearted
man.
There were many others of my contemporaries, in
whose society I spent many happy hours, and the
disseverance of whose acquaintance and friendship,
by the intractable operations of destiny, I deplore, of
whom I could here make mention. Many of them
have ceased to exist, and with others I have for many
years had no communication whatever. I will not,
however, refrain from the mention of one or two
gentlemen who were amongst the members of the
College to which I belonged; there were Mr. U.
Heathcote and his brother, both of whom were
deservedly favourites with everybody. The former
was an accomplished gentleman, and fortunately in
the possession of the means to enable him to gratify
his tastes. He married a daughter of the late Sir
Robert Wigram, and is still living. Of his brother, I
have heard nothing these twenty years. He was, as
an undergraduate, hot and hasty in temper, but most
honourable and manly in conduct ; fond of displaying
his proficiency in pugilistic contests, but by no means
quarrelsome ; on one occasion, at a sort of rural fête,
called Bottisham Feast, he administered so sound a
thrashing to a provincial bully that the fellow had
cause for some time to regret the encounter.
138
KECOLLECTIONS OE
The Honourable Fitzroy Stanhope and his brother,
the Honourable Henry Stanhope, were amongst the
members of our community. These gentlemen are so
well known to everybody, and so justly appreciated
for their good qualities, that it is unnecessary for me
to expatiate upon them here. Fitzroy had, very early
in life, entered the army, and had been, in the com¬
mencement of the Peninsular War, aid-de-camp to
Sir Arthur Wellesley. Mr. Long Wellesley, now
Earl of Mornington, was at the same time aid-de¬
camp to the general; and I recollect an anecdote
which his lordship told me of Fitzroy Stanhope being
first under fire in his presence. It is thus : the two
aids-de-camp were making the land in a man-of-
war's boat under the fire of a battery ; a shot struck
the arm of one of the boat's crew, below the elbow,
leaving the lower part of the limb dangling from the
upper by a piece of the integument. The blood
spurted over the novice, who, undaunted by the
whistling of the shot and bullets around him, turned
pale at the horrible proximity of the wounded sailor.
The man himself, who had long been accustomed to
such sights and chances, with great coolness drew
from his pocket, with his unwounded hand, a knife,
such as people of his class are generally provided
with, took the back of the blade between his teeth to
THE LAST HALE CENTURY. 139
assist liim in opening it, and then deliberately cut off
the shattered portion of the limb from the upper
part, and threw it into the sea, with an exclamation
that he would " be if any Frenchman should
have the opportunity of practising surgery upon his
carcase."
Lord Mornington afterwards got this man into
Greenwich Hospital, of which place, I believe, he is
still an inmate.
His lordship always expressed his opinion that Mr.
F. Stanhope, had he continued in the armj^, would
have made an excellent cavalry officer. Both the Mr.
Stanhopes are now clergymen. In connexion with
these gentlemen, it will not be inappropriate to make
some mention of their ancestor, the celebrated
Lord Chesterfield, who in his youth was a» student of
Trinity Hall, which I here extract from the account
given by Dr. Matty. These extracts in some degree
differ from what oral tradition has conveyed of the
gesta of that nobleman at the University; but as
everything relating to so remarkable a man is of
interest, I give both accounts.
Extract from a letter from his lordship, then just
arrived at Cambridge, dated August 22nd, 1712 ;—
" I find the College where I am, infinitely the best
in the University, for it is the smallest, and it is filled
140
RECOLLECTIONS OF
with lawyers who have lived in the worlds and know
how to behave. Whatever may be said to the con-
trary, there is certainly very little debauchery in this
University, especially amongst people of fashion, for
a man must have the inclinations of a porter to
endure it here."
What his lordship's notions of debauchery were, or
how the fastidiousness of people of fashion" in his
day prevented them from becoming its votaries, is not
explained by Dr. Matty. His lordship, in a letter to
his son (vol. i. p. 352), appears, very shortly after his
arrival at Trinity Hall, to have been in some degree
inoculated with the contagion of its manners :—
" When I first went to the University, I drank and
smoked, notwithstanding the aversion I had to wine
and tobacco, only because I thought it genteel, and
that it made me look like a man."
In another letter from the University, he writes:-—
^^Sir,—I have a great deal of business upon my
hands : for I spend above an hour every day in
studying the civil law, and as much in philosophy,
and next week the blind man (Sanderson) begins his
lectures upon the mathematics ; so that I am now
fully employed. Would you believe it, too, that I
read Lucian, and Xenophon in Greek ? which is made
easy to me ; for I do not take the pains to learn all
THE LAST HALF CENTURY.
141
the grammatical rules ; but the gentleman who is
with me, and who is himself a living grammar,
teaches me them all as I go along. I reserve time
for playing at tennis, for I wish to have the corpus
sanum as well as the mens sana ; I think the one is
not good for much without the other. As for
anatomy, I shall not have an opportunity of learning
it; for though a poor man has been hanged, the
surgeon who used to perform those operations would
not this year give any lectures, because it was a man,
and then he says the scholars will not come."
His lordship, I have been informed, on a visit to
Trinity Hall, some years after he had ceased to be a
pupil of the establishment, pointed to the windows of
the rooms in w^hich, during his residence, he had
passed his time, and said to his companion : " There
are the rooms in which I lost my Latin and Greek."
His lordship had presented the College with a
splendid bowl or vase ; it was known in the place as
the " Chesterfield Cup." This vessel was sufficiently
capacious to contain a couple of gallons or more of
fluid ; and I must confess, that during my residence
its capacity was tested almost nightly to the utmost.
It was the custom to have supper parties, at which,
in addition to the delicacies usually to be met with
at such repasts, the more substantial concomitants of
142
RECOLLECTIONS OE
a dinner table were introduced. Wine flowed in
abundance^ and
Sated Hunger bade bis brother Thirst
Produce the bowl ; the mighty bowl
Swell'd high with fiery juice, steam'd liberal round,
A potent gale."
This "potent gale" was the reek of "Bishop," a
potation most orthodox in its character, as its name
implies, composed of port wine made scalding hot,
and flavoured with sugar, lemons, and Seville oranges
stuffed full of spices, roasted on a gridiron, and thrown
" piping hot" into the bubbling flood.
Tokely, the College porter, a burly man of con¬
siderable muscular strength, and long accustomed to
the business, had some difficulty in carrying the huge
vase, and in placing it securely on the table. It is
true, he was accustomed, in his progress from the
buttery to the supper-room, to assert his right to what
he called his " reglars," and it was very apparent that
his claims had been enforced. I have seen this fellow
reel along with his precious load in a manner that
has made me tremble, not for him, or the guests, but
for the bowl.
^'Convivse meruisse tui fortasse perire :
Amphora non meruit tarn pretiosa mori."
As supplements to this bowl, smaller cups, brim¬
ming with milk punch, were placed upon the table.
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 143
and the company never departed till the whole was
absorbed, or till, from repeated experiments, they no
longer possessed the power of absorption.
These orgies were carried on at other colleges as
well as at Trinity Hall, and I never heard that the
authorities interfered to regulate or prevent such
things. Whether or not they were consonant with
the objects for which colleges were established, or
with the progress of science and learning, I leave to
the judgment of those whose brains and constitutions
have survived their effects. I have said that the table
in Hall was well provided, and that the legitimate
charges were not exorbitant. These Scythian de¬
baucheries were, however, attended with considerable
expense, and were one cause of so many undergra¬
duates being perpetually in debt.
The fellows and fellow-commoners were accus¬
tomed, after dinner, to adjourn to the " Combination"
room to drink their wine and eat their dessert. The
description given by Gibbon of the "Common" rooms
of Oxford in his day, describes very well the " Com¬
bination" rooms of Cambridge in mine. The wines
were good, bright, and brilliant ; the conversation,
tedious, dull, and cloudy. Scarcely anything beyond
what is termed " parish business" was entertained.
The great political events of the day were rarely dis-
144
RECOLLECTIONS OF
cussed ; indeed, no discussion could arise where
everybody was of the same mind, or wehere a dis¬
sentient from the majority was made aware that
silence or absence was what he must have recourse
to, if he meant to avoid being considered a very
troublesome fellow. The value of livings ; the ages
of incumbents ; the probabilities of vacancies ; the
details of college economy, &c., were the principal
subjects of debate, enlivened, or attempted to be
enlivened, by repetitions of stale jokes, or still more
dreary attempts at fresh ones. Nothing was said
about literature or academic studies. It seemed as if
the hours appropriated to lectures being passed, pro¬
fessors and tutors, teachers and those to be taught,
had agreed to shut up shop" for the day, and mutu¬
ally to avoid any reference to what might be called
business."
This monotonous waste of time being neither plea¬
surable nor improving, I very soon ceased to attend
the meetings ; and like most others, I took refuge in
the company of those who drank their wine in their
own rooms, or sought the relaxation of a tavern. I
believe my secession was not regretted ; I certainly
never regretted it myself.
We were sometimes honoured with the presence of
the great men of the place ; amongst them was the
THE LAST HALE CENTURY.
145
Master of Queen's College, Dr. Milner, Dean of
Carlisle, &e. This divine at that time filled the
mathematical chair in which Newton had once sat.
Like many other professors, he kept all his know¬
ledge to himself, and rarely imparted the secrets of
science, of which he was reputed to be in possession,
to other people. He was vigorous in intellect and in
»
body ; considerably above most Heads" in the power
of social conversation. In person he was tall and
corpulent, weighing something over twenty stone.
Indeed, in his academic dress, his appearance was
that of a giant. He had some curious notions of the
efficacy of water on the skin, and was accustomed to
luxuriate in the pattering of a shower-bath. The
shower-bath in which he took his delight was not, be
it observed, the mechanical contrivance which can be
obtained at the shop of a tinman. He adopted a
more primitive, though less recognised, mode of in¬
dulging his taste. When on a summer's day the rain
descended in torrents, divesting himself of the robes
which blissful Eden knew not," and in a state of
perfect nudity, in the privacy of his garden, he en¬
joyed the pelting storm, frisking like a hippopotamus
in the refreshing coolness of the element. It is true,
the height of the walls, and the density of the shrubs
which surrounded his retreat, secured him from the
VOL. I, L
146
EECOLLECTIONS OE
remarks which such a display to vulgar eyes might
have produced ; but from the roofs of some of the
buildings adjacent a view might be obtained of his
proceedings, which fact he had unluckily overlooked.
Dr. Clarke, the Russian and Asiatic traveller. Pro¬
fessor of Mineralogy, was an occasional visitor to the
Combination Room of Trinity Hall. He was a well-
♦
informed man, without much depth of knowledge on
any subject ; energetic, and somewhat enthusiastic,
with a touch of eccentricity which rendered his occa¬
sional absurdities amusing. There was more to be got
out of him than out of the generality of the pro¬
fessors. He was a favourite with almost every
member of the University.
Dr. Hansell, Bishop of Bristol, and Master of
Trinity College, sometimes designated by the so¬
briquet of Bishop Bluster," from the importance
which he attached to himself, and which he required
to be recognised by other people, was now and then
a guest during the " Feast" days, which extended
from Christmas Day to the Epiphany, tie was a
perfect high priest, and stalked, or rather waddled,
into the College in the " full-blown" dignity of his
ofRce, As he was inexorable in enforcing the acknow¬
ledgment of his pretensions, so when they were
admitted he was placable and gracious. I recollect
THE LAST HALE CENTURY.
147
obtaining his condescensions and courtesy by the
simple operation of bowing very low when I met him
on the staircase, and opening the door of the Com¬
bination Room to afford him ingress. It used to be
told of him, that previously to his being appointed to
the prelacy, being aware of his approaching honours,
he called his servants and the members of his house¬
hold together, acquainted them with what was about
to happen, and enjoined them, that from the moment
of his consecration they must invariably address him
as my lord," your lordship," &c. ; and that there
might be no mistake or blunders in the matter, it
would be proper for them at once to commence with
the title, as by so doing their tongues would be drilled
to the use of it.
This pillar of the Church had a great antipathy,
I cannot call it a singular antipathy, so many others
shared in the same feeling, to a hoary if not vener¬
able Nestor of the University — Mr. Beverly, who
filled the lucrative office of one of the esquire bedells.
Mr. Beverly's expenses, like those of many other
people at Cambridge, were understood to be in con¬
siderable advance of his income. He was, or he had
been, a jolly companion, and indulged in those plea¬
sures which entail the necessity of applying to friends
and acquaintance for the means of making them
L 2
148
KECOLLECTIONS OE
lasting. One amongst many stories told of this
academic lictor was, that being on a certain time
hard up," he applied to a friend for the means of
extrication from his difficulties. Whether or not the
friend had enabled him to escape from such dif¬
ficulties on former occasions, or whether or not the
friend, like many other friends, felt more inclined to
furnish him with advice than with money, does not
appear; he declined compliance with his request;
Mr. Beverly became excited, and made a precipitate
retreat, uttering some unintelligible sounds which his
friend interpreted to convey a threat of something
desperate. He thought it would be a prudent course
to follow him, and after some delay resolved to do
so ; he ascended the staircase leading to his rooms,
but was saved the trouble of further inquiry as to his
proceedings, by hearing the jocund sounds of mirth
and music within, and the voice of Mr. Beverly
leading the merry chorus of a Bacchanalian song.
There lived at this time in and on the town and
University of Cambridge a strange, eccentric, repro¬
bate man, one James or "Jemmy" Gordon. Mr.
Gordon at one period of his life had been in re¬
spectable circumstances, and followed that calling of
which the practitioners have been constituted " gen¬
tlemen" by Act of Parliament. At the time I describe
THE LAST HALE CENTURY. 149
him, of his respectability or gentility not a vestige
remained. He was a noisy, drunken, impudent,
witty blackguard. Where he slept, or where he lived,
was a mystery. He was to be seen at all hours
strolling through the streets, colleges, and walks,
insulting the passers-by, and inflicting jokes not the
most delicate upon the ears of those whom he could
offend with impunity. His costume was no better
than his character, made up of incongruous patched
pieces. He wore satin small-clothes, open at the
knees, no stockings, boots half-way up his naked
hairy legs; his head surmounted with an immense
cocked hat, worn fore and aft," like a naval officer.
He was reported to have had a tolerable knowledge
of Latin composition, and was occasionally employed
at the small charge of half a guinea a piece to write
" declamations" in that language to be read in chapel,
for those undergraduates who were too idle or too
ignorant to attempt such exercises for themselves !
This fellow, after having been driven from the
scene of his exploits, came to London, and obtained
employment as waterman to a stand of hackney-
coaches, and was considered of sufficient importance
to be introduced by Sir L. Bulwer in a novel. In
his capacity of waterman, he was a perfect nuisance to
all persons whom he had knowm at Cambridge, calling
150
EECOLLECTIONS OF
after them with stentorian lungs, and not iinfre-
quently bringing a mob to the spot, to whom he
would relate with great glee some scandalous anec¬
dote connected with the residence of his victims at
the University.
Mr. Jemmy Gordon was in the habit of very fre¬
quently calling at the rooms of the academics, and
when inspired with gin or beer was no respecter of
persons. In this state of inspiration, he one day
called on Dr. Hansell, and entering the apartment
in which the great man was sitting, demanded, with
the most provoking effrontery, the immediate loan of
half-a-crown. The prelate was, as may be imagined,
highly indignant at the intrusion ; and insisted on
his withdrawal. Rising from his chair, he pushed
him out of the room, and exclaimed as he slammed
the door after him: Vagabond, begone; return
here when you can bring a greater scoundrel than
yourself^ and then I'll give you five shillings."
Mr. Gordon, nothing abashed, descended into the
great court-yard of Trinity College; where, in less
than a minute, whom should he meet but Esquire
Bedell Beverly. He lost no time in advancing to¬
wards him. " Mr. Beverly," said he, taking off his
cocked hat and bowing, " you are the very gentle¬
man of whom I was in search. You saw me coming
THE LAST HALE CENTUKY.
151
from the Bishop of Bristol's Lodge ? his lordship has
sent me in search of you ; he is most anxious to see
you immediately, and I am to accompany you to his
lordship's presence."
Mr. Beverly, though a little startled at the employ¬
ment of Mr. Gordon as the Mercury of this message,
felt highly gratified at the prospect of an interview
with the bishop, with whom he was aware he was no
great favourite, but whose good opinion he was
anxious to obtain. He followed his conductor forth¬
with to the lodge, and was most unceremoniously
hurried, or rather pushed, into the presence-chamber.
Your lordship," said the intruder, "promised a few
minutes ago to give me five shillings when I should
bring here a greater scoundrel than myself ; allow me
to present Mr. Beverly to your lordship, and to
claim the promised gratuity." The bishop and the
bedell stared at each other; the latter, however, lost
no time in effecting a retreat. Mr. Gordon remained,
and as the story goes, his lordship, either to get rid
of further importunity, or from a conviction that he
had a claim upon him, handed over the five shillings
to him.
At King's College I could never comprehend how
the intention of the founder, Henry VI., was carried
out. Most of the students, undergraduates, and
152
RECOLLECTIONS OF
fellows Game up" from Eton with a tolerable share
of school-boy Latin and Greek ; some " came up"
with none at all. However, it made no manner of
difference in their advancement. Grateful science,"
at this place, paid little or no adoration to Henry's
holy shade ;" indeed, I doubt if the monarch had
appeared again in the flesh whether he would have
met much gratitude from his pensioners in the way
of obedience to his regulations. There were certainly
some persons there who have risen to eminence at
the bar, and several distinguished men of the present
day, who were my contemporaries, have been
deservedly advanced to the highest honours of the
legal profession. Others have been decorated with
mitres and lawn sleeves ; but as the progression from
a curacy to a bishopric is rarely to be attributed to
the literary or scientiflc attainments of him who
progresses, such preferment confers no literary dis¬
tinction on the recipients, and reflects no credit on
the place of their education. The present Arch¬
bishop of Canterbury and his brother, the Bishop of
Winchester, were both educated at Eton, and were
both fellows of King's College, Cambridge. His
grace is known as a moderately good scholar, an
amiable man, and a quiet theologian ; beyond these
not very uncommon qualifications, he is no more
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 153
than a very every-day sort of person. His brother
has less scholarship, and is equally respectable in
public and private life ; but \vho for a moraent can
point out any other means by which these two
persons would have obtained their eminence on the
prelatic bench than through the patronage of the
Marchioness Conyngham, to whose son the one was
tutor, or through the anxiety of William IV. to
instal his son in the living of Maple Durham, Oxford-
shire, of which the other was incumbent, and by
whose promotion to the bishopric of Chester, the
presentation of the living devolved to the Crown ?
I well remember the old provost of King's College
when I was at the University, Dr. Sumner; he was
a relation of the brothers just mentioned. This old
man was a martyr to the gout. He took little inte¬
rest in the general affairs of the place; indeed, what
time intervened between the fits of his disease he
devoted to good living, and the consequence was
such repeated attacks of his enemy that he was
almost continuously incapacitated from attending to
the requisitions of his office. It was during the pro-
vostship of this gentleman that somebody left a very
valuable collection of books to the College ; there was
no room, or no shelves,^ so it was said, in which they
could be placed : the obvious expedient of building a
154
EECOLLECTIONS OF
room and putting up shelves for the books, which the
enormous revenues of the College could easily have
afforded, was ignored by the provost, who very com¬
placently remarked—the books were quite as well in
the packing cases, in which they had arrived, as any¬
where else ; and accordingly, for a long time, they
were suffered to remain in undisturbed oblivion and
neglect.
It may be that the learned " Head of the House "
had made a proper estimate of those over whom he
presided, and that his judgment was the effect of
experience and correct observation.
Dr. Sumner told an anecdote of the celebrated
Edmund Burke. The orator, it has been remarked,
rarel}'' introduced Latin quotations in his speeches ;
Dr. Sumner, in conversation with him, asked him the
reason of such omissions from declamations, which,
splendid as they are, would have had still greater
claims to admiration, if illustrated by pertinent em¬
bellishments of classic lore. It could not, the provost
observed, arise from want of memory on the part of
the great orator, nor from paucity of materials, nor
from propriety of adaptation. Burke admitted the
fact that he made but little use of such accessories.
" I have," he said, "plenty of such things at my com¬
mand, but I am afraid to make use of them, simply
THE LAST HALF CENTURY.
155
because I am afraid of making ^false quantities' in
their use, and of incurring ridicule thereby from
people who would avail themselves of my defects to
laugh at, and, perhaps, to correct me."
A venerable senior fellow of this conimunity,
whose name is as well omitted, might be seen pro¬
menading up and down the lawn which extends from
the New Buildings to the river Cam very frequently.
He was one of those specimens of college life with
which the University fifty years ago abounded, and
which, for anything I know to the contrary, may still
be met with there. This ancient individual took it
into his head to try fly-fishing as a relaxation from
severer studies, and squatted himself with the patience
of Isaac Walton day after day on the banks of the
sedgy stream. The success in whipping the waters"
was not commensurate with the pains he took to
deserve it, and which were brought to a termination
in the following manner. In throwing his line, the
fly fastened at the end of it, from the awkward
manner in which he jerked his arm, returned, after
the mode of the " Boomerang," almost to the place
from whence it had been thrown, and the hook
catching the angler by the nostril, produced dismay
and anguish. The suflferer, who could not extract
the barb, had not the sense to cut the line, but hold-
156
RECOLLECTIONS OE
ing the rod in his hands, with the line dangling from
his nose, made the best of his way through the streets
to the surgeon's shop. He was met by a wag, who
remarked, Angling has been defined, a rod and a
line, with a fool at one end and a fish at the other ;
but in your instance it's very plain there's a fool at
both ends of the apparatus."
A man well known to most persons, and whose
intimacy with Lord Byron, Lord Broughton, Sir F.
Burdett, and others of that class, Scrope Davis, was
a fellow of King's College, from which, for nearly
half a century, he derived a considerable annual
revenue. The fact of so long a tenure of a fellow¬
ship proves of itself the necessity of the amendment
of the statutes of colleges. It could never be meant
by the royal founder that his beneficence and piety
were to be the means of affording a refuge to idleness,
or a help to dissipation. In the ease of Mr. Scrope
Davis, they did both these things. This gentleman
rarely visited Cambridge but at the Newmarket
meetings, during which he took possession for a
short time of the elegant apartments assigned him in
King's College.
He was never known, in any way whatever, to
do anything for the advancement of that learning
upon the revenues of which he was quartered. He
THE LAST HALE CENTURY
157
simply drew money from the college funds^ and spent
it in a way that neither benefited the College nor any
one connected with it. He held the University and
those resident therein in the utmost contempt ;
neither valuing their opinions^ nor respecting their
dignity. He was a regular " book" man ; but be it
understood, his volume was the " betting-book," and
in the pages of that volume he was deeply read.
He had a curious trick when he was a heavy loser
on the turf of attempting to cut his throat ! I say
attempting, because the attempt was always futile,
and people did not scruple to assert that his object
was merely to excite commiseration, and obtain time
to arrange his affairs in the way best suited to his
interests. How this may be, I give no opinion. Mr.
Oakes, the surgeon who had been repeatedly called
up in the middle of the night to afford professional
aid to the suicide, at length declared his resolution
to attend no more, and the throat got well without
his assistance as quickly as when he was employed.
So little of the external appearance of a fellow of
a college did Mr. Scrope Davis present, that during
the proctorship of one Mr. Mandell, a puritan priest
of the first head, he was several times stopped by
that holy man, who mistook him for a rollicking
undergraduate, rebuked him for not wearing his ^^cap
158
RECOLLECTIONS OF
and gown/' and threatened punishment for neglect
of University discipline. On these occasions Mr.
Scrope Davis lost his temper, set the proctor at
defiance, declared himself to be a Master of Arts
&c. ; and gave, in words more plain than poetical, a
very intelligible hint that the next time he was
interrupted he should apply such chastisement to the
culprit as he conceived him to deserve.
This intimation had the desired effect. Mr.
Mandell escaped the threatened pommelling by asking
no more questions.
Mr. Mandell, by the way, was not a favourite
with the undergraduates. He belonged to Queen's
College, the members of w^hich were supposed by
the profane to have got a religious twist," which
warped their morality, and, in conformity with their
notions of right and wrong, relieved them from the
burden of "good works." He was, nevertheless, a
rigid disciplinarian during his year of office, and in
the pursuit of his duties sometimes met with disasters
which would have intimidated a less pertinacious
functionary. I remember one night, or rather at an
hour long past midnight (I was at the time located in
lodgings in Sydney-street) being awakened from
sleep by the most horrid and discordant yells—and let
it be borne in mind, such noises were not very unusual
THE LAST HALE CENTURY.
159
in the streets and lanes of the town—that human
organs could produce, and the trampling of feet
along the pavement of some who fled, and of some
who pursued. I jumped out of bed, and opening
the window of the room, looked out to see the chase.
First came a flight of women of the town, and
immediately after them, a group of undergraduates;
all of whom, in modern phraseology, had " got their
steam up" to a high-pressure point. Then followed
the attendants, irreverently called the "bull dogs" of
the proctor, in hot pursuit of the flying quarry ; and
lastly, the proctor himself. The long strides of this
tall, ungainly, and awkwardly-shaped man, were
quickly bringing him to the lead ; and, in sporting
language, he would have been " first favourite" had
the affair been a trial of speed. Unfortunately for
him, but most luckily for those whom he was on the
point of overtaking, as he approached the door of
the house of Sir Isaac Pennington, the obsolete
Professor of Medicine, one of his huge feet caught
in the projecting iron of the scraper, and with most
"hideous ruin" down he came on the pavement, cut,
bruised, and crippled by the fall, in a manner that
put him at once hors de combat^ and effectually pre¬
vented, for that night, his zeal in the discharge of
his office from producing the desired results.
160
EECOLLECTIONS OE
As if the spirits of many of those who had suifered
from the vigilance of proctors of remoter times had
watched his progress, rejoiced in his discomfiture,
and united their voices in blasphemous eurehaSy
shouts, curses, and execrations, mingled with laughter,
sibilations, and uncouth utterances, assailed his ears
from the alleys and narrow passages on both sides of
the street,
" and laughter louder ran,
And voices unlike the voice of man,"
whilst the "bull dogs" assisted him to regain his feet;
and helped, or rather carried him home to his College.
The violence and cruelty with which that unfor¬
tunate class of females, who abound in all towns in
which the idle, the wealthy, and the luxurious are
congregated, were treated, was most revolting and
infamous in the town of Cambridge.
A wretched prison, called the " Spinning House,"
was the place in which, in defiance of common law
and common decency, but in accordance with the
statutes of the University, these women were thrust
whenever they were caught in the precincts of the
jurisdiction. This practice gave rise to many abuses,
and instances continually occurred of young women
of good character being insulted by the academic
ruffians in authority or by their satellites, and, on
THE LAST HALF CEHTUEY. 161
no proof or evidence whatever, beyond being found
in the streets, shut up in this Spinning House"
as common prostitutes.
The parents or relatives, it is true, had the remedy
by action," as the lawyers term it, for these out¬
rages and violations of liberty ; but he must know
very little of the state of things in our Universities
who does not know that such is the power, and in¬
fluence, and, I regret to say, such the vindictive es'prit
de corps of the authorities of these institutions, that
no small tradesman, and few large ones, who might
attempt to resent or to punish such a stretch of
tyranny, would escape being ruined in his business
for his pains.
Let us hear what a dignitary of the Church, the
" Head of a House," the Rev. Dr. Prideaux, says on
this subject. This pastoral personage was a pattern
of morality and rectitude, after the College rule in
his day, and I have good reason to think that his
example and precepts inspired some modern Heads"
with a zeal for imitation. Fortunately, modern man-»
ners prevent the indulgence of such sympathy.
I extract what follows from the proposed Articles
for the ^ Reformation' of the two Universities," sub¬
mitted to the Secretary of State, Lord Townshend, in
the days in which Dr. Prideaux flourished :—
VOL. I. M
162
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"And whereas several lewd women do resort to
the said Universities, for the corrupting of the youth
that are thither sent for education, that for the pre¬
venting hereof, care be taken, that whatsoever woman
shall come to Oxford, or Cambridge, either to be a
servant or a sojourner there, within three days after
her arrival produce testimonials of her good behaviour,
and, on the approval of the same, shall take out a
licence for her continuing in the said town ; and that
no housekeeper, either in Oxford or Cambridge,
shall, without such licence, entertain any such woman
in his or her house beyond the space of three days,
under the penalty of five pounds, to be paid to the
said University, toties quoties.
" And if any woman, coming to either of the
said Universities, shall continue there after three
days, without such licence as aforesaid, or after the
obtaining such licence shall be convicted of im¬
modest behaviour with any scholar or other person,
she shall then, as a whore, be carted out of the town,
and be no more permitted to live in the same ; and
if any single woman, who is an inhabitant of either of
the said towns of Oxford or Cambridge, shall be con¬
victed of whoredom, committed with any scholar or
other person, she shall forthwith be expelled out of
the University, and as a whore be carted out of the
THE LAST HALF CENTURY.
163
same. And if any woman, who hath been once carted
out of either of the said Universities, shall at any
time after return thither again, unless she be past the
fiftieth year of her age, she shall then^ being stripped
down to the middle, he whipped out of the town, through
the most public street of the same; and every year, six
persons, of the graver and soberer sort of those in¬
habitants of Oxford or Cambridge who are privileged
members of the said Universities, shall be appointed
by the Vice-Chancellor, and the Heads of Colleges in
each of the said Universities, for the examining of
such testimonies, and the granting of such licences,
as aforesaid, and that each of them singly be em¬
powered to do so."
This venerable man proposed another regulation,
which, if it had become the law of the University of
Cambridge, would have had the effect of consigning
to the gallows the wife of a late Recorder of London,
who being the son of the then Chief Justice of Eng¬
land, would have afforded his father an opportunity of
getting rid of an obtrusive daughter-in-law in a most
effectual manner.
" Whereas several, as well of the nobility as gentry,
when sent to the said Universities, have been there
ensnared into disadvantageous and dishonourable
marriages, to the ruin of themselves and families;
M 2
164
RECOLLECTIONS OE
for the preventing hereof^ and for the securing of the
youth thither sent from such a mischief, it would be
necessary to have enacted by Parliament, that if any
scholar sent to either of the said Universities, whilst
he continues a member thereof, and under the age of
«
one-and-twenty, shall, without consent of his parents
or guardians, be clandestinely married to any woman
whatsoever, then the woman so clandestinely married,
and the minister who shall solemnize the marriage,
they knowing the said scholar to be a member of
either of the said Universities, and all others who
shall be accessory to the same, wilfully and know¬
ingly in manner as aforesaid, shall incur the guilt of
felony i without benefit of clergy^ and accordingly suffer
for the same.^^
THE LAST HALE CENTUBY. 165
CHAPTER VIL
Dr. Prideaux's strictures on Fellowships — Notions of a Noble
Marquis and Marchioness on Comparative Morality—Keeping
Acts—The Latin of the Schools—A Visitor from the Fens—
Lotsam—Snipe-Shooting—I am stopped by a Footpad—The
Aurigee of Cambridge—Bill Jones—Dick Vaughan—A Cam¬
bridge Cock-pit—Mr. H. Yillebois—Sir Henry and Lady Smyth
—Lady Sykes, &c. &c.—^The chère amie of the Due de Berry—
How to cancel an Apprentice's Indentures—Installation of the
Duke of Gloucester as Chancellor of the University of Cambridge
—Lord Erskine—Captain Disney—Dr. Parr.
Dk. Prideaux appears^ however, to have had some
good notions of what would be really advantageous to
the cause of learning, and it is to be hoped in any
future regulations for the holding of fellowships they
will be adopted—viz. :
" Th^-t for the maintenance and support of such
superannuated fellows or students who, in twenty
years' time, shall not have qualified themselves for
any public service, there shall be an hospital built in
each of the said Universities ; towards the building of
which all the colleges in each of them shall, in pro¬
portion to their revenues, contribute till it be fully
166
KECOLLECTIONS OE
finished^ which shall he called ' Drone Hall^ where
all the said superannuated fellows or students shall be
admitted ; and to every one of them twenty pounds
per annum shall be allowed for their maintenance
and support by the college where they have been
fellows or students, it being fitting that this burthen
should be laid upon them as a just mulct for their
having bred up such superannuated persons to be
good for nothing."
I am not about to defend the conduct of the young
or the old in respect to the vices and immoralities for
which the Dean has prescribed ; they are a scandal
to be deplored. I am not about to be the apologist
for strumpets, nor to extenuate the infamy of their
paramours and patrons, but least of all am I about to
preach a hypocritical homily in exaggeration of their
sinfulness. I can and I do fearlessly assert—and those
who know best the state of morals in Cambridge, and
I have no doubt the same scale of morality exists in
Oxford, will corroborate my assertion, if they speak
the truth—that the very means adopted by the disci¬
plinarians of the University are the source of ten
times more immorality than if ño regulations what¬
ever were made in the case.
The fact that every female of suspicious appear¬
ance, or suspicious character, being obnoxious, to
THE LAST HALE CENTURY. 167
very severe punishment if she be seen in the streets,
has the effect of substituting the servants of the inns,
numerous lodging-houses, and of the tradesmen, for
the class against which the regulations for purity are
particularly directed, and thus, debauchery flourishes
in spite of the misdirected and inconsiderate zeal of
ignorance and brutality, and vice is as rife in the
privacy of academic retirement as it would be in the
publicity of legalized brothels.
A curious anecdote, having some connexion with
this subject, has come to my knowledge. It relates
to Oxford, not to Cambridge ; but as it is a specimen
of the peculiar estimate of morality of some persons
of high rank and great influence, this will be as
good an opportunity to record it as may be met
with.
A certain noble marquis, whose name I suppress,
whom not many months ago I met in Bond-street,
but who is now no more, some few years ago placed
his son in one of the colleges in Oxford, no matter
which ; his parental anxiety exceeding his knowledge
of the observances of the University, he addressed a
letter to the Head of the House" at which the
youth was entered, requesting the venerable Mentor
to provide a female, for whose capability for the
situation he could vouch, as a companion for the
168
EECOLLECTIONS OF
Telemachus intrusted to his charge, observing that
both himself and the marchioness were naturally
interested in the preservation of the health and virtue
of their child, and were aware that the temptations of
the place would injure the one and not improve the
other ! What answer the noble marquis received I
am not prepared to state. The purport of such a
request involves an ignorance of the decencies of
society which they whose knowledge of the higher
orders is limited, would scarcely believe.
I shall say little of the course of study pursued on
thé banks of the Cam ; the history of what is in itself
a dull piece of business would of necessity be dull.
A certain class of students read for honours," and
such as they are, by dint of application, attain them.
Wranglers, optimies, and hoc genus omne^ are after
three years' drudging in mathematical cart-harness
turned out as the prime specimens of what Cam¬
bridge can effect. The utility of their labours to
themselves or to anybody else we may be permitted
to question, seeing that the gainers of these honours
are rarely distinguished beyond very ordinary people
in the great struggle of life into which they subse¬
quently enter, or if they gain distinction therein, their
success has little relation to their college acquisitions.
The system of ^^pure" mathematics in which they
THE LAST HALE CENTURY. 169
are instructed, but rarely suffers its purity to be
desecrated by anything of practical utility. The
great progress of science within the last fifty years
owes little to the geometricians and algebraists of
Cambridge, whilst half-a-dozen men of natural capa¬
city and practical research, " though at College never
bred," have done more for their country in all that is
connected with mathematical applications to the re¬
quirements of the times, than all the " pure" mathe¬
maticians who have within the same period obtained
the laurels of the Senate House.
There was something between the ridiculous and
the painful in witnessing what was termed keeping
acts and opponencies" in the schools by the under¬
graduates who were preparing for degrees in arts, 2.^.,
in mathematical knowledge. Certain officers, old
hands at the game, called moderators, presided, whilst
the novice and the opponent disputed on some point
of mathematical science. To render the proceedings
more absurd and incomprehensible, the syllogistic
form of disputation was adopted; and thus fettered
with technicalities, with which he was imperfectly
acquainted, a really good disputant might be seen
pulled to pieces by one of very inferior acquirements,
to whom an acquaintance with the modus disputandi
w^as familiar.
170
RECOLLECTIONS OE
I have seen a disputant floundering and struggling
in the meshes of a major," a " minor," and a " con¬
sequence," whilst his more dexterous adversary was,
in derision of his blunders, triumphing in unseemly
exultation.
Further to increase the absurdity of the process the
disputations were carried on in a language by courtesy
called Latin," in which the head of Priscian was
knocked about and broken without mercy, and "quan¬
tities" made use of which showed a total repudiation
of the authority of the " Gradus." The windows of
the "schools" in which this miserable nonsense was
perpetrated opened into a court-yard of King's Col¬
lege, the members of which were sometimes so loud
in the expression of their opinions of the disputa¬
tion that the noise of their derisive criticism inter¬
rupted the ricketty colloquists in the heat of the
debate. The indignation of one of these was on
an occasion of this kind expressed in the following
phraseology :—
" Non possum procedere propter hos regales
homines," which being interpreted, was meant to ex¬
press the impossibility he felt of proceeding on account
of the " King's men."
This bit of Cambridge Latin prose is nearly as
good as the line of the Eton boy, whose skill in Latin
THE LAST HALE CEHTUKY. 171
prosody was exhibited in the following hexameter,"
or what he would have called an heroic" verse :
<«Progenio et longo, magnos captare Johannes
literally,
"With a long progeny to catch great Johns
but which he intended to mean,
"With a long line to catch great jacks."
The ingenious lad having for the subject of his
effusions the " Art of Angling."
I suspect by this time the reader is tired with the
record of such foolery; I confess I am with tran¬
scribing it, and I will, therefore, pass on to something
less tedious.
Every Saturday, the market-day at Cambridge, I
received a morning visit from an individual of very
equivocal appearance, whose name was Fordham. He
was something between a poacher and a fenman, to
which titles I soon discovered he had strong preten¬
sions ; that is, under pretence of being a fenman, he
devoted his energies to the pursuits of a poacher. He
was an active, wiry, sinister-looking man, about forty
years of age. His costume was a short labourer's
frock, long leathern gaiters, and a slouched hat, that
in part concealed his features. He came to Cambridge
from a village nine miles off, " Botsam," or Bottisham,
nominally to sell watercresses, which he carried in a
172
RECOLLECTIONS OE
large bag over his shoulder. The watercresses, how¬
ever, occupied but a small part of the bag, which was
stored with hares, partridges, and such other prey as
in his depredations he had secured. This man
spoke so highly of the sport which a snipe-shooter
might obtain under his guidance in the fens near
Botsam, that I, who was at that time an enthusiastic
admirer of such pastime, was induced to accompany
him in the fens, which were very extensive, stretch¬
ing over large tracts of bog land and morass; in
which, without a guide, a man might sink up to his
ears ; and covered with reeds and rushes so high that
in some places scarcely anything was visible but the
earth beneath your feet and the sky over your head.
In this gloomy wilderness have I wandered with
this man till darkness has rendered our retreat a
matter of some difficulty, and I have since looked
back with some feeling of trepidation at the peril to
which I might or I might not have been exposed
by trusting myself in the company of such a person
in such a place.
In these excursions he invariably carried a long
pole, shod at one end with a transverse log of wood,
with which to vault across the ditches which inter¬
sected the swamp, and which pole would have been
an admirable instrument of destruction in the hands
THE LAST HALE CENTUEY. 173
of á resolute and powerful ruffian. I, however,
escaped all real or imaginary evils; I found him
honest towards me, and I have no right to doubt
that he would have been so to others under similar
circumstances.
Botsam, it is true, was not a place in which
Diogenes would have terminated his search ; and I
had one night, on my return to Cambridge, an
illustration of the character it had obtained.
The inn at this place was kept by a man and his
wife ; two daughters acting as servants. The young
ladies were not very retiring in their manners, nor
were their attentions to travellers in any way restrained
by parental authority. I left this cabaret one winter's
night, amidst a storm of hail, sleet, and snow ;
mounted upon a weary horse, and weary myself;
I had with me a still more weary spaniel, which
I placed before me on the saddle, leaning back
as much as I could to afford the animal space
in its uneasy position. I had a fowling-piece of
somewhat formidable bore, and containing a very
considerable charge of powder and shot. This I
carried in such a manner as to be easily brought up
to the shoulder should its services be required.
Thus I left the inn, and pricked on as fast as the
state of the weather, the darkness of the night, and
174
EECOLLECTIONS OE
the weariness of the horse would allow. I had
proceeded some two or three miles^ the road wind¬
ing between two banks, which shut out all objects,
and increased the gloom. I was half asleep, and
might have been so entirely, when I was aroused
from my torpidity, not by the stumbling of the horse,
but by his coming suddenly almost upon his haunches,
like an Arab steed when jerked up in the "el jerrid."
At the same moment, the spaniel parted company
with a snarling growl, and I perceived a fellow hold¬
ing the bit, and, as I suppose, preparing to come to
still closer quarters, as he flourished in his right
hand a formidable cudgel. In less time than I can
tell the story, I raised myself in the stirrups, swung
round my fowding-piece, so as to bring it in very
forcible contact with the head of the ruffian by whom
I was detained, and then bringing the stock to my
shoulder prepared to send the charge through his
body. The force of the blow made him let go the
bit, and in answer to my demand " what he wanted ?"
he made no reply, but disappeared in the darkness
with a celerity that saved me the trouble of hasten¬
ing his departure, or stopping it altogether,
I confess I did not regret his absence, and I lost
no time in making the best of my way along the
dreary road that lay between me and home. At the
THE LAST HALF CENTUBY. 175
turnpike, which was some distance further on, I
learnt that several " ill-looking" fellows were on the
loose" that night, and no doubt this was one of
them.
During the greater part of the time I passed at
Cambridge, I lodged in the house of one Mr. William
Jones, in Sydnej'^-street. Jones was one of the
recognised lodging-house keepers of the University,
and in addition to the income he derived from letting
out apartments, he made a good deal of money in his
occupation as coachman of the "down Lynn." The
down Lynn" was the stage-coach which ran from
London to Lvnn ; it was driven from London to
V
Cambridge by somebody whose name I have for¬
gotten, and from Cambridge to Lynn by Mr. Jones.
He was, in consequence of this avocation, absent
from home alternate days and nights, and during
his absence, on Mrs. Jones, his wife, devolved the
management of the house. I cannot say what would
have been the economy of the household if he had
been always at home, but I can state that during his
absence certain passages were played on the premises
with which, I conjecture, he would not have been
very well pleased,
Mr. William Jones was a very perfect specimen of
that extinct race which formerly flourished in grea^.
176
RECOLLECTIONS OE
force in England, and was to be met with nowhere
else. His appearance betokened a man whose legs
were of little use to him in locomotive progress,
whilst his body was swollen beyond its natural
limits by continual repose on a coach-box or an easy
chair and the enjoyment of good cheer. In spite
of an almost perpetual cough, he was vigorous and
hearty; and notwithstanding the ominous hints of
his medical adviser, absorbed almost every fluid but
water. However hot the weather might be, he was
encased, or rather swathed in waistcoats, coats, and
great coats ; and in addition to top-boots, protected
from the lower part of the calves of his legs to the
middle of his thighs by what are called " knee-caps."
His neck was surrounded by many yards of muslin,
so that the observations of an Oriental traveller, that
a Turk wore his turban above his head whilst an
Englishman wore it below, was illustrated in his
practice. A silk handkerchief of the Belcher"
pattern compressed the folds of this wrapper at its
base, and, tied in a peculiar knot, gave what he
thought a professional finish to his toilet. His asso¬
ciates were persons of the same calling as himself, or
persons in some way or other connected with coaches
and horses, the gaudet equis and aprici gramme
campi class, both regular practitioners and amateurs.
THE LAST HALE CENTUEY.
177
Amongst the most remarkable of these was Mr.
ßichard Vaughan^ well known in his day by a
sobriquet, which, as it involves the name of a place
" not mentioned to ears polite," I shall pass over in
silence; and the late Mr. Henry Villebois, equally
well known to all persons by whom the sports of the
field and the pleasures of the road were cultivated.
Mr. Vaughan, commonly called Dick Vaughan,
was, five-and-forty years ago, one of the lions of the
University. He was not the Head of a House" in
academic acceptation of the term, but he was the
head of a public-house, or tavern, the " Bell and
there he held his state, the admired of many admirers,
till the " Heads of Houses," alarmed at his popu¬
larity, and the effects of it on the undergraduates,
refused to renew his licence. He thenceforth devoted
his undivided attention to his profession—viz., driving
the Cambridge up Telegraph," every morning,
from the Sun" in Trumpington-street, half way to
London, and driving the "down Telegraph" from
the half-way point of the road down to Cambridge
every afternoon.
He was a very swz generis sort of person, " bony,
and gaunt, and grim ;" the lineaments of his face
were peculiarly marked, having no very remote
resemblance to those of a celebrated dowager lord
VOL. I. N
178
EECOLLECTIONS OE
chancellor. His complexion was indicative of con¬
tinual exposure to the winds and the weather, and to
habitual indulgence in what is taken to keep the
weather out. In the sharp conflict of such wit as
abounded in Cambridge in his day he was a formid¬
able opponent, and nature had given him a voice
which a boatswain would have envied in a gale of
wind, and with which he was neither slow nor
reluctant in expressing his opinions.
The first opportunity I had of seeing Mr, Vaughan
in his hours of relaxation, was on the occasion of his
attendànce in a " Cock-pit." Having heard much
both in praise and in vituperation of his character
from the seniors as well as the juniors of the Uni¬
versity, my curiosity was excited, and under the
protection of a gentleman, who volunteered to intro¬
duce me to the great man, I proceeded to mount a
ladder which was lowered from the reception-room
for the admission of those who had the entrée^ and the
entrée being effected, pulled up again, to prevent the
intrusion of the uninvited,
Mr. Vaughan was divested of his upper garments,
with the exception of his shirt, the sleeves of which
being rolled up close to his armpits, disclosed a pair of
long bony antennae smeared with blood ; in his hands
he held a favourite "black-breasted red," which he was
THE LAST HALE CENTURY. 179
preparing to launch in mortal combat against a
duck wing," for which another individual, known as
"Scotch George," acted as second. Around the
^^pit," which was formed of newly-cut turf, was
assembled a mixed company, "Town and Gown;"
in other words, members of the venerable borough of
Cambridge and of the University, all anxious for
the " coming event," and employed in " backing" the
bird which in their respective judgments was to be
the winner,
''Quam male Phoebicolis convenit iste locus."
I will not disgust the reader by a graphic descrip¬
tion of the scene that followed. The contests of the
pugnacious animals terminated in the death of the
duck wing," followed by a yell of exultation from
Mr. Vaughan, who was a considerable gainer by the
evening's diversions. He behaved with becoming
condescension to me and to others introduced to his
notice ; and I received from that time a general
invitation to attend the sports, pastimes, and places
at which he was to be found.
The "lectures" of this individual were as well
attended by some of the undergraduates as the
lectures of the professors of the different faculties,
and judging from the results, it would seem that such
information as he and others of his school imparted
N 2
180
RECOLLECTIONS OE
had as much influence on the tastes and pursuits of
many of his pupils as the more recognised curriculum
of the University.
I mention these facts to show what sort of things
many young men learnt at Alma Mater in my recol¬
lection, I leave to those more recently connected
with the place to decide whether the discipline which
permitted them has been rendered more stringent.
I said that another occasional visitor at Mr. Jones's
was Mr. H. Villebois. I proceed to relate some
curious anecdotes connected with this gentleman and
with some of his associates with whom I subsequently
became acquainted.
He was a man of large fortune^ part of which con¬
sisted in a landed estate in Norfolk, and part derived
from other sources. A good specimen of that genus
which in the days about which I am writing exhibited
the hybrid attributes of the country squire and the man
of the town. He was a good sportsman, and fond of
the pleasures of the field. He could drive a barouche
and four as well as most men ; a great patron of the
"ring," and a liberal subscriber to everything by
>
which the manly sports of England were encouraged.
He was honourable in all his transactions, generous,
and kind in disposition. In personal appearance
neither clumsy nor elegant; in manners neither re-
THE LAST HALF CEHTUEY. 181
fined nor vulgar ; of limited intellect, and with little
knowledge of anything beyond what a daily inter¬
course with a clique can impart. His usual compa¬
nions were Captain Barclay, the celebrated pedes¬
trian ; a Mr. Harrison, who possessed a good estate in
Oxfordshire ; Sir Henry Smyth, Bart., late M.P. for
Colchester; Mr. John Jackson, the well known
pugilist; the late Mr. T. Griffith, of Pall Mall, and
many others of the same order and pursuits, and with
these, when in London, he spent much of his time.
He was not married, but he lived in that state
which is termed as good as married," and which he
probably considered better, with a remarkably fine
woman, one of the daughters of Mr. Elmore, long
since decased, and b}'^ her he had many children, and
among those children she \\ffio has made most noise
in the world was the late Lady Sykes.
I became acquainted with certain members of this
family, and will by way of episode, to relieve the
dulness of my narrative, say something of them in
this place.
Amongst the most intimate associates of Mr. H.
Villebois was Sir Henry Smyth. Sir Henry was a
baronet of good family, and possessed an estate,
not very extensive, near Colchester, which ancient
borough he for some time represented in Parliament.
182
RECOLLECTIONS OE
His tastes and pursuits were similar to those of Mr.
Villebois. They were usually to be seen together at
all places in which such tastes could be gratified. Sir
Henry was, moreover, a constant visitor in the family
of Villebois, who, as I have stated, lived happily with
his children and their mother, discharging the duties
of his position in a way very much to his credit.
It has been said, I know not on what authority,
that the father of the lady who was called by courtesy
Mrs. Villebois, had expressed himself to the effect
that he had rather his daughters should be the mis¬
tresses of rich men than the wives of poor ones. Be
this so or not, the fact was that the daughter acted
upon the sentiment and lived openly under the pro¬
tection of Mr. H. Villebois.
A numerous progeny was the fruit of this union at
the time the intimacy between the father and the
baronet was at its height; Whether or not the lady
began to suspect about this period that her position
in society was not so respectable as her merits
%
required, or whether she was captivated by the atten¬
tions paid her by Sir Henry, who certainly was more
of what is called a "lady's man" than his friend,.is
not important. She made him the confidant of her
desire to have a legal claim upon the man who was
the father of her children. Sir Henry, in the mean
THE LAST HALE CENTURY. 183
time, had become enamoured of the lady, and to
secure a return of his affection at once offered himself
as her husband.
This offer, although it did not precisely meet the
case, being in some sort retrospectively an expurga¬
tion of past errors, she considered as a means by
which the attainment of her object might be assisted ;
or it might be she acted from a feeling of honour or
of preference to her old companion. She informed
him of the offer made to her by Sir Henry Smyth,
and told him she should accept it unless he, Mr.
Villebois, did not by a certain day render the accept¬
ance impossible by making her to all intents and pur¬
poses a real stamp paper," bona fide Mrs. Villebois.
Mr. Villebois was astonished, and it may be sup¬
posed alarmed at this communication. He had sufB-
cient discernment to see that he had been very ill
used by his friend, and he had had sufficient expe¬
rience of the temper and firmness of the lady to think
it very probable she would carry her resolution into
effect. He wavered in his choice of marrying her
himself, or of seeing her the wife of a man who he
justly considered had forced him into a very un¬
pleasant dilemma; the term for his election on which
horn of this dilemma he was to be transfixed expired.
/
The lady was true to her word, and he learnt to his
184
BECOLLECTIONS OE
regret, when it was too late, that she whom he had
hesitated to " make an honest woman" was the
" blushing" or unblushing bride of a baronet
One of the daughters of this lady married Sir
Henry Sykes, Bart, of Basildon, near Pangbourne,
in Berkshire, by whom she had several children. Sir
Henry Sykes was not exactly adapted to be the
husband of a very handsome and a very spirited
young lady. He was somewhat "slow," not in the
expenses of his household, or in the gratification of
his own pleasures, such as they w^ere, but he was too
slow to keep pace with his beautiful wife. The con¬
sequences may be easily conjectured. She met in
another person those attentions and those qualifica¬
tions in which he was unfortunately deficient, and
having left the roof of her legitimate lord and master,
went among other places to Paris, where it is said she
attracted the admiration of an ex-lord-chancellor,
whose antecedents had gained him the reputation of
a garçon de tonnes fortunes. Subsequently she placed
herself under the protection of a baronet, remarkable
for his wealth and the cultivation of such branches of
the arts as a lavish expenditure of money amongst
upholsterers, picture dealers, and dealers in virtu can
command. An artist of great eminence was also among
her admirers; indeed, so smitten was this last inamorato
THE LAST HALE CENTUEY. 185
with her charms that he has multiplied her portrait
in the numerous ideal pictures with which his talents
have decorated the galleries of the country. She may
be recognised in these productions as a fairy prince,
a Bohemian gipsy, and in many other characters.
The maternal aunt of Lady Sykes took refuge
from the rudeness of the world in the protection of
Colonel Bunbury, one of the favourite companions of
the Prince Regent, and formed one of a little coterie
of which * * then the fair friend of the late
Duke de Berri, was a member. I became acquainted
with some of these people at the house of a Mrs.
Wigglesworth, at which a Mr. Vernon presided. Mr.
Vernon, at that time, was understood to be the happy
man, from whose pocket the expenses of the esta¬
blishment were defrayed, and in consequence was
treated by the guests with more respect than virtue
unsupported by riches would have received. The
fact, however, was the reverse ; Mr. Wigglesworth's
income paid the rent, and provided the hospitality;
Mr. Vernon and his friends partook of the viands on
the free list, and contrived, in a comparatively short
time, to empty a well filled cellar of wine which the lady
had derived from the beneficence of a former admirer.
In consequence of my connexion with Mr. Vernon
I was involved in a business, which, from the drunken-
186
RECOLLECTIONS OF
ness of an agent employed in it, might have led to
unpleasant results.
The fair friend of his Royal Highness the Duke
de Berri had neither the advantage of birth nor riches,
but under the patronage of a Bourbon she had suffi¬
cient means to live on equal terms with those with
whom she associated.
Upon the restoration of the family of Louis XVIIL,
in 1814, she was suddenly exalted to a loftier posi¬
tion. The Duke found himself in possession of plenty
of ready money, and he was not niggardly in supply¬
ing the wants of the lady. She, like most persons of
humble origin who mount to an elevation beyond
the expectations of themselves or their connexions,
speedily discovered that she had a host of relations,
of whose existence she had, till such a desirable crisis
in her destiny, been in ignorance. The golden pro¬
spect which was opened, and the presumed influence
which it was calculated she would possess under the
government of the Restoration, increased the number
and the importunities of the Agnati and Cognati^ and
amongst the number were two boys, whose present
well-doing and future provision became necessary
to be cared for. The two young gentlemen claimed
kindred, and very fortunately "found their claim
allowed."
THE LAST HALE CENTURY. 187
It happened that they were the apprentices to a
man who exercised some mechanical trade—I forget
what trade, but I think it was that of a shoemaker.
The man, who was not in a very great way of busi¬
ness, having heard that the relation of his apprentices
was about to become a person of consequence, with
the cupidity which is generally to be found in persons
of his class, refused to part with them unless a very
heavy sum was paid for cancelling their indentures.
The friends of the lady were consulted ; they at once
objected to what they deemed extortion, and a plan
was devised to remove the boys from the power of
their extortionate master without becoming the victim
of his demands. A man of the name of Dillon was
employed to watch the shop of the cordwainer, and
lure the quarry from the nest. This part of his in¬
structions Mr. Dillon effected, and got the boys safely
out of the immediate neighbourhood. He had been
furnished with money to provide for the exigencies of
the case, and to pay for such refreshments as might
be required. He, however, unfortunately got drunk,
and after wandering about the streets in a state of
inebriation for some hours, accompanied by his pre¬
cious charge, presented himself before his employer
in a state which rendered any coherent reply to the
questions put to him entirely hopeless. The boys
188
EECOLLECTIONS OE
were not in a much better state than their conductor.
He had stuffed them to repletion^ and something
beyond it, with untoasted crumpets and porter, the
fermentation consequent upon which obliterated re¬
collection and choked utterance. No time was, how¬
ever, to be lost ; the master had got upon the scent
of the fugitives, and was " tracking their slot" through
the streets and courts in which they had wandered.
Dillon was, without delay, rolled into a hackney-
coach, and trundled off to some obscure part of the
town; the boys were put into another coach, and,
accompanied by a more vigilant guardian, taken to a
place where they were secure from the visit of their
pursuer. They were shortly after shipped off to the
Continent, where I have understood they were well
attended to, received a proper education, and ulti¬
mately obtained commissions in the army, or in the
civil service of the French government.
The frantic shoemaker threatened vengeance, but
as he could never discover who the proper object of
it might be, his anger subsided by degrees, and
nothing more was heard about him.
Of the fatal catastrophe by which the life of the
Duke de Berri was cut short there is no necessity for
me to speak ; it has been minutely described in the
records of his family.
THE LAST HALF CEHTUEY. 189
His Royal Highness shortly after his arrival in
France married the mother of the present head of the
legitimist party, the Count de Chambord ; a lady
whose energy, courage, and endurance were duly
appreciated by the Emperor Napoleon I., who called
her the only man of the Bourbon race." This
exalted lady appears to have had no jealous feelings
towards the lady with whom her illustrious consort
was connected. On the Continent the scale of moral
decorum is on the sliding principle, and adapts itself
most conveniently to the conditions of the case. She
•/
became in process of time on intimate terms with her
left-handed rival, and Louis XVIIL, so far from object¬
ing to the division of the devoirs of his nephew, him¬
self patronized Mrs. ^ ^ and took care that sufficient
tneans were provided for her enjoyment of the ele¬
gancies and the luxuries of life.
I well recollect the installation of the Duke of
Gloucester as Chancellor of the University of Cam¬
bridge. I and scores of other people were, on that
occasion, introduced to his Royal Highness. He
was then in the prime of life, and his appearance,
without betokening a man of princely rank, was that
of a gentleman. His countenance was not unpleas-
ing, but partook, in some degree, of that vacuity of
expression, which, coupled with his mode of observa-
190
EECOLLECTIONS OE
tion, procured him the sobriquet of " Silly Billy"
from the scoffers of rank and royalty. He appeared
to have one form of interrogatory and remark for
every person to whom he addressed himself. "To
what College do you belong ?" " How long have you
been here ?" " Charming weather." Very pretty
breakfast" (alluding to the public dejeuner pro-
vided), and with these words^ repeated several hun¬
dred times, he got through the business of the day
very well.
Being a Whig, or thinking himself to be one, he
was accompanied by a host of that faction—viz..
Lord Erskine, whose follies, about that time, began
to obliterate the splendour of his former reputation.
His lordship had as \\\^fidus Achates on this visit, Mr.,
or Captain, Disney, whose practical jokes at old
Buckingham Palace, and the use he made of certain
precious vessels of her Majesty Queen Charlotte, had
secured him a curious notoriety. The " famous" Dr.
Parr was also there, and waddled about the colleges
and gardens with a grotesque dignity ^entirely his own;
highly amusing and meant to be significant. At the
dinner at Trinity College, upon the removal of
the cloth, the venerable PMlopatris Varvicensis in¬
dulged in his eternal pipe and tobacco, " blowing a
cloud" into the faces of his neighbours, much to
THE LAST HALE CENTUEY. 191
their annoyance, and causing royalty to sneeze by
the stimulating stench of mundungus.
This unseemly and ill-timed exhibition of affected
eccentricity, instead of operating to the removal of
the perpetrator, was accepted as a proof of his inde¬
pendence of spirit and vindication of the privileges
of learning. In short, to such an eminence of
impudence had the old man exalted himself by the
turbulent vulgarity of his language and the sub¬
servient timidity of his auditors, that there v/as no
insult which he was not prepared to inflict and they
to submit to. Dr. Parr bullied himself into a reputa¬
tion which nobody had the courage to dispute. An
oracle, from the credulity and ignorance of his
votaries—what, after all, has he done for the cause
of literature ? A cumbrous series of volumes which
nobody reads, and which may be bought at a book¬
stall at the price of waste paper, constitute his claims
to posthumous reputation. His " Table Talk" was
a string of obtrusive egotisms, enforced with the
dictatorial vehemence of a pedagogue, and admitted
with the quaking acquiescence of children. His
political friends, the " Whigs," whose idol he slavered
with adulation that looked like ridicule, were aware
of his object, but too cunning to lend their aid when
in power for its attainment. They were prudent
192
RECOLLECTIONS OF
enough not to make such a partisan a bishop. If
their prudence had on other occasions been imitated,
the House of Lords would have escaped the inflic¬
tion of more than one pamphleteering parson pro¬
moted to the prelacy.
To deny the pretensions of Dr. Parr to a high
rank in scholarship would be absurd ; to admit him
to such a rank therein as he claimed for himself
would be more absurd. His specimens of Latinity
are more elaborate than elegant. A tumid pedantry
of diction and an incongruous jumble of the styles of
authors of various eras and merits is the staple of his
imitation of the Roman writers. With Greek
literature he was well acquainted, but, unfortunately,
his acquaintance therewith was unproductive of any
fruits by which other people could be benefited. In
the "Law Act," which he kept in the schools at
Cambridge for his degree of " LL.D,," I have been
told that he showed considerable argumentative
powers in his Thesis, which was moreover a good
composition ; but in the colloquial controversy with
the Regius Professor, on the same occasion, he was
as commonplace as most persons of minor celebrity.
THE LAST HALE CBNTUET. 193
CHAPTER VIII.
Thomas Barnes—Christ's Hospital—Morality of a City Madam—
Bichará Porson—A Greek Professor in the Workhouse—Men¬
doza at Cambridge : he explains the Transit of the Bed Sea—
Scene at a Supper Party in St. John's College—Pack of Hounds
kept in the University — Baces at the Gogmagog Hills —
Barnwell—Pot Pair—Muster Bichardson's Booth—Town and
Gown—The recent Smokers and Non-smokers—Anecdote of
Lord Erskine—An Original—Desperate Struggle with Burglars
—Dan Dawson, the Horse Poisoner—Strictures on Mathematical
Studies.
Another man, of very dlíFereht character, pursuits,
and habits, was amongst the throng at the installation.
I speak of the late Thomas Barnes.
This gentleman, who subsequently became so well
known as the editor of the " Times" paper, in which
capacity he established and exercised a power which
rendered the public press the great instrument for
the progress of the people, and the exposure of evil¬
doers of all ranks, and raised journalism in this
country to a position of which the most zealous of
our forefathers had never dreamed, was the son of a
solicitor in good practice and of honourable cha-
vol. I. o
194
RECOLLECTIONS OE
racter. He was placed at an early age at the Christ
Hospital (the Blue-coat School), and was contem¬
porary with the late Dr. Bice, late head master,
whose premature death by his own hands has caused
most painful sensations amongst all good men, and
with Mr. Leigh Hunt and others remarkable for
talent and learning. He made great progress in the
things taught in the school, and was proficient in the
learning of the place. He was a good Greek scholar,
in the acceptation of the term as applicable to the
scholarship of a schoolboy. He had a good stock of
Latin, and was moreover somewhat of a Hebraist.
His thirst for information and his love of books, an
aflfection which never forsook him in his busy career
in after days, made him a general and a desultory
reader. He knew^ more than a little of most things
connected with learning, and he had, if not an
intimate, yet a tolerable acquaintance with several
modern languages and with foreign literature. That
he was an erudite or a professed scholar, or that
he had a very extensive or very accurate acquaint¬
ance with any branch of knowledge cannot be
asserted ; but in addition to the advantages of a
regular education, a correct taste, a great thirst for
information, and in early days an active industry of
research, a strong memory, and a clear perception.
THE LAST HALE CENTURY. 195
he had many opportunities of obtaining information
from intercourse with the worlds of which he took
advantage. He was an acute observer; a reasoner
who had his arguments at hand ; a man of liberal
opinions on all subjects^ and anxious to hear the
opinions of others; an instructive, pleasing com¬
panion, and an amiable man.
In his youth he had the recommendation of per¬
sonal appearance to assist his progress in the world ;
indeed, during his pupilage at Christ's Hospital, his
good looks attracted the attention of a city dame, who
was present at the annual orations in the Great
Hall. This shameless woman, the wife of a cor¬
poration functionary, w^as so smitten with the exterior
of the juvenile " Grecian," that having
gaz'd upon his clustering locks
and his blythe youth,"
she addressed a letter to him, avowing her wishes
for an interview in the most unmistakable terms, and
with the letter sent a book of the most infamous
character, which, judging from her own feelings, she
concluded would act as a stimulant to his, and insure
the fruition of her desires. The language of the
letter and the contents of the filthy volume, however,
produced effects directly opposite to her intentions ;
young Barnes was disgusted at the unblushing decla-
o2
196
RECOLLECTIONS OE
rations of his tempter, and the lady, who was cer¬
tainly not one of the few
Cereris vittas contingere dignae ;
Quarum non timet pater oscula/'
was obliged to desist from further importunity.
From Christ's Hospital^ Mr. Barnes removed to
Pembroke College, Cambridge. His career at the
University was not distinguished by the closest
adherence to the regulations of the place. He could
not be said
"To scorn delights, and live laborions days;"
nevertheless, he did
" burst out into a sudden blaze,"
and having obtained the mathematical honours of
a " senior optime," he tried his hand at classical dis¬
tinction, and " sat" for the Chancellor's gold medal.
Amongst his competitors was the present Bishop of
London, then a member of Trinity College, who
obtained the prize, much to the annoyance of Barnes,
whose soreness at his defeat lasted him for life.
He never entirely forgave the right honorable and
right reverend prelate for carrying off the palm to
which he considered himself entitled. He was accus¬
tomed to aver that the propriety of demeanour for
which his rival was distinguished, as contrasted with
his laxity of conduct, induced the examiners to confer
THE LAST HALE CENTUHY. 197
the medal, tather as the recompence of decorum than
the reward of learning, and there were certainly not
a few persons who were of his way of thinking.
During the time he spent at Cambridge he was
distinguished as an expert cricketer and a bold and
excellent swimmer. In these exercises he continued
to delight after he left Cambridge, and he signalized
his skill in the latter by swimming for a trifling wager
from the steps of the garden of the Apothecaries'
Company, at Chelsea, to Westminster Bridge—no
inconsiderable feat for a man at that time compelled
by his duties to a sedentary and inactive life.
During his status pujnlaris at Pembroke College,
he had opportunities of seeing the celebrated Richard
Porson, and of profiting by his instructions. That
extraordinary scholar had nothing of the littleness
of a pretender. Being immeasurably above his con¬
temporaries, he had no necessity to thrust his pre¬
tensions into people's faces to prevent the attempts
of competition. He despised all quackery and all
assumption. He knew perfectly well of what mate¬
rials the people around him were composed, and he
valued them accordingly. More feared than loved
by the dignitaries of the place, he was regarded by
them as shedding a learned radiance on the Univer¬
sity, in the glare of which they themselves were
198
EECOLLECTIONS OE
encircled. He scorned their sycophancy and treated
them accordingly. He knew such persons were too
old to amend and too crooked to be straightened.
With the younger members of the community he was
more accessible, and in their society he was more
pleased to mix. There it was that he scattered the
fruits of his vast erudition, that he unbent his mind,
and enjoyed conversation.
Barnes was amongst those who attracted his atten¬
tion, and from the judicious use which he made
of it, derived advantages which he very fully appre¬
ciated.
f
It was not my good fortune to be a member of the
University during the time Porson filled the chair of
the Greek Professor. His mortal toils were over
before I reached Cambridge; but I can say vidi
Virgilium, and I am sorrj^ to add I saw him—Porson,
not Virgil—under the influence, not of the deity to
whom he should have dedicated his exclusive worship,
but wrapt in the spells of him whom the votaries of
strong liquor invoke. His connexion with Mr. Perry
of the "Morning Chronicle" newspaper was not of
a kind to diminish his propensity for the hilarities of
existence, and it was too frequently his custom, after
having enjoyed the good things of this world at the
hospitable board of that gentleman, to repair to the
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 199
Cyder Cellars" in Maiden-lane (in which place, at
this day, his portrait decorates the wall).
It was there that, in the society of persons but little
calculated to appreciate his merits, he on several
occasions gave way to the excitement of the moment,
and so clouded by repeated potations his mental
faculties as to be totally unconscious of what he was
about. It so happened one night, that in this state
he was found in the street, and conveyed for shelter
to the workhouse in Hemming's-row. There he was
housed till morning, and in the meantime, notice was
given to a gentleman who was in authority in the
parish, and with whom I was acquainted, of the fact.
I accompanied that gentleman to Hemming's-row ;
he at once recognised the great Greek scholar, who
was recovered from his stupor, and prepared to
depart to a place more suitable for his retirement.
But to return to Mr. Barnes.
Upon leaving Cambridge, he entered as a student
at one of the Inns of Court, I believe it was the
Inner Temple; and after a short time, became a
pupil of Mr. Chitty, the well-known special pleader.
What progress he made in the study of the law I
know not; I do not think it was very great; he was
not a man to gain celebrity by the plodding industry
of a pleader, nor had he that kind of industry by which
200
EECOLLECTIONS OE
eminence at the bar can be obtained, or, as we see
daily, without any industry at all. He was, how¬
ever, a great favourite with Mr. Chitty, who, in
token of the estimation in which he held him, pre¬
sented him with a silver cup, upon which was engraved
a legend, expressive of his regard.
It was shortly after he left the chambers of Mr.
Chitty, that the proprietor of the " Times" paper
became acquainted with him, and that gentleman,
than whom no one could better appreciate talent, or
more liberally reward it, lost no time in securing his
services. He gave up any intentions he might have
had of adopting the law as a profession. He became
the editor of the journal just above mentioned, and
continued in that office, with great honour to himself
and great advantage to the proprietor and to the
public, till the hour of his death, which happened
about fourteen years ago.
It was in his capacity of editor that I became more
intimately connected with him than I previously had
been. I aver that I never met with a kinder friend,
a more agreeable companion, or a more honourable
man.
It was not long after the installation of the Duke
of Gloucester that the University was honoured by
the visit of a class of persons totally differing from
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 201
those of whom I have made mention as being in the
suite of his royal highness. These were the pro-
<1
fessors of what they themselves term the "art of
self-defence which some, perhaps prejudiced people,
judging from a one-sided view of the question, con¬
sider might be more properly termed the "art of
self-offence," seeing that those who more particularly
excel in the art are generally very fond of diffusing
their knowledge in a way peculiarly offensive, and
somewhat dangerous to resist. At the head of these
visitors was the celebrated Daniel Mendoza, whose
proficiency in his calling secured him an ominous
reputation, and whose autobiography, though very
open to the strictures of criticism, contains passages
which effectually disarmed the critics his contempo¬
raries from noticing its defects.
Mr. Mendoza, under the patronage of a gentleman,
then a member of Jesus College, was nominally
located at a road-side inn, near Barnwell, kept by a
man named Barfoot, who had in his youth dis¬
tinguished himself in the sporting world, and been
the trainer of Humphries, the early and gallant
antagonist of him who had now become his guest.
The patron of the celebrated pugilist was Mr.
Honywood, who subsequently represented the county
of Kent in the House of Commons, and who, but for
202
EECOLLECTIONS OE
his habits of intemperance, which brought him to a
premature grave, might have represented that county
till this day, being deservedly popular from the libe¬
rality of his principles, the respectability of his family
connexions, and the natural kindness of his disposition,
The arrival of his protege caused a sensation in
Cambridge; " Gown and Town" vied with each other
in paying him the respect due to his merit, and he
made a rich harvest by giving lectures, accompanied
with practical illustrations on the science of which he
was considered a master. Dr. Jowett himself recom¬
mended the undergraduates to profit by his instruc¬
tions, and described the advantages to be derived
from them.
I recollect meeting Mr. Mendoza in the hall of
Jesus College. He was not there at that time in his
professional character. As a monsieur comme un autre^
he was admiring the architectural beauties and
arrangements of the place, when he suddenly stopped
before a large map of Egypt and the Holy Land,
with which the hall was ornamented, and with a
liberality of sentiment and a boldness of avowal
which has been adopted by a certain dignitary of a
different profession, commenced a confession of vrhat
he did not believe, in the course of which, to use his
own phrase, ^^he pitched into Moses," denied the
THE LAST HALF CENTUKY. 203
miracles wliich he could not comprehend, and ex¬
plained, precisely as the living divine has done in more
elegant diction, the passage of the Red Sea by the
Jews, and the destruction of Pharaoh. Without
meaning to compare his proficiency in theology with
the attainments of the divine to whom I allude, I may
say that the merit of the earlier avowal of this scepti¬
cism belongs to the Jew pugilist, and not to the
Protestant priest.
It would have been quite as well for the decorum
with which such a place as Cambridge is supposed to
be influenced if the students, with whom he had
become a sort of " lion," had abstained from encou¬
raging to too great an extent the pastimes in which
the propensities of such an animal are sometimes
too fully developed. I remember being invited one
evening to meet the illustrious stranger" at a supper
party in St. John's College. The party was a small
one, but it was understood to make up in the quality
of the guests the paucity of numbers. It consisted of
the gentleman who " kept" in the rooms, of myself,
and Mr. Honywood, members of the University, and
of Mr. Mendoza, Mr. Harry Browning, a retired
cavalry quartermaster and horse dealer; Mr. Snow,
eminent as a Brighton coachman, and Mr. Vaughan,
of whom I have already said something.
204
EECOLLECTIONS OE
The conversation was sufficiently desultory to ad¬
mit all to take part in it, and as the evening advanced,
became unusually animated. Differences of opinion
were expressed in language not parliamentary
order was proclaimed by the president, and the con¬
flict of words for a time allayed by the soothing pota¬
tions of punch. The remedy being taken too fre¬
quently, aggravated the complaint ; and Mr. Snow
and Mr. Browning arose simultaneously from their
chairs to refer their claims to veracity to the " trial
by battle." Messrs. Mendoza and Vaughan consti¬
tuted themselves the judges, and the rest of the party
formed the "suite" of the combatants. It may be
supposed that the scene was not carried on with the
silence the sanctity of the place and the lateness of
the hour required. The steps of some one descend¬
ing the staircase from the apartments of old Dr.
Craven, the President of the College, were heard by
the quick ear of his brother Johhian, who suddenly
became " alive" to the consequences of such an uproar.
^^For heaven's sake, gentlemen, get out of my rooms,
or I shall be ruined," were his words, uttered with
irresistible importunity of expression ; indeed, the
whole party felt there would be some danger in pro¬
tracting their stay. The combatants were, with
some difficulty, torn asunder, the head of the ex-
THE LAST HALE CENTURY.
205
quartermaster being rescued from beneath the left
arm of the Brighton dragsman, who had succeeded in
what is called getting it into " chancery," and the
whole party managed to effect a retreat through the
court-yard to the porter's lodge, and gained the street.
Here for the moment the combat was renewed, and
might have lasted some time, had it not been an¬
nounced by certain flying parties, who had probably
been celebrating similar orgies at other places, that
the Proctors were on the alert.
The slowness of movement in the cusios of the
College, Dr. Craven, whose "pace" by no means
resembled the " pace" at which the gentleman in
whose rooms this affair came off was accustomed to
go, gave the latter time to " put his house in order,"
and so to arrange things, that when the venerable
man made his entrance, the apartment bore little
appearance of the recent irregularities, and of course
the gentleman himself knew nothing about them !
It may appear to some persons that I have exag¬
gerated the state of insubordination which existed in
the University. I beg to disclaim any exaggeration
whatever, and to assure those who are in ignorance
of the sort of life passed by many persons there, some
years back, that I have described nothing that is not
strictly true.
206
EECOLLECTIONS OE
There is another class of persons with whose apathy-
it was more consonant to deny the existence of such
abuses than with their energies to prevent them. To
these I shall certainly make no apology for what I
have stated. It was but shortly before my arrival at
Cambridge, that a pack of hounds was kept by public
subscription amongst the undergraduates, and when
this flagrant breach of college discipline became so
great that the authorities were forced to suppress it,
a trail was dragged over the principal streets and into
several of the College court-yards, the hounds "laid
on," and Mr. Vaughan, of whom we have seen some¬
thing, as the huntsman, attended by a tolerably good
" field," cheering with horn and halloo a " cry," not
quite so musical as that described in the " Midsummer
Night's Dream," rode through the town in open
defiance of all decency and authority.
It was in my day, and before and since my day at
Cambridge, that horse-racing, got up by members of
the University, was notoriously held at the Gog-
magog Hills, undergraduates and graduates acting
as jockeys, assuming the dress and slang of the turf,
winning and losing money on the " events," and in
short, encouraging by their patronage and support
the abominations of low gambling and profligate ex¬
travagance. This practice prepared many for the
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 207
sports of Newmarket, by which many were brought
to ruin.
It existed for some years, and I believe was ulti-
inately put down by the exertions of Mr. Leblanc,
who, during his vice-chancellorship, was an active
and useful reformer.
I pass over the scenes that have been acted at
Barnwell. There was a theatre there, in which
dramatic representations, during a short time of the
year, when the members of the University were
not " up," were allowed to be given. There were,
however, performed in that theatre a good many
things which the authorities either did know, or
ought to have known, much more demoralizing than
any histrionic performance, and which ought never to
have been suffered. The scale of morality was as
low as it could be ; the efforts for the suppression of
vice being badly directed, had no other effect than to
substitute what was really infamous for what was
comparatively venial. Such will be always the case
where it is attempted to enforce by the authority of
an enactment what should be left to the good sense
and feeling of those for whose improvement it is
intended to operate.
At Barnwell was held every year a sort of Satur¬
nalia^ called " Pot Fair," which was every year of its
208
KECOLLECTIONS OE
celebration well attended by members of the Uni¬
versity. Here, till a late hour, every sort of de¬
bauchery was triumphant; and here, as may be
supposed, frequent collisions took place between
those who despised and those who cultivated, or
were supposed to cultivate, the litterœ humanioves.
The crowd which filled the fair was, as at most
places of a similar description, a very motley one.
The "roughs" were numerous, the "gown" was in
great " force." The mirth " grew fast and furious"
in proportion to the quantity and strength of the
potations in which the company indulged. The
"gown" generally arrived on the ground "hot with
the Tuscan grape," or with something* in imitation
of it, and the " roughs," who had been on the ground
all the day long, had not neglected the calls of thirst.
It was shortly before " sundown" that I was witness
to one of the scenes which the collision of the two
classes was certain to produce. The principal show-
booth in the fair was a branch establishment of the
celebrated nomadic theatrical manager, "Muster"
Richardson, a gentleman whose reputation was in
his day extended from one end of England to the
other ; under whose fostering patronage many of the
histrionics of the legitimate as well as of the ille¬
gitimate schools are said to have cultivated the
THE LAST HALF CENTÜKY.
209
worship of Melpomene and Thalia, and on whose
boards" the great Edmund Kean is reported to
have " strutted and fretted," not his " hour" (for the
performances on "Muster" Richardson's "boards"
never continuously lasted more than a quarter of that
period), but his fifteen minutes, and to have per¬
fected himself in the profession of which he was the
most eminent master in his generation. This "Muster"
Richardson was a very considerable person in his own
estimation, and from the position he held and the
pecuniary means at his command, his estimate of
himself was recognised by hundreds of aspirants for
fame and money.
After having amassed a considerable fortune in his
itinerant attendance at fairs, wakes, and races, he
retired into private life, embowered beneath the
shadow of his laurels in a cottage in Horsemonger-
lane, which at the time of his retirement was more
rural than at present, the County Gaol being the
only edifice which broke the charm, and occasionally
brought back the " dull realities" of life, or rather of
death, to the recollections of the recluse. It was a
branch booth of this Thespian wanderer that occupied
the best spot in the fair, and it was there that the col¬
lision between the literate and the illiterate took place.
I am not aware of the immediate causes of the fray :
VOL. I. p
210
EECOLLECTIONS OE
I had observed appearances for some time before it
commenced, which warned me to be on my guard.
Suddenly a sound of voices broke upon my ear,
and a rush of combatants debouching from an avenue
of stalls and tents on one side of the great theatrical
booth succeeded. Discordant yells rang in the air.
The confusion of voices in some degree concealed
the blasphemy of the expressions, but enough was
intelligible to alarm and disgust. The notion, that
" Silet inter arma toga"
was in no way applicable to the case : the " gown"
w^as as loud and as clamorous as its opponents, and
for ten minutes a general mêlée of blackguards of all
ranks and degrees, pummelled, pelted, kicked, and
abused each other in terms, which for very good
reasons I decline to repeat. This " disgraceful inter¬
ruption of the harmony of the evening" being ter¬
minated, "order was restored" for a time; both parties
awaiting the arrival of reinforcements, and making
preparations for a further onslaught when the in¬
creasing darkness should afford opportunity for the
peculiar strategy employed in such warfare.
In the meantime the platform or proscenium of
Muster Richardson's booth began to be crowded by a
mixed congregation of what is called the public"
and the performers, several of the members of which
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 211
latter body, under the direction of an athletic
mummer, in the costume of the clown, proceeded
to arrange a row of large earthen pipkins filled with
grease, and having pieces of rope or something of the
kind for wicks, by which when lit the edifice was to
be illuminated. This being accomplished, the wicks
blazed forth and the grease crackled merrily, and it
was announced by the stentorian lungs of the manager,
through a speaking-trumpet, and the continual beat¬
ing of a gong, that the performance was about to
commence.
By this time the expected reinforcements of the
belligerent parties had arrived, and the fair was filled
with those waiting to take part in the anticipated
fight and those who waited to see it. The demon of
discord soon furnished an opportunity for the gratifi¬
cation of these propensities. A struggle took place
in ascending the steps which led to the platform of
the booth, as scores of people jostled each other in
attempting to force their way up ; and sundry blows
having been exchanged, in a few minutes the combat
became general,—the noise on this second occasion
being diversified by the shrieks of the women and
the incessant din of the gong.
The clown, who was understood to have given
proofs of his valour and his skill as a country prac-
p 2
212
EECOLLECTIONS OF
titioner of pugilism^ was by somebody or other pushed
forcibly on one side. The indignity aroused his
indignation ; he struck out " right and left," without
respect to persons or to anything else. A bargeman,
who had been long the bully of the Cam, and whose
exploits had exalted him to the "chair" at the
" Pickerill," attacked him forthwith. The n^anager,
in the meantime, finding that the mob were forcing
their way into the penetralia of the temple without
leaving their offerings at the entrance, mustered his
whole cor'ps de theatre^ and by a well-directed move¬
ment drove back the assailants, many of whom fell
off the platform, and received some severe bruises in
their contact with the earth, the height of the plat¬
form being some six or eight feet ; and, the clown
having disposed of the bargeman, the platform was
cleared.
At this stage of the affair, the quarrel between the
"gown" and the "roughs" might be said to have
merged in the feud in which both parties united
against the garrison of the booth. The bargeman,
smarting from the blows of the clown, and from the
wounds his reputation had received, expressed his
det^ermination to "double up the whole lot," and
procured a " cramping iron," an implement by which
a barge or canal-boat is guided, and a most formidable
THE LAST HALE CENTUEY. 213
weapon in the hands of frantic ruffians, to assist him
in the vindication of his honour. This weapon, by
/
the united strength of half-a-dozen assistants, was
directed as a battering-ram against the lower portion
of the booth, and occasionally elevated to sweep the
platform of its defenders. Things were becoming
critical for the beleaguered, when the clown and those
who stuck to him, as a last resource, commenced
hurling the pipkins with the scalding grease and the
blazing wicks amongst the mob beneath them. The
casualties produced by such a mode of defence may
be easily imagined ; the imprecations and bellowing
that ensued are beyond imagination—
' ' The spirit of the first-born, Cain,
Eaged in all bosoms
The burning missiles, after sputtering and hissing
on the greensward, were extinguished, darkness
became" the buryer, not " of the dead," but of the
living combatants, and the fortunate, though tardy
arrival of the authorities of the University and town
in strong forcé, at this crisis of the uproar, suc¬
ceeded in preventing what might have terminated in
the loss of limb and life. As it was, the injuries did
not extend beyond black eyes, bloody noses, bruises,
and broken heads.
Since writing the above in no wise exaggerated
214 becollections of
account of the pastimes in which the members of the
University were accustomed to delight some forty
years ago, I have found, by the report of a recent
émeute at Cambridge,- that the restrictions of dis¬
cipline are little more stringent at this time than
they were formerly, and that those to whom the pre¬
servation of order is by the statutes intrusted, have
neither the energy nor the power to enforce obedience
to their commands.
1 extract the following description of what occurred
a few months back from the columns of a Cambridge
newspaper, which will fully bear out my assertion :—
town and gown riot at cambridge.—smokers
and non-smokers.
On Friday night week a gentleman essayed to give
a lecture in the Town Hall, Cambridge, against the
use of tobacco. Long before he commenced, the
room was crowded, chiefly with gownsmen, provided
with pipes and cigars, and having in their pockets
squibs, crackers, and other fireworks. The lecturer
had not proceeded far when he was interrupted by
cries of Three cheers for Sir Walter Raleigh and
being at last angered by the increasing disorder, he
rashly said that on coming to a university town he
had expected to meet gentlemen, and not black-
THE LAST HALE CENTURY.
215
guards. Hereupon the noise rendered the hearing
of the lecture impossible. Pipes and cigars were
lighted, and the persons who entered the gallery
(which had been closed to the undergraduates) were
saluted with showers of squibs and crackers. Mr.
C. E. Brown, borough magistrate, sent for the police,
and went for the mayor, with whom he returned, and
appeared on the platform beside the lecturer. The
place was now a perfect Babel, and, at length, the
mayor declared the meeting dissolved, and retired
with the lecturer into the alderman's parlour. The
gownsmen then stormed the platform, and proposed
an amendment—" that tobacco was anything but
pernicious." All might have passed off with no worse
than noise and uproar, but for an undergraduate,
who splintered a piece off the back of a stool with
which he belaboured it in order to break it. Mr.
Brown demanded his name and college. He refused
to give it, and was seized by the police, on which
he struck out and shouted Gown !" The gowns¬
men rushed in and rescued him in triumph amid the
crash of seats and loud hurrahs. The police force
now interfered, and a general fight ensued. Several
prisoners were taken, and on the arrival of the Rev.
Mr. Edleston, the proctor, they capitulated, and
having given their names and colleges, were libe-
216
EECOLLECTIONS OF
rated, and an investigation was ordered to be held
after the 5th November. On Saturday night, although
the proctors and masters of arts paraded the town,
several skirmishes took place with the townsmen ; and
a fearful riot was apprehended on the 5th, the anni¬
versary of Gunpowder Plot ; but that day fortunately
passed off quietly, owing to the precautions taken.
At the Town Hall, Cambridge, on Wednesday last,
Richard Cayley and Thomas Charles Wood, under¬
graduates of St. John's College, were charged, before
a mixed commission of University ánd town magis¬
trates, with assaulting the police. On the defendants
being placed in the dock, some of the townsmen
applauded, but this was immediately suppressed.
William Jaggard, police superintendent, said that
when the mayor was attempting, on Friday evening
last, to dissolve the meeting, the University men were
proposing resolutions in defiance of him. They
moved "that Mr. Lockington do take the chair."
[Laughter.] Witness had no directions to clear the
room, but from what he saw, he thought that the
sooner it was cleared the better. The room was
about half cleared. The police moved the forms to
enable the people to pass out, when some one called
out, " Gown! gown I The gown are wanted outside."
On which the gownsmen rushed towards the door,
THE LAST HALF CENTUEY.
217
like sheep following their leader over a hedge. Wit¬
ness was pushed some distance down the room^ and
drew aside to let the gownsmen pass. One of them
jumped purposely on the back of a form, which had
been knocked down, and broke it. Mr. Brown, the
magistrate, ordered him to desist, or he should be
taken into custody. The gownsman replied, Who
the deuce are you ?" and w^as breaking another form
when witness collared him. Mr. Brown asked him
to give his name and collège. He did not give
either, and some one cried, " Gown ! gown ! to the
rescue !" The gownsmen rushed on witness, and he
had to let his prisoner go. Other policemen then
came up, and the taller defendant (Wood) struck at
them right and left. Witness seized Wood, and the
cry of " Gown ! gown I to the rescue !" was again
raised, and another onset took place, on which witness
ordered the police to draw their staves. Shortly
afterwards Cay ley was taken into custody. At length
the proctor arrived, and on his undertaking to pro¬
duce Wood and Cayley they were given up to his care.
Police Sergeant Hewlett corroborated the above,
and said that while Wood was in custody in the grand
jury room he was very violent, and when witness had
hold of Wood's collar he suddenly stooped down,
caught witness by the legs, threw him up, and both
218
EECOLLECTIONS OE
fell to the ground together. [Laughter and applause
from the gownsmen.]
Maltby (policeman) deposed to the gownsmen
having, as soon as the lecture commenced, began to
shout, and sing " He's a jolly good fellow." Cayley
was much excited ; witness thinks he must have been
drinking.
On the prisoners being asked what they had to
say. Wood was silent. Cayley said, " I was walking
quietly out of the hall when I saw Wood collared by
some one, and I naturally went forward to rescue
him. When the proctor arrived I gave myself up to
him, and altogether acted as quietly when in custody
as any man could do who was being dragged along
by the hair of his head. I admit that I was excited,
but I deny that I was drunk, and can bring twenty
witnesses to prove that I was never drunk in my
life."
The defendants were find £5 each, and expenses.
Dr. Philpot (the Master of St. Catherine's Hall)
then rose and said, that as a member of the Univer¬
sity, he regretted exceedingly to see two of its mem¬
bers placed in the position of the young men at the
bar, which reflected great disgrace on the body to
which they belonged. Instead of acting as they had
done, they ought to have assisted the police to main¬
tain order. The Bench had power to imprison with-
THE LAST HALF CENTUEY.
219
out a fine, and on any repetition of the offence that
day charged, imprisonment would be inflicted. The
fines were paid, and were afterwards made up to the
defendants by sympathizing undergraduates.
Thus it will be seen that improvement in the
manners and habits of the undergraduates has made
but little progress during the last half century ; that
drunkenness, vulgarity, and violence are still some of
the staple productions of the system by which the
University is governed ; and that many things having
no connexion with learning or science flourish in the
academic retreats on the banks of the Cam. Whether
or not it be desirable that the effervescence of the
animal spirits of youth should be encouraged or re¬
buked in its explosion on these and similar occasions,
I shall not give any opinion about. If it be necessary
that young gentlemen should indulge in such relaxa¬
tion from the severity of study, it would certainly be
better if the indulgence were adjourned till the vaca¬
tions, and the scene of it laid in some place as remote
as convenient from the haunts of the Muses. It may
be a matter of reflection for those parents, whose
means being restricted, are putting themselves to
some inconvenience in furnishing the funds for the
education of their sons, whether the qualifications of
a prize-fighter could not be obtained at a cheaper
220
EECOLLECTIONS OF
rate and in a more congenial locality than a college.
The " Heads" and tutors would also do well to ponder
a little more on the responsibility attached to their
offices, and to remember that whilst they are slum¬
bering, the public are awake, and becoming every day
more and more inclined to arouse them from their
torpor of somnolency.
Having mentioned Lord Erskine, I will relate a
curious fact—viz., the loss and recovery of his pocket-
book, containing upwards of five thousand pounds in
Bank of England notes, a short time before his
arrival at the University. The noble lord, on the day
preceding the drawing the State Lottery, went in the
early part of the day into the lottery office of the
celebrated Mr. Bish at Cornhill, to purchase a lotterj?" •
ticket or share. By some means or other he lost his
*/
pocket-book, containing the amount above men¬
tioned, but was not aware of the loss of it till some
s
hours afterwards. His lordship had little expectation
of regaining it, concluding that his pocket had been
picked, but as a last hope went back again to the
office of Bish, and asked the clerks if he had left it
on their counter, or if they knew anything about it ?
The office was at the time full of people, and scores
of men and women had, during the course of the day,
been going in and coming out. Whilst the inquiry
THE LAST HALF CENTUHY. 221
was being made, somebody, who heard what his
lordship asked and what the clerks replied, happened
to tread upon what appeared to be a lump of dirt
close to the door ; he gave it a kick, and saw that it
was a pocket-book of some kind. It was immediately
picked up, and being cleaned from the mud with
which it was incrusted, handed to his lordship, who
at once recognised his lost pocket-book, and to his
great delight, on opening it, perceived that the notes
had not been taken out of it.
One of the " originals" among the undergraduates
at Trinity Hall, or indeed in the whole University,
was a man named Stokes ; he was a scholar on the
foundation, and always indulged the hope of being
one day or other a fellow of the College. Such hopes
were not destined to be fulfilled : indeed his eccentri-
city and his peculiarities would have rendered such
a consummation almost an impossibility. His know¬
ledge of such matters as led to University honours
amounted to nothing, and^ moreover, he had no
knowledge of the world or the ways of it. He w^as
accustomed, morning, noon, and night, to pore over
volumes of modern history; his memory was retentive,
and his studies had the effect of cramming his head
with an undigested mass of facts and incidents w^hich
he had neither the faculty nor the method of arrang-
222
RECOLLECTIONS OF
ing, or even of comprehending. He was exceedingly
disputatious and irritable, but had no power of logi¬
cal deduction to convince or confute his opponent.
The consequence was that his labours in history led
to no results beyond obtaining for the labourer a
perpetual source of annoyance from those of his
associates who got him into an argument for the
purpose of quizzing his absurdities, or exposing his
weakness. The object of this process, which was
continually repeated, he could neither detect nor per¬
ceive, and consequently he afforded precisely that sort
of amusement in which the idle and the mischievous
delight. He was, when left alone, a harmless, good-
natured, inoffensive, quiet sort of person ; but when
roused he was a somewhat formidable antagonist, if
not in an intellectual contest, at all events in a physical
struggle. Of this he gave a very convincing proof
some years after he had left the University, and
taken up his abode in the upper floor of a house in
Carey-street, Lincoln's-inn, in which he was under¬
stood to be studying the law. Having retired to bed
one night at a late hour, he was aroused by an
unusual noise in his bed-room, and on raising himself
up in the bed, he perceived two ruffians ransacking
his writing desk and his chest of drawers. They no
sooner saw that he was awake than they desisted from
THE LAST HALF CENTUEY.
223
their search for money, and threw themselves upon
him. A desperate struggle ensued. Their threats,
and their attempts to cut his throat, he neither feared
nor valued. Being a powerful man, he succeeded in
grappling with them both, and the three combatants
rolled out of the bed-room into the sitting-room next
to it; he, knowing the locality better than his anta¬
gonists, contrived, as the struggle continued, to force
them through the doorway on to the top of the stair¬
case, the landing-place of which was narrow and the
stairs steep; he then, by a vigorous effort, pushed
them from him, and they both fell headlong down the
declivity. By this time the noise of the contest had
aroused the other inmates of the premises, and several
people came to his rescue. The ruffians were secured,
and lodged in the power of the police. Stokes was a
good deal knocked about in the struggle, and had it
lasted a few minutes longer, must have been exhausted
by his efforts. He was able the next day to appear
before the magistrates, when the burglars, who, it
appeared, had obtained entrance at the back of the
house, were fully committed for trial at the Old
Bailey. Thither Stokes in due time attended as the
prosecutor, and had the satisfaction of convicting the
two rascals, who were transported for life to a penal
settlement.
224
EECOLLECTIONS OE
I had the best feeling towards this singular man,
and I had an opportunity of proving it to him upon
his relinquishing the study of the law to go into holy
orders. It was necessary that he should obtain
testimonials of his conduct from beneficed clergymen.
I introduced him to several, and after an acquaint¬
ance of the prescribed time, they were much pleased
to furnish him with the papers he required.
He was a relation or a connexion, on the wife's
side, to Dr. Parr, who, I believe, obtained for him a
curacy in Norfolk. He bore little resemblance to
the learned person in anything but his admiration of
the Whigs, in whose praise and adoration he was as
prejudiced and as rampant as the great Grecian
himself.
Subsequently to the election of the Duke of
Gloucester to the Chancellorship, the trial of Dan
Dawson for poisoning race-horses on Newmarket
race-course occupied the attention of the town, and
excited a considerable interest, not only at Cam¬
bridge but throughout England, and more particu¬
larly amongst the classes of sporting gentlemen;
indeed, many of the latter experienced that sort of
interest which arises from a fellow-feeling, somewhat
enhanced by the fears which arose from the proba¬
bility of the accused making discoveries which would
THE LAST HALE CENTURY.
225
have compromised their own respectability, if not
security, from justice. Mr. Dawson, either from a
sense of honour, or what is so considered by his
class, or from some other motive, made no con¬
fessions that implicated other people, although it was
very generally believed that he was in possession of
certain secrets which would, had they been told,
have exposed some persons of a much more elevated
position in life than his own to a very rigorous penalty.
I was present at his trial, and I certainly never saw
a scoundrel more apparently indifferent to his fate
than he was. My conviction at the time was, and I
have seen no reason to alter it since, that he was in
hopes, if a verdict should be given against him,
he should obtain a commutation of punishment, and
escape with transportation. I believe that he enter¬
tained that notion to the last, and kept up the hope
of being reprieved at the gallows, conditionally he
told no tales; had he thought a little deeper, he
might have suspected that his hopes were futile, and,
knowing that dead men tell no tales, have made a
clean stomach" before his departure.
He was as perfect a specimen of a low blackguard
as I remember to have seen ; so much was he imbued
with roguery that he possessed not even that bastard
sense of right and wrong which is termed honour
VOL. I. Q
226
RECOLLECTIONS OF
among thieves." When he was employed to carry
into execution his villanous project of poisoning the
water in the troughs on Newmarket Heath, he was
supplied with the means of going down from London
to the place of his exploits, on the Newmarket
coach, or some other coach on the road. As he was
well acquainted with the dishonest tricks of the
drivers of stage coaches, he agreed with the driver
that he should be "shouldered," that is, that he
should walk a little way out of London, so as not to
be seen ascend the coach in the innyard from which
it set out ; get up when at a safe distance from obser¬
vation, and get down a short distance from the
place at which the journey of the coach was to be
terminated. By this means the coachman would
pocket the fare, and the proprietor of the coach be
cheated out of it. This arrangement he carried out
beyond the meaning of his confederate the coachman.
He no sooner got down than he took his leave alto¬
gether, and chuckled at his adroitness in " throwing
over" the confederate in his rascality.
I went into Cambridge Castle, the county gaol,
after his condemnation, and had a short conversation
?
with him. On asking him how he found himself?
he replied, with perfect nonchalance^
I'm as dead as if the monument was a'top of me !"
THE LAST HALE CENTURY.
227
I will conclude this notice of the University of
Cambridge with an extract from the "Mechanic's
Magazine" of the 18th November^ 1848. It is too
pertinent to my purpose to be omitted ; and as the
readers of these " Recollections" are not likely to get
a view of the original strictures therein introduced, I
will furnish them with a copy.
" The ^ orthodox' studies of Cambridge are only
fitted for few minds, and indeed for very few, if the
philosophy of mathematics as well as its mere
mechanism be proposed as the subjects of study.
Many a man who has not cared a single straw for
mathematics, in the shape of attachment to the
science itself, has yet worked like a mule in a mill
to get up a certain portion of ^ book work' for the
Senate House Examinations. This almost intolerable
labour has been gone through simply with a view of
obtaining a place on the Tripos that should be
valuable to him in after-life, and this once obtained,
the successful candidate for honours never till the
end of his life opens a mathematical book except he
become a college or private tutor, a schoolmaster, or
an actuary. Half the reading men are killed, or have
the seeds of death implanted in their constitutions
during their undergraduate career, and for what?—
the doubtful honour of a certain status on the B.A,
Q 2
228
EECOLLECTIONS OF
list of the year 1 Most certainly there is no essential
implication in a man's standing high on the honour
list of mathematics ; and we have all met with such
men who have sunk into the most mindless drones
alive,—their physical and mental energies alike
destroyed by the ^ forcing system' which has been
in the course of development during the whole of the
present century."
THE LAST HALE CENTURY. 229
CHAPTER IX.
The Owls—Sheridan Knowles—Augustine Wade—Major Anati—
Proposal of Marriage : its consequences —Leman Rede—Pierce
Egan—Frederick Yates—Newgate Noctes Ambrosianae—Mon¬
sieur Jacques, and Jacko the Monkey—A Foreign Nobleman—•
Mr. Raymond Percival—The Pursuit of Knowledge attended
with Danger—^A Whale, &c. &c.
The dabs of London are part and parcel of the his¬
tory of the metropolis. They are novelties with which
the ancestors of those persons by whom they were
established were totally unacquainted, and of the
establishment of which they had neither prescience
nor expectation. They are a remarkable fact in the
progress of society, and would supply an admirable
subject for an essayist. It is not intended here to
describe their rise and progress, or moralize upon
their influence. The public know or may know
\
everything connected with them that is in any degree
of interest; and as there is little exclusiveness in the
principle of their constitution, almost everybody who
holds a respectable position in the world may become.,
230
RECOLLECTIONS OF
without much difSculty^ a member of one or the
other of them.
But it is purposed to describe a club of another
sort. A club sui generis^ which, though it exists no
longer, still lives in the memory of those members
who survive, and whose recollections of the hours
they passed within its precincts are among the most
pleasant of their retrospections.
This club, or society, was called the "Owls," a
most appropriate name. It was held at the " Sheridan
Knowles" Tavern, in Brydges-street, Covent-garden,
opposite the principal entrance to Drury-lane theatre.
The session was what the French call en 'permanence^
continuous, without intermission, day or night. Night
was indeed the season of its glories ; the élite of the
members, of whom there were about two hundred,
either from their occupations or their habits, were not
able, or not inclined, to congregate for the purposes
of pleasure till after midnight. They then assembled
in sufRcient numbers for social merriment and that
sharp conflict of wit which formed, or was intended
to form, the principal staple of their meeting.
Sheridan Knowles, the best dramatist of his day,
and of many days of English literature, was the
patron, or it may be termed the " chancellor " of the
association. His presence at the club was a guarantee
THE LAST HALF CENTURY.
231
that those assembled there would hear something
worth being remembered; and his manners and prin¬
ciples, whilst they justified and admitted everything
that decent mirth desired, restrained the too free ex¬
hibition of exuberant, noisy, or equivocal jocularity.
The public are sufficiently well acquainted with this
gentleman and with his writings to render it neces¬
sary to advert to him or them with much particu¬
larity, or to offer a criticism on what has already been
so highly and so justly appreciated. To the posses¬
sion of genius, great talents, great acquired know¬
ledge, he adds the judgment of disciplined expe¬
rience and the faculty of felicitously expressing his
conceptions. As a man he has maintained, through
a life chequered with vicissitudes, a most honourable
reputation. The circumscribed and tardy liberality
of the Government has at length recognised those
merits and those claims which all who knew him or
his works were eager, at a very early period of his
career, to assert and reward.
The " chairman," or president of the club, was the
late Augustine Wade, a man of many failings and of
many good points. A wise man in theory and a fool
in practice. A vigorous intellect swathed in the
trammels of insuperable indolence ; planning every¬
thing, performing nothing. Always in difficulties.
232
EECOLIiECTIONS OF
having the means at hand to extricate himself from
their annoyance, yet too apathetic to arouse himself
to an effort ; content to dream away his time in any
1
occupation but that which the requisitions of the
occasion demanded. Surrounded with books of all
sorts; extracting portions of each, and jumbling the
several parts into a mass, which he could neither
digest nor comprehend; amusing himself with all kinds
of musical instruments, sackbut, psaltery," &c.,
and rejecting all the amusements they afforded;
increasing the confusion of his brain by repeated
potations of any fluid which at the moment might be
before him, appearing, even in this practice, to have
no choice or predilection.
Yet this man was a good classical scholar; ac¬
quainted wdth several modern languages; an admi¬
rable musician; a composer of no small reputation-
witness the " Two Houses of Grenada," of which he
wrote the whole of the words, and composed every
note of the music ; and in which the beautiful song,
" Meet me by moonlight alone," wmuld, of itself,
secure the reputation of an aspirant to fame—pos¬
sessing the placidity of an indifferent, if not the
equanimity of a well-regulated mind, the manners of
a man who had been much in society, a taste for the
ludicrous, and a power of ridicule, with a ready talent
THE LAST HALF CENTURY.
233
for bringing the powers of greater wits than himself
to bear upon his opponent, and by the help of such
auxiliaries obtaining the victory in an intellectual
struggle.
This man, reduced by his follies and his indolence
to the drudgery of writing musical critiques for
obscure publications, and delivering his opinions as
the stipendiary oracle of a publisher of music, was, a
few years before his death, received into the family of
a M. Anati, who, having held a military commission
under Murat, King of Naples, and left Italy after the
death of his master, obtained the appointment of
professor of foreign languages at the college of
Winchester (which he filled with credit to himself
and advantage to his pupils). Wade was employed
by Anati to instruct his daughter in the science of
thorough bass, counterpoint, &c., and for so doing
received a handsome salary. He left London for
Winchester to enter upon his duties by the railway
train, unincumbered with luggage, and not over
burdened with money, and arrived at his journey's
end shortly before the dinner hour of his employer.
His external appearance was the contrary to a letter
of recommendation ; his clothes were threadbare
and dusty; his linen and his face unwashed, and
bilious.
234
EECOLLECTIONS OF
The good nature of the host looked over these
little aberrations from decorum, and on his informing
him that he had inadvertently left London without
his portmanteau, very kindly supplied him with a
temporary outfit from his own wardrobe, including a
garment indispensable to everybody but a Highlander.
Thus equipped he made his appearance at the dinner
table, and though the ladies thought there was some¬
thing odd in him, his conversation and his manners
soon reconciled them to his company.
It cannot be said that during a twelvemonth that
he remained in his new quarters he was very sedulous
in the performance of the duty for which he was
engaged- He sometimes took short flights from the
house, and was, to use a military phrase, absent
without leave." He, however, imparted valuable
musical knowledge to his pupil, who, by his instruc¬
tions and her own excellent capacity, became a
finished pianiste.
The force of example operates in some things and
sometimes as much upon the old as the young ;
indeed, such example as Wade exhibited was more
likely to be followed by an elderly gentleman who
had passed his life in camps and barracks than by a
younger gentleman unprepared by such a course.
He sat up half the night, almost every night, drinking
THE LAST HALF CENTURY.
235
gin-and-water, and talking of man's weak, hapless
state," and such like topics, and induced the master
of the house to be the associate of his potations and
his musings. Week after week was this practice
continued, so that the alcohol consumed became a
startling item in the expenses of housekeeping.
Time rolled on, and the hour destined for the close
of his professional labours approached ; when one
night, after having absorbed a more than usual
quantity of the "creature," in which operation he
had been accompanied, almost jpari passu^ by his
companion, he fixed his " lack lustre" eyes upon that
individual, and after contemplating him with a stare,
which was at the time mistaken for a symptom of
insanity, said abruptly,
" M. Anati, I have that upon my mind which I
must impart to you alone, though I am fearful by so
doing I shall incur your displeasure."
" Oh dear no ; whatever comes from you, I shall be
delighted to listen to."
I am afraid you will be very angry when you
hear what I wish to say."
" I assure you of the contrary ; I beg you will at
once communicate what ycu allude to."
" Promise me not to be angry."
" I have already told you that I shall not be offended
236
RECOLLECTIONS OF
with anything coming from you ; but before you com¬
mence, replenish your glass, and that will give you
courage to utter what seems to stick fast in your
throat."
Wade forthwith adopted the latter part of the
advice given him, and having gulped down with
ominous celerity the contents of his tumbler, re¬
sumed the colloquy.
M. Anati, you have a daughter."
" I know I have ; what of it ?"
" She is of a marriageable age."
" I know that also."
" I think it is time I was settled."
I really think you have no time to lose."
"I wish to transform Miss Anati into Mrs. Wade."
Are you drunk or sober ?"
" Perfectly sober ; give me your consent to my
marrying your daughter."
Anati, whose family pride revolted at the idea of
such a connexion, and who would as soon have con¬
sented to the marriage of his daughter with the
prince royal of the Cannibal Islands, or any other
such real or ideal celebrity, as with the man before
him, was actually convulsed with indignation at what
he considered the most impudent and insulting pro¬
position he had ever heard. His blood, derived from
THE LAST HALE CENTURY.
237
a long line of Roman ancestry^ boiled in his veins,
the liquor he had drank by no means allaying the
fever of his wrath. His military education pointed
out only one way of resenting such an insult.
Without waiting for further explanation he made his
way to his bookcase, from which he snatched a brace
of pistols.
"Wade,"he exclaimed, "Iconsideryou a scoundrel,
but I will treat you as a gentleman ; take this" (he
forced a pistol into the trembling hand of Wade),
" I shall retain the other ; get into the further corner
of the room, I shall get into the other, and when I
make the signal we will both fire together."
By the time this speech was uttered, whatever he
might have been before. Wade was perfectly sober.
i __
His dormant energies were awakened. The instinct
of self-preservation mastered his indolence, and at
the same time overcame what are termed the calls of
honour. He flew to the door, which, fortunately, his
challenger had neglected to lock, and made a preci¬
pitate retreat from the house, shouting murder as he
fled. His cries attracted the police of the city, and
by them he was, at his own request, escorted to one
of the principal inns, where a bed was immediately
prepared for his accommodation ; and finding himself
in good quarters and perfect security, he began next
238
RECOLLECTIONS OE
morning to talk largely, and in the valorous style of
Ancient Pistol.
M. Anati, who was a man of sense, having cooled
down from fever heat to the temperate point, saw
that the affair was merely ridiculous, and took no
further steps against the fugitive. Wade continued
two or three days at the inn, when, having received
an intimation from the landlord that the scarcest
thing in the house was money, effected a retreat, and
* *
actually walked on foot all the way to London, not
being in a situation to defray the expenses of any
other mode of locomotion !
He was met in New-street, Covent-garden, on
his arrival in town, exhausted by heat, thirst, dust,
and over-exertion. It is not necessary to say that
he accounted for his extraordinary appearance in a
way not very consistent with the facts of the case.
Another functionary of the " Owls" was Mr.
Leman Rede, well known as a popular writer of
farces, mélodrames, &c. He was the author of
" Olympic Revels," " Olympic Devils," the " Rake's
i
Progress," " His First Champagne," " Old and
Young Stagers," the " Flight to America," and many
other things of the same class, which obtained almost
unlimited popularity when first brought out, and
some of which still keep possession of the stage.
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 239
Rede, in many particulars, differed essentially from
Wade. He might be said to be laboriously idle. ^ He
was in a state of perpetual restlessness. In whatever
company he found himself, he was always in a hurry
to go somewhere else. Whatever he was about, he
was eager to relinquish and commence something
new; the consequence was, he began a heap of
things which he never perfected. He had the faculty
of dramatizing the popular incidents of the day with
a rapidity and an excellence equal to any existing
writer. There was something clever in everything
he produced ; all his productions had a stamp upon
them, which made them current. He had consider¬
able talent in dramatic dialogue, and made his cha¬
racters speak as the originals spoke from whom he
drew them. He had also the knack of " taking
measure," as it is called, of the actors, and fitting"
them with parts precisely adapted to their powers of
representation. In addition to these requisites as a
dramatist, he was thoroughly acquainted with stage
business ; and knew when, how, and where to create
stage effect. He was himself but an indifferent
actor, but he knew perfectly well how other people
should act; and his advice was frequently sought
after and adopted by tragedians and comedians with
advantage to themselves. He wrote occasionally in
240
RECOLLECTIONS OF
Magazines, and was the author of several novels
published periodically in the " Sunday Times" news¬
paper. These things were meritorious, but were not
his happiest eiforts; he was more fitted to be a
dramatist than a novelist, and on his dramatic labours
must his reputation rest.
He had received a tolerably good education, and
to a certain extent was acquainted with the writings
of various authors. He was fond of reading, without
being studious ; desultory in all his habits, and
without method in all he did. His perceptions were
keen and clear, his memory retentive, and his judg¬
ment good. As he went through the world, he took
care to observe what was passing around him, and he
contrived, without much trouble, to pick up a vast
deal of miscellaneous and useful information. His
disposition was generous; he felt as much as any man
for his friends and associates, and however narrow
his means might be at the time a call was made upon
them, he hesitated not a moment in making them still
narrower to relieve the immediate wants of distress.
He was the son of a barrister who died on the
Continent, whither he had retired in consequence of
certain political opinions, and a relation of the late
Sir A. Cooper. At an early age he had been sent to
Lisbon, of the inhabitants of which city he enter-
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 241
tained a most unqualified contempt. He was subse¬
quently placed in the office of an eminent solicitor;
this he soon quitted^ trusted to his own exertions^
and was during the after years of his life indebted to
nobody but himself for his support and his position
in the world.
Mr. Rede filled an office in the club called that of
the Translator/*' of the nature of which it will be
necessary to give an explanation.
On the introduction of every member, on the night
subsequent to his election, it was required of him to
address the president and assembled members in a
speech, explaining who and what he was, and showing
in what way he was capable of contributing to the
amusement or edification of the body into which he
was admitted. Now, as it not unusually happened,
that the new member was really " unaccustomed to
public speaking," or indeed to any speaking at all
beyond the common colloquy of everyday life, he
in consequence blundered in his attempt, became
confused, tautologo^us, incoherent, and unintelligible.
The Translator" then stepped in, and taking up the
thread, or what was meant for the thread of the neo¬
phyte's discourse, explained or translated, as he termed
it, the incomprehensible attempt. In doing this, he
of course took such liberties with the gentleman's
VOL. I. R
242
RECOLLECTIONS CE
meaning and diction as he thought proper^ and in
the process of translating" exercised at his own dis¬
cretion such irony and sarcasm as the case required
or afforded. It required no little wit and no little
tact to do this properly. Rede possessed the neces¬
sary qualifications for his office, and rarely failed to
make his auditory enjoy a hearty laugh at the expense
of the astonished victim.
Leman Rede died a few years ago in the prime of
life. He was struck with paralysis when a short way
from his own abode in Southampton-street, and be¬
came inanimate almost immediately on being brought
home. His funeral procession was accompanied by
a vast number of real mourners to Clerkenwell
Church, in the cemetery of which his mortal remains
were deposited in their last resting-place, not without
the deep regrets of many to whom he had been a
sincere friend and a frequent benefactor.
Another man, of a totally different character from
the two last mentioned, was a member of this club ;
this was Pierce Egan, the compiler of " Boxiana,"
the writer of the popular farce of Life in London,"
and of numerous other things of a similar class. The
mention of the farce " Life in London," which was
played for an almost endless number of nights at the
Adelphi Theatre, brings to mind the name of Yates,
THE LAST HALF CENTUEY.
243
the proprietor and manager of that popular theatre ;
and by way of episode, it may be allowed to say a few
words of this gentleman, prefacing those words by
observing, that " Life in London" put upwards of
¿£10,000 into the pockets of the proprietors of the
Adelphi, whilst Pierce Egan never received more
than ¿£100 for his services.
The deserved celebrity of Yates as an actor can
receive no addition from anything that can now be
said of him. He was perhaps the most versatile per¬
former of his day, being, in everything connected with
the stage, capable of supporting any character in the
whole dramatic range with respectability and effect,
and as a manager having more tact and management
than any of his contemporaries.
In his earlier days, without having been a profli¬
gate man, he had certainly been a man fond ot
pleasure, and not unacquainted with the dissipation
of a great city. As he grew older, he probably be¬
came wiser; whether or not he quitted his vices, or
his vices quitted him, it would be uncharitable to
inquire too narrowly ; certain it is, that in some way
or other his hopes or his fears were excited, and on
all occasions when his physical system was threatened,
he encouraged his moral system to assume the ascend¬
ancy. His method of doing this, although not very
R 2
244
BECOLLECTIONS OF
novels had, as connected with him, something quite
as grotesque as serious. After swallowing the nau¬
seous but necessary potions and pills supplied by the
apothecary, he betook himself to bed, and commenced
what is termed in some parts of Ireland making his
sowl," by reading such portions of the " Book of
Common Prayer" as he considered necessary to his
case. His imperfect acquaintance with the contents
of the volume gave rise to occasional incongruities in
his application of the text; but on the whole he re¬
ceived benefit from what he met with, and it is to be
hoped became a better man. Still, the cares of the
wmrld, or of a theatre, in which the cares of the world
may be said to be epitomized to the distraction of moral
and religious feeling, would sometimes sorely tax his
incipient reformation, and in the struggle between old
habits and new feelings, his language would partake
much more of the licence of the stage than the disci¬
pline of the Prayer Book. He too has gone to his
last home ; his death has left a blank in the friend¬
ships of private life and the amusements of the public
which it would be difficult to fill up.
To return to Pierce Egan.
Pierce Egan was of a respectable family; had
received a better education than many of his asso¬
ciates supposed ; and during his pilgrimage through
THE LAST HALF CENTURY.
245
life had crammed into the wallet of his attainments,
without much nicety of selection, everything which
he judged expedient for his journey. He had been
a compositor, a bookseller, a sporting writer, and
contributor of sporting news to the newspapers, &c.
In the last-mentioned capacity he was employed by
the proprietor of the "Weekly Dispatch" to record
the "doings of the ring," in which emplo37ment his
peculiar phraseology, and his superior knowledge of
his business, soon rendered him eminent beyond all
rivalry and competition. He was flattered and petted
by pugilists and peers : his patronage and countenance
were sought for by all who considered the road to
a prize fight the road to reputation and honour.
Forty years ago, his presence was understood to
confer respectability on any meeting convened for
the furtherance of bulhbaiting, cock-fighting, cud¬
gelling, wrestling, boxing, and all that comes within
the category " manly sports." If he " took the chair,"
success was hailed as certain in the object in question.
On the occasions of his presence, he was accompanied
by a " tail," if not as numerous perhaps as respectable
as that by which another great man was attended,
and certainly, in its way, quite as influential. In the
event of opposition to his views and opinions, his
satellites had a mode of enforcing his authority, which
246
EECOLLECTIONS OF
had the efficacy without the tediousness of discussion;
and though, in personal strength, far from a match
for any sturdy opponent, he had a courage and a
vivacity in action which were very highly estimated
both by his friends and foes.
As the literature of Combe Wood and Moulsey
Hurst began to decline, he had the sense to cultivate
the literature of the theatre, and his tact in the deli¬
neation of a certain side of life was exemplified in
the farces of which he was the writer. He had on
several occasions visited Oxford and Cambridge, and
had obtained the " honours of the sitting" prolonged
throughout the night in many of the colleges of those
venerable institutions. " Professors and heads" were
in his day more chary than now in conferring hono¬
rary degrees : had he accompanied a noble earl on
his recent visit to one of the Universities, his claim
to the degree of LL.D. would have been quite as
unequivocal as the claims of certain gentlemen to the
honours of Oxford, and his name might even have
adorned a new edition of Athencß Oxonienses,
Mr. Egan had assisted at a banquet in Newgate,
in the days when the Rev. Mr. Cotton had the pas¬
toral charge of the black sheep of that celebrated
fold. Since that time the regulations of the prison
preclude the presence of strangers on occasions of
THE LAST HALF CENTURY.
247
solemnity, and things are understood to be better
ordered than formerly. He had also assisted at the
Nodes Amhrosianœ at Edinburgh, to which he had
been invited by a hoaxing letter from Professor
Wilson, or some gentleman of equal eminence, and
at which, to the dismay of the professor and his
learned associates, he actually made his appearance !
The company certainly learnt something from his
attendance which the presence of other people had
failed to impart.
His dramatic attainments introduced him to the
acquaintance of Mr. Calcraft (not the present re¬
spectable finisher of the law, but) the respectable
lessee of one of the theatres in Dublin, in which
establishment, for a short time, he filled the place of
treasurer, or some such office. During his engage¬
ment the popular piece of Monsieur Jacques was being
performed in London, in which a popular actor
achieved so great success as placed him in a very
high position in his profession. About the same
time another gentleman acquired in his profession
an eminence unattainable by imitators in another
line. The last-mentioned gentleman took his niche
in the temple of fame as Jacko," his personation of
a monkey being so true to nature that many persons
thought nature had made a mistake in conferring
248
BECOLLECTIONS OF
any instincts or attributes upon him beyond those
enjoyed by the tribe Simia." Mr. Calcraft being
anxious to enlighten, instruct, and amuse his audi¬
ences, secured the services of him who represented
Monsieur Jacques, and also of him who represented
" Jacko." Their names were announced in the bills
in the usual manner, and the house was crowded with
visitors.
Whether or not the majority, more especially in
the gallery, had read the announcement, or whether
or not whisky, the nectar of the Milesian " gods,"
had washed away the knowledge which the play-bills
contained from their memories, is uncertain; certain
it is that when ^'"Monsieur Jacques" appeared, "a
universal shout" from Ol3unpus demanded " Jacko,"
and as in Dublin such demonstrations are significant
of something more vigorous " to follow," the affair
was becoming alarming. Unfortunately "Jacko"
had not arrived at the theatre; a crisis seemed
inevitable, when the presence of mind of Mr. Egan
came to the rescue. He rushed upon the stage, took
" Monsieur Jacques" by the hand, and advancing to
the foot-lights, demanded a hearing. For a moment
the clamour subsided ; he took advantage of it, and
addressed the clamourers. " Ladies and gentlemen,
the manager is aware that you have paid your money.
THE LAST HALF CENTUEY. 249
and honoured the house with your attendance to
witness the extraordinary performance of the man
monkey, ^Jacko;' that gentleman is unavoidably
absent from the theatre this evening, but he will be
here to-morrow. In the meantime here is a gentle¬
man about to appear as ^ Monsieur Jacques.' The
mistake in the names might be readily made.
* Jacques' and ^ Jacko' are two different individuals,
both eminent in their respective lines. We cannot
produce the monkey to-night. Ladies and gentle¬
men, allow me to introduce for your approval the best
substitute we can find in his absence."
Whether the eloquence of the speaker or the pre¬
possessing appearance of the substitute operated to
allay the indignation of the audience is immaterial.
There were no dissentients; "Monsieur Jacques"
reconciled everybody, and when the man monkey
did actually make his dehuty he did at most but share
the public patronage, which at one time it was feared
he would have obtained exclusively for himself.
To return from Dublin to London, to which last-
named city Mr. Egan himself returned shortly after
his address to the audience at Calcraft's.
Mr. Egan was a constant attendant at masquerades,
and frequently appeared in characters adapted for the
display of his peculiar mental and physical powers.
250
EECOLLECTIONS OF
As he advanced in years, he declined in the energies
required for sustaining an assumed character, and
latterly made his appearance as himself. It one
evening happened that he had partaken too freely
of the good things provided at the supper-table at
one of these entertainments. A temporary state of
collapse ensued, and in that condition he was con¬
signed to a cab-driver, into whose vehicle he was with
some difficulty lifted by his associates. Eighteen
pence were placed in his waistcoat pocket, and
his address given to his consignee, with a particular
injunction to be careful in the delivery of his load, as
he was no less a personage than a foreign nobleman
recently arrived in London. The cabman, true to
his duty, trundled him to a street near Soho-square,
and discovered the house set forth in the document.
On one of the door-posts of this edifice there was a
row of bell-handles, some eight or ten in number,
communicating with the dormitories of some eight or
ten tenants of the premises. The cabman, without
loss of time, set all the bell-wires in motion, and
without much delay the heads of eight or ten people
appeared at the windows above, inquiring the cause
of such interruption of their rest at four o'clock in the
morning ?
" I have a foreign nobleman in the cab," replied
THE LAST HALF CEHTUEY. 251
the perpetrator of the disturbance, " and I am to set
him down here."
No nobleman, foreign or domestic, lodges here,"
answered the best-informed occupant : " and the
sooner you move off, the better."
The cabman was not so easily satisfied as to the
fact.
I'm positive he's a foreign nobleman," he
reiterated. ^'I've brought him from the masquerade,
and he's got money in his pocket."
The last clause in the sentence produced an im¬
mediate sensation; the heads withdrew from the
windows, and the rapid descent of feet was heard on
the staircase. At the same moment, a policeman
made his appearance, whose presence was probably
less welcome than useful. The door was opened, and
a perfect colony surrounded the cab.
Mr. Egan, still insensible to everything around him,
was extricated from his recumbent position at the
bottom of the vehicle, rolled up after the manner of
a hedgehog at the approach of winter, owned by the
aifectionate partner of his sorrows and his joys, con-
I
veyed upstairs with some difficulty, put to bed, and
tended with conjugal solicitude. He arose next
morning like a " giant refreshed with wine," and
made his appearance at his usual haunts unscathed
252
EECOLLECTIONS OF
by the effects of his nocturnal indulgence, and ready
to commence de novo.
He was accustomed to relate this story with great
good humour.
Two gentlemen in immediate connexion with two
morning journals, in which the rivalry in the diffusion
of fashionable news has been of infinite service to all
who delight in such information, were members of
this society.
A great statesman is recorded to have expressed
his surprise at the small quantity of wisdom it took to
govern the world ! Many people, not initiated in the
mysteries of literature, will be equally surprised to
learn how a still smaller quantity of intelligence is
required to instruct mankind !
The name of one of these gentlemen was Raymond
Perceval ; the name of the other it will be better to
suppress; the mention of it might be injurious to
him, and the anecdote connected with him will be
quite as good if told without it.
Raymond Perceval had reached the mature age of
thirty without attaining any knowledge at all, except
a knowledge of music and the Italian language. At
this period he was thrown into the company of men
who had made some progress in literature and the
arts. He found it necessary to make some progress
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 253
in those things also, and for that purpose he was
indefatigable in his efforts. The labour of reading
books he eschewed, and being of a convivial turn,
thought that by entering into a society over w^hich
the bird of wisdom was supposed to extend its pro¬
tection, and in which good cheer abounded, he might
pick up from oral tradition a sufficient stock-in-trade
to make him pass muster as a man of research and
attainment, and at the same time to indulge his pro¬
pensity for the creature comforts of existence. His
zeal in the acquisition of knowledge w^as greatly in
advance of his judgment in acquiring it. He listened
to everybody, agreed with everything that was most
startling and extraordinary, appeared a convert to
every system, and to be influenced by every opinion ;
but whether from deficiency of apprehension, or con¬
fusion of memory, became invariably the disciple of
him whom he consulted last.
Being in a very short time indoctrinated with non¬
sense, he set up as an indoctrinator of other people,
and had the felicity to meet with greater fools than
himself; a felicity which accounts for the success
of a host of people in all departments of life, and
which, it may be consolatory to many persons to be
told, is not so difficult a task to be accomplished as
they may suspect. He became a critic, an editor of
254
KECOLLECTIONS OF
a philosophical and literary serial, the " Polytechnic
Magazine," an employe of the Polytechnic Institution,
with which, be it observed, the magazine' had no
connexion whatever, and proprietor and editor of a
weekly newspaper. His avocations were sufficiently
numerous ; his incessant industry was equal to them
all ; he was in perpetual motion. His thirst for know¬
ledge, of whatever kind, useful or useless, was never
satished ; as he acquired one thing he lost another, so
that the aggregate amount of his acquirements, what¬
ever pains he took, experienced many changes, but
no increase. He knew as much at the end of the
month as he did at the beginning of it, and no more.
His zeal for imparting his treasures was commen¬
surate with his zeal in obtaining them. He had no
notion of the lucidus ordo in the arrangement of ideas,
nor was his phraseology distinct. He is the gentle¬
man of whom the story is told, that being on a visit
in the country, he engaged in a controversy with the
honest farmer his host, upon the nature of manures.
I shall in my next visit to you," said he, " bring
down in one of my pockets a concentrated prepara¬
tion of ammonia and other things, which chemical
science has discovered, which will enable you to
manure an acre of land without further toil, trouble,
or expense." If that be the fact," replied the un-
THE LAST HALE CENTURY. 255
sophisticated person he addressed, " I will under¬
take that you shall carry back the crop in the other
pocket."
Mr. Perceval had discernment enough to know the
farmer had made a hit at his expense, but he, never¬
theless, maintained his own opinion on the subject.
It was on the same visit in the countrv that he held
c/
forth very learnedly on the principles of galvanism,
addressing his observations to an old lady who
appeared particularly interested in his communica¬
tions. The cause of her interest was at length
discovered to be a misapprehension of the subject.
The old lady, who was somewhat deaf, was a zealous
supporter of the doctrines of Calvin, transmitted to
her and her neighbours by the incumbent of a con¬
venticle in the vicinity ; she had mistaken galvanism
for Calvinism, and referred the zeal of Mr. Perceval
and his lecture to a religious, and not to a secular
motive.
It is a sad thing, but unfortunately a true one, that
philosophers in search of the causes of physical pheno¬
mena are occasionally exposed to disasters from which
contented ignorance escapes. If those be fortunate
" Qui possunt rerum cognoscere causas, "
their good fortune is not always obtained without
risk and ridicule. Mr. Perceval was an instance of
256
RECOLLECTIONS OF
this. Being at Antwerp^ at the celebration of some
civic festival, in which the procession of the trades and
guilds is accompanied by the enormous effigies of a
giant and giantess, and inter alia a whale, larger in
dimensions than the largest inhabitant of the ocean,
surmounted by a Cupid, who directs from the antennae
of the monster a double jet of water supplied from
an abdominal cistern, his energy of research impelled
him to force his way through the crowd, which almost
blocked up the streets, and ascertain from close
inspection the means by which the wonder was
produced. The counterfeit Cupid, mischievous as
the mythological original, perceiving his approach,
levelled the tubes at his head, and poured upon
him a stream of water that would have elicited the
applause of Mr. Braidwood himself at a conflagra¬
tion in London.
The force of the streams, and his loss of equilibrium
in the act of flight, brought him to the ground ; his
fall excited no commiseration in his tormentor, who
continued to play upon him. Deluged, half-drowned,
and almost insensible, he was rescued from his
perilous situation by some good-natured Flemish
frows, who, having brought him into the kitchen of
the hotel at which he lodged, divested him of his
saturated clothes with more speed than delicacy, and
THE LAST HALE CENTUEY. 257
wrapped him up in blankets and flannels. A potent
draught of schnapps" was forthwith administered
by the landlord, and he was placed in his bed.
Fortunately, he received no further injury from his
love of inquiry and ardour in the pursuit of it than
the ducking and the ridicule of his acquaintance.
VOL. I
s
258
RECOLLECTIONS OE
CHAPTER X.
A Newspaper Sman and Foreign Correspondent — Expedient to
raise the Wind—A Sham Corpse—Two Sons of Mars—A Real
Coipse—Deaf Burke—See how a Christian can die—Kenneth,
the Theatrical Agent—Ingenious mode of Piracy of Dramatic
Pieces—Edmund Kean : a Tablet to his Memory in Richmond
Churchyard—The Shakespeare's Head in Wych Street—Mr.
Mark Lemon : the Company at his Tavern, &c.
The other gentlèiiian connected with newspaper
literature, and from whose lucubrations the public
were supposed to derive instruction and delight, was
attached to one of the first morning journals of the
country. He was at one time the foreign corre¬
spondent to that journal from Belgium and France,
and subsequently he became a miscellaneous agent
of literature, employed in contributions of all sorts.
His knowledge of the world was extensive, derived
from actual contact with its inhabitants; and he was
also a studious man, after his own method. His
manners were good, and his appearance prepos¬
sessing. There was no meanness in his mode of
spending his money, and what he borrowed, he
THE LAST HALE CENTURY.
259
repaid. He was what the French call un bon cama¬
rade^ in the best sense of the term ; taking his share
in general conversation with the confidence of a man
who talked only abo at things he understood^ being
true to minuteness in his relation of anecdotes of past
and present people.
These qualities failed to secure their owner the
independence he deserved^ or perhaps they were
neutralized by qualities which are the bane, not only
of genius, but of those in whom no genius exists.
He was too fond of company, and not fond enough
of labour. With him, procrastination was not only
the thief of time, but it stole everything else. Like
many persons of the profession to which he belonged,
he was content to enjoy the present hour without
making preparation for that which was to follow.
The result was such as in such cases it usually is.
He lost his situation, and with it the position he had
held in society. His associates discovered that he
was "rightly served," and marvelled that he had not
lost it long before ! He gradually retired from the
company with which he had long mingled, and as
time rolled on, waS forgotten. He passed through
many changes of fortune, each change being for the
worse. It was no longer a choice what he was to do,
he was compelled to do what he could to obtain the
s2
260
EECOLLECTIONS OE
means of living, and consequently had resort to some
expedients, in which the ludicrous for the moment
obliterates ^le miserable. Unfortunately the ludicrous
in these cases is only enjoyed by the spectator. The
party who is the subject of it feels more bitterly the
wretchedness of his situation from the fact of the
ridicule it excites.
"Nil habet infelix paupertas durius in se,
Quam quod, ridiculos, homines facit."
Be this as it may, Mr. was reduced to a
crisis, w^hich it appeared difficult to render more
desperate, and from which there appeared no mode
of extrication. He lodged in the highest tier of a
lofty house ; one of a numerous tenantry ; all willing,
but none able, to afford him relief. An incident
occurred of which he took immediate advantage, and
by which he was rescued from his difficulties.
The house adjoining the one in which he lived
took fire ; the conflagration was terrific : the flames
rose so high, and shone so brightly, that to use the
words of the gentleman who reported the event in
the newspapers, " the smallest print could be read by
the oldest eyes in any part of the neighbourhood."
Fortunately the inmates of the blazing pile escaped.
This want of a fatal catastrophe suited not the gen¬
tleman just mentioned. In his report of the calamity.
THE LAST HALF CENTURY.
261
he embellished his narrative^ by describing the hor¬
rible appearance of a tall thin man at a garret window
in vain imploring the assistance of the^ spectators,
and at last falling backwards, suffocated by the clouds
of smoke.
Now it so happened that Mr. had an aunt ;
this lady had a decent income, the decency of which
she was not in the practice of diminishing, by afford¬
ing any pecuniary aid to her nephew. She read the
dreadful fact recorded in the newspapers next morn¬
ing; she knew her nephew lodged in the street men¬
tioned therein, and, as she believed, in the very house
specified. The description "tall and thin" suited
him exactly : he had always been tall, and latterly
remarkably thin in his person. It must be he.
Without further inquiry or hesitation she set out for
the scene of the fire.
On such occasions there is less chance of obtaining
facts on the spot than at a distance. Firemen and
policemen are the most incommunicative people ima
ginable : what they do communicate is not given in
the most elegant language, and little fitted to the
sympathies of an affiicted female. The mob knew^
nothing beyond what the historian of the event had
transmitted ; and the aunt, after being jostled through
several puddles of mud and water, took refuge in the
262
RECOLLECTIONS OF
adjoining house to that which was burnt down, and
from which, her living nephew, and a female who
administered to his necessities, had observed her pro¬
gress with astonishment. They also had read the
account of the fire in the papers ; they were aware
no man had perished, but the idea simultaneously
struck them, that the incorrectness of the report
might be turned to their advantage. The nephew
stretched himself upon the bed, in what the poet calls
"The pious posture of a dying maid."
The sheet was hastily thrown over him ; the female
hurried down stairs and intercepted the aunt in the
doorway.
Is he dead ?" exclaimed the one.
" He is," said the other. " Come up stairs, for
Heaven's sake."
So saying, the one seized the arm of the other, and
helping her ascend, brought her into the "chamber of
horrors."
" There he lies," said she, " poor creature, his suf¬
ferings in this world are over."
Here both parties took part in the duet usual on
these occasions, "Oh! oh I O Lord I" &c. &c. The
aunt sunk into what had once been a chair, the
female supporting her and it at the same time, and
asking " would she like to see the corpse ?" This
THE LAST HALF CENTURY
263
was declined ; part of the sheet only was removed,
and the face of the defunct for a moment exposed.
He must be buried in a proper manner," said
the aunt, after some remarks on profligacy and its
usual punishment. It is the last expence I can be
*
put to."
"We must forget and forgive," observed the
female.
"The scene has overcome mv nerves," said the
•/ ^
aunt. " Cannot I get something to prevent me from
fainting ?"
The hint was taken. They descended the stairs
and adjourned to a neighbouring " wine vaults,"
in which the details of the funeral were arranged,
and money advanced to defray the expences, &c.
The aunt, who considered she had done her duty,
retired; the female returned to Mr. , who had
in the meantime risen from his death-bed, and was
awaiting her arrival in a state of almost painful
excitement. The stratagem succeeded beyond their
expectation. The pride of the old lady had done
more for a dead nephew than her charity would have
done for a live one, and w^hat was intended to see the
man put decently under ground, was the means of
prolonging his existence on its surface.
Two military gentlemen honoured the Society by
264
RECOLLECTIONS OF
becoming members of it, and from the eccentricity of
their behaviour, and the originality of their charac¬
ters, aiforded a considerable share, if not of mirth and
amusement, at least of variety, in the course of their
attendance.
The respective names and titles of these two gal¬
lants were Captain Empson and Captain Morris.
The first of the pair was a retired half-pay officer
of the line. He had seen a good deal of service,
having been present at most of the affairs in the
Peninsular war, and received considerable damage
from bullets and sabre-cuts. One of these had in¬
jured his skull in such a way that he had been obliged
to undergo the process of trepanning, having a metal
plate introduced between the integuments and the
bones of his head. His appearance was not improved
by the introduction of the plate. Two bumps were
very obvious immediately behind his ears, which were
mistaken by a celebrated phrenologist for demon¬
strative developments of the destructive principle,
and which, until the cause was explained, occasioned
some disinclination to his admission to the club.
This being removed, he took his seat in the room,
and became a very frequent attendant at the nocturnal
orgies.
His thirst for such things as a tavern affords was
THE LAST HALF CENTUKY. 265
excessive, and it not unfrequently occurred, that as
he warmed with controversy and liquor, he became
rather too fervid in his expressions, and in the gesti¬
culations with which they were accompanied. It was
at length intimated to him, that unless he could re¬
strain the vehemence of his demonstrations, his room
would be considered more valuable than his company.
In consequence of this intimation, he absented him¬
self from the " nest" for several weeks, and it was
generally hoped his absence might be permanent.
The wishes of the members were, however, disap¬
pointed. One evening, at a rather late hour, he
turned up," to use an expression of his own, when
he was least expected. On his entrance into the
room it was apparent he had been carousing some¬
where else, and the unusual jocularity he exhibited
gave evidence that he was in a better temper than
was .commonly the result of his cups. Without wait-
*
ing for the greetings usual on the entrance of a guest,
he began, with a chuckle of self-congratulation, to
give an explanation of his appearance.
Gentlemen," said he, " you are, I believe, aware
that I live at Mrs. , in street, and that in
the same house lived a rascally old Frenchman, who
was my annoyance day and night, from his inveterate
love of music, and the confounded noise he made by
266
RECOLLECTIONS OF
practising on the French horn ; he and I were con¬
tinually at variance, and it was only yesterday I
threatened to ^ pitch into him.' I have long wished
him at the devil, and by this time he's got there, for
he died suddenly this morning. Ha ! ha ! ha ! I've
been drinking to his üamnaiion, and I hope you'll all
join me in the toast."
This proposition was declined by the company.
"Well, then, here goes alone."
So saying, the gallant Captain emptied at one
draught a large glass of brandy and water, which he
had ordered the waiter to " brew pretty stiff," and
proceeded with his story, which disclosed no further
facts, and produced in his auditors very little sym¬
pathy in his exultation. Finding that nobody laughed
at what he called his wit, he took refuge from indif¬
ference in repeated applications to the liquor in which
he delighted, and in the course of a very short time he
became most uproariously drunk, and muttering some¬
thing which his hiccups rendered inarticulate, though
not unintelligible, he reeled out of the room to the great
happiness of all who remained in it. The happiness,
like most earthly happiness, w^as destined to be of
short continuance. Within half-an-hour from the
time of his departure, the steps of some one ascending
the stairs with ominous rapidity were heard, the door
THE LAST HALE CENTUHY.
267
of the apartment was thrown open with a violence
that threatened to destroy both lock and hinges, and
in rushed a figure enveloped in a dressing-gown, and
having no other garment to protect it from the dews
of night than a shirt of very restricted proportions !
It was the Captain, but quantum mutatus ab illo. It
cannot be said that his hair stood on end, because
there was no hair so to stand. His ears, however,
stood out like the wings of a " shay "-cart, and his
bumps" were thoroughly defined. His face was
pale as a bladder of hog's lard, and what was the
most singular feature of the case, he was perfectly
sober !
He plunged at once in medias res.
" I went from this room, as you know, half-an-hour
ago. I went straight home, and found my way in the
dark to my bed-room, for I unluckily extinguished
my candle by falling up stairs, as I supposed. I un¬
dressed without delay, and got into bed directly. In
stretching out my limbs I found I had a companion.
I clasped something in my arms—it was a corpse. I
sprang out of the bed, the landlady brought a light ;
I found I had mistaken the room of the dead French¬
man for my own, and got into his bed. The under¬
takers had laid him out. I was horror-struck. I
fled without delay from the detested place, and re-
268
EECOLLECTIONS OF
turned here to forget, if possible, the contact of the
wretch."
Having said this, he was supplied with such conso¬
lation as the house afforded, and his excitement
having by degrees subsided in the course of an hour,
some of the members of the club, at his own request,
saw him safe home in a cab, and took care that he
made no mistake a second time in finding his way to
his room.
This adventure, co-operating with the injuries he
had received in his head, and with his habits of
living, seemed to have affected bis brain. He gave
certain indications of aberration of reason, and on
some provocation, or what he considered provocation,
drew forth a knife, and stabbed a man in the street ;
he was taken to the police-office in Bow-street, and
examined before the magistrate. The assault was
proved, but a prosecution was abandoned ; and
shortly after, death put an end to his capability of
good or evil.
Captain Morris was a person of not dissimilar
habits from his brother officer in many ways ; but his
physical powers of endurance were infinitely greater.
He was accustomed to say, that with regard to wine,
brandy, gin, beer, &c., he was ignorant of his own
strength ; though it must be admitted he took no
THE LAST HALE CENTURY. 269
common pains to test it. He was thin and wiry ;
a little iron man.
"Alike to him were time and tide ;
December's cold, or July's pride."
He made it a point of principle never to wear a
great coat or gloves. Summer or winter, he was
buttoned up in what is called a "swallow-tailed"
coat, which fitted so tightly round his throat that it
was impossible to judge from appearance whether he
adopted the use of a shirt. A black stock held his
head erect. His face had been dyed a permanent
red (the nose taking the brighter tints of the colour)
by continual exposure to the weather, and internal
applications of fluid. His hands and fingers, on a
frosty day, might have been mistaken for beef
sausages. He had run through a good fortune, was
in single blessedness, had seen a good deal, and had
a numerous acquaintance.
This strange specimen of the sons of Mars had
certain qualities which redeemed him from mere
animal nature. He was naturally a kind man; would
take what many would have thought a great deal of
trouble to do a kind act to an acquaintance in
distress; was rarely idle, and his services were at
the disposal of all who required them.
As he went down in the world, he formed acquaint-
270
BECOLLECTIONS OF
anees from which it would have been better had he
abstained. He became the associate of broken
gamblers and prize-fighters; the oracle of a tap¬
room^ and the referee of its frequenters. In this
capacity he contracted a sort of friendship with
Deaf Burke," the pet pugilist, in his halcyon days,
of a certain npble Marquis of eccentric habits. The
Marquis was a fair-weather friend of the pugilist,
the Captain was a friend when a friend was most
wanted.
At an early hour one morning, some few years
ago, a gentleman, whose avocations called him from
home, in crossing Waterloo Bridge met Captain
Morris, bustling in his accustomed manner, and
evidently propelled by something of more than usual
importance.
" Good morning," said the gentleman. " Anything
new ?"
" Yes, sir, we have lost the ^ Deaf un.' "
" Who ?"
" The ^ Deaf un,' Mr. Burke."
« What Burke ?"
" Deaf Burke, the pugilist. He began life as
^ Jack in the water' in this very river; he rose by his
own merits to be Champion of England ! He died
last night, sir; I was with him to the last."
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 271
/
" I hope his death became the respectability of his
life ?"
" Sir, he died like a Christian, reconciled to his
fate, and sensible to the last."
" I'm very glad to hear it."
Sir, I say sensible to the last ; I'll tell you all
about it. Mr. Burke was in very reduced circum¬
stances, his health and his constitution were ruined.
Mrs. Burke had scraped together a shilling or two
and purchased a bottle of brandy, 'B.B,,' Bloody
British, to comfort him in his dying struggles (she
was aware he must be a ^ croaker'). I mentioned the
fact to Mr, Okey, Hero of Waterloo, Waterloo-road.
Mr. Okey was amazed, and felt hurt. ^ What ? Deaf
Burke die with B.B. (Bloody British) in his belly !
never, whilst I have a bottle of ^ Pale.' Here,
Captain,' he exclaimed, in an indignant tone, ^ take
this bottle of ^Pale' to the Deaf un; if anything
can cure him, this is the stuff to do it; if not, let
him drink what he likes of it and die game as he
lived.' I hastened to Mr. Burke's with the ^Pale;'
Mrs. Burke immediately filled him a bumper; he
drank it, and for a moment we were in hopes of his
recovery. ^ Will you have another ?' said his
affectionate wife. He nodded his head; she caught
up, in her hurry, the wrong bottle, and filled the glass
272
RECOLLECTIONS OE
from it ; it was lifted to the mouth of the ^ Deaf un
dying as he was ; he still preserved his faculties ; he
spat the B.B. (Bloody British) from his lips, uttered
the words ^ Okey, Okey, O !' fell back, and expired
calm as a Christian,"
Whether or not the Captain attended as chief
mourner at the funeral of " departed worth" has not
transpired; he survived his friend some few years,
and breathed his last as a patient in one of the wards
of the Westminster Hospital.
" Sic transit gloria," and sic transeunt ingloria, " mundi."
There were many members of the club who were
connected with the theatres. Amongst these was
Mr. Kenneth, who for some years carried on the very
profitable profession or business of a theatrical agent,
at the corner of Bow-street and Great Russell-street,
Covent-garden. He was known to every theatrical
manager and every actor and actress in England, and
was possessed of a donkey-load of letters written by
actors and actresses in search of engagements. These
he considered invaluable, and had the address to
persuade a bookseller in Regent-street to be of his
opinion, and to advance him a sum of money upon
them. If ex uno discite omnes^ or if e multis discite
omnesy could be depended upon in their case, it may
be said with truth, such a mass of ignorance, vanity.
THE LAST HALF CENTUKY. 273
meanness, and pride, was rarely collected together.
Mr. Kenneth knew his customers well ; he took ad¬
vantage of their weaknesses, and plumed himself
with the feathers plucked from his clients. He had
another means of enriching himself at the expense of
the labours of others, which is now very properly for¬
bidden by law.
Before the passing of a comparatively recent Act
of Parliament, brought into the House of Commons
by Mr. Justice Talfourd, it was in the power of any
person to pirate the words of a play or farce if acted,
make use of them for his own advantage, and set the
author at defiance. The works of dramatic writers
were not protected by copyright. Kenneth was aware
of this, and made his profit accordingly.
On the first night of the performance of any new
drama or farce, he had a short-hand writer placed in
a convenient part of the theatre for hearing. This
short-hand scribe took down, by the rapid mechanism
of his calling, the words uttered by the actors, and
the libretti of the songs. Kenneth himself did the
description of the mise en sc'ène^ as it is termed, and
thus their joint labours stole all that the author had
written and the manager paid for.
If the piece were successful, they hurried off to
the corner of Bow-street with their plunder; there,
VOL. I. T
274
RECOLLECTIONS OF
four or five confederate stipendiary agents of the
great principal took copies, not in short-hand, but in
common written language, from the notes of the
stenographer. These were, in fact, almost perfect
transcripts of the actual drama ; they were without
delay transmitted to the managers of provincial
theatres, who \^'ere anxious to be as early as possible
in the field, with the attractive announcement, that
at their theatres were to be seen the things which drew
crowded houses in London.
This piece of ingenious trickery the Copyright Act
securing the claims of dramatic writers has put down,
and shortly after its enactment Mr. Kenneth himself
began to go down ; he had never been a very eco¬
nomical individual, and his reduced income suited
neither his habits nor his desires. His business at
the corner' dwindled by degrees to nothing at all.
He sold the skeleton of it to a gentleman, who tried
the impossible experiment of resuscitating what had
no spark of vitality left. Mr. Kenneth discovered
that his companjT- was no longer required at the places
in which he had once been an honoured guest. The
situation of check-taker" at Cremorne Gardens was
procured for him ; from thence he graduated to keeper
of the " free list" at Vauxhall, from which he was at
last dismissed for incapacity. A subscription, amount-
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 275
ing to fifty pounds, was raised for him through the
indefatigable industry of Mr. Tilbury, the comedian,
who was himself a very liberal subscriber. All was
of no avail ; he sunk from one state of depression to
another, and died not very long ago a pauper in the
workhouse.
It was during thefacili descensus of his career, that
he met a gentleman who had on several occasions
afforded him such pecuniary relief as his very limited
means would perrnit. He did so on this occasion,
and after some trifling inquiries as to how " he was
getting on," &c., he was about leaving him. This
tyas no easy task. Kenneth kept pace with him
wherever he went, and was at his side continuously :
he had a habit, by no means peculiar, of securing
his victim whenever he came to a pause, by taking
hold of the lapel of his coat. He practised this
habit with great success every time he and his com¬
panion came to a stand-still, observing at the con¬
clusion of every piece of nonsense he imparted, " I
know you think me a fool." " Oh, dear no !" replied
the gentleman, and then began to walk on with in¬
creased speed. It was of no use ; Kenneth was at
his side or at his heels, and a repetition of I know
you think me a fool" took place at every pause. The
promenade had extended from Covent-garden to the
T 2
276
RECOLLECTIONS OF
Elephant and Castle, where the victim began to lose
patience, and resolved to pat an end to the conference.
" I know you think me a fool," repeated Kenneth,
for the twentieth time. " Sir," said the gentleman,
incensed at his pertinacious absurdity, " you have
made that observation over and over again, and I
have over and over again replied that I did not think
you one ; you have acted with rudeness and imper¬
tinence, and I have been telling lies. I think you
a very great fool, and I think myself a still greater
fool for having for nearly an hour put up with your
impertinence." So saying, the speaker with a jerk ex¬
tricated the lapel of his coat from the fingers of his
tormentor, and ran off as fast as he could, leaving
him in amazement at his retreat.
Whilst the " Owls" were in full feather, the death
of the celebrated Edmund Kean was one evening
announced to the meeting. It is superfluous to say
that the announcement was received with deep
regret. Many persons had been on terms of intimacy
with that extraordinary actor, and were well ac¬
quainted with the natural nobleness of his disposition.
The public appreciated justly the great histrionic
talent he possessed, but they were not aware of the
benevolence of his nature and the many acts of
kindness he had performed, without ostentation or
THE LAST HALE CENTURY.
277
the desire of applause. No man was a greater actor
on the stage than Edmund Kean, no man was less
jj-
of one when off the boards. He performed more
acts of unostentatious benevolence than would, if
blazoned to the world, suffice to form the reputa¬
tions of half the noisy philanthropists of the London
Tavern.
It is not intended to defend his conduct from
censure as respects certain passages in his life ; nor
is it meant to extenuate what is positively bad ; the
censure or praise which can be now awarded is of
little importance. He has gone to trial where justice
is tempered with mercy, and let no man dare to pro¬
nounce that judgment upon him which is essentially
the attribute of omniscience.
This distinguished tragedian was buried in Rich¬
mond Churchyard, and for some time it was to be
regretted that no memoiial, no " storied urn" recorded
his talents or his name. His son, Mr. Charles Kean,
has, subsequently to the occurrence of the circum¬
stance about to be related, with filial devotion,
much to his honour, caused a tablet to be placed
on the wall of the church, on which an appropriate
description, simple m its announcement, the place
of ode or elegy supplies."
Such was the admiration of the Owls" for the
278,
KECOLLECTIONS OF
deceased, that a subscription was opened, and sufficient
funds speedily obtained to place an inscription on the
spot, or as near as convenient to it, beneath which he
was interred. A committee was appointed to make
the necessary arrangements, and the members of the
club were invited to send in inscriptions for the pro¬
jected tablet. The inscriptions were not to be original
productions, but were to consist of passages from the
plays of Shakespeare. A great many such passages
were submitted to this committee, and after some
discussion, one was chosen consisting of a portion of
the lines in which the mother of Hotspur, when
grieving for the loss of her son, describes his virtues.
Whilst this discussion was going on, a stonemason
and a letter-cutter were examined as to the expenses
about to be incurred, and the accepted inscription
placed before them. These two people commenced
by counting the words and measuring the proposed
length of the letters ; and after conferring together
for some time, reported, in a perfect business-like
manner, that so many letters of such and such a size
would cost so many pounds, shillings, and pence ;
and gave an estimate that exceeded the amount of
funds in hand. It was then proposed that some
alteration should be made in the inscription, and
certain curtailments effected. This the committee
THE LAST HALF CENTURY.
279
set about doing, and having arrived at the conclusion
that they had performed their task in a masterly
manner, a deputation went down to Richmond to
obtain the consent of the incumbent of the parish to
their design. The venerable gentleman having read
the inscription, called in the assistance of the parish
clerk to the interpretation of the words. Now it
happened, very fortunately, that both these persons
were better read in the writings of the Bard of Avon
than any of the gentlemen who had prepared the
inscription ! The incumbent detected false grammar,
and the clerk detected interpolation and mutilation.
The inscription was pronounced to be an insult to
Shakespeare, and unworthy of Kean, and leave for
its being placed on the church wall very rightly
refused. The deputies accordingly returned to town,
were laughed at by their acquaintance, and no more
was heard of the matter.
In justice to those members of the club who were
members of the stage, it should be mentioned that
no one of their class was implicated in this ridiculous
business.
At the dissolution of the " Owls," several attempts
were made to get up a similar society. From some
causes or other, these attempts were not successful.
A few years after, the nearest approach to the original
280
EECOLLECTIONS OF
society was made at a tavern^ which those who
journey westward from Temple Bar^ and pass along
the narrow lane called Wych-street, leading to Drury-
lane, may have observed on their right hand. It is
called a tavern by courtesy, being in fact a petty
public-house, gin-palace, gin-shop, or " wine vaults."
This place, now designated the " Shakespeare's
Head," from a plaster bust of the poet placed over the
door, is an edifice in which some strange scenes have
been acted, and in which some strange people have
met together. It was formerly under the manage¬
ment of a female who enjoj^ed the " protection"
of the noted Dutch Sam," the younger. The lady
was not sufficiently conservative in any sense of the
word to require any " protection" whatever ; and
though the termination of her career was one of
blood and horror, she was perfectly capable of taking
her own part in the usual routine of the business
of her establishment. She quitted the premises,
and no less a man than Mr. Mark Lemon, the
editor of " Punch," became her successor. In those
days that gentleman was less known than he is now.
The Punch over which he then presided, though
excellent in its kind, was less attractive than the
" Punch" in the preparation of which he now assists.
He had, about the time alluded to, taken unto him-
THE LAST HALF CENTUEY
281
self a wife, a very pleasing young person, and a
sister of Miss Romer, the popular vocalist. Mr.
Mark Lemon took upon himself the mysteries of a
Boniface, and his wife assisted in the duties of the
establishment. On the first floor was a room extend¬
ing the whole length and breadth of the premises, in
which the company assembled. It was here that the
notables were accustomed to celebrate the orgies of
a tavern life ; and it was in this room that the original
concoction of the admirable periodical just mentioned
was attempted.
The literati^ savans^ &c., who here assembled, were
of a different sort from those whose complexions are
said to exhibit the paleness which the midnight
lamp produces. They were a jolly crew, deriving
their inspiration more from the gifts of Bacchus than
the grace of Apollo. They seemed aware of the
fact; their oblations were confined to the shrine of
the rosy god, in whose worship they were sincere
and exclusive.
The conversation of these persons betrayed nothing
to induce a casual auditor to suppose he was in the
presence of " men of letters." On the contrary,
literary discussion was altogether excluded. The
conversation was enlivened by the species of wit
called chaffing," in which the object of the speakers
282
EECOLLECTIONS OF
is to delude, expose, or ridicule each other. This
exercise of the mental led sometimes to the exercise
of the physical powers, or rather to threats of their
employment. The good humour of the majority, and
the delegated authority of the gentleman who pre-
sided, kept order in the proceedings, and prevented
the scandal which would have attached to a conflict
with anything but words amongst the instructors of
the people.
It was a marvel by what means the critics, essayists,
writers of farces, and composers of paragraphs, who
formed the company, attained the knowledge they
were presumed to possess. Its mode of acquisition
they abstained from imparting, nor would the fact of
its existence have transpired from anything in their
conversation, had they not from time to time asserted
their pretensions, and acted upon the assertion.
Fortunately for himself and for the public, Mr.
Mark Lemon retired from an occupation which was
beneath his talents at the end of the first year of his
novitiate, and found employment in things more con¬
genial with his tastes. The " plant" passed into the
hands of somebody else, and the frequenters of the
place found other haunts for the cultivation of their
peculiarities.
THE LAST HALE CENTURY,
283
CHAPTER XI.
The First Marquis of Londonderry : the Cause and Manner of his
Death ; the Coroner's Inquest ; Observations upon it, &c.
Everybody knows the manner of the death of the
Marquis of Londonderry; and a variety of motives
have been assigned for the commission of the rash
«
act by which it was caused. I will relate what my
informant stated he had received from the mouth of
a noble lord still living, with whom the Marquis was
on terms of social intimacy, and with whom he was
connected by political ties. He asserted that this
account was authentic, and might be relied upon.
I have since examined the evidence which was given
on the coroner's inquest, and compared it with the
statement of that gentleman, and I confess, it appears
to me so corroborative of the statement, that in my
mind it has produced conviction of its truth. I will,
in addition to the statement, give the evidence pro¬
duced before the coroner, and offer a few remarks
upon their consonance, and leave the reader to judge
for himself.
284
EECOLLECTIONS OE
The Marquis^ at the time he laid violent hands
upon himself, and terminated his existence by suicide,
was Minister for Foreign Affairs. He was a man
who, within a short time before the commission of the
fatal act, was always, apparently, in good health and
spirits, and presented to general observers no out¬
ward signs that either physically or morally" he was
suffering from any derangement of the system. In
the opinion of the public, he w^as the last man in the
country to be affected by irritability of feeling, ner¬
vous excitement, or depression of mind sufficiently
influential to produce the catastrophe which both his
friends and his opponents deplored.
The Marquis was supposed, and supposed with
truth, to possess both physical and moral courage.
He had given sufficient proofs of his physical courage
to justify the supposition ; and his long career in the
political contests in which he was involved, and in
which no man of ver^^ nervous temperament or of
timorous character could have maintained the posi¬
tion in which he was placed, or the reputation he
had acquired, fully confirmed the existence of his
moral determination. In short, from the w^hole tenor
of his life, the notion that it would have been ter¬
minated as it was, never entered the head of a single
individual in the empire.
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 285
The statement of my informant was as follows :—
The Marquis^ in returning from the House of Com¬
mons to his abode in St- James's-square, occasionally,
when the night was fine, preferred walking to riding
home in a carriage. He was on these occasions, as
most other persons were at that time, and to some
degree at the present time, assailed by the impor¬
tunities of that unfortunate class of females who live
by what is called " picking up" gentlemen in the
streets. To the importunities of some of these women
he was, in evil hour, induced more than once to listen.
I neither extenuate the criminality nor the folly of
any man for so doing, neither do I intend to preach
a homily, which is not in this place required, on the
vices of the exalted or the vulgar. All who know the
world or know the town, and in the case alluded to
they are synonymous terms, know that such things
exist. To those who are yet in happy ignorance of
the "mysteries of London," I am not about to be
more communicative than the exigence of the nar¬
rative demands.
The Marquis, like many others who do things it
were better they should leave undone, no doubt
flattered himself that he could do them with impunity,
and that they into whose society he was tempted to
enter were ignorant of his name, rank, and position.
286
RECOLLECTIONS OE
No doubt such was the case at the commencement of
the intercourse ; but there are ramifications in con¬
nexion with the pursuits of the wretched objects of
sensuality of which most of their votaries little dream.
Some of these miserable beings are the instruments
by which the most detestable villains in this metro¬
polis carry on their systematic extortions, and con¬
trive to live in idleness and luxury on the vices and
frailties of the unwary.
It was not long before it was discovered who the
gentleman was who, in his walk from the House of
Commons to St. James's-square, was in the habit of
listening to the syrens of the streets, and advantage
was taken of the discovery, which terminated in the
fatal catastrophe of self-immolation.
One night the Marquis accompanied to a receptacle
of debauchery one of these wanderers, and was shown
into an apartment of the den. It is difficult to de¬
scribe the scene that ensued. In a very short time
he found to his horror that his companion was not a
female, as he had supposed, but a youth dressed in
female attire, and disguised to pass as a female. He
had no time for reflection or delay as to what course
to take ; the door of the room was forced open, a
couple of villains rushed in, and accused him of being
about to commit an act from which nature shrinks
THE LAST HALE CENTURY. 287
with horror; adding at the same time, that they knew
perfectly well who he was. The purport of the
accusation was palpable, and unfortunately, in the
intensity of the crisis, the Marquis lost his presence of
mind and his courage. He adopted the course which
they suggested, and gave them all the money he had
about him to secure his immediate escape. This
course was precisely what they had plotted to bring
about ; they had secured their victim ; he was in their
power, and they were resolved to let him know that
their silence could only be obtained by full compliance
with their extortionate demands.
Day after day did these miscreants station them¬
selves by the iron railings with which the inclosure of
St. James's-square is surrounded, opposite the win¬
dows of the residence of the Marquis, and take the
opportunity, by signs and motions whenever he
appeared, to let him know that they had not yet for¬
gotten the scene which they had contrived. Driven
almost to distraction by this persecution, he made
known his case, with all the circumstances, to the late
Duke of Wellington and to another nobleman. By
them he was advised to give the wretches into cus¬
tody at once, avow the full facts, and extricate
himself from further disgusting thraldom. He had
not the resolution to follow this advice. He shrunk
288
RECOLLECTIONS OE
from the consequences which the painful disclosure
of what was really to be deplored in his conduct
might produce on the feelings of his wife ; and in a
moment of distraction adopted the desperate remedy
which was to extricate him from his persecutors and
himself.
As the circumstances of the death of this man are
still of interest, in substantiation of what I have
written, I may be pardoned for transcribing from the
" Annual Register" of 1822, the proceedings and evi¬
dence under the coroner's inquest which was held on
the body of his lordship ; and having done so, I will
endeavour to show how the evidence corroborates the
truth of the account.
" The inquest was held at his lordship's house at
North Cray. Before the jury left the room where
they had met for the purpose of seeing the body,
one of them suggested, that his colleagues as well as
himself should take off their shoes, in order to pre¬
vent, as far as possible, any noise that might be occa¬
sioned by them in walking, and which might disturb
the Marchioness. The hint was immediatelv acted
t/
upon, and the jury left the room. They were con¬
ducted to the dressing-room in which the body of
the deceased lay, and where it had remained from the
preceding morning. It was lying with the feet
THE LAST HALE CENTURY. 289
towards the window, on the face, enveloped in a
morning-gown, with a handkerchief tied round the
head. The floor was covered with blood, in which
the garments of the deceased were drenched. The
wound which had occasioned death was pointed out
to the jury; it was immediately under the left ear,
and was extremely small. Not a word was spoken,
and the jury retired once more to the dining-room,
all deeply aifected by the melancholy spectacle which
had been presentèd to their view. On taking their
seats, the coroner called the first witness, Mrs.
Anne Robinson, who was sworn and examined.
What is your situation in the family ?"
" I wait upon the Marchioness of Londonderry."
Did you know the Marquis of Londonderry ?"
" I did."
" Is that his body which lies up-stairs ?"
" It is." '
Have you observed the state of his health lately ?"
" I have."
For what length of time ?"
" In my opinion he has not been well during
the last fortnight, and particularly so since Monday
week."
State what occurred on the night preceding his
death."
VOL. I. u
290
EECOLLECTIONS OF
On Sunday night, that is two nights ago, he
rang the bell of his bed-room ; at least, I suppose it
was he. I answered it. He asked me why Lady
Londonderry had not been to see him ? I answered
that Lady Londonderry had been with him all day."
" Had her ladyship, in point of fact, been with
him ?"
" She had, and was then in the adjoining room.
I then went away."
Did you again enter the room ?"
I did. He rang the bell again, and asked me if
Dr. Bankhead had been to see him ? I said he had,
and had been with him a great part of the preceding
night. He then asked me if he had talked any
nonsense to Dr. Bankhead ? My reply was, that I
did not remain in the room during the conversation."
" Was this the fact ?"
" It was."
" What happened afterwards ?"
" He rang the bell of his bed-room again at seven
o'clock on Monday morning (yesterday morning).
I answered it. When I went into the room he asked
me what I wanted there. I made no reply, but her
ladyship said, ^ Anne, his lordship wants his break¬
fast.' Her ladyship was then in bed. I left the
room, and brought the breakfast up. He found fault
THE LAST HALE CENTURY.
291
with the breakfast, and said, ^ it was not a breakfast
fit for him.' He said there was no butter there.
The butter, however, was on the tray, and the break¬
fast was such as he usually had."
"Was there anything in his manner on this occa¬
sion, which appeared to you extraordinary ?"
" Yes ; it struck me as uncommon. His voice was
sharp and severe, which was very unusual with him.
I left the room after this."
" Were you again summoned to the apartment?"
"I was. About half-past seven the bell rang
again. I answered it ; and on entering, his lordship
asked me if Dr. Bankhead had come down from town
yet ? I answered him, that Dr. Bankhead had slept
in the house. He said he wished to see him. I
went to the doctor, and told him my lord wished to
see him. When my lord desired me to call Dr.
Bankhead, my lady was in the room, and she fol¬
lowed me to the door to speak to me. My lord, on
seeing us together, said there was a conspiracy against
him. After I had told Dr. Bankhead of my lord's
wish I returned to the room, and told my lord he
would be with him in two minutes. As soon as my
lady was ready to go into her dressing-room, and had
shut the door, I w^ent back to the door by which I
had entered. My lord was then sitting up in bed.
u 2
292
RECOLLECTIONS OF
As soon as my lady had retired, my lord got out of
bed, and shortly after opened the bedroom door,
and rushed by me towards his own dressing-room."
(Several questions were here put to the witness to
ascertain the precise situation of those rooms. From
the answers which she returned, it appeared that the
common sleeping-room opened into a passage, on
either side of which was a dressing-room—Lady
Londonderry's on the left, his lordship's on the right.
At the extreiïiity of the passage was another door,
leading to Dr. Bankhead's room).
" What followed ?"
I called to Dr. Bankhead, and said, my lord
w^anted him. Dr. Bankhead immediately came up,
and followed my lord into his dressing-room. Imme¬
diately on his entrance I heard him exclaim, ^ My
Lord !' or ^ My God !' I went directly into the
room, and saw my lord in Dr. Bankhead's arms. I
remained in the room till he laid my lord on the floor,
with his face to the ground. I saw blood running
from him, while the doctor held him. I saw a knife in
my lord's hand, but did not hear him say anything —
I was much alarmed." (A small penknife, with a blade
about two inches in length, and nearly half an inch in
width, crooked towards the end, was then shown to
witness).
THE LAST HALE CENTÜEY.
293
Do you believe that to be the knife you saw in
deceased's hand ?"
I do."
" What did you do then ?"
" I went to my lady's dressing-room."
" Did you see the deceased use the knife, or see
the wound in the bed-room ?"
" No, I did not."
" Did you perceive any wound or blood while he
was in the bed-room ?"
" No, I did not."
" Are you quite sure there was no blood upon him
while he was in his bed-room ?"
" Quite sure."
" Are you quite sure no person went into the bed¬
room during the interval of which you have spoken
but Dr. Bankhead ?"
I am quite sure that no person did."
• The Coroner.—" The object of this inquiry is, to
show that the act must have been done by the
deceased himself, and not by any other person."
Now, with respect to your lord's mind, are you
able to give us any information respecting the state of
his mind?"
" The state of his mind was very bad, very incor¬
rect, very wild in everything he said and did."
294
RECOLLECTIONS OF
" Can you give us any particular words or expres¬
sions which he used from whence we may be able to
judge of the state of his mind ?"
" I can say in the first place, that he asked me for
a box, which he said Lord Clanwilliam had given to
me, when Lord Clanwilliam never gave me any box ;
and he wished me to give him his keys, although
they were in his own possession, and he had them
about him."
" Did he express any apprehension of the persons
about him ?"
" Yes; during the last fortnight he repeatedly said
some persons had conspired against him."
What other observation did you make on his
general conduct ?"
" He was very wild, and particularly on the last
day before his death."
" In his manner ?"
"Yes, in his manner; he was very severe."
" In speaking ?"
" Yes."
" What was his general manner ?"
"Always mild and kind—very much so."
" Had he expressed any particular apprehensions
about this conspiracy. What words did he use ?"
" When he saw two people speaking together, my
THE LAST HALF CENTURY.
295
lady and Dr. Bankhead, he always said, ^ There is a
conspiracy laid against me.' "
I would ask you whether during Sunday and the
preceding days there was anything in his manner
which induced you to believe that he was not in his
right mind ?"
"Yes, many."
" State some of them."
" He scolded my lady on Sunday afternoon, be¬
cause, as he said, she had not been with him all day,
and had entirely forsaken him ; although she had
been wdth him all the morning. This was in the
afternoon."
" You have no doubt that his mind was disordered
some time previous to his death ?"
"Not the least; that is my firm persuasion, con¬
firmed by all I observed."
" Would any gentleman on the jury wish to put a
question to the witness ?"
The jury declined putting any question.
Dr. Charles Bankhead sworn and examined.
" On last Friday afternoon, at five o'clock, I re¬
ceived a note from Lady Londonderry, desiring me
to come as soon as I could, to see the Marquis of
Londonderry at his house in St. James's-square.
Her note stated that she was very anxious about his
296
RECOLLECTIONS OE
lordship, as she thought he was very ill and nervous;
that they were to leave town for North Cray at seven
o'clock in the evening, and that she hoped I would
come before that hour. I arrived in St. James's-
square at six o'clock, and found my lord and lady
/
alone in the drawing-room. Upon feeling his pulse,
I conceived him to be exceedingly ill. He com¬
plained of a veryi severe headache, and of a confusion
of recollection. He looked pale, and was very much
distressed in his manner. I told him that I thought
it was necessary that he should be cupped, and that
I would stay and dine with his lady and himself
while the cupper came. The cupper soon arrived,
and took seven ounces of blood from the nape of his
lordship's neck. After the operation was performed,
he stated that he was very much relieved, and I
advised him to lay himself quietly down on the sofa
for half arp hour ; and, as he had scarcely eaten the
whole day, to take a cup of tea before he got into the
carriage to return to North Cray. He followed my
advice, and laid himself down on the couch, wehere
he remained very tranquil. After this, he drank two
cups of tea. I waited until I saw my lady and him¬
self get into the carriage in order to return to North
Cray. Before his departure, his lordship said that
as I must be sure he was very ill, he expected I would
THE LAST HALE CENTURY.
297
come to North Cray, and stay all Saturday night, and,
if possible, all Sunday. I sent with him some opening
medicines, which he was to take early on Saturday,
in order that I might know the effect they had pro¬
duced, on my arrival. I know that he took these
powders on Saturday. I arrived at North Cray
about seven o'clock on Saturday evening. I under¬
stood that his lordship had not been out of bed all
day, and I immediately proceeded to his bed-room.
On entering his bed-room, I observed that his manner
of lookitjg at me expressed suspicion and alarm. He
said it was very odd that I should come into his bed¬
room first, before going into the dining-room below.
I answered that I had dined in town, and knowing
that the family were at dinner down-stairs, I had come
to visit him. Upon this he made a reply which
surprised me exceedingly; it was to this effect:—that
I seemed particularly grave in my manner, and that
something must have happened amiss. He then
asked me abruptly, whether I had anything un¬
pleasant to tell him ? I answered, no, that I was
surprised at his question, and the manner in which it
was proposed. He then said, ^ the truth was that he
had reason to be suspicious in some degree, but that
he hoped that I would be the last person who would
engage in anything that would be injurious to him.'
298
RECOLLECTIONS OE
His manner of saying this was so unusual and so
disturbed, as to satisfy me that he was at that moment
labouring under rrlental delusion. I entreated him
to be very tranquil, and prescribed for him some more
cooling and aperient medicines ; confined him to
barley water, and allowed him slops only. I re¬
mained with him during Saturda}^ night, and till one
o'clock on Sunday morning. Though his fever was
not very high during any part of this time, yet the
incoherence of his speech and the uncomfortableness
of his manner continued unaltered. During Sunday
I visited him frequently, and continued with him in
the evening until half-past twelve o'clock. I advised
him to be as tranquil as possible, and told him that
I would endeavour to persuade my lady to come to
bed. I slept in a room very near that of his lordship.
On Monday morning, about seven o'clock, Mrs.
Robinson, Lady Londonderry's maid, came to my
room door, and asked if I was dressed, telling
me, ^ My lord wished to see me by and bye.' I
answered that I was ready to come that moment:
but Mrs. Robinson said she did not wish me
to come then, because her ladyship had not left
the bed-room. In about half an hour she returned
again, and said that his lordship would be glad to
see me immediately, as her ladyship was putting on
THE LAST HALF CENTURY.
299
her gown in order to go to her own dressing-room.
On walking from my own room to Lord London¬
derry's bed-room, I observed that the door of the
latter was open, and could perceive that his lordship
was not in it. In an instant, Mrs. Robinson said to
me, ^ His lordship has gone into his dressing-room.'
I
I stepped into his dressing-room, and saw him in his
dressing-gown, standing with his front towards the
window, which was opposite to the door by which I
entered. His face was directed towards the ceiling.
Without turning his head, on the instant he heard
my step, he exclaimed, ^ Bankhead, let me fall upon
your arm,—'tis all over.' As quickly as possible, I
ran to him, thinking he was fainting, and going to
fall. I caught him in my arms as he was falling, and
perceived that he had a knife in his right hand, very
firmly clenched, and all over blood. I did not see
him use it ; he must have used it before I came into
the room. In falling he declined upon one side, and
the blood burst from him like a torrent from a water¬
ing-pot. I was unable to support him, and he fell
out of my arms. I think the wound must have been
inflicted as soon as I put my foot on the threshold of
the door ; its nature was such that the extinction of
life must have followed in the twinkling of ari eye.
I think that not less than two quárts of blood flowed
300 EECOLLECTIONS OF
from him in one minute. I am satisfied that a
minute did not elapse from the moment of my enter¬
ing the room until he died ; and during that time he
said not a word except that which I have already
mentioned. It was impossible that any human being
could have inflicted the wound but himself. Having
known him intimately for the last thirty years, I
have no hesitation in saying that he was perfectly
insane when he committed this act. I had noticed a
great decline in the general habit of his health for
some weeks prior to his death : but I was not aware
of the mental delusion under which he was labouring
till within three or four days of his decease."
The verdict was—
^^That on an inquest taken at the house of the late
Most Noble Robert Marquis of Londonderr}^, at
North Cray, in the county of Kent, on Tuesday
the 13th of August, on view of the body of the said
Marquis, we, the jurors, on our oaths say, that the
said Marquis of Londonderry, on the 12th of August,
and for some time previously, under a grievous dis¬
ease of mind, did labour and languish, and by reason
of the said disease became delirious, and not of sound
mind; and that on the said 12th of August, in the
said parish, while labouring under such disease, did
with a certain knife of iron or steel, upon himself
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 3Ö1
make an assault, and did strike, and cut, and stab
\
himself on the carotid arterj, and gave himself one
mortal wound of the length of one inch, and of the
depth of two inches, of w^hich said mortal wound he
did then and there instantly die ; and being under a
state of mental delusion in manner aforesaid, and by
the means aforesaid, did kill and destroy himself, and
did not come by his death through the means of any
other person or persons whatever."
The coroner, before he dismissed the jury, read to
them a letter from the Duke of Wellington, which
showed what w^as the opinion of his Grace as to the
state of Lord Londonderry's mind on the 9th of
August.
The letter was addressed to Dr. Bankhead, and
was dated 9th August, 1822. It was as follows:—
" Dear Sir,—I called upon you with the inten¬
tion of talking to you on the subject of the health of
Lord Londonderry, and to request of you that you
would call on him. I told his lordship that he was
unwell, and particularly requested him to send for
you ; but lest he should not, I sincerely hope that you
will contrive, by some pretence, to go dowm to his
lordship. I have no doubt he is very unwell; he
appears to me to have been exceedingly harassed,
much fatigued, and overworked during the late
302
EECOLLECTIONS OE
session of parliamf^nt ; and I have no doubt he labours
under mental delirium ; at least this is my impression.
I beg you will never mention to anybody what I
have told you respecting his lordship,"
It will be seen from certain parts of the evidence,
that the Marquis was impressed with the notion that
there was a conspiracy against him. Mrs. Robinson,
in answer to the coroner, says—My lord, on seeing
us together" (the witness and the Marchioness of
Londonderry), said ^ there was a conspiracy against
him.'" Again, in answer to the coroner's question—
Did he express any apprehension of the persons
about him ?"
She says—" During the last fortnight, he repeat¬
edly said ^ some persons had conspired against him.^ "
It is somewhat strange, that upon this answer,
the coroner did not go further in his question on
this point, and ask—" Did he say who the persons
were ?" It might have elicited from the witness infor¬
mation which would have put the case in a clearer
light.
Again the coroner asks—
Had he expressed any particular apprehensions
about this conspiracy ; what words did he use?"
To which the witness replies—
" When he saw two people speahing together^ my
THE LAST HALF CENTURY.
303
lady and Dr, Bankhead, he always said^ ' there is a
conspiracy laid against me,"^ "
The evidence of Dr. Bankhead is^ to a certain
degree, confirmatory of the view I have taken as to
the cause of the aberration of mind which led to the
fatal catastrophe.
" On entering his bed-room, I observed that his
manner of looking at me expressed suspicion and alarm,^^
Again—
" He asked me abruptly ^ whether I had anything
unpleasant to tell him^ I answered, no. He then
said : ' the truth was he had reason to he suspicious in
some degree^ but he hoped I would be the last person
who would engage in anything that would be inju¬
rious to him.' "
It is evident to me, that this part of the examina¬
tion of the witnesses shows, that though his mind
was under a delusion, in regard to the persons men¬
tioned in it as being the conspirators against him,
that illusion was produced by the fatal reality of an
actual conspiracy, by which his brain was turned,
and that, to a certain extent, there was " a meaning
in his madness" incomprehensible to the witnesses,
but which was, nevertheless, operating upon his sen¬
sations, and impelling him to destruction. But be
that as it may, I have " told the tale as it was told
304
EECOLLECTIONS, ETC.
to me;" and I confess, coming from the quarter
whence I received it, I entertain no doubt of its
accuracy. I well remember the sensation which the
9/
death of this nobleman caused in London, and the
rapidity with which the account of it was spread in
the immediate and comparatively distant neighbour¬
hood of North Cray. I was, at the time, living on
Pense Common, and it seemed as if the communi-
O ^
cation of the evil news had been transmitted with
more than the usual celerity with which evil news is
said to be conveyed ; and I further recollect, that
shortly before the calamity took place, I had bowed
to his lordship in Piccadilly, at the very moment he
was purchasing a penknife, in the street close to the
White Horse Cellar, from one of the itinerant dealers
in cutlery, who sold such things to the stage-coach
passengers, and was trying the keenness of the edge
of it on his thumb-naiL It might be that he, at that
moment, contemplated suicide, and was providing
himself with an instrument for its accomplishment.
END OF VOL. I.
RECOLLECTIONS
«lititil, Siteittï, Sramtit, «ni) l(i¡tílta«j,
OF THE
LAST HALF-CENTURY.
RECOLLECTIONS,
oliíital; fïkxm$ iramatk, wà Slisdlaneaas,
or the
LAST HALF-CENTURY,
containing
ANECDOTES AND NOTES OF PERSONS OP VARIOUS RANKS PROMINENT IN THEIR
VOCATIONS, V7ITH WHOM THE WRITER WAS PERSONALLY ACQUAINTED.
Quicquid agunt homines."—Juvenaiis, Sat.
BY
THE HEY. J. EIGHARDSOH, LL.B.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. II.
LONDON :
C. MITCHELL, EED LION COUET, FLEET STEEET.
1856.
LONDON :
SAVILL AND EDWAEDS, FEINTEES, CHANDOS STREET,
COTENT GAEDEN.
CONTENTS OF VOL. II.
CHAPTER I.
A
Alteration in the Laws of Debtor and Creditor—^The King's Bench
Prison—^Want of Discipline—Mr. Jones, the Marshal—Prisoners
and Visitors—Amusements and State of Morality—Captain
Christie—The Eules—Mellor Hetherington, Esquire : he drives
the Crown Prince Birmingham Coach—Mr. Bolton—Golden
Cross, Charing Cross—Chums—Mrs. Whimper . . pp. 1—26
CHAPTEE II.
James Bearcroft: his Birth, Parentage, Education, Pursuits, and
Death—Portrait of his Father, by Morland—Observation upon
it, by Captain Best—Sir Edwin Sandys—Mr. Bryant (not the
Antiquary)—Mr. Gordon XJrquhart—A Curious Collection of
Eelics—^The Eochfort Squadron—Henry Eauntleroy—Delcour
—Vanity and Scoundrelism—Eauntleroy's Execution, &c.
pp. 27—59
CHAPTEE III.
Dr. Valpy—Dr. Mitford—Dr. Graham: his Celestial Bed—Dr.
Mitford assists his efforts—Eeading a Play at Three Mile
Cross—Miss Mitford — Mr. Cathcart — Mr. Charles Eyshe
Palmer, M.P. — Inconvenience of a Flood — Lady Madelina
Palmer — The Wheel of Fortune—Mr. Jacob Newberry of
Eeading, Solicitor, &c.—Colonel William Mayne—How to get
rid of Bad Wine—Eeckless Driving and its Consequences—A
Night Adventure . . pp. 60—85
VI
CONTENTS GE VOL. II
CHAPTEE rV.
The Bridge of Trajan at Alcantara destroyed—The Esculapius of
Eeading—Lord and Lady Sidmouth—Lord StoweU—Pursuits
of Literature—Adventure of a Gentleman in Search of a Dinner
—Mrs. Storer—The Diversions of Purley—A Print Collector—
Mr. Benyon de Beauvoir—Mr. Tyssen—How to avoid taking
Cold — Mr. Hort—A Modern Money-lender — Mistaken My¬
thology— Funeral of George III.—Narrow Escape from a
Pistol-shot—A Frantic Gambler—Narrow Escape from being
Drowned pp. 86—113
CHAPTER Y.
Curious discovery of Human Skeletons at Charenton-sur-Seine—
Purity of French Female Convents—Mr. Penn—Lady and Lord
Holland—Proposed Epitaph for the Duke of Norfolk—Character
of his Grace—WraxaU's account of him—^The Duke of Queens-
berry—Debauchery of former days—Përe Elisée—Paris and the
Rival Goddesses—Dinner at White Knights—^A Divine swal¬
lows a bottle of Tokay—The Barrymore Family—Wargrave—
Delphini—Hooper, the Tinman—Alexander Lee, the Original
Tiger—Captain Polhill—Mrs. Waylett—A Broken Heart—
Harry Lee—The Antigallican in Shire Lane—The Hon. and
Rev. Mr. BaiTy pp. 114—136
CHAPTER VI.
Sir James Mackintosh—Tour through the Dekhan—^A Philosopher
on an Elephant—Sir Thomas Stepney, Bart.—The Duke of
York's Statue—^Colman and EUiston—Theodore Hook—Albina,
Countess of Buckingham—The Brothers Smith—Mr. Green, the
Aeronaut—; Aerial Voyage of Messrs. Liston and Bacon —
Cocking—Men of One Idea—Major Cartwright—The King and
Queen of the Sandwich Islands—Mr. Canning . pp. 137—162
CONTENTS GE VOL. II.
vii
CHAPTEE VII.
Ireland—"Vortigem and Eowena"—Dr. Parr—Lord Spencer—A
Block Book Collector—SheUey—The Eev. Mr. B.—Jackson,
the Pugilist—The late Lord Panmure—Mistake of the Countess
of Harrington — The Duke of Hamilton and Bill Gibbons —
Restoration of Stolen Property—John Erost—The Bible, a
Sacred Book—Thomas Paine—The "Age of Reason"—Charles
Macphail—Mosaic Gold—Eliza Grimwood—The Glove of the
Murderer—Nat Graves—The Brown Bear, Bow Street—How
to Punish an Adulterer—The Bishop of Killaloe and his Lady—
Advice to Gentlemen of Peculiar Construction—Dr. Maginn—
Glorious Death—Mr. J. Earrell and Mr. Anderson, pp. 163—192
CHAPTER VIII.
Haydon—General Tom Thumb—A Boanerges—William Jerdan—
A Planetary Aberration—Omnibus Bayley—How to decline
lending Money—^The "Great Gun"—Dr. Eorbes Winslow—The
Rev. Mr. Clarke and Mrs. Ery—A Royal Duke—Mrs, Billington
— Sussex House — The Prince Regent and Madame Grisi —
Curious Copy of Verses—Sheridan's Verses on Brooks, the
Money-lender—The Statue of the Duke of Wellington—Death¬
bed Speeches of Great Men—Mistaken Identity—John Ward's
Eox-hounds—Vulpes loquitur et Agrestis . . . pp.193—217
CHAPTER IX.
Theatres—Saloons in Drury Lane, Bovent Garden, and Haymarket
Theatres—Donaldson, the Bow Street Officer—Passages in his
Life—Strange Death—Mrs. Bartram and Jew Bella—A Eight—
State of Morals—Vauxhall Gardens—Bradbury, the Clown—
Mental Aberration—Simpson, the Master of the Ceremonies—
Epistolary Specimens — George Stansbury — John Nash — A
Slight Refection—Widdicomb—The Nepaulese Princes—Mr.
Barnett and the Brougham Division—A Man with a Heart in
his Belly—Ingenious Expedient, «fee pp. 218—242
• • •
Vlll
CONTENTS OF VOL. II.
CHAPTEE X.
Smugglers—Kentish Knockers—Borrowing a Boat—Christ Church,
Hants—Expedient in Smuggling Wine—^The New Forest—Sir
William Curtis*s Yacht—The First Steamer in Margate Harbour
—Lord Falkland and Pogie Powell—Major O'Shaughnessy and
his Brother—The Margate Sea-bathing Infii-mary and the Eev.
Mr. Bailey—An Action for False Imprisonment—A Tiger Story
—Captain Pohill and Miss Clifton—The Victory—Lord Nelson
—A First Appearance on any Stage—Boulogne—Duelling—
Tréport — Louis Philippe — Their Majesties George III.,
George IV., and William IV pp. 243—270
CHAPTEE XI.
The Tournament at Eglinton—^Westminster Elections : disgraceful
scenes—Sir Francis Burdett—Captain Murray Maxwell—Orator
Hunt—Lee, the High Constable—The Whigs pelted—Special
Pleading—Saying of George III.—Improvements in the Law—
Serjeant Andrews—Dunbar—Honour of the Profession—Sir
A. Park — Daniel Wakefield — Casus Consimiles—Advantages
of a Bad Memory—A Celebrated Aurist—Baron de Bode—
Waghorn—The Screw Propeller—Conclusion . . pp. 271—294
EECOLLECTIONS
OP
THE LAST HALF CENTUEY.
CHAPTER 1.
Alteration in the Laws of Debtor and Creditor—^The King's Bench.
Prison—^Want of Discipline—Mr. J ones, the Marshal—Prisoners
and Visitors — Amusements and State of Morality — Captain
Christie—The Rules—Mellor Hetherington, Esquire ; he drives
the Crown Prince Birmingham Coach — Mr. Bolton — Golden
Cross, Charing Cross—Chums—Mrs. Whimper.
Amongst the numerous alterations, which the abro¬
gation of certain laws and the amendments of others
have made in the general aspect and character of
society in England, and more particularly in London,
may be mentioned the alterations which have been
effected by the repeal of the old law of debtor and
creditor, and the introduction of the laws by which
their relative interests are now guarded.
To those who have only been acquainted with the
law as it now exists, the practice and results of the
vol. ii. b
2
RECOLLECTIONS OF
ancient system will appear incredible. They will be
little able to comprehend the folly and cruelty of the
legal enactments under which their immediate an¬
cestors were content to live, the narratives connected
with which exceed the w^onders of fiction, though
unfortunately they have nothing of the fabulous about
them.
But strange as was the sufferance which permitted
the long tyranny of the system to exist, more strange
was the opposition made in many quarters to any
attempt at its amelioration or removal.
If any benefits had accrued to creditors from the
existence of the system, it might be supposed they
would have given their support to it from self-interest,
however indefensible as part of a compact which
governed their dealings and protected their property.
But the fact was, it neither protected their property,
nor put them in so good a situation to prevent the
operations of fraud as the present system puts credi¬
tors of the present day, by the improvements in the
laws of bankruptcy and insolvency.
It is true they could indulge a taste for vengeance ;
and this taste was gratified, it may be said was
encouraged, by the law ; but the law could neither
compel the dishonest and rascally debtor to pay his
bills, nor squeeze money out of a man reduced by
THE LAST HALF CENTURY.
3
misfortune or the villany of other people to the state
of perfect pauperism.
There existed formerly, as there exists at present,
and probably always will exist, a class of persons who
oppose every alteration whatever, and more especially
any alteration which professes to have in view the
public good. They have a dread of what they term
innovation ; they resist all improvement, however
manifest, by which the great mass of the community
is to be benefited, and exert every influence tt|ey
possess to cripple, delay, or destroy every plan which
contemplates a more equitable adjustment of the
rights and duties of man with man.
This class was horrified at the prospect of repealing
statutes which consigned indiscriminately the rogue
and the honest man to the dungeons of a prison.
They foretold the downfal of all social regulations if
the ancient bulwarks were removed, and with an
ignorance commensurate with the selfish obstinacy of
their nature, implored and clamoured for the perpe¬
tuity of the evils.
That they were as ignorant of the arrangements of
the prisons to which debtors were consigned, and
of the abuses of which a rogue or a man with money
could avail himself, as they were pertinacious in the
opposition to all alterations in the law, will be shown
B 2
4
EECOLLECTIONS OF
presently. I will, in the meantime, say something
more on the general system of the law of arrest.
The first process was to " serve" the debtor with a
copy of a writ, until the return of which he could
secure his liberty by giving bail to the sheriff. The
return of all writs being in term time, if a man was
served with a copy after Trinity term, he was enabled
to be at large till Michaelmas term ; so that he had
plenty of time to make away with his property, or
so to secure it that little or no chance was given
to his creditor of obtaining payment of his debt, if
his debtor w^ere a reckless, dishonest, or obstinate
man.
At the return of the writ he could elect to go to
prison, or he could put in bail to the action, by which
he was enabled to continue at large till the trial of
the cause ; and thus further time was afforded to
carry into execution any nefarious project he might
have concocted to cheat his creditors.
If, however, he were a poor man, or one without
friends, it was not likely he could procure bail, either
to the sherifif or to the court. The consequence was,
that whatever were the " merits" of his case, he was
taken to prison, and there detained until his amended
cireumstanees,pr some unlooked-for change of fortune,
enabled him to liberate himself by paying the claim
THE LAST HALE CBNTUEY.
I
5
made upon him, obtaining bail, or expending his
money in defence of an action.
Thus, it not unfrequently happened, that persons
were kept for months in prison upon claims made by
others, who had only a doubtful foundation for them,
and occasionally persons were taken to prison, kept
there, from various motives, upon affidavits for debt
of scoundrels whose object was revenge or extortion,
to whom they never owed a shilling.
It will also be seen, that whilst it enabled a rogue
to laugh at his creditors, provided he had sufficient
funds to carry his roguery into effect, it punished an
innocent man as a criminal, and in neither case im¬
proved the condition of the creditor or facilitated or
expedited the recovery of his money.
It was in fact the safeguard of the scoundrel; the
ruin of the honest but unfortunate man ; the instru¬
ment of vengeance in the hands of a vindictive cre¬
ditor ; and the mode by which the real interests of
all persons of respectable conduct were sacrificed.
Fortunately, the progress of the times has enlight¬
ened the legislature and the people ; and though
the present state of the law of debtor and creditor is
susceptible of much improvement, and is deformed
and confused by several anomalies, yet so much has
been done to bring it to a better state, that there is
6
RECOLLECTIONS OE
great hope of its being rendered before long as perfect
as any lav/ emanating from the finite wisdom of man
can be rendered.
It is not meant to review the Statute-Book on this
subject, or to point out the differences and distinctions
of the process of former and present times. What
has been said is sufficient for the purpose here in»
tended. It was necessary to say so much ; to say
more would be out of place.
It may be truly averred that very few men can be or
were ever made better men, or more prudent men, by
being shut up in a prison. Those who see the world
through the mist of a theory, have but an imperfect
knowledge of the motives, impulses, exigencies, and
corruptions by which it is governed. Such persons
may gabble about the efficacy of imprisonment as a
terror or a punishment, as a means of inculcating
moral feeling by showing the inconveniences of crime ;
they may prate about inculcating habits of industry
and exertion, and the evils which idleness and impro¬
vidence produce, by the practical illustrations of a
jail. Such philanthropists may be very sincere in
their notions and their views, but the application of
them to the masses of society is erroneous and dan¬
gerous. A very little actual acquaintance with facts
will enable an unprejudiced man to form a correct
THE LAST HALF CENTURY.
7
opinion on this subject, and what I am about to tell of
the state of the King's (now Queen's) Bench prison,
but a few years ago, will give a tolerable idea of what
benefit could be derived by anybody from being
locked up therein, under the old law of imprisonment
for debt.
The discipline of the prison was tyrannical, yet lax,
capricious, and^ undefined. The regulations were
either enforced with violence and suddenness, or
suffered to become a dead letter. Nobody cared
much about them, and at one time or other they were
broken by every prisoner within the walls.
Occasionally, an example was made of a more than
usually refractory inmate ; but the example was de¬
spised as a warning, and operated as an incentive to
infraction. The law by which the prisoners were
kept in some sort of moral subordination emanated
from themselves, and from the necessity which is
recognised in all communities of combinations of the
w^eak to resist the oppressions of the strong. A very
wild administration of justice was acknowledged and
enforced. The exigencies of the system demanded
dispatch and vigour. A sort of " Lynch law" super¬
seded the orders of the marshal.
It was the duty of that functionary to reside in a
house in the courtyard, within the outward boundary
8
RECOLLECTIONS OE
of the prison. It was meant by the legislature that he
should be at hand to administer justice, to attend to
applications for redress, to enforce obedience by his
presence, prevent disturbance amongst the unruly
host of his subjects, and to carry into effect the orders
which, as a servant of the Court of King's Bench, he
was bound to see respected.
It is notorious that Mr. Jones, for many years the
marshal of the prison, did not reside. He was only
in attendance on certain days at his office, and held a
sort of court of inquiry into the state of his trust, the
turnkeys and the deputy-marshal acting as amïci
curicBy and instructing him in his duties. He made,
at stated times, inspections of the prison, and in his
periodical progresses was attended by his subordi¬
nates in great state. He was a fat, jolly man, rather
slow in his movements, not very capable of detecting
abuses by his own observation, and not much assisted
in his explorations by others. It was a mere farce to
see him waddle round the prison; his visits produced
no beneficial effects ; the place, somewhat more
orderly during the time of his stay, on the moment
of his departure relapsed into its normal state of irre¬
gularity and disorder.
In the halcyon days of his authority there was
no such institution as the Court for the Relief of
THE LAST HALF CENTUEY.
9
Insolvent Debtors. The legislature from time to
time cleared out the over-gorged prisons by passing
acts to discharge unfortunate insolvents, and what
was called the " Lords' Act" co-operated to prevent
the enormous conflux of such people. This inefficient
kind of legislation was not what was wanted ; it acted
as a temporary alleviation of the miseries and abomi¬
nations of the system, but it failed to abate the
nuisance, which may be said to have flourished with
renovated vigour from the prunings which removed
its excrescences.
The consequence was, that the prison was crowded
with persons of all classes, ranks, callings, professions,
and mysteries—nobles and ignobles, parsons, law¬
yers, farmers, tradesmen, shopmen, colonels, captains,
gamblers, horse-dealers, publicans, butchers, &c. &c.
The wives of many of these shared the fortunes and
misfortunes of their husbands, and scores of widows
and spinsters were amongst the majority who could
not pass the gates. It may be calculated that the
numerical strength of this strange colony amounted
to an average of eight hundred or a thousand indi¬
viduals.
In addition to this great number of actual denizens,
groups of visitors were coming in and going out of the
prison all day long. Hundreds of idlers and dis-
10
RECOLLECTIONS OF
solute persons, of both sexes, patronized the esta¬
blishment ; dealers in legalized and contraband
commodities were in great force and activity. Game
of all kinds, which could not be exposed for sale out¬
side the walls, without subjecting the vendors and
purchasers to heavy penalties, was within them an
article of open commerce ; and any person who might
be anxious for such delicacies might here obtain them
with impunity, and at small cost.
It was a piece of unnecessary, if not of dangerous
impertinence to question sellers by what means they
got possession of their stock-in-trade ; a tacit admis¬
sion of the integrity of everybody was given by
everybody ; the transactions of the market being, at
the same time, conducted on the prompt payment and
immediate delivery system.
In addition to the numerous itinerant, or w^hat
might be called foreign dealers, a number of persons
were located in the prison who opened shops as
grocers, cheesemongers, sutlers, &c., and carried on
a lucrative trade. These people were, of course,
prisoners, indeed many of them w^ere their own pri¬
soners, having by fictitious arrests procured their own
incarceration, in expectation of the profits to be de¬
rived from supplying their fellow-prisoners with the
wares in which they dealt.
THE LAST HALF CENTUEY.
11
At one end of the great inner yard was the " Coffee
House," and at the other an institution called the
" Tap." Those of more aristocratic habits paid their
visits to the former of these places ; the democratic
element was developed at the latter. It was cal¬
culated that upwards of three butts of porter were
drawn per day at the Tap," of which the repu¬
tation was so high that, in addition to the prisoners,
scores of idle sots, from without the gates, might
be seen enjoying the potent gifts of the cereal
Bacchus.
The scene was occasionally diversified by differences
of opinion expanding into vehement expressions of
defiance and contempt. The ^action was suited to
the word, and very frequently preceded it, and a
pugilistic contest would follow.
Part of the great yard was used as a tennis court,
and some of the best players in the metropolis were
I
in the practice of daily exhibiting their skill, and pick¬
ing up money at rackets. On such festivals as
"Boxing-day," Easter Monday, Whit Monday, and
other similar holidays, various games were celebrated
—viz., " hopping in sacks," " Blindman's buff," with
the accompaniment of a cart whip ; racing for
" smocks" by females, insiders and outsiders included ;
a handicap for all ages, open to young and old.
12
RECOLLECTIONS OF
thoroughbred, halfbred, cocktails," &c., without
reservation or favour.
The clerk of the course on these occasions was a
Captain Christie, whose experience in such sports
and pastimes was recognised and allowed by his
associates.
This gentleman, after a tolerably long residence
in the place to which he was accustomed to say the
" illiberality" of his creditors had consigned him,
regained his liberty, and married the lady who en¬
joyed the protection of Fauntleroy, the banker.
The rules of the prison interdicted the use of spirits.
Wine and beer were the fluids which the wisdom of
the law makers considered sufficient for all purposes
of health or exhilaration : but the rules w^ere in fact
a dead letter. Brandy, rum, and gin were continually
passing over the frontier, or in other words were
smuggled through the gates of the lodge, notwith¬
standing the vigilance of the officials there stationed.
o o
Sometimes an unfortunate contrabandist was taken
before the marshal, and punished as the law directed.
Nevertheless, a class of prisoners throve mightily by
keeping what were called " Tape" shops, in which
the. forbidden luxuries were sold, and of the sale of
which nobody appeared to be ignorant but the func¬
tionaries whose duty it was to prevent its existence.
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 13
The rules of the place condemned those connexions
of the sexes which had not received the sanction of
the Church, and by them the presence of ladies
within the walls, after the closing of the lodge gates
at night, was forbidden. This rule, like others, was
of little force or authority.
It certainly sometimes happened that domiciliary
visits were paid by the turnkeys to the rooms of sus¬
pected incontinents, and what might be termed a "jail
delivery" of all who were not prisoners was effected.
This vindication of morality was attributed rather to
the jealousies of the ejected than to the zeal of the
officials, whose services were forced into action by
the noisy representations and recriminations of femi¬
nine frailty.
A very charitable spirit pervaded the whole com¬
munity of the prison ; many of the members regretted
the frequent and inexplicable losses of various things,
yet few were the direct charges of theft. It was
understood that the missing articles had been inad¬
vertently removed by those into whose possession they
were suspected to have passed. The public crier was
continually announcing rewards for the restoration of
lost property, the announcement invariably termi¬
nating with the assurance that " not one single ques¬
tion would be asked."
14
BECOLLECTIONS OE
It was in the King's Bench Prison, and in gaols of
the same class, that the real characters of men were
to be discovered. What the decencies of society
demand beyond the precincts of a prison, and in the
general intercourse of men with men, was there
neither respected nor required. The duties which
feelings of honour or honesty exact were there dis¬
carded. The observances which a hypocrite finds it
expedient to adopt in the world were useless. Few
of the inmates thought the worse of a man because he
had swindled his creditors, or recklessly and roguishly
spent his own money and that of other people in vice
and dissipation. The confessions of one spendthrift
or of one swindler begot the confessions of another ;
the result was the increased capacity for mischief,
and the resolution to practise it by both parties on
the first favourable opportunity.
Men who, before they became the inmates of a
gaol, had found it necessary " to assume a virtue, if
they had it not," shortly after becoming prisoners,
discovered that neither the appearance of virtue nor
the virtue itself was required. They were yeyj quick
in perceiving that no estimation was set upon such
articles; that they operated as trammels; that the
barefaced declaration and avowal of a rogue procured
more respect than the professions of an honest man.
THE LAST HALF CENTUEY. 15
He who possessed good principles was obliged to
conceal them, to keep them in abeyance, to remain
a silent auditor in the colloquies to which he was in¬
troduced, or to acquiesce in the sentiments of the
majority, under pain of being treated as a fool,
excluded from the general association, and sent to
Coventry.
Thus they who went in with some respect for a
good name became, by contamination, less tenacious
of their reputation. Evil communications soon cor¬
rupted good manners in this abode of profligacy and
degradation. Those who before their arrival had
worn the mask of honesty, immediately threw it off,
and appeared in their natural features. Those who
had no fixed principles whatever, and little discrimi¬
nation of right from wrong, were, as a matter of
course, quickly and surely corrupted by the examples
around them, and thus, avowals, statements, and sen¬
timents were publicly made and professed which to
novices and strangers seemed no less criminal than
the disclosures and boastings of thieves, pickpockets,
and burglars.
That every man who spent many of his days ia
this society was wholly corrupted by its contact, is
not meant to be advanced. There existed a certain
minority, who, if they came not out of it altogether
16
RECOLLECTIONS OF
unscathed, yet managed to escape the virulence of
the inoculation. But this minority was a small one ;
the majority of the long residents were hardened in
feeling, reckless of the opinion of the world, con¬
firmed in evil practice. No man was ever made
better by what he saw and experienced. The greater
part learnt that in the prison, which rendered them
pests to the community without when they emerged
from their durance.
To the absurdity and wickedness of indiscriminately
depriving men of totally different gradations of culpa¬
bility of their liberty, and subjecting them to the
same measure of punishment, and wedging them in
a mass within the walls of a prison, was added the
absurd anomaly of inflicting so small a measure of
restraint upon a wealthy scoundrel, or upon one who
had wealthy connexions, that the restraint was no
punishment at all. What was termed the " Rules" is
what I here allude to; the Rules" of the King's
Bench Prison (happily they are now matter of
history) appeared to have been instituted for the
double purpose of defeating the very end for which
imprisonment was enforced, and for putting money
into the pocket of him, the marshal, who presided
over the establishment !
The Rules" were, topographically, the precincts
THE LAST HALE CENTURY.
17
of the prison, and extended a very considerable
distance from the prison itself. They took in all the
adjacent streets, great part of the borough, and of
the parish of Lambeth, the road from the Elephant
and Castle Tavern to the Surrey Theatre, the West-
ininster-road, and part of the locality now occupied
by the road leading to Waterloo Bridge. This dis¬
trict, under the term " Rules," was swarming with
debtors, who paid large fees, and gave security to the
marshal not to go beyond the bounds allowed them.
It was the haunt of idle, dissipated men ; a sort of
modern Alsatia, little more refined than Old White
Friars, and only less villanous in its habits and
customs than its prototype by reason of the general
progress of society. Those who obtained the liberty
of the Rules" might be seen enjoying themselves,
and spending their creditors' money, in sundry places
specifically appropriated to their accommodation.
Taverns and theatres they could not enter without
a breach of the compact between them and the
marshal.
Upon the spot, or somewhere near to it, which lies
in front of the Asylum for the Blind, near the
Obelisk, which was formerly called St. George's
Fields, stood the noted house of their resort, a
privileged temple of Bacchus, called " Lowthorpe's.'?
VOL. II. C
18
RECOLLECTIONS OF
This they were empowered to enter, and there, those
amongst them who had plenty of money could
indulg-e in all such luxuries as are to be met with in
taverns, beer-shops, and gin-palaces of these days.
The restriction imposed upon them, with regard to
taverns generally, was the penalty of an insult offered
to Lord Thurlow, whose pleasure-grounds and
plantations had undergone considerable desecration
by a party of "Rulers" on their route to Epsom
Races, and the burly Chancellor, in revenge for the
misdoings of a few, procured an enactment by which
the many were curtailed of their privileges and
pleasures. In spite of his lordship, they managed to
enjoy themselves in many ways, and evaded with
perfect ease and impunity the regulations to which
it was meant they should be amenable.
The marshal, it is true, was answerable to the
creditors of a " Ruler" if the " Ruler" escaped, or
was not forthcoming after notice to produce him in
four-and-twenty hours. Thus the " Ruler" could
always avail himself of liberty for twenty-four hours,
and having shown himself to the marshal and the
creditor, renew his freedom for tvv-enty-four hours
more ; and so long as he remained a " Ruler," was
comparatively a free man, or, at all events, a very
different thing from a prisoner.
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 19
But the fact was, that the creditors, in very few
instances, ever called upon the marshal to produce a
Ruler." They were perfectly aware of the futility
of so doing ; and except in cases of the most flagrant
character, the marshal and the Ruler" were exone¬
rated from all inquiries ; and the " Ruler" could
take his pleasure, or extend his wanderings, with
impunity, to all parts of England.
The notoriety of this fact is so well established by
many instances of " Rulers" having been met with
in almost all places but the Rules," that one instance
of the fact will be sufRcient to give a notion of the
abuse.
Mellor Hetherington, Esq., was a man whose life
aflbrds much matter on which the moralist may
descant, the curious wonder, and the careless reflect.
His father made a fortune in a profitable business,
and increased it by lucrative contracts with the
Government. He was educated for no profession,
and brought up with no regard to prospective pur¬
suits; he was to inherit a fortune, and it was taken
for granted that the science of spending money was
one that would come by instinct, and the manner in
which it was spent accommodate itself to the pro¬
priety of the outlay. Economy was inculcated into
the apprehension of the youth by frequent repetition
c 2
20
RECOLLECTIONS OF
of the thrifty wisdom contained in the maxim, " Take
care of the pence, the pounds will take care of them¬
selves." The youth comprehended and acted only
on the second division of the instruction. What he
did with the pence is of little importance ; that he
left the pounds to take care of themselves" is
certain ; indeed, he accelerated their liberation from
his personal constraint with a rapidity which alarmed
his father. Bounds were put to the laxity of con¬
trol over the parental savings by the substitution
of a limited grant ; and two thousand pounds a year
were considered an adequate allowance for a young
gentleman whose aspirations had disbursed double
that amount in the same time.
The sequel of this arrangement shortly appeared.
Mr. Mellor Hetherington was arrested for debt, and
became a Ruler," not in the King's Bench Prison,
but in the Fleet Prison, in which a similar system of
discipline was established, under the government of
the " Warden."
Here Mr. Hetherington may be said to have
enjoyed his oiium, if not cum dignitate^ at least, with
such conveniences for comfort as suited his tastes and
ideas quite as well. He had all the appliances for
the pleasures of life with which a man of limited
intellectual faculties and coarse habits of gratification
THE LAST HALE CENTUEY. 21
is satisfied. He had few cares, and the plasticity
of his disposition enabled him, without difficulty, to
conform to the requisitions of the position in which
he was placed. Thus he was a jovial companion, a
capital fellow, &c., and a man who, for more reasons
than one, was considered by his associates an acquisi¬
tion to the " Rules."
Mr. Mellor Hetherington had, previously to his
introduction to the scenes of which he formed a pro¬
minent feature, been much addicted to the amuse¬
ment of driving tandems, "four-in-hand," &c. He had,
indeed, attained such a proficiency of skill in all that
related to the art of driving, that, if destiny had placed
him in times more propitious to such pursuits, he
might, with safety, have been backed as a winner at
the chariot races of Rome or Greece ; first favourite
amongst those,
" Quos pulverem Olympicum
Collegisse juvat," &c.
and would have done justice to the judgment of his
backers.
This passion for the functions of a charioteer would
seem but little capable of being gratified by a prisoner
for debt; nevertheless, under the regulations of the
" Rules," the gratification of it experienced neither
difficulty nor delay. It happened during Mr. Hethe-
22
EECOLLECTIONS OF
rington's residence, or supposed residence, in the
" Rules," that the coachman who w^as employed by
Mr. Bolton, the then proprietor of the Golden Cross
Inn, at Charing Cross, to drive the night coach called
the "Crown Prince," or some such name, from London
to Birmingham and back, was taken ill, and was, for
a time, unable to attend to his duties. Being on
intimate terms with Mr. Hetherington, he proposed
that during his sickness that gentleman should take
his place on the box, and drive the coach backwards
and forwards, from and to Birmingham. Mr. Hethe¬
rington accepted the office with pleasure, and for
upwards of a month fulfilled its duties with a punc¬
tuality and attention that secured the good will of the
passengers and elicited the admiration of the pro¬
prietor, Mr. Bolton, who was generally in attendance
at the Golden Cross, to see in what state and manner
the coachman brought the horses into the yard. The
veteran coach-master observed that he had got a
"trump," dropped a hint or two that he should feel
no great regret if the sick coachman never got well,
and proposed to the temporary substitute to become
the permanent successor to the invalid. Mr. Hethe¬
rington was obliged to explain the trifling obstacle
which prevented the completion of so desirable an
arrangement—he was a " Ruler." It was quite true
THE LAST HALF CENTURY.
23
the ^'Rules'' were not much better preserved by other
people than by him ; but the fact of his being con¬
tinually engaged in driving a stage-coach, and for a
long term, might reach the ears of creditors, who
could not properly estimate such a performance on
his part ; the upshot of the business might be that
the warden might be under the necessity of submit¬
ting to the prejudices of ignorant people, and confine
him for the future to the walls of the prison.
From some cause or other Mr. Hetherington did
become an inhabitant of the Fleet, and remained
within the walls thereof for some years. Thence he
removed himself by legal process to the King's Bench,
of which place he obtained the "Rules;" resided, or
was supposed to be " resident" within their limits for
some time, and at length was "invited" by the
marshal to come within the gates, an " invitation"
which he, of course, accepted, and where, for many
years, he "held his state" in what was called the
" State House," a large building of dirty, solid brick¬
work, close to the entrance or lobby of the prison.
This gentleman passed, in the "Rules" and within
the walls of the Fleet and the King's Bench Prisons,
upwards of twenty years of his life, to the destruction
of any prospects he might have had for the advance¬
ment of his interests in any way in the world, with
24
RECOLLECTIONS OF
no advantage to his creditors, and to the disgrace of
a system of jurisprudence which could enforce or
tolerate such an absurdity and injustice. He com¬
menced the career of a prisoner for debt with an
income of sixteen hundred a-year; and he ultimately
closed it by passing through the portal of the Court
for the Relief of Insolvent Debtors, without paying
one shilling to those by whose tyranny or folly he
had been for so long a time an anomaly to his race.
His residence within the State House presented a
strange picture of the economy of the prison. It will
not be irrelevant to give some description of it. They
who were the companions of his imprisonment could
furnish some incidents equally illustrative and curious.
He was the favoured tenant of two rooms on the
first floor of the State House just mentioned. The
term " favoured" is used, because by the regulations
of the prison no prisoner was allowed more than one
room, and was only on sufferance the sole occupier
of that one room.
If the prison were full of prisoners, as at the time
alluded to it was, the occupant of every room had
thrust upon him one, two, or three companions, as
the case might be. These persons were known by
the friendly title of " Chums." Their society was,
nowever, anything but desired or desirable, and if
the occupant could afford it, he was allowed to buy
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 25
off the visit of the " Chum" by a certain weekly
payment to that individual.
The system of "chumming" was upheld by the
authorities^ and by means of it a number of pauper
prisoners were in part supported by their wealthier
brethren. To what place or places the pauper
prisoners betook themselves at night was one of the
mysteries of the establishment ; part of them^ it was
understood, slept nightly on the benches of the
Tap," and some scores were huddled together on
the floor and seats of the chapel, which they modestly
relinquished during divine service therein to other
people, but what became of the majority when the
hour of rest arrived, nobody knew or cared.
If the unfortunate occupant of a room had only the
means of supporting himself, and could not afford to
purchase the absence of his " Chum," he had the
annoyance of passing his time with a drunkard, a
mendicant, a vulgar ruffian, or any other variety of
brutality, blasphemy, and rags, that the discretion of
the officers might induce them to select as his
companion.
Mr. Hetherington being a wealthy tenant, and
having two rooms, was accommodated with a group of
this class, whom he, of course, bought out, and em¬
ployed, moreover, in various ways, as servants, and so
forth.
26
EECOLLECTIONS OF
Being settled in his rooms, one of his first acts was
to enlarge the fireplace of one of them ; to substitute
a kitchen range for the small stove by which it had
previously been occupied, and to make preparation
for the enjoyment of those good things of this world,
in which aldermen and civic celebrities are under¬
stood so much to delight. The room was a large one,
and gave ample scope for the designs he meditated.
It was fitted up with strong utilitarian furniture, and
when completed partook of the triple character of
kitchen, reception, and dining-room.
He had read enough of the Bible to remember the
text, " It is not good that man should be alone," and
he acted upon it, after his own manner, with scrupu¬
lous fidelity. A lady, who had been for some years
under the protection of a noble lord, consented to
share the fortunes of a commoner, and cheer by her
presence the abode of the captive. Mrs. Whimper
was accordingly inaugurated in her new receptacle,
and for a number of years reigned mistress of the
premises. It is but right to mention that the scruples
the lady might have felt for the peculiarity of her
position were removed by a promise of marriage from
the gentleman, and that the promise was honourably
fulfilled immediately on the discharge of the latter
from prison.
THE LAST HALF CENTÜET.
27
CHAPTER II.
James Bearcroft: his Birth^ Parentage, Education, Pursuits, and
Death—Portrait of his Father, by Morland—Observation upon
it, by Captain Best—Sir Edwin Sandys—Mr. Bryant (not the
Antiquary)—Mr. Gordon Urquhart—A Curious Collection of
Belies—The Bochfort Squadron—Henry Fauntleroy—Delcour—
Vanity and Scoundrelism—Fauntleroy's Execution, &c.
Having then secured a fitting place for future enjoy¬
ments, he was not long in obtaining the aid of fitting
instruments to carry out his views. Amongst the
number of these, indeed the chief of them, was a well-
known character,, than whom few men had expe¬
rienced stranger vicissitudes, and none borne them
with greater equanimity or indifférence.
This man was Mr. James Bearcroft, better known
as Jemmy Bearcroft. His duties were to smuggle
spirits into the prison for the gratification of his em¬
ployer and his guests ; to raise money on such
hypothetical property as is generally conveyed to the
pawnbrokers ; to act the part which Mercury is under¬
stood to have acted for Jupiter; and to do the mis¬
cellaneous business which, in the words of newspaper
28
EECOLLECTIONS OE
advertisements, is called " making himself generally
useful all this and more he performed with punctu¬
ality, good faith, and secresy, and in return was sup¬
ported by his patron. He had originally possessed
but little delicacy of feeling and little sense of shame.
He had been one of those persons whom the great,
so called, had received as a boon companion, and
treated as the great in former days treated their
licensed fools.
A noble lord, resident in Leicestershire, whose
tastes were more boisterous than refined, had been so
delighted with Jemmy's drolleries, that he conceived
a friendly interest in his endeavours to get on in the
world, and testified this interest with more profuse-
ness than judgment by frequent pecuniary gifts. The
object of his beneficence, in one of his erratic vagaries,
had determined to visit the provinces, in which he
thought he could turn his ribaldry to account, and
his patron supplied the funds for his excursion. With
these he purchased a wretched little vehicle and such
other accessories as he considered necessary for his
success. The vehicle was drawn by a famous trotting
pony, a present from the Leicestershire peer, pur¬
chased in " the rough" for the occasion, and trimmed
and clipped with great skill to give effect to the
equipment. A sort of friendly commissariat, con-
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 29
sisting of his particular friends, was formed, and the
vehicle was stored with a meat-pie and other things
to meet the exigencies of hunger and thirst ; and
after an uproarious meeting at the Coal Hole Tavern,
in Fountain-court, in the Strand, then kept by the
father of the late proprietor, Mr. Rhodes, Jemmy set
forth on his professional tour.
He reached the first place of his destination, some
forty miles from London on the western road, on the
evening of the market-day, having in his transit so
diverted the clowns and boors with whom he came in
contact, and the roadside publicans, that he was fèted
with beer and spirits, and such like exhilarating
things, at the general expense. On his approach he
discovered, to his great exultation, that his reputation
had preceded him, for on his "pulling up" at his inn,
the rurals, who had had a foretaste of his quality, were
w^aiting in a crowd, and no sooner did they recognise
their new acquaintance than they testified their de¬
light at his arrival. " Here he be " Bean't he a rum
'un " I never seed the like of he," &c., and such
like remarks, were uttered by twenty different
tongues.
With more audacity than politeness Jemmy cried
aloud, " Look out, you Johnny Raws ! you Barn-door
Buffers ! did you never see a gentleman before ? call
30
RECOLLECTIONS OF
the ostler, and make yourselves useful in assisting one
of your betters to descend from his carriage." His
auditors obeyed this command, the pony and chaise
were consigned to the ostler, and the driver himself
was politely shown into the room in which were already
assembled a festive group to welcome his appearance.
Here, till a late hour in the night, he kept the com¬
pany in a roar of laughter at his jokes, many of which,
it must be confessed, were somewhat threadbare, and
many more of a character with which it is not accus¬
tomed to astonish ears polite." To these primitive
auditors, however, they had the charm of novelty and
the advantage of being very readily understood.
Jemmy was not the man to cut blocks with a razor, "
and on this occasion his " table talk" secured unqua¬
lified admiration and praise. To diversify the plea¬
sures of the evening, and show the versatility of his
attainments, he volunteered the " Humours of Bar-
tlemy Fair," a metrical production which had just
made its appearance in London, and brought hun¬
dreds of people to the Adelphi Theatre, to enjoy the
incomparable humour of the late Charles Mathews.
By the time this effort at vocalization was termi¬
nated, the grey-eyed morn began to peep," and the
company reeled off to their respective places of rest.
Mr. Bearcroft, however, scorning the repose of
THE LAST HALF CENTUEY. 31
sleep, ascended his car, and applying the lash to his
pony, bade a temporary farewell to the temple in
which the revels of Bacchus had been celebrated
with such unusual honours, and proceeded on his
journey.
In his communications by letter with his patron,
this eccentric being gave notice, that he had reached
the orderly and notoriously devout town of * * ^ *
on the Sabbath Day, at the hour of morning prayer.
By order of the magistracy of this holy city, all car¬
riages were ordered to make a detour, by which the
high road, which passed by the door of the church,
was avoided, and the congregation within secured
from being disturbed. In a place in which such ob¬
servances prevailed, it is not difficult to imagine the
surprise of the inhabitants on beholding an equi¬
page like Jemmy's shoot through their town with
clattering velocity, the charioteer himself in a state
of intoxication, addressing observations to the priests
and people, the purport of which I leave the reader
to guess at. Scarcely had he reached the further
limit of the town before indignation at the scandal of
his behaviour attained its height, his further progress
was cut short, and he himself taken before the magis¬
trates of the borough, and committed to the cage.
The noble lord who had furnished the supplies for
32
EECOLLECTIONS OE
the tour received another letter containing an account
of the indignities to which his friend had been sub¬
jected, and requesting, in very pressing terms, a
remittance to extricate him from the consequences of
the perpetrated injustice, and to enable him to insti¬
tute legal proceedings to procure an indemnification
for his sufferings. Money was immediately forwarded
for these purposes, which Mr. Bearcroft no doubt
employed in the best manner the circumstances of
the case required. The legal proceedings were,
however, abandoned, as justice had already been very
properly administered to the complainant, and the
only mode he devised to express his resentment of
the incarceration he had undergone, was to address
an annual letter to the chief magistrate of the town,
in which he availed himself of that faculty which he
and his admirers termed wit, but of which, in the
words of Parson Adams, it was more reputable to be
the subject than the author.
Here is a specimen—viz., one of these letters—
" Doctissime !—How are you getting on in your
learning ? I hope better than when I first knew you ;
for then there was little hope of your becoming a
comfort to your friends or an ornament to society.
I am always thinking of you, and have tried to get
yon into the new Government contract for bottling
THE LAST HALE CENTUEY. 33
off the Thames—the Government to supply the
water, and you the bottles and corks. Don't put
yourself to the trouble of answering this, as pens, ink^
paper, and spelling-books are scarce in your part of
the country. Tell all the ^ Johnnies' they may rely
on my protection,
" Yours, mh rosa, Jacobus."
This man was one amongst many instances of men
who have been brought up in expectations of wealth
and position, and suddenly been thrown upon the
world without a shilling, and without those habits of
application by which a shilling is to be obtained. His
father was eminent as a lawj^er and as a speaker in the
House of Commons, and would, had he lived, have
obtained the highest rank in his profession. I believe
the appointment of Lord Chancellor for Ireland had
been offered to him, when death prematurely cut
short his prospects of worldly wealth and dignity.
He had taken an active part in the proceedings which
were instituted by Burke against Warren Hastings,
and was considered by his party as a man whose
talents were of a high order, and whose advocacy was
to be secured. His son had little veneration for his
memor}^ ; he was in possession of a portrait by Mor-
land, of his father, whose personal appearance was
VOL. II. D
34
RECOLLECTIONS OE
exactly the reverse of comely, and whom Horace
Walpole has described as an unwieldy mass of flesh.
This portrait he attempted to treat as Joseph Surface
treated the portraits of his ancestors ; he was con¬
tinually pestering Captain Best to become the pur¬
chaser of it, and expatiating on its merits. Now,
though Best was fond of Jemmy's drolleries, he never
lost an opportunity of giving him a gentle rub.
Jemmy brought the portrait to his house, and offered
to sell him a bargain.
"There's no humbug about it," said Jemmy; "it's
a genuine picture, an original Morland."
t
"I'm aware of that," replied Best. "I know as
well as you do how celebrated Morland was in the
production of heasts.^^
Jemmy took the portrait away*, and probably dis¬
posed of it at some other market.
He had at an early age been placed at Westminster
School, and for ten years he was presumed to be
courting the Muses who are supposed to haunt that
venerable seat of learning. If his courtship of those
ladies was a successful one, he had the modesty to
%j
keep the secret to himself, and nothing ever tran¬
spired in his conduct or language which would leajd
to the remotest notion of such liaiaons.
He had appeared as Davus in Terence's play, and
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 35
Davus sum non Œdtpus was a quotation by which he
continued to back out of any discussion in which
he discovered he was getting the worst of the argu¬
ment.
»
Upon the strength of his performance oí Davus he,
however, considered himself entitled to be on the
free list'' at the Westminster plays in future days ;
and when in somewhat better circumstances than usual
ventured to lay a wager, and staked a five-pound
note, that he would write a letter to Dr. Goodenough,
the head-master of the school, and obtain tickets of
admission for himself and friends for the entertain¬
ment. Here is his letter.
"Dear Goodenough,—Will you oblige me with
four admissions for some friends of mine who wish to
see the performance in the Dormitory on evening
next ? Yours truly,
" J. Bearcroft."
" All very clear," said Best, with a look of mis¬
trust. " It's very easy to write a note, and quite as
easy not to send it."
" Here," said Jemmy, " put it in the post your¬
self."
Best took the note, which he put into his pocket
d 2
36
EECOLLECTIONS OF
instead of the post-office, and Jemmy received next
day an answer, to which the name of the principal of
the school was subscribed, though it was certainly
not the production of that learned person. Thus :—
Dear Badenough formerly, and now worse than
ever. Certainly not.
" Yours, as your behaviour may deserve,
"C. Goodenough."
Jemmy, who suspected something wrong, but
could not discover what it was, was laughed at for
his boasting, and lost his money.
In his descent in the scale of respectability, aban¬
doned b}'" his aristocratic friends, and no longer
employed by Mr. Hetherington to smuggle spirits
and other commodities into the King's Bench Prison,
Bearcroft made application to Yates of the Adelphi
Theatre, to whom he had been known in his better
days, and Yates appointed him check-taker for the
boxes. This appointment compelled him to be sta¬
tionary and quiet for several hours every evening,
and was consequently not much to his taste. His
seat was in a narrow recess on the right hand side of
the passage leading from the entrance of the house to
the staircase, which he jocosely termed the Hole in
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 37
the Wall," and from which he so repeatedly absented
himself without leave or notice, that Yates very soon
found out his services were worse than useless. He
was discharged, and for some time derived a very
miserable existence from the extorted benevolence of
old friends and acquaintance. It was in this deplo¬
rable state of destitution that he met with the late
Mr. Bertie Ambrosse, who had known him when he
enjoyed the patronage of the late Lord Coventry. To
that nobleman, Mr. Ambrosse made known Bearcroft's
wants without delay, and his lordship, very much to
his credit, made no delay in the alleviation of them.
He directed Mr. Ambrosse immediately to present
him with ten pounds for present necessities, and to
tell him that it was his intention to afford him per¬
manent relief. The money and the message were at
once conveyed to poor Jemmy ; but what was intended
to prolong his life had the effect of shortening it.
He was so overjoyed at the munificence of his old
friend and patron, and at the prospect which was
opened to him, that his constitution, enfeebled by
dissipation and want, could not support the excite¬
ment which ensued, and within a week of the an¬
nouncement of his friend, he had reached that bourn
from which no traveller returns.
In order to be well served with the luxuries of the
38
RECOLLECTIONS OE
table, Mr. Hetberington made a resolution to become
his own cook, and studied both in theory and prac¬
tice the various systems with which Mrs. Glasse,
Dr. Kitchiner, Ude, and others, have enriched lite¬
rature and exhilarated life. In the early part of the
day he held consultations with vendors of poultry,
game, vegetables, and fish; discussed the merits of
various joints of beef, lamb, pork, veal, and mutton.
He selected with judgment what was best of its
kind, and having so done set about the task of
preparing the coming meal. Divested of his coat,
and clothed in an appropriate costume for his opera¬
tions, he chopped stuffing, rolled pie-crust, and per¬
formed all the minuter details of gastronomy with
an assiduity and attention to his adopted duties,
which it would be well if paid professors would
imitate.
His agents, faithful to their trusts, were continually
passing through the gates of the prison, returning
with necessary condiments for the perfection of his
dishes, Mr. Bearcroft performing the contrabandist,
and " running" from time to time small cargoes of
prohibited spirits.
By five o'clock the dinner was announced, and the
table surrounded by a company consisting of fellow
" collegians" and visitors from the outside Mrs.
THE LAST HALE CENTURY.
39
Whimper doing the honours and receiving the con¬
gratulations, Mr. Hetheringtori helping the guests
and expatiating on the merits of the viands.
Amongst the most customary partakers of these
luxuries was Sir Edwin Sandys, Bart., a man of rank
and position, whose fortune not being adequate to his
wants, or rather to what he thought he wanted,
became the inmate of a jail whilst high-sheriif of
Gloucestershire and colonel of the militia of the
county, and continued for some years to expiate his
folly and illustrate the absurdity of the laws as next-
door neighbour to his eccentric entertainer.
Another pretty constant attendant at these dinners
was a Mr. Bryant. This gentleman had, at one
time, possessed considerable influence with con¬
stituencies, and acted as an agent in the election of
members of Parliament with great success. He was
a man of considerable fortune. He was located in
the " Bules" or detained for a debt of less than forty
pounds lodged against him. This debt he resolved
never to pay, being as obstinate as his creditor, and
content to wear out his days asa prisoner rather than
submit to what he termed injustice. His case
afforded a curious instance of the inefficiency of
the law to enforce payment of a debt, where the
debtor had made up his mind to resist the claim
40
RECOLLECTIONS OF
against him. He was for some years either a
" Ruler" or a prisoner within the walls.
Whether the debt for which he was detained
was ultimately paid or not^ has not come to my
knowledge.
Mr. Gordon Urquhart was one of the guests
at the table of Mr. Hetherington. He was a man
well known some thirty or forty years ago as one of
the principal supporters of the Prize-ring," being
the contemporary and companion of Captain Barclay,
Berkeley Craven, Sir Henry Smyth, Tom Griffiths,
Jackson, and others of sporting celebrity. He was also
remarkable for a similarity of tastes with the celebrated
George Selwyn. That gentleman, it is known, never
missed attending the execution of a criminal, and
was, on one occasion, at an execution at Paris, treated
with singular marks of respect by the functionary who
presided on the scaffold. Mr. Urquhart did not attain
to such distinction ; but at Newgate and Horseraonger-
lane he was understood to have the eMtrée^ and con¬
sidered to be a privileged person. He carried his
eccentric penchant for everything connected with the
last moments of the unfortunate culprits so far, that
he invariably procured from Jack Ketch the halters
by wljich they were strangled, which he carefully
preserved as mementoes of the instability of human
THE LAST HALF CENTURY.
41
existence and the reward of crime. He possessed a
curious collection of those dreary documents^ and
obtained a notoriety by this pursuit of which he was
not a little proud.
Like most other persons of eccentric habits^ his
tastes exceeded his means of gratifying them; and
though he was in the enjoyment of a good income, he
was continually adopting expedients to obtain money.
When I was a mere lad, he made use of me as an
agent to raise the wind for him. It was thus : he had
mtde up his mind to go to Epsom Races, and the
only difficulty was to procure the money to take him
there. This difficulty the fertilit}^ of his invention
very soon removed. He had a half-brother, a Captain
Mackenzie, who was in command of the Zenobia
brig-of-war; the Captain had just returned from the
Mediterranean, left the brig in the Downs, and come
up to London to enjoy the pleasures of the season.
Amongst other things which he had brought on shore
with him were the ship's chronometers, which were
of considerable value, and were deposited in Mr.
Urquhart's house for security. (Qy.) It struck Mr.
Urquhart that these instruments were totally useless
in such a place as London, as far as regarded the
object for which they were contrived ; being a man
who took little, indeed, " no note of time," either by
42
EECOLLECTIONS OF
its loss or its preservation^ and being quite aware
" what o'clock it w^as" without the aid of mechanical
contrivances, he resolved to render the chronometers
subservient to his desire to go to Epsom. He re¬
quested me to take them to Rochfort, the pawn¬
broker, in Jermyn-street, St. James's, and raise upon
their security the largest sum that the pawnbroker
would advance. This I accordingly did, and Mr.
Urquhart was furnished with ample means to make
his appearance on the course. He was somewhat
jocose upon the occasion. "If," said he, " the Admiralty
should inquire what has become of their chrono¬
meters, I can tell them with truth that they are
aboard the ^ Rochfort Squadron.' And as to the
Captain, the fewer ' observations' made on his
present meridian, considering the hours he's keeping,
the better for his morals and character."
The Captain was, however, in process of time,
obliged to go again to sea, and Urquhart had
to redeem the chronometers; this he fortunately
accomplished without the Captain or the Admiralty
having the slightest suspicion of where they had been
doing duty during the temporary absence of the
former from the Downs,
England, though a large cage for even a large bird,
was not large enough for such an aspiring bird as
THE LAST HALE CENTURY.
43
Urqiihart to stretch his wings in, and accordingly he
/
took his flight to the Continent, where he resided
many years, making Calais his head-quarters, and at
intervals honouring his native country with short
visits. It was on one of these visits that he was
lodged on " suspicion of debt" in the King's Bench
Prison, in which place, the suspicion" being un¬
fortunately too well founded, he spent some weeks,
and became the guest and associate of his old
acquaintance Mr Mellor Hetherington.
Í
The manner of his death was something tragical.
o o
He had been spending the evening with a party of
friends at one of the large hotels at Calais, , and
returned home about midnight ; he w^as perfectly
sober, and in full possession of his faculties ; unfortu¬
nately, the staircase which led to his bed-room was
exceedingly steep, and the landing-place from which
his door opened very narrow. He had just got to
the door, when his foot tripped, and he fell backwards
from the top to the bottom of the stairs ; he was
picked up senseless ; medical aid was immediately
procured, but it was unavailing ; the base of the
skull was fractured, and he who but a quarter of an
hour before had been the animating principle of the
party, was a corpse.
I will say a little more of this gentleman, because
44
KECOLLECTIONS OF
his history in some degree involves the history of a
man with whom both he and I were acquainted, and
the fatal termination of whose career was the deserved
reward of villany long practised with success, but
ultimately overtaken by justice.
The man to whom I make allusion, Henry Faunt-
leroy, whose notorious forgeries and systematic
villany have rescued his name from oblivion to make
it the scorn and execration of the honest, was in his
everyday life a heartless sensualist and a hypocritical
coxcomb. His vanity was insatiable, and his self-
love predominant over every feeling of mercy to
others or forgiveness of imagined injuries. Offend
his vanity, and you begot his implacable revenge.
I will give an instance of this. In the year 1815,
when everybody was hurrying to the Continent, and
those who had money to spend, and a taste for spend¬
ing it in the purchase of pictures and works of art,
were lavish in their expenditure, Fauntleroy, who
had, or thought he had, or affected to have, a taste
for such things, and who also kept his eye upon the
profits which might arise from speculating in such
things, employed one Delcóur (I knew the man, but
length of time has partly obliterated my exactness of
recollection as to his name), or one whose name was
very like Delcour, to go to France and purchase for
THE LAST HALE CEHTUKY. 45
him a collection of paintings, which Delcour had in¬
formed him were the property of a French general,
by tvhom in various campaigns they had been ob¬
tained as part of the spoils and pillage of vanquished
enemies. Delcour expatiated on the value of this
collection, and of the profits which would accrue to
any person who could afford to buy the pictures for the
purpose of selling again in England. The vanity and
the cupidity of Fauntlero}^ were at once awakened at
the prospect of being considered a connoisseur, and of
putting a large sum of money in his pocket. Delcour
was supplied with money and the means of making
the purchase, and despatched without delay to Paris.
There he remained some time, and on his return to
London placed in the possession of his employer what
the latter considered the genuine collection of a mili¬
tary commander of high rank. The greater part of
the collection was speedily disposed of, and a good
profit made by the transaction ; the remainder were
reserved to decorate the walls of the large room in
Berners-street in which the purchaser was accus¬
tomed to receive his guests. It may be mentioned
by the way, that on the sideboard of this apartment
were placed two marble busts, the one the effigy of
the Emperor Napoleon L, the other the effigy of Mr.
Fauntleroy, whose flatterers had persuaded him that he
46
KECOLLECTIONS OF
bore a remarkable resemblance to the victor of Aus-
terlitz, and whose good opinion of himself had caused
him to adopt this expedient for proving the similarity.
It was on the occasion of a visit from some great man,
that, on directing the attention of the visitor to the
paintings which decorated his walls, he learnt, to his
dismay and smothered indignation, that his pictures,
instead of having formed part of the collection of the
French general, had been the property of him to
whom he was about to explain their merits. He
found that the great man knew a great deal more
about them than he himself did, and it was with some
difficulty that he restrained his rage till the great man
departed. No sooner had he retired than he sent
for Delcour, and reproached him in most unmeasured
language for the cheat he had put upon him. In
vain the poor fellow implored forgiveness, pleaded
that the purchase of the pictures had been a most
remunerative investment of his money, and that, in
addition to the sums he had received, he had a collec¬
tion of some twelve or fourteen paintings which were
of considerable value and intrinsic merit.
Faunlleroy was inexorable ; the scoundrel, who at
the very time this affair took place revelled in the
riches, which by his forgeries he had obtained from
the clients of the banking-house, was reproaching a
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 47
man with dishonesty for a comparatively venial offence,
and threatenins: that vengeance which he without
O O
delay inflicted.
Delcour at the time was in a good way of business
as a picture-dealer in Rathbone-place, but he was
unfortunately in the power of Fauntleroy. He owed
him a considerable sum of money. Fauntleroy en¬
forced payment by all the appliances of the law; in
vain his own friends and those to wdiom Delcour was
known implored mercy, and asked for time to pay the
debt ; he would listen to nothing, The man and his
family were turned houseless and destitute into the
street, his furniture and effects sold under an execu¬
tion, and it was only by a subscription amongst some
benevolent people that they were rescued from actual
starvation or the tender mercies of a parish overseer.
The vanitv of the man had been wounded, and
t/ ^
vengeance was the only application by which the
wound could be healed.
A friend of mine, engaged in a profitable business,
but in which business the employment of a large
capital was required, had banked at the house of
Fauntleroy and his partners for several years, and had
generally a good balance in their hands. He had,
however, overdrawn his account about three hundred
pounds. Mr. Fauntleroy pressed for an immediate
48
RECOLLECTIONS OF
settlement of the account^ and commenced law process
to obtain it. The costs were considerable, but they
and the money were paid. At this very time the
uncle of the gentleman to whom I allude had a bank¬
ing account with the firm, a rest of money amounting
to two thousand pounds, which the rogue put into his
own pocket, and the sum of twelve hundred pounds in
Russian Bonds, secured in a sealed box, which he
broke open, and also applied to his own purposes.
From what I know of the habits of life of this man,
and the way in which he spent the money which he con¬
trived to obtain by his crimes, I fuily believe that his
existence was a misery, and that nothing but the ex¬
citement of active business and of dissipation could
allay the stings of conscience and the terrors of retri¬
bution. I do not mean for a moment to say that he
repented of his practices, bu^ that he repented having
put himself into a position which might at any moment
render him amenable to justice, I have no doubt was
the case.
The contrition of a real penitent and the regrets
of a trembling scoundrel are distinct sensations—
This Virtue's struggle in the heart denotes,
This Vice's hints to men's left ears and throats."
I remember walking down Berners-street some
months before the discovery of the forgeries which
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 49
led to his disgraceful death, in company with an
officer in the army who was well acquainted with
him. Colonel and I came suddenly upon
Fauntleroy, who was walking before us, when the
Colonel, tapping him good-naturedly but somewhat
roughly on the shoulder, exclaimed, " Hilloa, old
fellow, what are you thinking about?" He turned
round, trembling like a man taken unawares in the
perpetration of a crime, and his face, naturally without
much colour, became deadly white. He stammered
out some unintelligible sentence, after a time at¬
tempted a smile, and said, what I have no doubt was
the truth, You almost frightened me out of my
senses."
He was at his post in the banking-house early and
late, and his assiduity and apparent attention to
business was looked upon by everybody as an instance
of remarkable devotion to the duties of his office, and
as an example which it would be well for men of
business to follow. The fact was, his fears of some¬
thing occurring which might lead to his detection in
his absence, compelled him to be almost constantly
present during banking hours.
It was his custom to be always surrounded, after
the banking-house was closed, with a set of com¬
panions who found it answer their purpose to attend
VOL. II. E
50
EECOLLECTIONS OE
at his dinner-table, and partake of the other advan¬
tages which the society of a rich man is supposed to
confer upon' his protégés. Amongst this set of people
was Mr. Urquhart, Mr. Wadd, a surgeon (who was
unfortunately killed by jumping out of a carriage
with which the horses had run away), Mr. Vernon,
and several others whose names I must be excused
from mentioning. These people were on Saturdays
entertained by him at dinner, taken to the Opera
House, and from thence trundled as fast as four
horses could go in a barouche to Brighton, at which
place he had a house and a concubine. Having
recruited their strength by a few hours' slumber, and
shown themselves on the Steyne, &c., they partook
of his hospitality at dinner, and were wafted back to
London with the same celerity with which they had
left it, and he himself made his appearance in Berners-
street some time before the hours of business.
He had also a villa" at Hampton, on the banks of
the Thames, at which he entertained select parties,
the selection being made, not for the moral or
respectable characteristics of the guests, but for
their capacity for driving " away dull care," and for
affording that sort of amusement which marks the
connexion between dissipation and profligacy. Here
all sorts of games" were carried on, and one Mrs.
THE LAST HALE CENTÜKY. 51
Bartram, known as Mother Bang/' was invited to
add her powers of pleasing to the general stock of
amusement. This lady had a very peculiar penchant
to become intimately acquainted with everything
belonging to one of the guests. The object of her
solicitude and curiosity was not inclined to indulge
her yearnings, and on retiring to bed took the pre¬
caution to secure the door of his chamber so as
to prevent a surprise during the night. His pre¬
cautions were futile. The master of the house and
his companions sympathised with the lady.
In the years 1814 and 1815 Mr. Fauntleroy dis¬
posed of Bank of England stock, by forged powers of
attorney, to the amount of 170,000. A prosecu¬
tion was instituted by the Bank of England. At
seven o'clock the doors leading to the court-house of
the Old Bailey were beset. The jury being sworn,
the clerk read the first indictment, which charged
Henry Fauntleroy with forging a deed, with intent to
defraud Frances Young of £5000 stock, and with
forging a power of attorney, with intent to defraud
the Bank. The Attorney-Gen eral, in his address to
the jury, described the prisoner as the acting partner
in the house of March and Co., Berners-street. Mr.
Fauntleroy, the father of the prisoner, became a
partner in the house at its establishment, and con-
E 2
52
RECOLLECTIONS OF
tinned so till his death in 1807. At that period the
prisoner was admitted into the concern, and became
the most active member of it. In 1815, Frances
Young, of Chichester, a customer of the house,
lodged in their hands- a power of attorney, to receive
the dividends on £54:50 three per cent, consols.
The dividends were regularly received; but, soon
after, another power of attorney, which authorized
the prisoner to sell that stock, was presented to the
Bank, and the sale was effected by him. To this
power the prisoner had forged the names of Frances
Young, and of two witnesses to it. But the most
extraordinary part of the case was, that among the
prisoner's private papers, contained in a tin box,
there had been fpund one in which he acknowledged
his guilt, and adduced a reason for his conduct. The
Attorney-General then read the paper, which pre¬
sented the following items:—De la Place, ¿É^l 1,150
three per cent, consols; E. W. Young, <P5000
consols; General Young, ¿é^6000 consols; Frances
Young, cP5000 consols; H. Kelly, ¿É'GOOO consols;
Lady Nelson, cPl 1,995 consols; Earl of Ossory,
cPTOOO four per cents; W. Bowen, cP9400 four per
<.
cents; Parkins, <£4000 consols. Sums were also
placed to the names of Mrs. Pelham, Lady Aboyne,
W. R. and H. Fauntleroy, and Elizabeth Fauntleroy;
THE LAST HALE CENTURY.
63
and the learned gentleman observed that all the
sums were added together, and the sum total,
120,000, appeared at the foot of this list in the
prisoner's hand-writing. The statement was followed
by this declaration
" In order to keep up the credit of our house, I
have forged powers of attorney for the above sums
and parties, and sold out to the amount here stated,
and without the knowledge of my partners. I kept
up the payment of the dividends, but made no entries
of such payments in our books. The Bank began
first to refuse to discount our acceptances, and to
destroy the credit of our house. Thè Bank shall
smart for it."
The Attorney-General then called his witnesses,
who confirmed in every point his statement of the case.
The prisoner, on being asked what he had to say in
his defence, read a paper, stating, that on his joining
the firm in 180?, he found the concern deeply
involved, in consequence of building speculations.
The house remained in embarrassment until 1810,
and then it experienced an overwhelming loss from
the failure of Bickw^ood and Co., for which concern
they had accepted and discounted bills to the amount
of <£170,000. In 1814, 1815, and 1816, the firm
was called upon, in consequence of speculations in
54
KECOLLECTIONS OF
building, to produce 100,000. In the year 1819,
the most responsible of the partners died, and the
embarrassments of the house were increased by being
called upon to refund his capital. During all this
time the house was without resources, except those
for which he was now responsible. He received no
relief from his partners. Two had overdrawn
100,000. He kept two establishments on a very
moderate scale. He never embezzled one shilling,"
Having finished reading the paper, he sat down
and wept with much agitation.
Sir Charles Forbes, and fifteen other respectable
witnesses, attested their high opinion of the prisoner's
honour, integrity, and goodness of disposition.
The jury, after twenty minutes' consideration,
returned a verdict, " Guilty of uttering."
Every exertion was used by Mr. Fauntleroy's
counsel, his case having been twice argued before the
judges; first, before Mr. Baron Garrow, at the Old
Bailey, and afterwards before the twelve judges at
Westminster, when both decisions were against him.
After the conclusion of the trial, the unfortunate
and guilty culprit was conveyed back to Newgate in
a state of mind such as may easily be conjectured
from the mixture of vanity and cowardice by which
the possessor of it was characterised. He was, how-
THE LAST HALF CENTUEY. 55
ever, still buoyed up by the hope that the interest
which several of his acquaintance possessed in cer¬
tain high quarters would be exerted in his behalf.
Whether or not any of the exertions on which he
relied were made I know not; I know^ that certain
people had planned a method to effect his escape
from prison, and from what I have heard from a
quarter in which I can put reliance, his escape would
have been accomplished had not the dastard timidity
of his disposition prevented him from attempting it.
He was urged to adopt the means which they sug¬
gested, and importuned to rely upon their representa¬
tions as to its practicability. He objected to place
himself in a situation in which he considered he was
to run the risk of the smallest immediate personal
peril, and though he was aware that he had a halter
round his neck, which in a very short time would
most effectually prevent all further calculation of
comparative results, he preferred, after observing
that if he were caught in the act of attempting his
escape "his life would be the sacrifice," to await in
helpless apathy (not resignation) the sentence of the
law, to the chance of a bold and vigorous effort, by
which he might have obtained security.
At eight o'clock the crowd assembled was im¬
mense. Not only did it extend in one compact mass
56
KECOLLECTIONS OF
from Ludgate-hill to nearly the beginning of Smith-
field, but Skinner-street, Newgate-street, Ludgate-
hill, places from which it was impossible to catch a
glimpse of the scaffold, were blocked up by persons
who were prevented by the dense crowd before them
from advancing further. Every window and house-
roof which could command a view of the dreadful
ceremony was likewise occupied. Without over-rating
the number of persons assembled, they might be esti¬
mated at a hundred thousand. The crowd was equal
to that which attended the execution of Thistlewood
and his associates. At seven o'clock Messrs. Brown
and Cope, the city marshals, advanced on horseback,
and took up their station in the circle round the
scaffold.
At a quarter before eight o'clock the sheriffs arrived
at Newgate, and proceeded immediately to the
prisoner's room. The prisoner gently bowed to them
on perceiving that they were present, but made no
observations. Besides the Ordinary of Newgate, the
Rev. Mr. Cotton, there were the Rev. Mr. Springett,
and Mr. Baker, with the prisoner. Mr. Springett
had remained all night.
Mr. Fauntleroy was dressed in a black coat, waist¬
coat, and trousers, with silk stockings, and shoes.
The demeanour of the unhappy man was perfectly
THE LAST HALE CENTURY. 57
composed. His eyes continued closed, and no
emotion was visible in his countenance. His appear¬
ance had undergone little or no change since the
trial.
The sheriffs moved forward, and Mr. Springett and
Mr. Baker each took hold of one of the prisoner's
arms, and thus accompanied he followed the sheriffs
and the ordinary. He never turned his head to the
left or to the right till he reached the foot of the
steps leading to the scaffold.
The moment he appeared, the vast multitude of
spectators took off their hats. In less than two
minutes after he ascended the scaffold everything
was prepared for his execution. Mr. Cotton now
placed himself before the prisoner, who stood with
his face towards Ludgate-hill, and commenced
reading the passage—" Yet, O Lord God Most
Holy," &c., " deliver us not into the pains of eternal
death,"—towards the conclusion of which words the
trap-door fell.
From this sketch of what was to be met with within
the walls and " Rules" of the King's Bench Prison,
some estimate may be formed of the effects produced
on those who were unfortunate enough to be sub¬
jected to such discipline and exposed to such
example. The contamination was all but universal ;
58
RECOLLECTIONS OF
it was a question of degree only, as to its extent and
virulence. All were more or less deteriorated by the
pestilence. The prison was a huge conservatory for
the cultivation of profligacy and the growth of vice.
The state of this gaol is thus described by Smollett,
nearly a hundred years ago ; it was much in the same
state when first I recollect it, nearly forty years back.
The prison of the King's Bench is situated in St.
George's Fields, about a mile from the end of West¬
minster Bridge, and it appears like a neat little
regular town, consisting of one street, surrounded by
a very high wall, including an open piece of ground
which may be termed a garden, where the prisoners
take the air, and amuse themselves with a variety of
diversions. Except the entrance, where the turnkeys
keep watch and ward, there is nothing in the place
that looks like a gaol, or bears the least colour of
restraint. The street is crowded with passengers;
tradesmen of all kinds here exercise their diiferent
professions ; havrkers of all sorts are admitted to call
and vend their wares as in any open street in London.
There are butchers' stands, chandlers' shops, a surgery,
a tap-house well frequented, and a public kitchen, in
which provisions are dressed for all the prisoners
gratis, at the expence of the publican. Here the
voice of misery never complains ; and, indeed, little
THE LAST HALF CENTUEY. 59
else is to be heard but the sounds of mirth and jollity.
At the further end of the street, on the right hand,
is a little paved court leading to a separate building,
consisting of twelve large apartments, called state
rooms, well furnished, and fitted up for the reception
of the better sort of Crown prisoners; and on the
other side of the street, facing a separate direction of
ground, called the common side, is a range of rooms
occupied by prisoners of the lowest order, who share
the profits of a begging-box, and are maintained by
this practice and some established funds of charity.
We ought also to observe that the gaol is provided
with a neat chapel, in which a clergyman, in consi¬
deration of a certain salary, performs divine service
every Sunday.
60
EECOLLEOTIONS OF
CHAPTER III.
Dr. Yalpy—Dr. Mitford—Dr. Graham: his Celestial Bed—Dr.
Mitford assists his efforts—Reading a Play at Three Mile Cross—
Miss Mitford —Mr. Cathcart—Mr. Charles Pyshe Palmer^ M.P.
"—Inconvenience of a Flood — Lady Madelina Palmer — The
Wheel of Fortune—Mr. Jacob Newbery of Reading, Solicitor, &c.
Colonel William Mayne—How to get rid of Bad Wine—Reckless
Driving and its Consequences—A Night Adventure.
Whilst I was resident in Berkshire, I was a frequent
visitor at the house of Dr. Valpy, at Reading. At
the hospitable board of this gentleman, whose reputa¬
tion as a schoolmaster is spread far and wide, and to
whose learned labours in the cause of classical learn¬
ing many thousand students are indebted for their
proficiency and success, was to be met a very nume¬
rous and miscellaneous throng of company. The
doctor was not merely a man of learning, he was also
a man of the wwld. He had read many books, and
he had read mankind. He was a favourable speci¬
men of the clergy of the Church of England. Con¬
firmed in his opinions wdthout the obstinacy of a
bigot: open to conviction without wavering in inde-
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 61
cisión. His motives were defined, and his judgment
uninfluenced by prejudice. Had he been more supple
in his principles or less open in their avowal, he
might have risen to the highest position in his sacred
profession. A mitre might have been the reward of
subserviency, and the revenues of a diocese the bribe
of tergiversation and hypocrisy. He left to others
such paths to preferment; contented with the hard
earnings of a life of toil, and with the respect
awarded by all honourable men, he lived in the
enjoyment of an unblemished reputation and a clear
conscience, and died regretted by every individual
who had an opportunity of forming an estimate of
his character.
Amongst the throng of company alluded to was to
be met Dr. Mitford, the father of a lady. Miss Mit-
ford, whose writings secured her a certain extent of
celebrity, and the substantial reward of a pension
from the Crown. The father, in the provincial circle
in which he moved, gained a sort of reputation from
the fame of his daughter. Some people imagined
that the daughter had been assisted in her description
of the characters with which her writings abounded,
and in the composition of her tales, by her father.
They could not comprehend how a lady could have
acquired the knowledge therein displayed. I can
62
EECOLLECTIONS OF
exonerate the lady from any charge of having passed
off the contributions of her father as her own. What¬
ever she has sent forth into the world of literature
she is entitled to claim as the result of her own
talent. Dr. Mitford was little qualified to assist in
literary labours. His habits and pursuits were in a
direction the very opposite to the attainment or to
the imparting of knowledge.
Nevertheless he had his virtues, and is worthy of
having them recorded by one who knew him per¬
fectly well, and had opportunities of estimating his
worth
He was a north countryman, with a certain share
of the shrewdness of the natives of the north of
England. His natural faculties, such as they were,
had been little improved by education, or if they had
so been, the improvement was not very apparent.
He was hasty, impetuous, noisy, and somewhat vulgar.
If he were not out-blustered by his opponent, he
would out-bluster him. In his capacity of chairman
of the petty sessions, held on market days at Reading,
his ignorance of the law was compensated by his
experience of the people over whom his authority
was exercised. His judgment was clear, and his
strong common sense enabled him to discern at once
between right and wrong. He was an efficient and
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 63
very useful magistrate, tempered his decisions with
mercy, was friendly to the poorer sort of suitors, and
gained the respect of his inferiors.
His external appearance was indicative of his moral
and mental attributes. He was strongly built, and
had an iron constitution. His physiognomy was fresh
and open. He had a clear florid complexion and a
bright eye. He was fond of coursing, of a rubber
of whist, a good table, and good wine. Where he
was best known he was most welcome. The hearti¬
ness of his manner gave an appearance of sincerity
to his professions, and he passed current for a straight¬
forward, freespoken, honest man.
He had been originally bred to the medical pro¬
fession, and his title " doctor" was referrible to his
presumed proficiency in therapeutical science. His
reputation as a priest of Esculapios was certainly not
great, and for many years he had relinquished the
pursuit of all that related to physic. He had always
been more a practical than a theoretical student of
the mysteries of his craft, and when a young man
had been employed by the notorious Dr. Graham to
attend to the mud baths of his master, and render
such assistance as was requisite to the ladies of rank
and fashion who, not being in the way of those " who
love their lords," sought curative consolation for
64
EECOLLECTIONS OE
Sterility in the remedial influences of the celestial
bed" of that most unblushing quack !
These facts Mitford was accustomed to relate^ and
he took no small credit to himself for the part he had
performed in the course of the fertilizing process.
In the latter part of his life^ having run through
what may be called two fortunes, one acquired by
marriage, and the other from a prize in the lottery,
the number of which was said to have been revealed
to his daughter in a vision, he took up his abode in a
small cottage at Three Mile Cross, near Reading, in
which unpretending residence he had the felicity to
preserve his independence and to maintain the
esteem of his friends unimpaired.
The celebrity of his daughter brought him into
communion with many families in the neighbourhood,
and the pursuits in which she was engaged, in some
degree, induced new habits of life, and made him
acquainted with various persons of whose existence
he would otherwise have been in perfect ignorance.
Amongst these was a Mr. Cathcart, a country
actor of some reputation, who being anxious to
exhibit his talents before a London audience,
obtained an introduction, or introduced himself, to
Miss Mitford, with the view of securing her patron*
age and influence with the managers of metropolitan
THE LAST HALE CENTURY. 65
theatres in furtherance of his ambition. Miss Mitford
being supposed, in consequence of her dramatic
writings, to have considerable power with that sort of
people. It is a curious fact, and one that is not to be
met with amongst any other genus of men and women
than actors and actresses, that each individual con¬
siders himself or herself to be the best specimen of
the species to which he or she belongs. Indeed this
propensity to self-estimation is carried so far that the
histrionic lady, or gentleman as it may happen, not
only appropriates to herself or himself the highest
rank in dramatic personification, but generally refuses
to allow any merit whatever to others of the same
profession.
Mr. Cathcart was to some extent a specimen of this
kind of persons. He considered himself an actor of
the first rank, and he had the address to persuade
Miss Mitford to be of the same opinion. She took a
great deal of pains to advance his interests, and at
length he made his déhût in one of the principal parts
of a play of Shakspeare's, in London.
Whether or not the gentleman had overrated his
merits, or whether the dulness of the audience could
not detect them, matters not: he failed to make a
hit," and having strutted his hour upon the stage,"
and, perhaps, "fretted" many more when he left it, was
VOL. II. F
66
KECOLLECTIONS OE
lost in the Lethe which consigns the unfortunate to
oblivion. It was some little time previously to his
appearance in London that, by way of testing his
talents, he was invited to " Three Mile Cross," to
give a sample of them, by reading the first part of
the pla}^ of Henry IV. ; Hotspur being the character
in which it was anticipated his claims to excellence
would be made manifest.
€
At the appointed time the reading of the play
came off. The company invited to partake of the
mental treat consisted of myself, on whose critical
qualifications some confidence was reposed. I had,
however, been previously instructed to abstain from
interruption, and reserve the items of my criticism
till the conclusion of the recitation.
Dr. Mitford, fully aware that a mere mental banquet,
even of the best ingredients, is a thing very little
appreciated in a rural district, and especially when a
critic has to come ten miles across the country to
enjoy it, very wisely arranged that a more substantial
feast should precede the putative inducement to the
journey. It happened that the day was one of the
most sultry of a very sultry summer, and as the refec¬
tory of the cottage was too small to accommodate the
quartette, allow for the expected gesticulations of the
principal person present, and prevent the danger of
THE LAST HALF CENTURY.
67
suffocation from the heat of the atmosphere and the
steam of the viands, the dinner was served in a sort
of onthonse, used as a conservatory for flowers, but,
un for tuna tel J, from its propinquity to a farm-yard,
redolent of odours unmistakeably distinct from those
which flowers diffuse. The fare was more substatitial
than elegant; the pièce de resistance consisting of a
boiled leg of mutton, and the delicacies of a roast pig.
These, with vegetables " to match," with kindred
pudding having been dispatched, the cloth was cleared
away, and what is termed the business of the meet¬
ing" commenced.
Mr. Cathcart being furnished with the play-book
proceeded with " emphasis and good discretion" for
some time, the doctor and I nodding approbation at
intervals, and at intervals endeavouring to allay our
thirst from the decanters placed before us. In this
operation the doctor made a progress, which, com¬
bining with the warmth of the apartment, and other
tendencies, very shortly divested him of the faculty
of estimating the performance ; and by the time that
the reader had arrived at the scene in which the
monarch reproaches the " all famed knight" for his
conduct at Holmedown, his nose proclaimed, with
most provoking snort, that he was no longer an
auditor.
p 2
68
RECOLLECTIONS OF
The reading and the accompaniment rendered the
whole scene so ridiculous that it was a trying strain
upon politeness to smother the propensity to laughter :
thus—
King. Send us your prisoners, &c., or you'll
hear of it,"
(Dr, Mitford—Snort the first,)
Hotspur, " Speak of Mortimer."
{Dr, Mitford—Snort repeated.)
Hotspur, " Zounds !"
{Dr, Mitford—Snort repeated.)
Worcester, " Peace, Cousin."
{Dr, Mitford—Snort repeated.)
Hotspur. But I will find him when he lies asleep—"
(Dr, Mitford—Snort repeated.)
Hotspur. " I'll have a starling that shall be taught—"
[Dr, Mitford—Snort repeated.)
Hotspur, "I'll have him poisoned with a pot of
ale."
(Dr. Mitford—Snort repeated.)
Worcester. " I will talk to you
When you are better tempered to attend."
At this passage the Doctor, as if a joke had been
preconcerted, emitted a sound which had the effect
of startling its perpetrator from the impropriety of
his interruptions, and for a time the " reading" ceased.
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 69
The Doctor having apologized, the actor resumed,
and after a tedious hour or tvim the play was finished.
I escaped out of the premises, " registering a vow"
that nothing should ever induce me again to undergo
such penance and infliction.
Another very constant visitor at Dr. Valpy's was
Charles Fyshe Palmer, Esq., M.P. for Reading, and
joint representative of the borough with Monk, two
senators, who from their habit of accompanying each
other to their places in Parliament, and sitting like a
pair of love birds on their perch, in perpetual juxta¬
position, obtained the titles of the Gog and Magog of
the House. Mr. Palmer, who in his younger days
had been rather " fast," settled down when he became
older as a country squire, contracted his expenses,
let his " Great House,^' Luckley, and betook himself
to a smaller residence near Wokingham, called East
Court. The house was originally of very limited
dimensions, but the ingenuity of the proprietor con¬
trived, at small expense, to enlarge and render it
tolerably commodious. To effect this he erected a
sort of wooden cradle, or framework of rough battens,
and having constructed this frame to the proposed
shape he went to work in the preparation of clay and
road sand, which having pounded into a mass he
rammed between the battens. The sun and the wind
70
EECOLLECTIONS OF
soon hardened the composition, which formed the
walls of the new apartments, and by this means an
inconvenient small house was converted into one of
considerable size and of some pretensions.
Mr. Palmer then went to work to procure windows,
doors, &c., at the cheapest rate, and secured his
object by ransacking all the old depots of such things
which he could discover. The result of all this inge¬
nious thrift was the completion of the place of his
abode in a very short space of time, and at the
smallest expense. The whole was then plastered
and whitewashed, furnished with antique odds and
ends, incongruous in appearance, but of such utilita¬
rian convenience as is rarely to be met with in many
regularly appointed residences.
It was in this house that many respectable people
met together, and much good humour and conviviality
prevailed.
The proprietor himself was a man of remarkable
appearance ; in height about six feet three, upright as
a pike, and by no means overburdened with flesh or
fat ; his limbs, loosely joined together, were without
elegance or muscular development; his features
relieved from insipidity by positive ugliness; his
costume, that of a man of fashion of bygone days,
but smart and well appointed; his manners were
THE LAST HALE CEHTUEr.
71
those of a gentleman of the old school, and he rarely
failed, in spite of the peculiarities of his figure and
physiognomy, to captivate by the amenity of his
address and the politeness of his attentions.
He had in his earlier days been in Paris during the
horrors of the French Revolution, and by some means
or other been mistaken by the mob for another person.
Who the other person could have been, those who
knew Mr. Palmer could scarcely imagine—^'none but
himself could be his parallel." The "other" person
was, however, fortunately for him, discovered; he
escaped at the moment of his intended immolation
from the inconvenience of mistaken identity.
He used to relate an anecdote, as of one of his
friends, which some people thought belonged exclu¬
sively to himself.
His house was in the neighbourhood of Eversley
Black water, in a part of the country subject to floods,
by which, in the course of a very few hours by the
rush of water in rainy weather, the whole country
would be inundated, and rendered inconvenient if
not dangerous for travelling. He, or his friend, had
been invited to dine at a party somewhere in this
neighbourhood, and had set out to walk to the house
of the Amphitryon : he knew " the waters were out,"
but he had not calculated upon their depth. After
72
RECOLLECTIONS OF
some time he found himself in a manner isolated^ the
tributary streams increasing the flood every minute.
In this dilemma, foreseeing he should have to wade
through a deluge of, at some points, three or four feet
deep, to gain a causeway of dry land, he divested
himself of his clothes, which he tied in a bundle and
placed on his head, and plunging boldly into the
element waded like a heron, or huge aquatic bird,
through the rising torrent.
He accomplished his object without accident, and
rose from the waves, in resemblance to Venus in
nothing but her nudity, on the high road which
extended across the swamp.
At the moment of his gaining terra firma, and
before he had time to " sacrifice to the graces" by
investing himself in his habiliments, a carriage passed
him, taking the road he was about to take. The
reader may be sure that he lost no time in making
his toilet;" he had some dread of more passengers
being on the road, and was aware he was not in the
most appropriate state for presentation.
Having at length arrived at the place of his desti¬
nation he was announced in the usual manner, and
entered a drawing-room filled with company. The
subject of conversation was, of course, the sudden
flooding of the country, and the perils which had been
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 73
escaped. It was obvious, from a suppressed titter on
the part of the ladies^ that the mode he had adopted
to escape those perils was known, and in the course
of the evening the fact was communicated from one
to another, till he found himself in the uncomfortable
popularity of being the "observed of all observers,"
from the master and mistress of the house to the
servants and lackeys in attendance.
Mr. Palmer had mixed a great deal in good society ;
had been on intimate terms with a certain section of
the nobility ; had, as he was accustomed to relate,
devoured apple pudding at Lord Jersey's (who had
so perfect a penchant for that sort of edible as to
have one on his table three hundred and sixty-five
days in every year of his life) ; and had, as his fortune
diminished and his age increased, taken unto himself
a legal female partner. Lady Madelina Sinclair, widow
of a gallant commander, and daughter of the cele¬
brated Duchess of Gordon. This marriage was a
happy one for both parties concerned ; it secured to
her ladyship a provision and a protector, and it gave
the gentleman an advanced position in aristocratic
caste, which he had the good sense neither to boast
of nor repudiate. Her ladyship was a very amiable,
unaffected, and well-informed person ; she had, from
the circumstances of her rank and connexions, seen
74
EECOLLECTIONS OF
a great deal : and from her keen observation^ seen
that great deal to advantage. She was equally calcu¬
lated to adorn a ducal drawing-room or make happy
the parlour of a country squire. She made happy
the abode of her husband^ and it would be most un¬
grateful for one who has spent many pleasant hours
in their society, not to record his evidence of the
just estimation which her husband entertained of her
merits, and of the happiness with which their union
was attended. Her ladyship knew the world more
thoroughly than most persons, especially females of
her rank ; she could make allowances for what would
have given offence to ladies of less experience. She
had met all the wits and scholars of the time ; had
listened, perhaps without being much enlightened, to
the " table talk" of Dr. Parr and Home Tooke,
purposely invited to the board to worry each other for
the amusement of the company. She had heard all
that the vituperative whiggery of Perry, the pro¬
prietor of the " Morning Chronicle," could blurt with
obtrusive vulgarity into the faces of the guests ; had
listened to the roaring of a real lion in Theodore
Hook, without being alarmed at the noise ; had seen
the Brothers Smith condescend to open their mouths
for better things than the tables of the nobility afford;
and had used her owm good sense in estimating the
THE LAST HALE CENTURY. 75
real value of a host of pretenders of all sorts. Alto¬
gether, she was a superior woman, and one of the
best specimens of a class which it is hoped is not yet
extinct.
But to proceed.
A visitor at East Court was Mr. Samuel Whithread,
son of the well-known representative for Bedford,
and brewer of porter for the public. If this gentle¬
man did not inherit all the talent of his father, he
inherited, what many people would think of more
consequence, his fortune, " the plant," or part of it.
The wheel of fortune is constantly going round, its
gyrations depress some and exalt others, ladies and
gentlemen, men and women, persons," as the term
is, are equally obnoxious to the rotation, and amongst
those persons was the first wife of the son of the
celebrated concoctor of malt. This lady had capti¬
vated the heart and secured the hand of her husband
during his status pupillaris in the University of
Cambridge, in which academic abode she exercised
the humble but useful office of assistant to a Gyp"
or college servant, one Mr. Swann, whose niece she
was, and whose collegiate services were confined to
Trinity Hall. The name of this young lady or young
woman was Judith Pigott. She was in personal
appearance and in manners very far above her situa-
76
EECOLLECTIONS OE
tion, and, what was not a very easy task for a young
female of good looks in such a place as Cambridge,
she preserved and deserved a most unblemished
reputation. That she made her husband an exemplary
wife is admitted by those most capable of estimating
her conduct, and her name is only introduced in
these pages from the fact that he who writes them
having lost sight of her for many years, and seen her,
as he supposed, for the last time, in the duties of her
then humble calling, met her in the society of the
" great ones of this world," considerably deteriorated
in personal attractions, though certainl}^ exalted in
worldly rank, and surrounded by the attractions of
worldly splendour.
The late lamented Mr. Justice Talfourd was an
occasional guest at East Court, but was more fre¬
quently to be met with at Dr. Valpy's ; he had been
a pupil of that respected man, and was deservedly a
favourite pupil. The perception of the master very
soon discerned the merit of the pupil. The Doctor
was a great cultivator of dramatic literature. He
had, when a youth, so great a predilection for the
stage, that he actually contemplated adopting the
profession of an actor, and in that contemplation
knocked at the door of Garrick, then living on the
Adelphi-terrace, with the intention of obtaining an
THE LAST HALE CENTUEY.
77
engagement from the modern Roscius for his appear¬
ance on the stage. Fortunately for the cause of
literature and for himself, the Doctor's heart failed
him whilst his hand was on the knocker, and he
retreated in time. The world may have had many
better actors, but it is not very clear it would have
had a better instructor in classic learning than this
preceptor.
The custom of performing plays at the school at
Reading, and the pains which Valpy took to drill
his juvenile performers in their parts, most probably
influenced the innate sympathies of the author of
" Ion," and to this kindred feeling of the " Doctor
and Student" may be traced the source from which
the public have derived so much enjoyment and so
much instruction.
The authoress of " Our Village" has laid down
the venue of her tale in the town of Reading. Her
talent has preserved the recollections of the vapid
nobodies" who figured in that dull locality. Femi¬
nine forbearance and pardonable partiality have also
had some hand in painting the portraits. Let us see
what the strictness of literary daguerreotype will
produce.
In Friar-street, Reading, flourished, some thirty
years ago, one Jacob Newberry, an " eminent soli-
78
RECOLLECTIONS OE
citor." Mr. Newberry was a better lawyer than most
persons of his class. In his day the science of the
law was more intricate than now it is. Those who
throve by its intricacy were not very forward to
furnish a clue to the labyrinth in which they reigned
as minotaurs, and devoured the victims involved in
the entanglement. In those days, as now, it was
necessary for a solicitor in a country town to be more
conversant with the principles and practice of the
law than it is for a London practitioner. A London
solicitor, nine times out of ten, has no necessity what¬
ever to know anything beyond what a single volume
of technical practice and a sheet of printed forms will
teach him, and nine times of ten, he does know
nothing more. He can consult counsel at half-an-
hour's notice, or obtain from the plodding industry
of a special pleader whatever is requisite for his pur¬
pose : but in the country those " higher branches"
of the profession are not to be found. The solicitor
must depend on his own knowledge, or write for
information to his town agent, who will of course
expect to participate in the payments of the client,
and so far reduce the profits of the rural principal.
Moreover, there are many points in country prac¬
tice wLich require a ready decision, and admit of
neither delay nor hesitation.
THE LAST HALE CENTURY.
79
With the knowledge necessary for such contin¬
gencies Mr. Newberry was furnished, and being a
man of experience and natural acuteness, he con¬
tinued to make a large income, and to persuade his
neighbours that he was a man of greater substance
than he was in fact. He was little beloved ; indeed,
few lawyers are ; respected to a certain extent, and
feared to a much greater.
Then, as now, the farmers on market days were
shy of paying a lawyer a visit till they had refreshed
their courage by a hearty dinner at the ordinary, and
by copious potations of something stronger than
water. He was aware of the terror he inspired, and
made it subservient to his interests. He took no
undue advantage of the timidity of his clients, but
he secured thereby a power which was perhaps exer¬
cised for their advantage, and made him oracular and
them obedient.
At the house of this gentleman, at the hour of
five P.M. on market days, were met together a little
knot of people who found it more convenient to eat
and drink at a private table than at the table of a
public inn. Some of these were clients, some persons
graduating to that rank, and some the " dummies" of
the feast, whose presence was intended to confer
respectability, and give an appearance of business.
80
EECOLLECTIONS OE
Of this little knot was Colonel Mayne, known by
some people as "Billy" Mayne, "General Mayne," &c.
This gallant officer had been in the Life Guards, dis¬
tinguished himself in various ways in the Peninsular
campaigns, held a command in the Lusitanian
Legion, &c. He boasted his descent from Mayne
the regicide; received his education at Westminster
School ; married one of the " poor" Miss Taylors,
sister to the ^'rich" Miss Taylor, the wife of Mr.
Watson Taylor ; sold out of the army, and for a time
took up his residence at Boulney Court, near Henley,
in Oxfordshire. Here he " carried on the war" in
his own way, and was accustomed to invite a good
many people to partake of his hospitality. His
means not being equal to the necessary expense of
such a household as he maintained, he was obliged
to have recourse to all manner of expedients. His
financial arrangements were the most simple in the
world; his system began and ended in "loans," and
the only difficulty he experienced in carrying it out
was that of finding persons from whom to borrow.
He did find many such persons, and with their
assistance was enabled for a considerable time to pre¬
serve his position and lead a merry life.
He was a man of great taste in horses and car¬
riages, the arrangements of a house, and the mise en
THE LAST HALF CENTÜEY. 81
sc^ne of a dinner-table. On one occasion, at a dinner
at Boulney at which about four-and-twenty guests
were assembled, he adopted an original mode of
getting rid of some execrable wine, and obtaining at
the same time the admiration of the company for his
knowledge of the most recherché products of the vine¬
yard.
The wine was in long interesting-looking bottles,
long corks (indeed " long corks" and " long credit"
was a maxim he often repeated and often put into
practice) secured with rosin and wax, gave an idea of
excellence, and prepared the guests for an expected
treat. A dozen of this fluid was placed in ice, and
reduced to a degree considerably below temperate.
The cook was instructed to put plenty of cayenne in
the soup, and acted in obedience to orders. The
heat of the weather co-operated in the success of the
stratagem. The experienced eye of the Colonel
perceived the critical moment for action, and as the
perspiration began to trickle down the foreheads of
his friends, proposed the restoring influence of some
splendid Chateau Justerini! which he had purposely
reserved for their tasting. The servants forthwith
uncorked the bottles ; " set Bacchus," or that which
" assumed the god," " from his glassy prison free ;"
the ladies and gentlemen, refreshed and renovated by
VOL. II. G
82
RECOLLECTIONS OE
the coldness of the beverage^ were unanimous in their
praises of the wine, and if what medical men term
" secondary symptoms" thereafter arose, had no notion
they were the consequences of the poisonous com¬
pound of which they had partaken.
The Colonel stood in some degree in aw^e of his
wife : he had good reason to do so. The means of
carrying out the pleasures in which he delighted
arose from an income settled upon herself, and,
moreover, she was a lady of good sense and decisive
judgment, and wisely tempered his eccentricities by
exercising a veto on many propositions. They
lived happily, and brought up a large family in
respectability.
The Colonel would, however, occasionally trans¬
gress the dignity of the Paterfamilias y and forget the
number of years which had passed over his head.
Thus having one day partaken of such hospitality as
1 could afford him, at a house just out of Reading, on
the road to Pangbourne, in Berkshire, and drunk a
very considerable quantity of port wine, he began to
surmise, about the hour of midnight, that as he had
ten miles to go before he could reach home, the time
for his departure had arrived. He had a phaeton
and a pair of good ponies to convey him along the
road, and a " tiger" to attend to the equipage. It
THE LAST HALF CENTURY.
83
was proposed that a gentleman who had been one of
the party should accompany him to Boulney Court.
The phaeton was immediately at the gate ; the
Colonel, his new acquaintance, and the " tiger," took
their seats, and away went the whole with a some¬
what alarming celerity.
The horses crossed Caversham Bridge at an almost
railroad pace, cheered by the voice of the driver, and
stimulated to exertion by the application of the lash.
At this point the road became more narrow and the
night more dark; and by the time they had made
good their way into Oxfordshire a couple of miles, by
1
some mischance or other the carriage, and all con¬
nected therewith, were precipitated into a pond of
considerable size and depth.
The " tiger" being the most active of the three
bipeds, succeeded in keeping the heads of the qua¬
drupeds above water, and in ultimately extricating
them from their perilous situation. The Colonel and
his friend, drenched to their skins, and covered with
duck-weed, scrambled ashore as well as they could,
and seeing a light in the window of a house at some
distance from the scene of the catastrophe, the whole
party crossed a field to obtain assistance.
As they approached, the sounds of revelry within
the dreary edifice broke on their ears, and for a time
G 2
84
EECOLLECTIONS OE
rendered their application for admittance inaudible.
The door was at length opened, and in a large ill-
furnished room was to be seen a mixed company of
many persons of both sexes, of rude, ragged, grotesque,
and strange appearance. The " master of the revels,"
a profligate drunkard, was wasting the remnant of
his ill-spent fortune in the entertainment of this
motley group of poachers, trampers, strolling actors,
&c., all of whom indiscriminately partook of his
bounty and shared his confidence.
The arrival of the strarigers was hailed with accla¬
mation. The exigencies of their situation were
attended to; they were .supplied with such dry
garments as were at hand, and the dram-bottle
recommended to their attention.
In the mean time a deputation of the company
proceeded to the pond, and shortly after returned
wdth the intelligence that the fragments of the broken
phaeton were safely landed, and that the colonel's wig,
which had fallen from his head in his struggles, had
been recovered. The horses were then attended to,
and everything done which, under the circumstances,
could be done, to restore the status ante as com¬
pletely as possible. Finally, a trusty messenger was
sent to Boulney Court, to explain to the lady of the
house that her husband had been detained at my
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 85
residence in Berkshire, but would return in the course
of the following day.
He did return according to promise, and accounted
for the absence of the phaeton and his squalid
appearance with more ingenuity of invention than
adherence to fact. His explanation was, however,
unnecessary ; the trusty " messenger, although
enjoined to secrecy, had, as is almost invariably the
case in such circumstances, " reported progress," or
rather the want of it, with sundry exaggerations, to
the servants, by whom the whole story had been
forthwith communicated to Mrs. Mayne.
86
EECOLLECTIONS OF
CHAPTER IV.
The Bridge of Ti-ajan at Alcantara destroyed—The Esculapius of
Beading—Lord and Lady Sidmouth—Lord Stowell—Pursuits
of Literature—Adventure of a Gentleman in Search of a Dinner
—Mrs. Storer—The Diversions of Purley—A Print Collector—
Mr. Benyon de Beauvoir—Mr. Tyssen—How to avoid taking
Cold—Mr. Hort —A Modern Money-lender — Mistaken My¬
thology'—Funeral of George III.—Narrow Escape from a Pistol-
shot—A Frantic Gambler—Narrow Escape from being Drowned.
It was said above^ that Colonel Majne had a com¬
mand in the Peninsular war, and distinguished
himself in various ways during the campaigns. It
is not necessary to narrate his valorous exploits,
*'The battles, sieges, fortunes he had pass'd,"
and I have just described one
of most disastrous chances,
Of moving accidents, by flood, and fleld ;
Of hair-breadth 'scapes," &c.,
but it will be as well to mention an incident in his
career, as it involves the account of the loss of a
remarkable vestige of antiquity, which unfortunately
cannot be redeemed.
Being in command of a detachment of the army,
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 87
he was despatched by the Duke, then Lord Wel¬
lington, to perforin certain services which required a
man of energy and address. In his interview with
the Commander-in-chief previously to his setting out
on his expedition, his lordship, after giving his orders,
observed, "You are going into a place which abounds
with some of the most splendid remains of Roman
greatness; be very careful how you meddle with
these most interesting remains. There are many
matchless specimens of architectural beauty, which it
would be barbarous unnecessarily to injure or destroy.
Be very careful in this respect ; you are a man of edu¬
cation and taste, and can estimate the feeling with
which I regard such things. I give you a discre¬
tionary power in this matter, because I think ^mu will
exercise it properly."
The Colonel protested his kindred sympathy in
the feeling of the great man, and having promised
to pay the closest attention to his commands, retired.
Shortly after, he commenced operations, and the
Duke received intelligence of his proceedings which
made him rejoice in his selection of so fit a man to
carry his wishes into effect. But unfortunately this
state of things was doomed to be of short duration.
It was at Alcantara that the Bridge of Trajan once
crossed the river Tagus, and it was there that what
88
EECOLLECTIONS OE
remained of it, either from a misapprehension of tne
Colonel, or from some cause which demanded its
destruction, was doomed to perish for ever ! How¬
ever this may be, his Grace was one morning horrified
by intelligence conveyed in a despatch from the
Colonel, which, after stating various other matters,
concluded in something like the following announce¬
ment—
" I have succeeded most completely in blowing up
the old Roman bridge which had stood here nearly
eighteen centuries, and so ends Trajan and his
mighty work."
It need not be said that discretionary power, in
relation to the curiosities of architecture, was in future
withdrawn from the Colonel.
The Esculapios of Reading, for nearly half a cen¬
tury, was one Mr. Bulley, one of whose sons still
practises the art of healing in that town, and held the
appointment of surgeon to the county jail ; another
has recently been elected president of Magdalen
College, Oxford. Mr. Bulley was a constant " diner
out indeed, so constant was he in that respect, that
it may be doubted whether he ever, except on very
rare occasions, placed his legs under his own maho¬
gany," He was a practitioner of the old school. He
was always a welcome guest ; and if, in his medical
THE LAST HALF CENTURY.
89
practice, he achieved nothing very astonishing in the
way of cure, he avoided doing anything that put the
lives of his patients in jeopardy. He might be seen
every day in the week, driving a one-horse chaise,
going the rounds of his labours, calling at the
respective houses of his employers with the regularity
of the butcher or the baker. He was much patronized
by Lord Sidmouth and Lord Stowell (the former of
which venerable nobles, being himself descended
from a medical practitioner in Reading, had a sort of
affinity for everything that smelt of rhubarb and
magnesia), who jointly occupied a house in the
neighbourhood, and was appointed practitioner in
ordinary to the establishment. He carried the news
of the neighbourhood to those great men, and retailed
the gossip of the smaller people. He was something
of a wit, and a little of a cynic; but as his wit was
not very sparkling, nor his snarl very fierce, he
managed to acquire the respect of a large circle of
friends and acquaintance.
He was one day accompanying the noblemen just
mentioned, and the wife of the first named of them,
in a stroll round the grounds of the house in which
they resided. About that time these aged philan¬
thropists had taken great interest in the diffusion of
knowledge amongst the rural population of the village;
90
RECOLLECTIONS OF
a sort of school for ploughmen, cow-boys, hedgers,
ditchers, carters, and others of neglected education,
had been opened, in which the adults as well as
children were instructed ; the old as well as the young
idea was taught to shoot. Amongst the adult class
of pupils at this indiscriminate academy was an old
fellow of seventy, whose zeal for learning outran his
power of acquisition. His talent was imitation, in
the cultivation of which faculty he employed his
leisure time in taking copies of that species of cali-
graphy of which the originals are to be met with on
walls and palings. He had no conception of the
meaning of the ideas which the written characters
expressed. The lady, the noble lords, and the medical
attendant, happened in the course of the promenade
to fall in with the ambitious student ; her ladyship,
with her accustomed affability, addressed him with an
inquiry how he got on with his writing ? Being a
man of few words, he concluded the shortest answer
to the inquiry would be a specimen of his proficiency
in his studies ; so taking a piece of chalk from his
pocket, he scratched deliberately on the park paling a
correct copy of what he had seen written by some
other writer in another place. It is unnecessary
to state, that the phonetic transcript being better
understood by the spectators than by the artist,
THE LAST HALE CENTUEY.
91
he was never in future requested to develop his
acquisitions.
Mr. Bulley used to tell a story of a man, whose
attendance at the dinner-tables of his neighbours was
as assiduous and regular as his own. Indeed, the story
so aptly fitted the narrator that most of his friends
considered him the hero of his own tale.
Mutato nomine, de te, fabula narratur."
This person called one morning at the house of an
acquaintance who had repeatedly performed Am¬
phitryon to his Sosia. He was pressed to dine with
the family with more than usual importunity, and
being "nothing loth," accepted the invitation for
six o'clock. Having retired, he called at the next-
door neighbour's to his friend, whose hall he had
scarcely got into when his instinctive perceptions
informed him of the pleasing fact that a haunch of
venison was about to be dressed for dinner. His
resolution was immediately taken. With his accus¬
tomed suavity, he invited himself to dine at the house
he had last entered, and he sent a polite apology to
the first inviter for being obliged to decline the
acceptance of his hospitality that day. He then
walked forth in pleasurable contemplation of his
coming joys. Punctual to a minute at the dinner
table, he awaited with some anxiety the entrance of
92
RECOLLECTIONS OF
the haunch; refrained from fish and such like pre¬
liminary skirmishing as^ under other circumstances,
would have engaged his attention. The time for
action was arrived ; the servant placed on the board
the remains of a cold round of beef, of which the
master invited his guest to partake.
" Thank you," said he, " I'll wait for the venison,
of which the fragrant steams a few minutes ago
delighted my senses."
Dear me, sir !" exclaimed several voices at the
same moment, " don't you know that our next-door
neighbour has a party to-day to dinner ? He has
provided so many good things for the entertainment
of his friends, that his own kitchen is too small to
have them all cooked at home, and we have lent him
ours for roasting the haunch of venison, which has
just been carried away to his house."
The explanation for a moment bewildered the
expectant. His head felt as empty as his stomach ;
he recovered, made a desperate effort to laugh at his
disappointment, and to force a few mouthfuls of the
detested cold beef down his throat. The attempt
failed; his jocularity and his appetite fled simul¬
taneously, and he very shortly afterwards imitated
their example by concluding his visit and hurrying
home.
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 93
The story soon got wind, and he got laughed at
and quizzed.
About four miles from Reading, on the road to
Pangbourne, (in which village, by the bye, lived and
died the veteran dramatist, Morton, with whom I
was acquainted, and in whose society, both in London
and in the country, I had passed many agreeable
hours), stands a large square stone building, on the
summit of a rising ground overlooking the Thames.
This building, and the grounds by which it is sur¬
rounded, are called Purley. In size and pretension
of appearance, it far surpasses the place of the
same name in Surrey, in which Home Tooke resided;
in most other respects, the abode of the philologist
is to be preferred to its more stately namesake. The
" Diversions" of the smaller Purley were of a totally
different class from the pastimes of the larger, and as
the characters of the respective inmates of each place
were distinct, so were their pursuits.
The house near Pangbourne, which in some sort
resembles a lunatic asylum or a mill, was built by
the well-known Storer, the book and print collector.
I say the well-known Storer, because, in the exertion
of his predilection for collecting prints, he was so
well known, that though unbounded trust was placed
in his taste and judgment, the knowledge which
94
EECOLLECTIONS OF
people had acquired of his habits rendered them
somewhat cautious of the peculiarities he was said to
indulge in increasing his collection of rarities.
This indefatigable collector, in the course of his
labours, got together an almost miraculous number of
rare and valuable portraits, and with them illustrated
the Rev. Mr. Grainger's Biographical History of
England. The original work was printed in four
quarto volumes ; the illustrated copy is known as
" Storer's Grainger;" it consists of many volumes,
and is now in the library at Eton College, to which
the collector bequeathed it, with many other volumes,
and wehere, with many other learned works and
learned people, it reposes in almost unbroken slumber.
The duplicates of the library of Storer, with the
estate of Purley, came into the possession of his
brother, and were, when I visited the house, under
the guardianship of the brother's widow, who exercised
a sort of regency during the minority of her son and
daughters.
The widow was a Jamaica creóle, an aristocrat of
that class which, in the palmy days of West Indian
planters, the proceeds of rum puncheons and brown
sugar could sublimate into gentility. She was a woman
of the most restless activity. She never appeared to be
happy when not employed in pursuits which would
THE LAST HALF CENTURY.
95
have exhausted the strength and paralysed the facul¬
ties of half the ladies and gentlemen of the county.
She was up and on horseback by five o'clock in the
morning; after galloping over the estate^ directing
the operations of ploughmen, haymakers, and pas¬
torals, she returned to breakfast, a repast which was
despatched with a celerity in accordance with the
golden rules of King Charles. She then made some
slight alterations in her costume, ascended a phaeton,
and drove into Reading to pay visits, make purchases,
and call on her lawyer and banker. With these two
last functionaries she was, from the violence of her
temper and the extravagance of her habits, in per¬
petual contact. She then returned, wrote letters, and
sent them off to the post; held a sort of court of
inquiry into all the domestic arrangements of the
establishment, and went to dinner. The duration of
/
this meal was in conformity with that of the break¬
fast. The rapidity of deglutition was only interrupted
by a running censure of the cook and the servants,
which censure, as the meal proceeded, germinated with
equal rapidity into vulgar vituperation and abuse.
The early habits of the lady, and the way in which
she had been accustomed to tyrannize over the
" niggers" in her native country, had by no means
!
improved her method of enforcing obedience to her
96
EECOLLECTIONS OF
commands over the domestics of her adopted one.
She was continually subjected to that sort of oppo¬
sition from this class of persons which is called
giving your opponent as good as he sends," and
the consequence was a perpetual altercation, and a
continuous celerity of change in the employes.
One exception to uniformity of arrivals and depar¬
tures was the butler, a tall, well-shaped, and keen¬
witted negro. This man, having been originally a
slave in Jamaica, and consequently accustomed to
something more penetrating than the verbal logic of
his mistress when her commands were not executed
as she directed, and knowing that in this country
her power was diminished, set her expostulations at
defiance, and having a proper estimate of her temper,
contrived amidst a continual clatter of wordy war to
retain his situation, and do very much as he pleased.
I remember his being on one occasion in a state
which was conclusive evidence of his devotion to the
bottle. The lady was in a moment aware of his
infraction of the strict rule of sobriety which she had
endeavoured to establish in the family.
" Fellow," said she, I thought I had warned you
before not to get drunk ; did not I tell you I would
never trust you with the rum bottle ?"
" Yes, missis," stammered the negro ; " you said
THE LAST HALF CENTUKY,
97
you would never trust me with the rum bottle again,
so I trusted myself with it, and took a much longer
suck than I ever got out of you."
Scenes of this sort were of perpetual occurrence,
and the establishment was in what may be termed a
state of transit and revolution.
The energies of Mrs. Storer not being in the right
direction, and governed neither by judgment nor
prudence, involved her in perpetual perplexities. As
the rents and profits of West Indian property de¬
creased, her means but not her expenses decreased
comrnensurably. She was always in "difficulties"
and always devising means of extrication, not only
from present necessities, but of procuring money for
future expenditure. Few West Indians in former
days had any idea of " making both ends meet," by
cutting the coat according to the cloth on the
contrary, they went on cutting away till all the cloth
was used up, and the coat a most miserable curtail¬
ment of rags and patches. She w^as not an exception to
the extravagance of her countrywomen, and was ex¬
posed to the usual mortifications of such people.
She was, however, a woman of wit, and knew how
to turn the laugh from herself, as the following
anecdote will show :—
At Englefield, in the neighbourhood of Purley,
VOL. II. H
98
RECOLLECTIONS OE
lived Benyon de Beauvoir, Esq., a man of vast
wealth, penurious disposition, and retired habits.
Mrs. Storer had some acquaintance with this old
gentleman, and she surmised it would be to her
interest to increase it. She accordingly applied to
him for a loan of a couple of hundred pounds for a
week or two. The old man, horrified at such an
application, was for some time in a state of great
mental agony. He at last mustered up courage not
to lend the money, but to write to her a polite assur¬
ance of his profound esteem and veneration, and at
the same time of his regret, that his poverty and not
his will prevented his compliance with her request.
The world, he said, had made a false estimate of his
wealth, judging him to have means at his command,
when, on the contrary, his circumstances were much
narrower than the sympathies of his benevolence.
He should have felt the greatest pleasure in accom¬
modating a friend with two hundred pounds, if it had
been in his power, &c. &c.
It so happened, that almost the same post which
brought the letter of Benyon de Beauvoir containing
his refusal to lend the money, brought also another
letter from the agent of Mrs. Storer, advising her that
he had received a large sum from Jamaica on her
account, and requesting to be informed in what way
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 99
he was to make use of it. This last communication
was most opportune. Having replied to it^ she took
up her pen again without a moment's delay, wrote a
letter of condolence on his poverty to Mr. Benyon de
Beauvoir, informed him that though she herself was
far from rich, she was fortunately in a situation to
alleviate any wants that might press upon him ; she
would be most happy to lend him a couple of hundred
pounds, for which he might immediately draw upon
her agent, and advising him, whilst his reputation for
riches was still high, to arrange his affairs as best he
could, and not suffer himself to be bullied by credi¬
tors, or exposed to insults which she would do all she
could to prevent.
How the old gentleman received the communica¬
tion I cannot say. The lady took every opportunity
of publishing her correspondence, much to her own
satisfaction and to his annoyance.
Benyon de Beauvoir was one of those men who,
like the hog, are said to be of no use whilst living,
and for whose death those who expect to benefit by
their wealth are looking in pleasurable anticipation.
He derived a great portion of his wealth from the
will of an old clergyman, whose name he attached to
his own, and he derived a very considerable estate
by inheritance. I never heard of one single act of
H 2
100
RECOLLECTIONS OF
benevolence that he ever performed during his long
life; whether it was that he performed no act of
benevolence, or whether it was that he rigidly ad¬
hered to the Scripture rule of not letting his left hand
know what his right hand was doing, and was so secret
in his good deeds that people formed a false estimate
of his character. A part of the original wealth
which he derived from his ancestors consisted in
New River shares, of a large number of which he was
the fortunate possessor. I was acquainted with one
of his guardians or trustees, a Mr. Tyssen, a descen¬
dant of the notorious miser Tyssen, who amassed an
enormous heap of money by the most rigid parsi¬
mony, and the most detestable and dirty practices of
scraping together and hoarding whatsoever was of
the smallest appreciable value, and to whom, in his
last illness, when endeavouring to extort the advice
of the celebrated Dr. Radcliife without paying the
fee for the prescription, the physician said, I advise
you to put your house in order without delay, for
Death and the Devil are waiting for one Tyssen of
Hackney, who is attempting to cheat me out of a
guinea, under pretence of being a pauper, and who
has not much leisure left in this world to prepare for
his journey to a place where he has been expected
for some time."
THE LAST HALE CENTURY.
101
The descendant from one miser, and the trustee
for another, I am bound to say, had nothing miserly
in his own composition. He was, indeed, a man of
extravagant habits, and lavish in the use of money,
without ever obtaining or appearing anxious to obtain
money's worth from any of his disbursements. He was
eccentric and capricious; indeed, some of his arrange¬
ments would justify the notion that his wits were too
little to be entrusted with the large income—about
sixteen thousand a-year—of which he had the con¬
trol. He had a great horror of taking cold, and no
doubt his antipathy to cold was correct and natural.
The manner in which he endeavoured to obviate the
inconveniences arising from it were certainly more
original than delicate. Whenever he came up to
London from his country seat, instead of going to a
hotel, he was accustomed to sleep at one of those
establishments which come under the category of " a
house of ill-fame because, as he observed, it was
only in a house of that kind that a gentleman could
be certain that the beds were well-aired. When I
knew this gentleman, he still adopted this provident
disposal of his person, and I may assert that his moral
character at that time was not in any danger from
suffering from the practice, though I would advise
most other gentlemen, both old and young, to abstain
102
RECOLLECTIONS OE
from an imitation of it, which in their cases might be
liable to ill-natured misconstruction,
A friend and very constant companion of this ori¬
ginal, was another original of a different sort, but still so
distinct in his behaviour, his pursuits, and his habits,
as to be a perfect anomaly from the rest of the
world.
This was one Mr. Jonathan Hort. He was de¬
scended from an Israelitish stock, and though amongst
the chosen people not recognised as one of the
strict depositaries of the Law, was occasionally
received and treated as a lost sheep, when his neces¬
sities or his conscientious scruples obliged him to go
in search of that consolation among the Jews, which
his Christian companions either could not or would
not supply.
He began the world with a fortune sufficient for
any man to enjoy its pleasures, and to assist others in
their enjoyment. He was not a fool, neither was he
a wise man. He was at one moment reckless and
extravagant, the next parsimonious and stingy; as
his humour jumped, his discourse was moralizing
or profligate. He was at times gloomy, distant, and
reserved; at other times gay, communicative, and
confiding. His dulness sunk into stupidity, and his
gaiety rose to madness.
THE EAST HALF CENTURY. 103
Still in extremes, he knew no happy mean
'Twixt raving mad and stupidly serene."
Thrown early in life amongst a set of dissipated
and pleasure-hunting associates, he did not im¬
prove as he reached maturity, and long before
forty years had passed over his head, his money
had passed out of his pockets, and he was left
to make his way through the world as well as he
could.
In return for this expenditure and application of
his time and opportunities, he gained an almost un¬
limited acquaintance with people of all manner of
ranks, pursuits, calling, and employments. Having
no longer any wealthy friend from whom he could
borrow money, and his " paper" being somewhat at a
discount in the money market, he adopted, what to
the ignorant and uninitiated will appear a mystery—
viz., the occupation of a money lender ; and to carry
out more fully his views, an advertisement in a Morn¬
ing Paper announced that a gentleman, who had
always a large rest of money at his banker's, was
anxious to oblige gentlemen in want of ready money,"
See. &c. ; an oflSce was taken in one of the streets
of the Adelphi, a clerk engaged and installed in the
outer room, and all the usual concomitants of pens,
ink, paper, sealing-wax, and red tape arranged upon
104
BECOLLECTIONS OE
a very business-like desk—-all the accessories which
Hudibras calls
''Nest-eggs to make clients lay."
The scheme was, to a certain extent, prosperous ;
Mr. Hort had a " connexion'^ amongst the " Peoples,"
by which he could obtain the cash for bills, of a
tolerably good description ; and he had a variety of
articles of plate and jewellery which were given in
part payment of the money which, together with the
discount for accommodation, brought up the profits
of the concern to something like sixty or eighty per
cent, per annum. Amongst the articles of jewellery
was a huge gold seal, on the stone of which was
engraved what may be called the principal incident
in the life of Leda. As the owner of this gem was
not very well acquainted with the Heathen mythology,
he had some difficulty in comprehending the myth
engraved by the artist, and in his ignorance of orni¬
thology continually confounded the cygnus with the
anser. Thus " Leda and the Goose," as he called it,
was one of the many substitutes for a portion of the
sums advanced on notes and bills, and perhaps the
misnomer w^as more appropriate to the transactions
than the correct title. The recipients were fre¬
quently puzzled to know what they were to do with
the incongruous articles supplied from the museum
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 105
of Mr. Hort, some of which were of a most cumbrous
and apparently unmarketable nature. This obstacle
was, however, always surmounted by a reference to
some gentleman in Bevis Marks, St. Mary Axe, and
other localities of a similar character, who was in
want of such things, and would readily give the full
value for them.
As the people with whom this sort of business was
done were too necessitous to make many objections to
its peculiarities, the negotiation throve well, and
everybody was, for a time at least, perfectly satisfied.
Mr. Hort was unfortunately an illustration of the
maxim of Rochefoucault, that it is more easy to
behave wisely in adversity than in prosperity. No
sooner did his new avocation succeed, than he
launched out into the sort of expenses that had com¬
pelled him to adopt it ; and the consequence was,
that after sundry fluctuations in his destiny, he found
himself in the custody of the marshal of the King's
Bench Prison, from whose guardianship I believe he
was released in due time by the Commissioners of
the Insolvent Debtors' Court, and once more restored
to society.
I remember taking this man to Windsor to be
present at the funeral of George III. I had tickets
for seeing the ceremony, and arranged everything so
106
KECOLLECTIONS OF
that no disappointment should arise. I drove from
London in a tilbury, drawn by a remarkably fast
trotter ; yet, fast as this horse trotted, the pace was too
slow for the patience of my excitable companion. As
we approached Langley Broom, the booming of the
minute-guns struck upon his ear, and it was in vain
I assured him that the ceremony would not take
place until night, and that we had many hours to
spare. We were obliged to put up the tilbury and
horse at the Montague Arms at Langley Broom, there
being, from the concourse of people, no chance of
obtaining stabling nearer to Windsor. Having done
this, we set out to walk across what was then called
Beaulieu Park to Datchet, and thence across Windsor
Home Park to the Castle.
We arrived in good time to see what was called
the lying-in-state," and having seen it, we went
into the town of Windsor, in order to get something
to eat.
I very soon made the unpleasant discovery that
everything which the town contained was bespoken
three deep, and that if there had been twenty
times as much bread and meat in store, it would have
found purchasers at any price. Mr. Hort, whose
appetite was rendered keen by a long ride and a
long walk, was in a state of desperation, and had
THE LAST HALE CENTURY, 107
some vague notion that starvation was staring him in
the face. I was fortunately acquainted with the late
Mr. Duelos, who resided in Eton, and I knew that
at his hospitable table we should be entertained with¬
out ceremony. I was, however, resolved to punish
my friend for the annoyance he had occasioned me
on the road, and keep him a little longer in suspense
as to commissariat arrangements. Accordingly, after
having averred that it was not impossible we should
have to wait till we got back to London before we
should get anything to eat, I led him along the main
street of Windsor, crossed the bridge, and got into
Eton, his frantic gesticulations and intemperate im¬
precations upon his folly in trusting himself to my
guidance in some measure alarming the propriety of
the inhabitants. Without heeding the absurdity of
his conduct, I conducted him into the College,
knocked at the door of my friend, who himself
immediately made his appearance, and invited me
in. Dinner was in a few minutes placed on the
table, and Mr. Hort, reconciled to the exigencies of
%
his situation, very soon " fetched up his lee-waj^,"
and declared he had never passed a happier day in
his life.
Whether it was that he thought the opportunity
a favourable one for increasing his newly found hap-
108
RECOLLECTIONS OF
piness, or whether the actual and imaginary pangs of
thirst to which he had been subjected operated upon
him, is of no consequence ; but the fact was, he did
such reiterated justice to the wine of Mr. Duelos, that
by the time it was necessary to return to the Castle to
be present at the funeral, he was not in the most be¬
fitting state to appear as the mourner of royalty. He
indeed began to indulge in certain unseemly jokes
upon departed greatness, and observed, perhaps in
reference to himself, that " a live jackass was better
than a dead lion " the dead to the bier, the living to
good cheer," &c. I broke this strain of observation
short, and by the joint application of physical and
moral force, propelled him through the streets and
court-yard to St. George's Chapel, where I was very
glad that he conducted himself with requisite
decorum.
The ceremony being concluded, we set out to walk
back to Langley Broom, and in passing down towards
the Home Park, he insisted on entering a public-
house of a very questionable character at the end of
the town, being, as he said, heated and thirsty. He
had no sooner got into the public-house, than he was
glad to get out as fast as he could, the company
assembled beinsc of a class which left no room for
conjecture as to what their business was, and for what
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 109
purposes they were absent from home at so late an hour
in the night. I had providently furnished myself with a
brace of pistols, not being very willing to trust entirely
to expostulation on an occasion which brought together
all the thieves and vagabonds of the neighbourhood,
and a more than usual gathering of the "professionals"
from London. Mr. Hort and I made no delay in
crossing the Home Park, and passed the Thames in the
ferry boat at Datchet, it being then past midnight, and
dark as Erebus. I had given him one of my pistols,
at his own request, and much against my own incli¬
nation. When we arrived at the moat in Beaulieu
Park, into which, if I had not been well acquainted
with the topography, it is not improbable we should
both have tumbled, something or other occasioned a
sudden plash in the water, and instantaneously the
report of a pistol close to the back of my head, the
ball of which grazed my hat, warned me to disarm
my companion without a moment's delay, he having
in his fright discharged the weapon with which he
had been intrusted, upon the principle of what is
termed the " promiscuous."
We reached London about three in the morning,
and I drove down St. James-street on my way home.
At the end of Jermyn-street, Hort insisted on my
stopping to let him descend from the tilbury. This
110
EECOLLECTIONS OF
I declined to do^ as I was aware he had upwards of fifty
pounds in his pocket, and that his object was to go
to one of the gambling-houses in Bury-street, and try
his luck at the hazard-table. Seeing that I did not
comply with his request to stop, he caught hold of
the reins of the horse, which immediately began to
rear and plunge to the danger of our necks, with one
hand, and collared me with the other. Of course I
resisted this frantic attack, and finding I was getting
the better of him he called out lustily for the watch,
a number of whom, along with a parcel of street
blackguards, immediately came to the rescue. I
found it quite time to let a wilful man have
his way." He jumped from the carriage, ran up
Jermyn-Street, and I saw no more of him till late the
next day, when he called upon me to let me know
he had lost all the money he had about him at the
hazard-table, besides a considerable sum more, for
which he had given his check, and to reproach me
for suffering him to leave the tilbury and make him¬
self so complete a fool 1
I think it will be allowed that I have reason to
remember the funeral of George III. I hope my
example will deter others from trusting drunkards
with firearms, and selecting an obstinate ass as a
compagnon de voyage.
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. Ill
I had, as it just appears, a narrow escape for my life
by the inexpertness of a man not used to handle fire¬
arms. I had another from the obstinacy of an in-
%J
toxicated postilion in returning one night from dining
at the house of the Rev. Mr. Hodgkinson, near Bil-
lingbeare, in Berkshire, to my own residence, in the
same county.
It was thus :—
Whilst we were at dinner the waters of the Lodden,
which had been previously increased by the rain,
became swollen by the tributary streams to so great
an extent, that before the hour for departure was
arrived the whole country was under water. Thé
night was a very unfit one for attempting a passage
through places with which those who attempted it
were not thoroughly^ acquainted. It was at one
minute moonlight, and the next shrouded in dark¬
ness from the passage of clouds before the face of
the luminary. The owner of the carriage—a travel¬
ling chariot—and I ascended the box, a vener¬
able priest who had taken freely of the solids and
fluids of the dinner-table was stowed away in the
body of the carriage, where he quickly resigned him¬
self to the care of the god of sleep. The postilion
had increased the natural obstinacy of his temper by
potations from the bottle of the host. Under these
112
RECOLLECTIONS OP
circumstances, we made our way as well as we could,
. 4/
and for some time got on without danger. The
darkness began to increase, and the waters to get
deeper just as we arrived at a place at which our
driver was in every respect out of his depth. In
spite of our expostulations, he urged his horses on, and
it soon became apparent that he had got off the road,
and was floundering on the waste on one side of it,
with the chance, or rather the certainty, of being
upset in the ditch which bounded the waste. The
water was gaining upon us, the body of the carriage
was already a foot deep in the flood, and the horses
were holding their heads as erect as they could, to
avoid the expected catastrophe : what added to our
dismay was the appearance immediately before us
of a man up to his breast-bone in the flood, sup¬
porting the head of a horse, to which was attached a
chaise, almost completely immersed. There was no
time for hesitation, another moment and the crisis
would have been complete. We jumped down, seized
the bridles of the horses, and by main force pulled
their heads round in such a way as to get them again
on the road, and then to guide them along it till the
ford became comparatively shallow ; the postilion all
the while sitting as steadily on one of the animals
as the statue of King Charles at Charing-cross, the
THE LAST HALF CENTUEY
113
Stupor of drunkenness and the presence of danger
having completely obliterated his recollection, and
paralyzed his energy. Fortunately we escaped with
only a ducking, the priest inside the carriage was
wet through up to the midriif. His slumbers were
not however broken, and it was not until all dangejr
was passed, that he became aware it had ever
existed.
The owner of the horse and chaise, I am happy to
say, escaped, the horse made his escape also, and
thus all ended well.
VOL. II.
I
114
RECOLLECTIONS OF
CHAPTER V.
Curious discovery of Human Skeletons at Charenton-sur-Seine —
Purity of French Female Convents—Mr. Penn—Lady and Lord
Holland—Proposed Epitaph for the Duke of Norfo-k—Character
of his Grace—Wraxhall's account of him—The Duke of Queens-
berry—Debauchery of former days—Père Elisée—Paris and the
Eival Goddesses—Dinner at "White Knights—A Divine swallows
a bottle of Tokay—The Barrymore Family—Wargrave—Delphini
—Hooper, the Tinman—Alexander Lee, the Original Tiger—
Captain Polhill—Mrs. Waylett—A Broken Heart—Harry Lee—
The Antigallican in Shire Lane—The Hon. and Rev. Mr. Barry.
The anecdotes &c. which follow in the four or five
succeeding chapters, the reader will perceive to be
strung together without any attempt at arrangement.
I wrote them down as they came into my recollec¬
tion, and I must request his pardon for their incon¬
gruity and want of connexion.
I was in Paris about the year 1826 or 1827, and it
was about that time that Messrs. Manby and Wilson,
the iron-masters, erected large premises for carrying
on their business at Charenton-sur-Seine, in the
neighbourhood of Paris, and employed for some
THE LAST HALE CENTURY.
115
years from eight to nine hundred workmen, whom
they imported from Staifordshzre. The premises,
which they converted into a foundry, and on the site
of which they built their furnaces and forges, had
originally been dedicated to less secular, if not to
more useful purposes. They had been a convent,
inhabited by one of the rigid orders of nuns. Un¬
fortunately for the reputation of these holy sisters,
certain discoveries were made in pulling down parts
of the building that the profane interpreted as
proving that the ladies had not adhered to their vows
with the strictness which their rule required ; and
Mr. George Holcroft, engineer, who superintended
with Mr. Armstrong the digging out the ground in
which the foundations for the fly-wheels and tilt-
hammers were to be placed, discovered, to their sur¬
prise, if not to their edification, upwards of four
hundred skeletons of infants buried in the soil. How
the skeletons came there, and who were the mothers
of the children of which the bones revealed the
former existence, it is not very difficult to conjecture.
Dead children, like dead men and women, tell no
tales, but it would require more charity than most
people possess to avoid coming to the conclusion that
something very like murder, though it had no
tongue," did on this occasion " speak with most
i2
116
RECOLLECTIONS OF
miraculous organ," and bring to light some of the
infamies which the conventual system engenders.
A communication was immediately made to the
Mayor, who took all the pains he could to keep the
affair secret ; and the remains of the children were
conveyed away in boxes with as much privacy as
possible, and buried in a neighbouring cemetery.
I had for a neighbour, both in Buckinghamshire and
in London, the well-known Mr. Penn. In Bucking¬
hamshire I lived in the next parish to Stoke, in which
his country seat was situated ; and in London, his
residence, as well as mine, was, for many years, in
Spring-gardens. I had frequent opportunities of
witnessing his eccentricities and forming an estimate
of his character. His conversation was epigrammatic
to the highest degree, and seldom did he utter what
was considered a good thing without delivering it in
words so short and pointed, that any auditor could
retain it without difficultv and retail it with accurate
•/
fidelity. Penn, in very soul a strict Conservative,
had been for a long time absent from Lord Holland's,
or more properly speaking, from Lady Holland's
literary camarilla, when an habitué of the symposia of
Kensington exhorted him to attend, and pledged
himself for bis being well received at the hospitable
reunions of the titled blue" and her courteous and
THE LAST HALF CENTURY
117
amiable companion. The habitué expatiated on the
joint stock merits of the noble pair.
" He's so mild, so clear, so deep, and so phihv
Sophie," said the gentleman, " yon really might
imagine yourself within the house of Socrates."
" It certainly produced that effect upon me," said
Penn, " and the effect became more vivid as my
visit was prolonged, for during a placid colloquy
between his lordship and myself, occasional vocifera¬
tions struck my ear, and I imagined it must have
been Xantippe herself whom I heard exclaiming in
one of the adjacent rooms."
This allusion to the Socratic mansion and the
noisy manifestations of her ladyship was told in the
clubs. Penn got credit for his wit, but got no
further opportunities of recognising the accents and
the language of Xantippe in her suburban retreat.
He was very much incensed at the very limited
bequest of the old Duke of Norfolk to one of his
immediate connexions, and was ruminating on his
Grace's penurious provision for the gentleman alluded
to, when Lord King, addressing him abruptly, said :
Penn, why don't you write his Grace's epitaph ?"
" I will," said Penn, " and it shall be as brief as
true."
He paused for a minute, and then produced the
118
RECOLLECTIONS OE
following distich, w^hich has at least the merit claimed
by the author—
What Norfolk has been, you may learn from this placard :
He lived like a beast, and he died like a blackguard."
I had several occasions of forming my own estimate
of his Grace, Jockey of Norfolk," as he was called,
whether in compliment or derision I am uncertain.
He was in person, a vulgar, heavy, clumsy, dirty-
looking mass of matter, and his pursuits and habits
were in congenial harmony with his appearance.
That portion of his existence which was not
employed in political agitation and factious uproar,
was devoted to the debasing gratification of sensual
appetites. He could swill wine like a Silenus, and
gorge beefsteaks like a Buckhorse. His amours
'Vvere without delicacy and without number—the in¬
temperate indulgence of animal impulse. I have
seen this old fellow in his antiquated coat of French
grey cloth, black breeches, and black worsted stock¬
ings, the costume in which he was invariably encased,
applauding the nauseous exhibitions of drunken
prostitutes and their partners at a public ball, and
urging them to farther indecencies by potations of
wine, and such like exhilarations as the place afforded,
to the disgust even of those whose delicacy w-as
neither verv vulnerable nor very fastidious.
THE LAST HALF CEHTUEY.
119
What Wraxhall has said of him in his Memoirs*'
is so graphic and so true that I may be pardoned for
transcribing it here. Many people have, no doubt,
read it in Wraxhall's book, but as many more have
not, I will afford them an opportunity of reading it
in mine, for which I think few will be sorry. It will
illustrate the state of bygone aristocracy, and
furnish the admirers of a fine old English gentle¬
man who had a fine estate" with an opportunity of
comparing the merits of the past generation of
English nobility with those of the generation now in
existence.
" In his youth, for at the time of which I speak he
had attained his thirty-eighth year, he led a most
licentious life, having frequently passed the whole
night in excesses of every kind, and even lain down
when intoxicated, occasionally to sleep in the streets,
or on a block of wood. At the ^ Beefsteak Club,'
where I have dined with him, he seemed to be in his
proper element. But few individuals of that society
could sustain a contest with such an antagonist when
thé cloth was removed. In cleanliness he was negli¬
gent to so great a degree that he rarely made use of
water for purposes of bodily refreshment and comfort.
He even carried the neglect of his person so far, that
his servants were accustomed to avail themselves of
120
RECOLLECTIONS OE
his fits of intoxication for the purpose of washing
him. On those occasions, being wholly insensible of
all that passed about him, they stripped him as they
would have done a corpse, and performed on his body
the necessary ablutions. Nor did he change his
linen more frequently than he washed himself.
Complaining one day to Dudley North that he was
a martyr to the rheumatism, and had ineffectually
tried every remedy for its relief, ' Pray, my lord,' said
he, ^ did you ever try a clean shirt T
" Drunkenness was in him an hereditary vice, trans¬
mitted down, probably, by his ancestors from the
Plantagenet times, and inherent in his formation.
His father indulged equally in it, but he did not
manifest the same capacities as his son in resisting
the effects of wine. It is a fact, that after laying his
father and all the guests under the table at the
Thatched House Tavern in St. James's-street, he has
repaired to another festive party in the vicinity, and
there recommenced the unfinished convivial rites.
" His very dress, which was most singular and
always the same, except when he went to St. James's,
namely, a plain blue coat of a peculiar dye, approach-
\
ing to purple, was said to be imposed upon him by
his priest or his confessor as a penance.
"His conduct in toasting the ^sovereign majesty of
THE LAST HALE CENTUKY.
121
the people/ at a meeting of the Whigs, held in
February, 1798, at the Crown and Anchor Tavern,
was generally disapproved and censured. Assuredly
it was not in the ^ Bill of Rights,' nor in the principles
on which reposes the Revolution of 1688, that the
Duke could discover any mention of such an attri¬
bute of the people. Their liberties and franchises
are there enumerated, but their majesty was neither
recognised nor imagined by those persons who were
foremost in expelling James II. The observations
with which his Grace accompanied the toast, relative
to the two thousand persons who, under General
Washington, first procured reform and liberty for the
thirteen American colonies, were equally pernicious
in themselves and seditious in their tendency. Such
testimonies of approbation seemed, indeed, to be not
very remote from treason. The Duke himself ap¬
peared conscious that he had advanced beyond the
limits of prudence, if not beyond the duties imposed
by his allegiance ; for, a day or two afterwards,
having heard that his behaviour had excited much
indisnation at St. James's, he waited on the Duke of
York in order to explain and excuse the proceeding.
When he had so done, he concluded by requesting, as
a proof of his loyalty, that in case of invasion his regi¬
ment of militia (the West Riding of Yorkshire, which
122
EECOLLECTIONS OE
he commanded) might be assigned the post of danger.
His Royal Highness listened to him with apparent at¬
tention ; assured him that his request should be laid
before the King; and then breaking off the conver¬
sation abruptly, ^ Apropos, my lord,' said he, ^ have
you seen " Blue Beard ?" ' This musical pantomime
entertainment, which had just made its appearance at
Drury-lane Theatre, was at that time much admired.
Only two days subsequent to the above interview, the
Duke of Norfolk received his dismission both from
the lord-lieutenancy and from his regiment.
" As he advanced in age he increased in bulk ;
and the last time I saw him (which happened to be
at the levee at Carlton House, when I had some con¬
versation with him), not more than a year before his
decease, such was his size and breadth, that he seemed
incapable of passing through a door of ordinary
dimensions. Indeed, though of enormous propor¬
tions, he had not a projecting belly, as Ptolemy
Physcon is depictured in antiquity, or like the late
King of Wirtemberg, who resembled in appearance
our popular ideas of Punchy and might have asserted
with Falstaff, that ^ he was unable to get sight of his
own knee.' "
At the time I came in contact with his Grace he
resembled the portrait here drawn of him towards the
THE LAST HALF CENTURY.
123
conclusion of his life. His physical powers did not,
however, appear to have suffered much from the
number of years which had passed over his head, and
his moral faculties, such as they were, were not appa¬
rently diminished. The pruriency of his taste was
certainly neither obliterated nor lessened by the
transit of time nor the admonitions of decay ; he in¬
dulged almost to the last in the vices to which he had
been all his life addicted, and justified to the full the
truth contained in the epitaph written by Penn.
Such was the premier Duke of England, and Lord
High Marshal of the realm !
Another head was in my recollection encircled
with a ducal coronet, which would have been more
appropriately bandaged with a clout. This was the
head of His Grace the late Duke of Queensberry.
This man possessed not one single qualification to
grace the rank and position in society in which he
was placed. A greedy gamester, a heartless volup¬
tuary, and a profligate débauché^ he practised with
the effrontery of a court libertine of the days of
Charles IL, in the reign of the pious George HI.,
vices which would have made the " Merry Monarch"
stare. When reduced by age and debauchery to an
emaciated libel on manhood, he was accustomed to
sit at a window of his house in Piccadilly, ogling
124
RECOLLECTIONS OF
with the one eye that was left him the prostitutes,
high and low, that passed along the street ; at dusk
his Grace descended from his elevation ; opening the
window, and tottering down the iron-stairs which led
from it to the pavement, he wooed the nymphs who
awaited his presence, and w^hose coyness being re¬
moved by means which he had at his command, re¬
turned with him to the room he had just quitted, to
celebrate the orgies in which he took delight. A
French monk who practised pharmacy, and who
under his special protection became a w-ealthy man,
the Père Elisée," was located in a house at no great
distance from his patron's, and from the laboratory
of this Esculapius were furnished such aids as ex¬
hausted nature was incapable of supplying from her
own resources for the gratification of his appetites.
Tn his early life his proceedings at Newmarket, and
other places where horse-racing was encouraged,
obtained him an ominous reputation on the turf.
What he did, and how he did it, is recorded in the
sporting annals of the day, and may be read by those
who take interest in such narratives without much
labour of research. He diifered from his brother
duke both in appearance and manners, and was under¬
stood when a young man to have possessed an elegant
figure and good features ; but when I knew him but
THE LAST HALF CENTUEY. 125
little vestige of either remained. The Marshal was
a bully, the Duke of Queensberrj was a courtier, and
had the manners and address of a gentleman. He
had, moreover, something of taste even in his vices,
and though sufficiently brutalized in his enjoyments,
his brutalitv was varnished with a refinement to which
«/
the notions of his compeer could never arrive. It is
related of him, that on one occasion assuming the
character of Paris when he acted as umpire on
Mount Ida, and presented the golden apple to Venus,
he investigated with critical devotion to the task the
charms of three contending beauties, who consented
to unveil to his eyes what is concealed from less
privileged beings. His award, unlike that of his pro¬
totype, gave no offence to the two ladies who lost the
golden fruit. Their interests, and that of the winner,
were cared for by something more substantial than
the glittering prize.
But death overtook him at last, in spite of his
various efforts to keep him from his door, and all the
nostrums which the shop of the Frenchman afforded.
His immense wealth was divided by his will amongst
various persons. The Countess of Yarmouth, the
daughter of the Marchioness Faniani, whose parentage
w^as said to be the joint stock commodity of the Duke
and the notorious George Selwyn, came in for about
126
RECOLLECTIONS OF
two hundred thousand pounds of the money, besides
the riches she derived from her other putative father.
At the sale of the wines of this specimen of the
nobility of the last age, the Tokay fetched an extra¬
vagant price. There was but little of it, and it was
known to be genuine. I think the price at which
the auctioneer knocked down" the pints, was about
fifty guineas a dozen, or at that rate. The precious
fluid was secured at that " figure" by another member
of the Dukery, his Grace the (late) Duke of Marl¬
borough, then Marquis of Blandford. That dis¬
tinguished descendant of the conqueror of Blenheim,
had his prize conveyed to his seat, " White Knights,"
near Reading, where he was accustomed to regale
his friends of both sexes with the most exquisite pro¬
ductions of the vineyard at a table served with all
the refinements of gastronomic art. It was at one of
these entertainments that a bottle of this costly juice
of the grape was placed upon the table immediately
before Dr. Valpy, who was occasionally a guest at
the Marquis's. The learned divine, whose simplicity
of apprehension was sometimes of more advantage
than a complexity of knowledge, and whose ideas of
value would never have led him to an appreciation
of the treasure within his reach, upon hearing that
the bottle contained Tokay, laid hold of it, and
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 127
pouring the whole contents into a tumbler, deli¬
berately drank off at one draught what was intended
by the noble host to be sipped from much smaller
vessels by the whole of the company. The doctor
felt no ill effects from his potation, which he assured
the gaping auditors was one of the most delicious he
had ever made.
This par nobile Ducurriy^ the Satyr and the
Sybarite of the days in which they lived, were the last
specimens of a race which is now fortunately extinct.
Whatever be the vices, the follies, the quackery, the
pretence, or the hypocrisy of the present generation,
it is at least a generation of decency. The force of
moral feeling pervades to a certain degree almost
every rank of society, from the peer to the porter,
from the duke to the dustman. No man in these
times, however exalted his rank or large his fortune,
could perpetrate with impunity the things which were
the daily practice of the two men of whom I have
made mention. The law provides a wholesome re¬
straint for the vices of the humble, and public opinion
is now-a-days sufficiently strong to prevent, what were
called the " eccentricities" of the great from being too
glaringly developed.
The Barrymores, who were co-existent with the
worthies I have mentioned, were such specimens of
128
EECOLLECTIONS OE
persons of noble birth as nobody would wish to see
" in force" again. With two of this family I was
acquainted—the lame lord and the parson. With the
elder brother I am only acquainted by tradition, and
the sister I do not remember to have ever seen. The
sobriquets by which these four persons were spe¬
cifically distinguished in some degree defined their
attributes and characters. Thus Hell-gate," the
eldest brother, is related to have led a life that not
unjustly entitled him to the name bestowed upon
him. His career was short, but in the slang of these
times " fast." He held his " state" at Wargrave in
Berkshire, reflecting his rays upon satellites of similar
habits and pleasures to his own. Two of the stars
that shone conspicuously in this galaxy were Delphini,
the mummer, of whom I have already said something,
and Hooper, commonly called the Tinman, a boxer
of great reputation in his time. These two originals
were kept there, the one for the especial purpose of
creating mirth by low ribaldry and lewd buffoonery,
and the other for creating disturbance and extricating
his master from its consequences. " Hell-gate" was
cut off in the midst of these enjoyments by the dis¬
charge of a musket, the trigger of which he inad¬
vertently struck back just as he had taken his seat in
a gig with a corporal by whom he was about to be
THE LAST HALF CENTURY.
129
accompanied to a review. Cripple-gate/' his club-
footed brother^ succeeded to his title and estate. He
was a strongly built, aristocratic-looking person, with
a considerable share of sense, much good nature, and
such knowledge of the world as is derived from always
mixing with the least amiable of its inhabitants ; a
particular and intimate associate of George IV., then
Prince of Wales. His lordship was the first person
who introduced that class of retainers known by the
title " tiger," and the original " tiger" was the late
Alexander Lee, the musician and composer. The
early " tiger" differed in some respects from the
animal now known by that name. His duties were
different, and his position more dignified. Thus the
business of Alexander Lee, when a mere boy, was
to accompany his noble patron in his cab, or rather
in the huge one-horse chaise in which his lordship was
trundled through the streets by the power of a gigantic
horse. The boy was not, as " tigers" now-a-da^'s are,
perched up at the back of the vehicle in which the driver
lolls at his ease, he had the privilege of being seated
alongside of his lordship, and his services were made
use of to perform the part which the heathen mytho-
logy assigns to Mercury. His lordship, who drove
through the streets, " fancy free," whenever his fancy
provoked him to a liaison with a female by whose
VOL. II. K
130
RECOLLECTIONS OF
appearance he was captivated, " pulled up" his cum¬
brous car, Alexander Lee ran after the object of his
master's admiration, announced the conquest her
charms had made, procured her address, arranged an
interview, or reconnoitred the ground, as the nature
of the case might require.
It will be seen from this, that the original " tiger"
was less fierce and less wild than those by whom the
cabs of the fashionable are now accompanied. Do¬
mestication has done nothing for the last-mentioned
genus but to increase their natural cunning and instinct
for mischief; and since the world has advanced in
civilization, nowhere, except in a modern comedy, do
we now see gentlemen employing their lacqueys as
the agents of their amours and the confidants of their
success.
I shall say a little more about Alexander Lee,
because for some years he was conspicuous in the
musical world, and there are many persons who still
feel an interest in his history.
During the course of his services to Lord Barry-
more, it may be supposed his morals were not much
improved by what he saw and by what he was re¬
quired to do. He was rather a precocious lad, but
his precocity was but little advantageous to his future
pursuits ; he was of too timid a disposition to make
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 131
such use of the opportunities which were afforded
him when he came to years of maturity as would have
secured him wealth and independence. When Cap¬
tain Polhill became the lessee of one of the national
theatres, Alexander Lee was in point of fact his
partner, without being aware of it, and if he had
insisted on his fights, he might have obtained a very
considerable sum from the gallant Captain for relin¬
quishing them. But instead of making use of the
circumstances of his position, he became alarmed at
the responsibility which it involved, and although he
was, as far as pecuniary resources were concerned, in
a state that he could lose nothing, having nothing to
lose, he was glad to retire from his exaltation with all
the celerity which he could adopt. Polhill was very
glad to get rid of him so cheaply, and the more so as
the two prima donnas of the establishment, Mrs. Way-
lett and the lady under the immediate protection of
the lessee, were in a perpetual state of hostility to
each other, and on several occasions their hostility
had displayed itself in something more forcible than
words, Mrs Waylett relying on the support of Mr.
Lee, and her antagonist on that of her immediate
paramour. In short, Lee frightened himself, and was
frightened by a certain interested gentleman, whose
name I shall not mention, out of the theatre, and thus
K 2
132
EECOLLECTIONS OF
lost a chance of advancing his fortune which never
recurred to him.
Of his musical talent I shall say nothing. His
merits as a composer, an adapter, and a conductor,
are known to people of his own profession, and have
been properly estimated by the public.
His connexion with Mrs. Waylett was a sort of
infatuation. She was a woman of very bad temper,
full of whims and caprice, passionate and sulky by
turns, and she treated him as if he had been put into
the world for the sole purpose of doing everything
that her tyrannical fancy could dictate. I have seen
him at Vauxhall running about with plates, dishes,
chicken, salads, wine, &c.,^ with the agility and
speed of a waiter, at her command, vainly endea¬
vouring to give satisfaction to his imperious mistress by
the most abject attention to her wishes. Her extra¬
vagant habits were a constant drain upon his purse,
and his resources being limited, he was always in a
state of embarrassment and necessity. Nevertheless
the infatuation which originally attracted him to this
woman increased as the intimacy between them was
prolonged, and on the death of her husband, with
whom she never lived, Lee made her his wife, and
devoted his very existence in his attentions to her.
This bliss, if bliss it was, too mighty long to last,"
THE LAST HALE CENTUEY.
133
was shortly terminated by her death : the friends of
the widower thought he had little reason to grieve
for this catastrophe ; but grieve he did. He was in
fact a broken-hearted man, and for weeks and months
•roamed like a restless spirit about the haunts in which
he and the lady had been accustomed to wander.
He had on her death left the lodgings in which they
had resided, somewhere in the neighbourhood of
Vauxhall, and removed to another locality ; but he
was miserable when removed from the place which
had been the scene of what he considered his delight,
and actually went back to the lodgings in which she
had breathed her last. He locked himself up in the
bed-room, and as the landlord or landlady of the
house became alarmed at his protracted stay of
upwards of four-and-twenty hours therein, they, after
repeatedly knocking at ^he door to ascertain if any¬
thing was the matter, forced an entrance, and found
their lodger a corpse, doubled up on a chair beside
the bed on which his wife had a short time before
expired.
Alexander Lee was the son of a well-known sport¬
ing gentleman, Harry Lee. Harry had in his day
performed many parts. He had kept a gambling-
house, and also a house of a different, but certainly
not more honourable class, the notorious Anti-Gallican
134
KECOLLECTIONS OE
Tavern, Shire-lane, Temple Bar. The orgies cele¬
brated in this place were supported at the expense of
persons who valued reputation and money less than
the gratification of debauchery and dissipation. It
was in this house, certainly not of good fame, that
Lord Barrymore was at times accustomed to take his
pleasure, and once a year a dinner, commemorative
of the opening of the establishment, was given, at
which his lordship assisted. However gross the
appetites of the guests might have been, as regarded
some portion of the commodities which were to be
found on the premises, they were rather fastidious
in their tastes for the dainties with which the table
was covered. A friend of mine who kept a man
cook, and who was himself a devoted disciple of
Epicurus, was under an agreement with his servant
to permit him on certain days to take a holiday.
The cook availed himself of this permission, and was,
on the occasion of his absence, the chef de cuisine at
the Anti-Gallican on the anniversary dinners of the
commemoration, and I have heard from his mouth a
very full and particular account of the proceedings at
their celebration, which I abstain from repeating
here.
Harry Lee, in the course of his sporting progress,
had distinguished himself as a pugilist and a second
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 135
to pugilists. In his battle with Mendoza he had the
advantage of being waited upon" by Mr. John,
since John Gully, Esq., M.P., and in return for the
favour conferred upon him by that gentleman, he
became his second in the memorable match between
the M.P. and Bob Gregson, whose defeat secured
the fame of his rising antagonist, and was the
stepping-stone to his future prosperity and advance¬
ment.
But to avoid digressing too widely from the Barry-
more family, I will revert to the description of the
amiable quartette of which it was composed. Cripple-
gate, with all his follies, extravagancies, and love of
dissipation, was a man of generous nature and
natural kindness of disposition. He was also a man
of strong natural sense, and of talents sharpened by
long experience in , the world. He had nothing
mean in his nature, and preserved his independence
of spirit amidst great temptations to subserviency.
" New-gate" was the third brother. He was the
Hon. and Bev. Mr. Barry, though I believe neither
the nobility nor the church derived much advantage
from his being a member of both classes. He was a
man of gentlemanly manners, and had the faculty,
which has also been enjoyed by several other indi¬
viduals, of exhibiting himself as a perfect gentleman
136
KECOLLECTIONS OF
or a perfect blaclcguard. It would be invidious to
say in which of these two characters he most
commonly appeared. What I saw of him, certainly
induced me to consider him a gentleman, and a man
of considerable intelligence and attainments ; what I
heard of him was not very much to his credit. His
necessities had been the cause of his having been
the inmate of several prisons; indeed, some people
averred that he had been an inmate of every gaol
in England, with the exception of Newgate, and on
the principle of lucus a non lucendo^ that he derived
his sobriquet from not having visited that unenviable
abode.
The sister, Billings-gate," derived her appellation
from her péculiar predilection for the forms of
expression made use of in the fish-market, and the
almost intuitive facility with which she adopted them
in the conveyance of her own ideas. But as I had
not the advantage of an intimacy with this lady, I
shall not attempt to draw her portrait.
THE LAST HALF CENTURY.
137
CHAPTER VI.
Sir James Mackintosli—Tour through the Dekhan-—A Philosopher
on an Elephant — Sir Thomas Stepney, Bart.—The Duke of
York's Statue—Colman and Elliston—Theodore Hook—Albina,
Countess of Buckingham—The Brothers Smith—Mr. Green, the
Aeronaut—Aerial Voyage of Messrs. Liston and Bacon—
Cocking—Men of One Idea—Major Cartwright—The King and
Queen of the Sandwich Islands—Mr. Canning.
A GENTLEMAN, who had passed some time in India,
told me one or two diverting anecdotes of Sir James
Mackintosh, whom I had met several times in his
company, and of whom he spoke in terms of the
most glowing eulogy. As far as I can remember, I
repeat his words : " Shortly after the monsoon in
1809, Sir James imagined that a tour throughout the
Dekhan would be favourable to his health, as well as
gratify the curiosity he had to visit the celebrated
caverns of Carli and Ellora, and having been accom¬
modated by the Government with a company of
Native Infantry, to be augmented on his reaching
Pooriah with a small contingent of the Peishwa's
Horse, and subsequently by a similar addition from
138 RECOLLECTIONS OP
\
the troops of his highness the Nizam, all under the
command of the officer selected for so pleasing a
duty, Sir James and suite departed from Bombay,
and landed at the usual point of disembarking beneath
the noble range of the Ghauts. The party was not
a numerous one. Dr. Jukes, who had passed many
years in Persia when on a mission to that country,
the Rev. Mr. Canning (first cousin of the celebrated
George), Captain Tyler, of the Royal Navy, and the
officer commanding the body-guard, composed the
heads of the expedition. Sir James almost immedi¬
ately imagined he felt a favourable influence from the
comfortable and easy style of travelling laid down for
his adoption. His spirits were renewed, his appetite
restored, and never' were his great and various powers
more happily displayed from morn till night than in
this interesting tour. It was soon discovered," said
the narrator, "that Sir James was perfectly well-
informed in the mythology and history of the
country we were traversing, and that his memory was
amply stocked with all particulars relating to the
manners, customs, and religion of the mingled races
of Moslem and Hindoos which lay in our line of
march. The natives naturally asked, ^ Who is he ?'
and it was resolved that he should receive the designa¬
tion of the Great Hukheem (philosopher). At every
TPIE LAST HALF CENTURY.
139
encampment, Vakeels, Patells, &c., were in instant
readiness to gratify our wants of every description.
Such had been the orders of the Peishwa to the
various village authorities^ and certainly his orders
were never more cheerfully and abundantly fulfilled.
At Carli the Great Hukheem expatiated on the
mysteries of Bhuddhism, and explained the legends
set forth by the sculptures on the rocks. At our
next encampment at Chickore, we paid a visit to the
living idol, and the absurd pretensions of this
palpable imposture, which afforded an excellent
opportunity for one of those Platonic dissertations
in which Mackintosh eminently excelled, were lumi¬
nously and learnedly disposed of by several of the
party qualified for so recondite a discussion. On
the ensuing day, at eight a.m., we reached the
residence of Sir Henry Russell, the political agent at
the court of the Mahratta prince. Sir James was
here received with every honourable demonstration,
but on emerging from his palanquin arrayed in
mufti, caiised little sensation by his appearance
amongst the throng of spectators. In Sir Henry
Russell's noble and luxurious establishment, in the
gardens on the broad waters of the Reemah, we were
welcomed by a full assemblage of the staff and
military corps at Poonah, and were treated at a
140
kî;collections of
breakfast with all the luxuries of the East and of
Europe. To these good things our excellent
Hukheem did ample justice. Sir Henry had learned
that our field supplies were on a rather limited
scale, and kindly told me that as I had, as he under¬
stood, undertaken the purveyance, I might give such
orders as I chose from time to time for the amend¬
ment of our commissariat, and that his Davish, who
was plenteously provided, would furnish anything of
which our party stood in need. Being thus enabled
by Sir Henry's kindness to improve the comforts of
our mess, one day, when at Shikrapoor, half way
between Poonah and Siroor, we w^ere astonished, and
at the same time delighted, to observe the servants
busily engaged in cooling bottles of Champagne
and Hock, of which we partook copiously at dinner,
and to their merits, be it observed, no one mani¬
fested a more lively sensibility than Mackintosh
himself. Though temperate in the extreme, these
wines w^ere highly grateful to him, and marvellous it
was to witness the auspicious infiuence they exercised
upon his eloquence, philosophy, and wit. Possessed
of copious stores of anecdote, he poured forth an
inexhaustible stream of intelligence, amongst all
which there was not one particle of prejudice or
asperity. Sir James was rich in little histories of
THE LAST HALF CENTUEY.
141
Pitt, Charles Fox, and Sheridan, of many of the
celebrated notabilities of the Scottish bar, and well
acquainted with many amusing and instructive
passages in the private lives of Hume, Dr. Robert¬
son, Dugald Stewart, Reid, and Adam Smith. He
held his listeners enchained, and it was rarely that
we rose from table till the hour of midnight. The
gallant madcap of an officer who had been honoured
with the command of the body-guard, and whom
Mackintosh good-naturedly but invariably designated
as the general, on arriving at Siroor, was among a
multitude of old acquaintances, who so completely
engrossed his every moment that he hardly bestowed
a thought upon the common forms of duty, and only
joined Sir James, some five days after, in the Fort of
Achrnednugger. He anticipated, what he well
deserved, a smart rebuke from Mackintosh, who, on
the contrary, received him with the most unfeigned
complacency, reserving for the following day some
pertinent and serious reflections, which I well re¬
member he put forth wdth a sincere and generous
\
concern ; indeed, on this occasion, as on every other,
nothing fell from him but practical good sense,
accompanied with a gentleness of manner and a
tenderness of diction proceeding from the best
feeling of benevolence and reason.
142
RECOLLECTIONS OF
" At the head of the Adjuntar Pass our little army
was augmented by the arrival of the promised con¬
tingent of the Nizam's horse. The Sirdar by whom
they were commanded eagerly disclosed to the officer
of Mackintosh's guard the programme of the proposed
manner of the reception of the Hukheem, as soon as
he should arrive within a certain distance of the mag¬
nificent city of Aurungabad. The programme cer¬
tainly presented all the features of a gorgeous Oriental
ceremonial; and having been minutely informed of
all the circumstances projected on Mackintosh's
entrance, I remember I endeavoured to prevail on
him to modify his costume, and make it less grotesque
than usual when the Subahdar was to receive us on
the plain with all the attributes of state, and introduce
us to the marble palace of the Möslem^ conqueror.
But Mackintosh disdained my frivolous suggestions,
though I should add that Dr. Jukes, and Mr. Sotheby,
an attaché to the residency of Nagpore, were invited
to give weight to my suggestions, and did so accord¬
ingly. At Gandapoor I hoped an opportunity might
occur for reviving our discussion on the requisite
costume. On the ensuing day we reached the beau¬
tiful but solitary outpost Toka, on the banks of the
Godavery, not without some hopes that Mackintosh
might be provided with an ample robe of black that
THE LAST HALF CENTUKY. 143
would at least have hid the singularity of his Feringee
dress. But, no ! On breaking ground at morning
I beheld him ascend his palanquin attired as usual,
and I resigned myself to the anticipated endurance of
the ludicrous exhibition which I knew would follow
at a later hour.
Our march was without any incident to break its
monotony till about the hour of seven, when we could
hear upon the plain in our front the discharge of
matchlocks, the beating of tom-toms, and the screech¬
ing notes of the clarion, the shouts of the horsemen,
and the increasing murmur of the multitude as yet
invisible. Quickly the sun dispersed the heavy
morning mists, and we perceived within a mile of us
a glorious array of ten or fifteen thousand horsemen,
with turbans of all colours, and bannerolles and pen¬
nons fluttering in the morning breeze. Two ele¬
phants were in the centre of this magnificent group,
and on one of these sat the Subahdar in state. The
shouts of the vast multitude rent the air, the horse¬
men wheeled round and round, performing an endless
variety of evolutions amidst the discharge of musketry.
I hastened to Mackintosh's palanquin, and begged
him to mount his horse, a venerable staid steed which
he had purchased of a Major Barker for qualities
not much appreciated by those who patronize the
144
EECOLLECTIONS OF
^ Qiiorn' or the ' Pytchley.' He complied with my
request. Twenty horsemen formed his immediate
escort, and I rode by his side. The contrast of our¬
selves and the approaching party of the Subahdar may
be easily conceived. The Subahdar was a good speci¬
men of the ^Patan/ tall, handsome, noble, and com¬
manding. His costume, like that of all Oriental chiefs,
superb and graceful. Seated on a howdah richly deco¬
rated, he conveyed the perfect notion of a king ; nor
was it till the accolade between the Hukheem and him¬
self took place that the composure of his features was
in any way disturbed. The Subahdar descended from
his elephant, and advanced to embrace the European
visitor. On beholding Sir James straddling across
his short-tailed pony, a look of incredulity and
wonder passed across the face of the ^ Patan,' and
no wonder that such was the case. Sir James was
dressed in tightly-fitting leather smalls, loose Hessian
boots, an interregnum of cotton stockings separating
the incongruous integuments of his legs and thighs, a
scarlet waistcoat, and a green jacket, his head sur¬
mounted with a hunting-cap. The Subahdar and the
illustrious stranger, however, drew towards each other,
and the accolade ensued, the spectators staring in
mute amazement and apparent incredulity of what
they witnessed !
THE LAST HALF CENTURY.
145
" Mackintosh having got through the ceremony, as
he thought, was about to take his seat upon his trusty
if not gallant grey, from which he had dismounted,
when, to his dismay, he was informed that the ele¬
phant without a rider, which had advanced in the
procession, was intended for his special accommoda¬
tion, and that the vacant howdah was to be occupied
by him. In vain he remonstrated. A ladder was
placed alongside the huge beast, up which he climbed
as a criminal ascends the gallows, and took his position.
It was well he hesitated no longer; the sportive
animal, not fully aware of the importance of his load,
was beginning to exhibit some symptoms of im¬
patience, and w^as with some difficulty restrained
from the exhibition of certain freaks that would have
dismounted a more experienced rider. To add to
the ludicrous appearance of the scene, a glowing
" aftab-gheii" was spread to shade the Hukheem from
the sun, and thus, amidst tremendous shouts from
thousands of people, and the incessant but irregular
discharge of matchlocks, the Subahdar's "suwanee"
and our own advanced, and in half-an~hour reached
the narrow entrance of the city, the inhabitants
showering upon us as we entered flowers and other
offerings in testimony of their veneration.
r
" Sir James had a fortunate escape from the result
VOL, II. L
146
EECOLLECTIONS OF
of one of the honours reserved to greet him on his
arrival.
A damaged piece of ordnance^ that had been aban¬
doned by Sir Arthur Wellesley in his campaign of
1803^ had been mounted on the tottering wall that
was close to the city gate. The zeal of some of the
inhabitants determined them to make it subservient
to the glories of the day, and scarcely had the
Subahdar and Sir James proceeded twenty feet be¬
yond it, when it exploded, bringing down the build¬
ings immediately adjacent !
" Proceeding through the city, we approached the
ancient yet beautiful palace of lAurungzebe. The
sagacious monster on which the philosopher was
mounted stopped short, and kneeling, afforded his
rider the opportunity to alight. Sir James was not
slow in taking the hint, and commenced his descent,
which was accelerated by his observing the proboscis
of the animal approaching to within a very few inches
of his person. To avoid the contact he sprang from his
elevation with an agility which would have done
credit to the celebrated Ireland, and alighted on his
feet amidst the admiration of the astonished beholders.
"Thus concluded our day's march from Toka to
the splendid palace, wherein we passed an evening
of intense delight, enhanced by the sense of dangers
THE LAST HALE CENTURY. 147
passed, and the pleasantry of our commander, whose
jests upon his own dilemma and laughable com¬
parisons of regal pomp with philosophic simplicity
and resignation, were not wanting to increase the
merriment and fun."
Among the notabilities who might be met with
O O
about forty years ago on Ascot race-course was the
eccentric, but to a certain degree witty, Thomas
Stepney. When he was turned fifty years of age,
upon the death of his elder brothei*, who had been
employed ])y the Government on a mission at Berlin,
and who had represented the county of Monmouth
in Parliament, Thomas became a baronet. He had,
I believe, an estate in the county of Pembroke, but
he seldom left London, or the circle of London
people with whom he was connected; and being
groom of the bedchamber to the late Duke of York,
his connections were aristocratic and courtly. One
of his ancestors had married the daughter and heiress
of Vandyke the painter, by which match considerable
property was brought into the family. Sir Thomas, or,
as he was more usually called, " Tom" Stepney, had a
habit of speaking his mind pretty freely, and though
His Majesty, George IV., was fully acquainted
with his assumed, or perhaps real weakness, he was
always asking his opinion and urging him to be
L 2
148
RECOLLECTIONS OF
candid. His Majesty possessed a capricious sen¬
sit! veness^ about the year 1828, with regard to the
military reputation of the Duke of York. It was
whilst this feeling was in the vigour of its existence,
that Sir Thomas Stepney was asked by the king
what he thought of the column which had just been
erected in Carlton-place, commemorative of the
virtues, military and civil, of His Royal Highness?
Stepney shook his head.
" What do you object to now ?" said the King.
The statue is placed too high, your Majesty, in
my opinion ; it should have been much nearer the
ground. To His Royal Highness's private credit
(His Royal Highness was terribly in debt) it might
have been a reasonable tribute; but nothing could be
less appropriate, in a military point of view, than
placing him conspicuously ' at the head of a column.' "
After this short colloquy, Sir Thomas never had
an opportunity of further discussing the topic with
His Majesty.
As I purpose to enliven the dulness of continuous
narrative by anecdote, I will relate a few more scraps
of passages from the sayings and doings of some of
my acquaintance.
George Colman and Elliston were accustomed to
engage occasionally in the conflict of sharp wits, and
THE LAST HALE CENTURY. 149
were not badly matched as combatants in such en-
counters.
" Well, George," said the latter, one night after
the performance of the Wonder," what do you
think of my personification of Don Felix F
I think," replied Colman, " it exhibits a consider¬
able deal too much of the Don^ and considerably too
little of the Felix^'^
The last written, and the least successful of the
plays of Colman was the Law of Java." Elliston
had not forgotten the hit" of his friend regarding
his performance of Don Felix, As they were both
coming out of old Drury-lane Theatre together one
day from the stage-door entrance, they had nearly
broken their shins over a heap of ledgers, red and
yellow, with which the floor was strewn, and which
two men were throwing into a wagon which was to
convey them away.
"Eh, why what is all this?" said Colman, as he
raised his eye-glass to his eye to ascertain the nature
of the volumes. " They look like law-books. What
a heavy load !"
"Infernally heavy," said Elliston; "it's the ^ Law
of Java,' George, but more appropriately placed than
we have seçn it before, far better suited, as you per¬
ceive, for a wagon than a staged
150
EECOLLECTIONS OF
Almost the last time I had the pleasure of meeting
Theodore Hook was towards the conclusion of his
earthly pilgrimage : it was at Vauxhall on the occa¬
sion of the ascent of a balloon. I met him in the
fire-work ground of those gardens in which he had
enjoyed so many pleasant hours, and met so many
pleasant friends since departed. I could not help
being struck with the alteration of his appearance
from what it used to be in his best days. It was
evident the hand of death was upon him, and that
all he could expect was to linger for a few months on
the stage on which he had been so conspicuous and
so admired an actor. What made his situation the
more to be deplored Vv^as the necessity which the un¬
compromising admiration of his friends forced upon
him of acting the part of a lion, when his mental and
physical powers were equally incompetent to the task
of supporting the character. He was pestered to the
last by importunities from persons who gave dinners
to honour their parties by his presence, when his
faculties for "roaring," or for keeping "the table in a
roar," were too feeble to support his reputation with¬
out the aid of stimulants to fire his flagging wit and
rouse his torpid humour. But his fame was at stake,
and though he was aware that the mode he was
taking to preserve it was accelerating the destruction
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 151
of his vital energies, he was fain to draw that inspi¬
ration from brandy which he had originally derived
from the unassisted powers of nature. Thus his latter
eifusions, though somewhat partaking of his original
characteristics, were without the sparkle and the
brilliancy by which he had acquired and long sus¬
tained his deserved celebrity as a wit. There was an
effort and a struggle to say something that should
sound like a repartee, but the attempt was occa¬
sionally a failure. The spontaneous combustion which
had once flashed forth like lightning was burnt out,
and little of the fire of former days remained in the
ashes. Yet in spite of this, the necessity which friend¬
ship enforced and vanity exacted, compelled him to
fresh attempts, and hastened, in connexion with
troubles which were not known to his associates till
too late, that catastrophe which all regretted.
Of a man so well known, it is hardly necessary
for anything to be here related in addition to the
numerous anecdotes already told and published. I
will, however, tell one story about him, which I
think has not yet been told: it shows the happy
sarcasm in which the man could convey rebuke, and
it may be a warning to certain lion hunters" of
the present day to abstain from their pursuit of
animals which are furnished with teeth as well as
152
RECOLLECTIONS OF
with the capacity for astonishing without alarming
their admirers.
In the meridian of his reputation^ Hook w^as inces¬
santly worried by Albina^ Countess of Buckingham,
with cards for " coffee at nine o'clock," but never
wdth an invitation for the more genial hour of six, at
which last-mentioned hour the dinner on her lady¬
ship's table was most punctually served. It may be
supposed he never accepted the invitations for nine,
and to avoid their continuous recurrence for the
future, returned an answer to the last :—" Mr. Hook
presents his compliments to the Countess of Buck¬
ingham, and has the honour to inform her ladyship
that he makes it an invariable rule to take his coffee
where he dines."
This answer puts me in mind of an answer given
by the elder of the Smiths, the authors of the " Re¬
jected Addresses," &e., to a certain blue-stocking
aristocrat, who was in the habit of collecting small wits
at her house, for the purpose of impressing upon the
company a due notion of her position in literary as
well as fashionable society, and shining from the
borrowed brilliancy of the farthing rushlights who
accepted her invitations. Smith, who neither ad¬
mired the lady nor estimated the honour done him
by her condescension, declined to make one of the
THE LAST HALE CENTUEY.
153
party, and in a polite acknowledgment informed her
ladyship that " he and his brother must refuse the
engagement offered, as they were employed that
evening to eat hasty pudding at another booth, and
consequently could not exhibit in hers."
The mention of Vauxball, and the ascent of a bal¬
loon, naturally brings Mr. Green, the aeronaut, to
people's recollection. This gentleman, whose bal¬
loon, instead of its owner, a writer in a morning
journal, not remarkable for the extent or accuracy of
his knowledge, either in facetiousness or in ignorance,
called the " Columbus" of the skies, is a veritable
enthusiast in his profession. He may be said to be
so thoroughly imbued with the love of ballooning as
to be ill at ease anywhere within half-a-mile of the
surface of the earth ; his aspirations are all for the
clouds, and, as the American seaman could scarcely
stand firm when on terra firma, so ,Mr. Green
can hardly feel his position secure on any other
place than the hoop by which the car of his balloon
is surmounted. There he takes his stand in what,
if not his native, is his habitual element, and though
indulgent to the weaknesses of other people, no doubt
feels something like contempt for those who are con¬
tent to crawl amidst the dust and mud of the creation
beneath him.
154
EECOLLECTIONS OF
On the same day that I saw Theodore Hook in the
gardens of Vauxhall, I met there the late Mr. Bacon,
brother of the Chancery barrister, and the late cele¬
brated surgeon Mr. Liston, both of whom were about
to take a trip with the veteran Green. They had what
is termed a fine ascent, and were much delighted
with their voyage. They described the rejoinders
made by their pilot to their observations, which will
show the preponderance of a single idea in the head
of that person, almost to the exclusion of all others.
Thus:-
Mr. Liston. " That corn-field looks gloriously ; the
farmer will get a heavy crop of wheat when he
cuts it."
Mr. Green. " Yes, and I should get into a glorious
lawsuit, and have to pay heavy damages for trespassing,
if I descended there."
Mr. Bacon. How very much the suburbs of that
town are extended. I scarcely ever knew houses and
streets spring up so quickly."
Mr. Green. "Yes, and if I was to descend there,
I should have the car entangled with the chimney¬
pots, without the power of springing up again very
quickly."
Mr. IJston. " That canal appears to be covered with
barges, and the craft on the river are very numerous."
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 155
Mr, Green. Yes, but it wont do for a balloon to
descend where there is water."
Mr. Bacon. " The country beneath us seems to be
very much intersected by railways."
Mr. Green. ^^Yes; but who in his senses would
attempt to descend in the neighbourhood of a rail¬
way ? In short, what with the harvest, the extension
of towns, canals, rivers, and railways, ballooning will
in a few years be an impossibility, and nobody but a
fool will risk his life and property in its cultivation."
One poor fellow, who certainly by his conduct did
appear little better than a fool, did about this time
risk his life, and unfortunately lose it, by ascending
with a balloon and attempting to descend by a para¬
chute. This was Cocking. This man was a half-
crazy teacher of drawing, who had got a crotchet in
his head about managing a parachute, which rendered
him insensible of danger, and deaf to anything like
expostulation. He constructed a machine of tin tubes,
covered with silk, in the shape of an inverted um¬
brella, from which was suspended a bucket, in which
he placed himself. When at a considerable height in
the air he was " let go," and after a descent terrifically
rapid of a second or two, the tubes, and the frame or
skeleton of the machine, collapsed, and he was dashed
to pieces on the earth beneath him.
156
RECOLLECTIONS OF
This poor fellow was courageous and enthusiastic
to the very moment of his ascent, but at that moment
his courage failed him, and I am perfectly certain he
would have given the whole world, had it been his,
to have relinquished his undertaking. I shook hands
with him as he got into his bucket ; his hand trembled
violently, and he for the first time became aware of
the peril he was about to encounter. It was too late ;
his reputation was at stake, and he had not the moral
courage to recede.
It is due to the proprietors of Vauxhall to state,
that they endeavoured to dissuade him from his
experiment. He would not listen to them, and be¬
came, in consequence, the victim of his own folly and
mistaken sense of honour.
Now that I am speaking about men with one idea,
the name of Major Cartwright, whom I knew very
well, and of whose independence of mind and political
integrity I can speak in terms of unqualified praise,
naturally rises in. my recollection. He was a man
essentially of one idea, and I had almost said that that
one idea was a wrong one. This one idea was the
necessity of parliamentary reform according to his
own dogma, and it was split into two divisions—viz.,
annual parliaments and universal suffrage. It was in
vain to argue these points with him ; he would have
THE LAST HALE CENTURY. 157
no modification whatever of his system for bettering
the social and political position of his fellow-subjects.
As he had only one idea, so he was the sole possessor
of his solitary treasure. He had no uncompromising
associate in his notions, and he really felt pity for the
rest of the world, for whose obtusity of intellect in
not admitting his views, and going what is termed
the whole hog" with him, he could not account.
He was so imbued with this one idea, that let what¬
ever subject arise in conversation, he would, in some
way or other, make it subservient to his purpose.
If you complained of the coldness of the weather,
he would say, " Yes, true, coals and fuel and clothes
are tremendously dear,, but if we had annual par¬
liaments and universal suffrage, we should have a
legislative assembly that would make these things
eheap, and then people would not complain of
cold !"
If you described the absurdities and dulness of a
new play, he would reply, " Yes, very true, the drama
is gagged by the licenser ; if we had annual parlia¬
ments and universal suffrage the House of Commons
would abolish his office, and we should get better
plays."
In a word, his universal remedy for every complaint
of which the flesh is heir was parliamentary reform
158
RECOLLECTIONS OF
after his own fashion ; and so incessant, and at last so
obtrusive became his advocacy of his panacea, that
notwithstanding my respect for his real worth, I am
compelled to admit that he became in his old age a
very considerable bore and annoyance.
In the early part of his life he had been in the
navy, and reached the rank of lieutenant with great
credit to himself and to the advantage of the service,
and he was on half-pay for many years without any¬
body being aware of the fact. The Lords of the
Admiralty were certainly not aware of it, and never
suspected that Major Cartwright, their constant anta¬
gonist and vehement opponent, was no other than
one John Cartwright, whose name had been in their
official volumes for a long period of time, and, on the
occasion of a large batch of promotions, were not a
little dismayed to find that they had conferred the
rank of a master and commander in His Majesty's
naval service on the uncompromising patriot, whose
commission in the Nottinghamshire Militia had put
the handle "Major" to his name, and completely
misled them as to his identity.
I forget how the old man reconciled this mistake
with his system. Perhaps under a legislation of
annual parliaments and universal suffrage such a
mistake would not have been committed ; but I per-
THE LAST HALE GENTLEY.
159
fectly recollect hearing the new master and com¬
mander chuckling at his unexpected promotion.
In the spring of 1824^ during the time that Mr.
Canning was Secretary of State for the Home De¬
partment, their Majesties the King and Queen of
the Sandwich Islands arrived in England. They
were located in the large hotel at the corner of Adam-
street, Adelphi, where they held, in imitation of
other monarchs, their levees and their drawing-rooms.
I was one of the favoured individuals who had the
honour of being presented at their court. His
Majesty, Rheo Rhio, was a tall, bulky gentleman, as
black as soot. Her Majesty, Queen Kamchamcha,
was of the same sable tint, equally bulky, but some¬
thing taller than her husband. I should say she was
nearly six feet high, and of an order of female beauty
the reverse of the established European opinions.
There was a large suite of attendants, male and
female, of similar proportions and features, and the
general appearance of the group was not such as to
remove any prejudices which those who had the
entree might have imbibed against monarchical govern¬
ment, His Majesty George IV., with the esprit de
corps of royalty, took great interest in their accom¬
modation and pleasures, and forgot in the fellow
feeling for his brother" and sister" his well-known
160
RECOLLECTIONS OF
repugnance to what has been termed God's image
carved in ebony." The Home Secretary was in¬
structed to see them " well attended," and he did so in
more ways than one ; for in more ways than one, it
was absolutely necessary that they should be properly
cared for. Among other marks of civility conferred on
the illustrious strangers, was the appointment of a
gentleman of rank and family to the office of caterer
for their amusements and comforts. The person se¬
lected for this important duty by Mr. Canning was
Mr. , well known in the fashionable circles by a
sobriquet not necessary to mention. It became the
duty of this gentleman to make a daily report to the
Home Office of the pursuits, pleasures, progress, and
health of the royal visitors, in the discharge of which
duties he was assiduous and punctual: he was minute
in his attentions and inquiries as to the wants and
requests of his charge, and as the unsophisticated
habits of the royal pair left little to be guessed
either of their moral or physical requirements, his
revelations were a source of considerable interest
and amusement to a still greater personage than
themselves, who was understood to be very particular
in his inquiries about everything connected with
them. One morning , on being admitted to
Mr. Canning, shook his head, somewhat after the
THE LAST HALE CENTUKY.
161
manner of Lord Burleigh in the " Critic where¬
upon the Home Secretary, inferring some untoward
news, hastily inquired—
" Has anything unfortunate occurred ?"
" Nothing, sir, exceedingly unfortunate, but some¬
thing rather disagreeable," replied
Neither of them dead, I hope ?"
No, sir."
*
What makes you look so serious then ?"
" Why, sir, you must not be surprised at what I
am going to say. I have for some time observed a
change in their Majesties' condition, brought on,
as I suspect, by their change of diet. The change
first showed itself in miliary eruption ; it then assumed
a more inveterate form of cutaneous derangement; in
short, I am compelled to state to you that both the
King and the Queen have got the "
« What ?"
« The itch !"
Canning eyed him with a most diverting signi¬
ficance of expression, and said.
Are you sure it's not the mange ?"
And -, remembering the sobriquet attached to
his description, immediately perceived the point of the
interrogatory. He took it with all the appearance of
good temper which a courtier can assume, wishing
VOL, II. M
162
EECOLLECTIONS OE
the interrogator in a place " not mentioned to ears
polite/' and replied,
And in that case, sir ?"
Why, your own experience will of course suggest
to you the most efficient remedy."
Unfortunately, in spite of all the attentions bestowed
upon them, and all the superintending care and
anxiety of the faithful , who was as close and
affectionate in his duties and attendance as he could
be, the royal pair did not thrive so 'well as might
have been expected. They underwent much sick¬
ness, and many disasters connected therewith, from
their peculiar habits and propensities, and if I
remember rightly, were consigned to an early grave,
in consequence of gorging themselves with raw pork,
or some such daintjq which operated unfavourably on
constitutions debilitated by repeated indulgence in
similar simple luxuries.
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 163
CHAPTER VIL
Ireland—" Vortigern and Rowena"—Dr. Parr—Lord Spencer—A.
Block book Collector— Shelley—The Rev. Mr. B.—Jackson,
the Pugilist—The late Lord Panmure—Mistake of the Countess
of Harrington — The Duke of Hamilton and Bill Gibbons —
Restoration of Stolen Property—John Frost — The Bible, a
Sacred Book—Thomas Paine—The "Age of Reason"—Charles
Macphail—Mosaic Gold—Eliza Grimwood—The Glove of the
Murderer—Nat Graves—The Brown Bear, Bow Street—How
to Punish an Adulterer—^The Bishop of Killaloe and his Lady—
Advice to Gentlemen of Peculiar Construction—Dr. Maginn—
Glorious Death—Mr. J. Farrell and Mr. Anderson.
It was previously to this introduction to royalty that
I had been introduced to a man who made some noise
in his day, and who was clever enough to make fools
of a host of people, who, in their own estimation, were
the very reverse of foolish. I mean Ireland, the well
known fabricator of " Vortigern," a patchwork play,
which, by sheer impudence, he had the address to
impose upon the public as a genuine, and until it came
into his hands unknown production of Shakespeare.
The imposture was very soon detected, but not
until he had answered his purpose, and obtained^
m 2
164
RECOLLECTIONS OE
among many others, a patron and believer in the
imposture in Dr. Parr, who on entering the room in
which the sacred relic of the bard was deposited, is said
to have gone down on his knees, and bowed his head in
adoration of the forgery. This Ireland is said to have
made no less a fool of Lord Spencer, the great book col¬
lector, who purchased as a genuine block book" an
ingenious imitation in India ink, or sepia, or some such
preparation, of a work called Chiromancy," or the
art of telling fortunes by the lines of the hand, for
which piece of rubbish his lordship, I believe, paid a
hundred and odd guineas, and it is now, or was some
time ago, to be seen in the collection at Althorpe,
carefully preserved from contact with the profane
atmosphere, beneath a glass case on the library table.
There were two or three of my contemporaries at
Eton, who in their day attracted some public atten¬
tion. One of them is now altogether forgotten, and
the memory of the others is fast sinking in the
oblivion it deserves. I allude to Shelley, called the
poet, and to the Rev. Mr. B . The last of these
gentlemen was on the foundation at Eton, where his
eccentricities were rather the source of surprise than
imitation.
He had some talent, and his attainments were
beyond the attainments of most of his associates. He
THE LAST HALF CENTUKY.
165
was also a wit, on a plan of his own, but unfortunately
some of his displays in that character obtained little
sympathy from those on whom they were intended to
operate. I will give a specimen of the peculiar em¬
ployment of this gift, which partook in some degree
of practical jocularity.
Mr. B , who was unfortunate in not obtaining
a scholarship at King's, graduated, I believe, at
Oxford ; with the particulars of his pursuits at that
place I am unacquainted, but shortly after he had
retired from the groves of Isis he revisited Eton, and
invited a party of his old friends to honour him by
their presence at a dinner which he had ordered at
the Castle Inn, in the Market-place, at Windsor.
The invitation was accepted, and a tolerably numerous
party assembled at six o'clock to do justice to the good
things provided by the skill and liberality of the land¬
lord of the hostelry. All went on pleasantly, the guests
aifecting to admire the wit of the gentleman who had
invited them, and actually admiring the elegance and
profusion of the repast, marvelling at the same time
from what source he had derived the means of
making everything so pleasant, certain rumours
having reached the ears of most of them that the
wealth of their friend was not commensurate with
such extended hospitality. Their ignorance on this
166
EECOLLECTIONS OF
head was fully enlightened before they retired. Mr.
B told the waiter, with the air of a man who
had a good account at his banker's, and plenty of ready
money in his pocket, to bring the bill ; the waiter after
some little delay obeyed the order, and produced a
piece of paper of formidable length; Mr. B ,
without troubling himself to examine the items, or
even to look at the sum total, addressing the waiter,
demanded in a sort of drawl,
" Waiter, in what name does your master rejoice ?"
" My master's name," replied the waiter, " is
^ Want ?' "
^^Very good," said Mr. B ; "Want has been
your master, and as far as I am concerned, is likely to
continue so for some time ; for as I am entirely with¬
out money, it is a moral impossibility that I should
pay this or any other bill at present."
The waiter, who appeared bewildered at the un¬
expected announcement, made no delay in informing
his master of it; an explanation which explained
nothing ensued, the guests took the opportunity of
leaving their friend " alone in his glory," and Mr.
B , by some means or other, succeeded in ex¬
tricating himself from a dilemma which a gentleman
of less intrepidity of assurance would have found ex¬
tremely embarrassing.
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 167
The Rev. Mr. B obtained a prominent posi¬
tion among the advisers of Her Majesty Queen Caro¬
line, and acted as her chaplain extraordinary. I was
somewhat astonished when I saw him in company
with the great civic representative of wisdom in his
day. Alderman Wood, accompanying Her Majesty
in her progresses through the streets of London,
dressed in canonicals, and sharing with royalty the
noisy congratulations of the mob of ragged ruffians
which formed part of the procession.
Mr. Shelley commenced his literary labours at a
very early age. He produced, whilst at Eton, a
sort of romance. The bulk of the volume was
not very great, and I believe the price of it was
only sixpence. The quality was an exaggeration of
" raw-head and bloody-bones,'' on horror's head
horror accumulated," and hero, heroine, assistants,
and subordinates were in turn, or rather all to¬
gether, the victims of wilful murder under the most
revolting circumstances. The author was at this
time a wild-looking, slovenly, dirty, uncouth hobbedy-
hoy, and certainly gave no promise of those perfec¬
tions which, rightly or wrongly, as people's taste may
decide, his admirers affirmed he possessed.
John Jackson, the celebrated pugilist, and teacher
of boxing to His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales
168
EECOLLECTIONS OF
and a host of the nobility and gentry, was a remark¬
able man. It is so recently that he has been gathered
to his fathers, that hundreds of people, who knew
him well, will be able to correct me if I state anything
of him that is not perfectly matter of fact. I was
introduced to him at Margate when I was about
twelve years old, and at that age I was partly in¬
structed by him in the art of swimming, I cannot
say I patronized him, for in fact he patronized me,
and I received both morally and physically such in¬
struction from him as I was totally unable to return,
although I could fully appreciate.
He was the finest made man in England, and one
of the strongest and most active. In the commence¬
ment of his public career he defeated Mendoza, till
that event an unconquered antagonist, and one who
was at the apex of his reputation. Having achieved
this honour, a buxom widow, who concurred in the
notion that none but the brave deserve the fair,"
and who had openly averred that if he became the
victor in the contest her hand and all she possessed
were at his disposal, immediately threw aside her
weeds and became his wife. This lady kept the
Cock Inn at Sutton, on the road to Epsom race¬
course. Mr. Jackson forthwith entered on the duties
of his new calling, and being patronized by the Prince
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 169
of Wales, and I may say by "the rest of the royal
family," became so popular, that in a very short time
he retired from business with upwards of ten thousand
pounds in his pocket. He afterwards, in conjunction
with Angelo, the fencing-master, took the spacious
rooms in Old Bond-street now used as auction-rooms,
and being supported in his speculation by all the
sporting people of rank and position, at the head of
whom were the late Dukes of Hamilton and Rich¬
mond, increased, by giving lessons in boxing on
alternate days during the London fashionable season,
his ten thousand pounds to something considerably
beyond twenty. In these rooms almost all the cele¬
brities of London, of that class by which athletic
sports were encouraged and old English pastimes
patronized, were accustomed to congregate, in like
manner as merchants assemble and meet together in
the Royal Exchange, sinners in Capel-court, and
saints in Exeter Hall. It was here that, some
forty years ago, was established the "Pugilistic
Club," on the roll of which, a roll considered by
some persons almost as important as the roll of
"Battle Abbey," were inscribed the names of up¬
wards of two hundred gentlemen, and among them
the names of Lord Byron, Sir W. Scott, Thomas
Moore, and many others of equal eminence, who
170
RECOLLECTIONS OF
positively courted the acquaintance of him who pre¬
sided.
I remember being present at a dinner^ at a tavern
in Duke-street, St. James's. Mr. Jackson was the
chairman, his supporters on the right and left were
the late Lord Panmure and the famous pedestrian,
Captain Barclay. Jackson, who was a very temperate
man, instead of swallowing a bumper of wine as every
toast went round, adroitly jerked the contents of his
glass over his shoulder. This ingenious manoeuvre
was detected by the vigilant eye of the peer, who,
after staring at the perpetrator with unaffected amaze¬
ment, volunteered to save him the trouble of repeat¬
ing the practice, and drank his own wine and that of
the chairman during the rest of the evening. Jackson,
of course, was perfectly sober at the conclusion of
the banquet, and Lord Panmiire appeared little or
nothing the worse for his good nature and double
potations.
The appearance and the natural politeness of
Jackson, and the good use he had made of always
living among good company, rendered him what is
called a presentable man ; and accordingly, on the
occasion of a party of noblemen being about to pro¬
ceed one morning to witness a boxing-match some¬
where in the neighbourhood of London, he was
THE LAST HALF CENTURY
171
introduced at the breakfast table of the then Earl of
Harrington, father of the present possessor of that
title, in St. James's-park, and presented as Mr. Jack¬
son to the countess, a lady of courtly manners and of
dignified refinement. Her ladyship mistook the
gentleman introduced for his namesake the American
minister, and treated him with becoming affability
and respect. She was sometime after disabused of
her mistake, but so pleased had she been with the
manners of her new acquaintance, that she declared
he was much more of a gentleman than her own sons,
or most of the people whom they were in the habit of
introducing to her house.
I have made mention of this man, and the things
connected with him, because they explain to a certain
degree the state of society some years ago, and illus¬
trate certain usages, habits, and customs which, per¬
haps for the better, perhaps for the worse, then existed
and flourished in great vigour. The generation by
which they were fostered is nearly passed away. It
may be matter of amusement to the present to know
in what their predecessors delighted, and of edifica¬
tion to compare the differences by which they are
distinguished.
Having mentioned the late Duke of Hamilton, and
being on the subject of pugilism, of which he was a
172
RECOLLECTIONS OF
great patron^ I will say a little more of him, and of
another person equally a supporter of that sport.
The person to whom I allude is, or rather was,
William, commonly, indeed always, called " Bill"
Gibbons. In a metrical address by a celebrated
poet to an artist of equal celebrity who had pro¬
duced a portrait of " Bill," the poet, after paying a
compliment to the limner on the correctness of the
likeness, concludes—
"But how came you to use water colours
In painting Bill Gibbons's nose ?"
The painter was not aware of the means by which the
natural tints in the face of the original were produced ;
had he heard the following anecdote, he would have
felt the force of the query.
Gibbons, in the course of his visits, called one morn¬
ing upon the Duke of Hamilton, and w^as received by
his Grace with that politeness which one eminent man
has a right to expect from another. His Grace, amongst
other things, ordered his butler to bring a bottle of
Hollands, which in a marvellously short time was, as
Gibbons expressed it, " put out of sight" by himself ;
in other words, in less than half-an-hour he sw^allowed
the whole undiluted contents of the bottle, and having
done so, " cut his lucky," and retired. His Grace was
struck with astonishment at the celerity of the per-
THE LAST HALE CENTUEY.
173
formance, and the more so, because previously to the
introduction of the Hollands, the performer had tried
his hand on brandy and other exhilarating liquids. As
the evening drew on, the astonishment of the Duke was
converted into a feeling of horror at the consequences
which might accrue to the drinker, and the unpleasant
remarks which might be made by the public if the
result of his recent interview should terminate in a
coroner's inquest. He resolved to return the visit
without loss of time, and was not long in arriving at
the abode of Gibbons.
This abode could not be called a house, neither did
it in any way resemble the abodes in which most
people reside. It was in fact a range of lofts over a
range of stables, in a locality which I will venture to
say no noble duke of the present day would venture
to visit — viz., Black Horse-yard, Rathbone-place.
Staircase there was none ; the tenant and the mem¬
bers of his establishment " won their way" to the loft
by a ladder, which, having ascended, was pulled up
after them, and stowed away till wanted. His Grace
having arrived in front of the loft, gave notice to the
inmates of the fact, and the ladder being lowered, he
managed to ascend. The first object that met his
eye was the proprietor of the tenement, seated in an
easy chair, in the act of absorbing some mixture of
174
RECOLLECTIONS OF
spirit and water, and preparing to resume the smoking
of a pipe, which he had just removed from his mouth.
The fears of the noble visitor for the health and
safety of the object of his solicitude were of course
removed, and having made some quite unnecessary
apologies for his intrusion, he effected his retreat by
the ladder, and returned home, ruminating, not on the
" weakness of these latter days," but on their ominous
power of endurance.
This Mr. Gibbons was altogether a remarkable
man. I cannot say he was precisely of that order
which somebody has called the nobles of nature, but
he certainly stood out very prominently as a com¬
moner of the natural arrangement, and had his head
" screwed on" the right way. His knowledge of the
town, and of the country too, was perfect, both as
respected the people by whom they were inhabited,
and the topographical divisions of counties. The
latter branch of this knowledge was an almost indis¬
pensable qualification for the appointment which he
filled for many years as quartermaster-general to the
Ring," and in the exercise of his duties on numerous
occasions he baffled the " Beaks" by his masterly
movements from one jurisdiction to another, when
obliged to retreat before a superior force. He was
also in possession of a knowledge of cross-roads, lanes.
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 175
and pathways, leading to various parts of the sea-
coast, which brought no little gain into his pocket
from his employment of it in helping prisoners of war
to effect their escape out of the country, and in his
intercourse with smugglers in helping them to intro¬
duce foreign produce into it.
Those who were acquainted with the extent and
ramifications of his intelligence about what was going
on in the world, and who were unfortunate enough to
lose or to be robbed of watches, snuff-boxes, and
things of a similar character, instead of applying at
the police-offices for the restoration of their property,
were accustomed to apply to Mr. Gibbons, who was
generally successful in recovering the stolen and
strayed, and in " making it all right" with the people
into whose hands they had fallen. I was one Sunday
coming out of Hyde-park in company with Frost, the
well-known solicitor, when we met a French noble¬
man, whose pocket had just been picked of a very
valuable gold snuff-box. The Frenchman, with whom
Frost was intimate, was in great tribulation at his loss,
and asked if it were possible to redeem it. Leave
it to me," said Frost, " and tell not a word of what
has happened to anybod}^ else ; if the box can be
recovered, I know the only way to recover it." The
affair was left in the hands of Frost, who without loss
176
RECOLLECTIONS OE
of time apprized Gibbons of what was wanted, and in
the course of eight-and-forty hours the French noble¬
man was again in possession of his property.
I could multiply these stories, for the truth of
which I can vouch from my own experience, but it
would be both unnecessary and tedious ; I allude to
them here as throwing light on certain phases of
society in the "good old times."
But though Gibbons was a very plain dealing man
in his intercourse with those with whom he came in
contact, I am sorry to say his simplicity of action did
not invariably meet with corresponding returns. He
was known to have amassed what might be com¬
paratively called a good bit of money. His wealth
excited a desire for wealth in the minds of certain of
his " pals the sentiment, non invideo^ mirar magisy
was reversed, there was plenty of envy and no admi¬
ration at all ; and some of the envious, in their zeal for
participation, watched an opportunity when their
" friend" was away from home to pay his premises a
visit. They ransacked every box, trunk, and place
in which they conjectured his money might be hid¬
den : it was all in vain. He knew his customers,
and had taken the precaution to secure bank-notes to
the amount of several hundred pounds in an old
family Bible, being perfectly certain that that was
THE LAST HALF CENTUKY.
177
a volume which as they had never opened before, they
could never suspect of containing anything of any
sort of value, and never examine in search for money.
His sagacity proved his safeguard; the visitors, not
I
being acquainted with the contents of the sacred
volume, were deprived of the advantage which might
have been derived from its examination.
John Frost, whose name I have just mentioned,
was an original in another way. tie was the lawyer
and agent of Sir Francis Burdett in his celebrated
contests for the representation of Middlesex, and he
was either famous or notorious, as the reader pleases,
for his connexion with the still more famous or
notorious Thomas Paine, the political writer, and
author of the Age of Reason."
Frost, like many other people, neglected his own
business to look after that of his neighbours. Having
met with disappointment m his aspirations for the
public good, he commenced reformer in earnest,
"Assumed a patriot's all-atoning name,"
and being an ardent and enthusiastic man, put him¬
self at the head of the movement.
Tom Paine was elected a member of the French
National Convention, and Frost, for whom England
was in some sort too hot, and in some sort too cold,
accompanied his friend to Paris. There they were
VOL. II. N
178
EECOLLECTIONS OF
received with the honours which from their advocacy
of liberty and so forth were considered their due.
Frost fraternized with Robespierre, Marat, Danton,
Tallien, and all the celebrities of the Revolution, was
favoured with a reserved seat at the execution of
Louis XVL (of whose heroism and resignation on the
scaffold he, by the way, did not speak so favourably
as some persons of a less democratic way of think¬
ing have spoken), dined with San terre, who super¬
intended the arrangements, and, in short, was in the
zenith of popularity. This state of things was not
doomed to be of long continuance. Tom Paine had
voted with the Brissotins, and on the question of
putting the king to death was in the minority. The
Brissotins, as everybody knows, were overthrown, the
reign of terror commenced, and Tom Paine and his
friend were sent to prison. It was in this prison
that Paine dictated the " Age of Reason," which
Frost, as his amanuensis, transcribed. It was wdth
some difficulty that they recovered their liberty, and
if it had not been for the interposition of the American
Minister, who claimed Tom Paine as an American
citizen, it is not unlikely that both their heads
would have fallen beneath the blade of the guillotine.
I have related this anecdote, which I had from the
mouth of Frost himself, to show that, however erro-
THE LAST HALF CENTURY.
179
neous or execrable might have been Tom Paine's
ideas of Christianity, he was at least candid in his
infidelity, and perfectly assured that his notions of its
evidences were just.
Frost on his return to England was prosecuted by
the Government, became more temperate in his poli¬
tical views, without abandoning the cause of legiti¬
mate reformation, made acquaintance with Sheridan,
by whom he was duped, and who forgot to pay him a
considerable sum of money, and lived for many years
after, respected and beloved by a very numerous circle
of friends.
It is not very long ago that one Charles Macphail
lived in Regent-street, and carried on the business, not
of a goldsmith, but of a smith who fabricated out of
old tin kettles and copper saucepans a substitute for
the precious metal, which he called " mosaic." I
should not have thought this man of sufficient con¬
sequence to have introduced his name into these
pages, if his invention and fabrication, together with
other arts he exercised, had not been the means of
giving a brilliancy of appearance to people of much
more consequence than himself, and making a good
deal of base metal besides his own pass current for
much more than its real value. I speak this meta¬
phorically, having no intention of accusing my old
N 2
180
EECOLLECTIONS OF
acquaîntance of infringing the laws relating to
coiners.
Macphail had a very extensive connexion with the
nobility and people of the " West-end." He supplied
dowagers with poll-parrots and pet dogs, and by an
alchymy practised by many other people, exchanged
slips of paper apparently worthless, and sometimes
really so, into sterling coin of the realm or good Bank
of England notes. In the course of his business in
Regent-street, he was one day waited upon by a
noble lord, who, like others of his order, was
obliged by the pressure within and without, to resort
to many ingenious expedients to keep up appear¬
ances, and prevent incivility. His lordship was
favoured with a private audience in a little apart¬
ment adapted to such purposes, and having ascer¬
tained that he and his companion were beyond ear¬
shot, produced an elegant morocco case.
This case," said the peer, " contains Lady 's
jewels. She is out of town, and they will not be
wanted for some time ; in fact, they most probably will
not be wanted any more. Her ladyship is no judge
of jewels or things of that sort ; and what I wish you
to do, is to make me a set of imitation jewels, set in
your mosaic gold, precisely sirnilar to these; keep
these, and give me the difference of the value."
THE LAST HALF CENTURY.
181
Macphail, having opened the case, without any
examination of its contents, replied at once,
My lord, it will be the easiest thing in the world
for me to produce precisely such a set of jewels as
you have been good enough to put into my hands.
But between you and me, the difference of the value
between the two sets would not be a farthing. These
jewels, which you have been-at the trouble of bringing
here, were made by me some time ago for your lord-
' ship's wife. I have in my possession the originals,
of which these are so admirable an imitation, that I
don't wonder your lordship has not discovered the
substitution of the one for the other, and her ladyship
has already had the full value of the exchange."
His lordship, who discovered too late that her lady¬
ship was as good a judge as himself of jewels and
other things, was not long in cutting short the con¬
versation. He muttered something about being
" done," and took his departure.
Macphail, having survived his first wife, retired
from business, took unto himself a second partner,
from w^hom he parted company, by mutual consent,
before the completion of the honeymoon ; and wishing
to economize, rented at a low sum the apartments in
which, in the Waterloo-road, the unfortunate Eliza
Grimwood was one night murdered by some mis-
182
RECOLLECTIONS OF
créant who has hitherto escaped detection. Thence
he removed to Boulogne, and at the present time
occupies six feet by two freehold in the English ceme¬
tery on the outskirts of the town.
I said that the murderer of the unfortunate Eliza
Grimwood had not yet been discovered. A vaga¬
bond who acted as her accredited paramour, and de¬
rived an infamous subsistence from her prostitution,
was examined on suspicion of being the culprit, and
one Nat Graves, a se mi-official who had in his early •
days been employed as a "nose" or police agent, by
Ruthven, the Bow-street officer, was employed to
" squeeze" him. Nothing, however, was produced
by the effort ; the fellow persisted in denying the
accusation made against him, and from what I know
of the circumstances from my personal inquiries, I
have no doubt whatever that he was perfectly inno¬
cent of the crime. Suspicion also pointed to another
vagabond, who was neither examined nor " squeezed,"
but whose antecedents were not such as to remove
the impression in many people's minds that he was
the murderer. There is at this time a glove in the
possession of a gentleman, as I understand, or of the
police, which has never been properly examined, and
which might possibly, by being traced to its owner,
throw light on this affair. This glove, from its manu-
THE LAST HALE CENTURY. 183
facture and material^ has evidently belonged to a
person of much more exalted rank than the man who
was accused of the crime ; I myself was told by a
gentleman, who had some knowledge of the person
towards whom suspicion was directed, that he was very
glad he had never seen it, as it might have confirmed
him in an opinion which he had formed as to who
committed the bloodv deed.
«/
Mr. Graves, being himself a recognised limb of the
executive of the laws of England, had come to the
conclusion that there were many defects which wanted
a remedy, and in his own case applied the remedy in
the way that is termed " taking the law into his own
hands." He had married a female who was possessed
of more female beauty than female purity ; indeed,
the erratic propensities of the lady rendered it impos¬
sible for her husband to submit to her repeated
indiscretions. He, at the time things had come to
a crisis, was landlord of the Brown Bear, Bow-
street, and castos of the " strong room" in that edifice,
in which prisoners awaiting the decision of the magis¬
trates at the police-office were, before the present
station-house was built, consigned to incarceration.
Mr. Graves, muneris auctoritate^ had a much more
numerous than respectable acquaintance, but among
them were several on whom he could implicitly rely
184
RECOLLECTIONS OF
for carrying into execution anything he might suggest,
or of rendering such needful aid as he frequently
required.
The Lothario or Lovelace who had introduced the
"green-eyed monster" into the " Brown Bear," was
one Mr. Warner, a professed friend of the landlord.
Mr. Graves having consulted his assistants, invited
Mr. Warner to dine wdth him on a certain day, and
Mr. Warner unhesitatingly accepted the invitation.
People have heard of getting " a salt eel for supper;"
Mr. Warner got something for dinner, of which the
pickle was considerably more pungent. He had no
sooner entered the dining-room than he was seized
upon by Mr. Graves and his assistants, divested of
that portion of his dress which extends from the
hips to the knees, stretched prone upon the table, and
bastinadoed upon a tender part of the person with a
stirrup leather, prepared for the purpose. It was in
vain he implored mercy ; his bellowing brought no
one to his assistance ; such noises being so frequently
heard on the premises, had familiarized the neigh¬
bourhood to their sound ; and it was not until the
operators were out of breath with their exertions that
he was relieved from their clutches, directed to adjust
his clothing, and kicked into the street.
Having; introduced the name of one lady to the
O
THE LAST HALE CENTUEY.
185
reader, I will take the opportunity of presenting
another of higher pretensions to his notice. The
lady was the wife of a former Bishop of Killaloe, a
prelate more remarkable for the seciilarity of his lan¬
guage than his adherence to the injunction, " Bless,
and curse not." His lady, although she did not adopt
the very forcible phraseology in which his lordship
conveyed reproof and expostulation, was exceedingly
primitive in her mode of question and answer, and
moreover a wit. A visitor in the family, one Captain
Quick, whose peculiarity of " build" was the contrary
to what in a dockyard is termed " a clean run aft,"
having consulted the mistress on a subject with which
her acquaintance was limited, and bored her with
repeated interrogatories, was advised in plain English
to write to his brother at Oxford to search the pages
of Advice Ciiristianis podices ponderosos habentibiiSy^
in which volume he would find a full and particular
solution of difficulties incidental to persons of his sort.
The lady, as I said, gave the book its vernacular title,
which I, from feelings of delicacy, have translated
into a dead language.
This curious work has somewhere been noticed by
Sir Walter Scott, and is to be found in the Bodleian
collection, amongst similar curiosities.
At the table of Matthew Coates Wyatt, Esq., the
186 EECOLLECTIONS OF
sculptor, I have met with many strange people, and
with many very amusing ones. A man who may be
said to have been both strange and amusing was
amongst these people. I mean Dr. Maginn.
As many people take no " note of time but by its
loss," so Dr. Maginn took no account of money except
by squandering it as fast as he got it. The consequence
was, that he was always performing the " gentleman
in difficulties," and these difficulties were frequently
more ludicrous than tragic. He was a good classic
scholar, and had, I believe, like Lingo, the learned
butler, been at one time a " master of scholars." He
was totally without pedantry, but sufficiently armed
with quotations from the Roman satirists to be a very
pertinent and a very sharp antagonist with borrowed
weapons. He had a vast fund of acquired knowledge,
the product of odds and ends picked up everywhere
and anywhere, rather than the result of systematic
study. He had natural endowments of a high order,
and if he was not endowed with genius, he was en¬
dowed with something that came very near to it.
He could not be a common man, who, after driving
off to the last moment the performance of his business
of editino; a magazine and review, found it less diflS-
cult to write the whole contents of the requisite
number, than to examine and select the lucubrations
THE LAST HALE CENTUKY
187
of contributors. This he actually performed, diver¬
sified his style and manner as the various articles
required, and produced single-handed a collection of
essays, and such miscellaneous things as are usually
the labour of a whole staff of writers. He was a
valorous little man ; and though, after his duel with
one of the Berkeley family, for a short time a ^Hion,"
he had no capacity for roaring, and with great modesty
declined to avail himself of his honours.
I once sat at table in company with him at a dinner
given to a gentleman who w^as about to quit England
and enter on some very difficult public duties on the
Continent. Mr. , an Irish barrister, sat between
Maginn and me ; a good deal of jest and banter, and
some small contributions of real wit, helped, in addi¬
tion to the usual things provided at dinner-tables, to
enliven the guests. The Irish barrister, who was
getting w^hat people call maudlin drunk, began to
relate what an excellent man his father had been, and
what regret his exit from this world had occasioned
in Ireland.
"He died," said the son of this worthy man, "in
the presence of hundreds of people, all of whom
expressed sympathy on that melancholy occasion."
I felt some astonishment at this announcement, and
in my simplicity asked,
188
RECOLLECTIONS OE
" Dkl he then die on the field of battle ?"
" No," said the son.
What were the circumstances of his death," I
asked, " which brought so many people around him?"
He was hung," said Maginn.
The Irish barrister burst into tears, and most vehe¬
mently denied the impeachment. He did not, how¬
ever, enlighten us as to the actual manner or mode of
his father's dissolution, and I am still in ignorance
whether Maginn's solution was in earnest or in joke.
I remember returning home late one evening, and
passing through Temple-bar. Beneath the centre
arch, or rather gateway of that disgrace to the archi¬
tectural reputation of Sir Christopher Wren, I beheld
two men, one drunk, the other sober; the drunken
man had just thrown off his stomach a part of the
enemy which Shakespeare says men put into their
mouths to steal away their brains." The sober man,
who I found was a stranger in London, was inquir¬
ing of the drunken man, whom I discovered to be
Dr. Maginn, the nearest way to " Wine-office-court."
The Doctor, though drunk, was quite sensible of the
contretemps of the question to a gentleman in his
predicament, and stuttered forth,
" I have just come from Wine-office-court, as you
may very plainly perceive ; but I'll see you d d
THE LAST HALE CENTURY.
189
before I go back there again to-night, or direct any¬
body else to such a disreputable place."
The stranger went in search of another guide to
the locality, and I with some^ difficulty having got
Maginn into a cab, directed the driver to see him
safely delivered at his home.
The Doctor had an unfortunate impediment in his
speech, which with him, as with other people who
stammer, exhibited increased inveteracy whenever he
struggled hardest to master it. This impediment,
though it not unfrequently prevented the rapidity
necessary to successful repartee, assisted by its gro-
tesqueness his enunciation of a good thing.
There was another gentleman a stammerer, who,
though very much inferior in talent, capacity, and
attainments to Maginn, had a certain shrewdness, and
a certain knowledge of men and things, that made
him a rather awkward antagonist to contend with.
This was Mr. James Farrell. He was an Irishman
of good family, and had been tolerably Avell educated.
Mr. Farrell was for many years an attache of the
public press. He was a small contributor as a writer
to the journals, but he collected a certain quantity of
that miscellaneous matter which floats about in societv,
t/ ^
and communicated to those in authority the results
of his industry.
190
EECOLLECTIONS OE
The " Morning Advertiser" was the paper on which
he inflicted his intelligence in preference to any other
journal, and during the time that it had the advan¬
tage of being under the editorial superintendence of
Mr. Anderson, Mr. Farrell called one evening with a
communication, which was, he thought, important.
He without any preliminary notice of his arrival at the
office in Shoe-lane, at once proceeded to the sanctum
sanctorum of the editor to impart in person.
Now Mr. Anderson was a gentleman who, in
addition to other requirements, needed, or thought
he needed, an almost perpetual renovation of his
system from wine, brandy, or whisk}^ Mr. Farrell
was aware of this, and did not object to such an indul¬
gence ; indeed, in his own practice, he was guided by
a similar way of thinking. Fie was, however, a little
surprised at the manner in which the great man re¬
ceived him, and at the unusual display of decanters
and dessert on the table.
" 1 am Very glad to see you, sir," said Anderson,
" and I will now confer with you on the subject of
your visit."
Farrell, who was " bothered," made a motion with
his head that he was prepared to begin, but wisely
held his tongue.
" Pray help yourself to some wine."
THE LAST HALE CENTURY. 191
Farrell lost no time in complying, but was at a loss
to understand the meaning of such unusual politeness.
Mr, Anderson filled himself a bumper, and the two
bowed to each other. The conversation was then
taken up, and kept up entirely by Mr. Anderson,
Mr. Farrell paying the most diligent attention to the
speaker, to discover if possible a thread to the dis¬
course, which to him appeared totally incoherent ;
and following the example of his companion in filling
and gulping down at very short intervals repeated
bumpers of port.
It was evident Mr. Anderson was warming with
his subject, and with the accessorial stimulants with
which he was ^'keeping up the steam." Mr. Farrell
began to suspect some mistake, but could not com¬
prehend what it w^as.
Have you got the document ?" said Mr. Anderson.
Yes," stammered Farrell, and held forth a piece
of paper containing his collection of news.
A sudden light at this moment seemed to illumine
the brain of Mr. Anderson, and the state of intoxica¬
tion in which he had been during the whole interview
was dispelled. He eyed with the harrowing glance
of a Mephistopheles the gentleman to whom he had
been showdng such unusual suavity of manner ; and
starting suddenly from his chair, reeled tow^ards him.
192
KECOLLECTIONS OF
" What/' said he, with a tone of indignation and
rage, have I for this last half-hour been betraying
the secrets of the paper to such an infernal fool and
vagabond as Jemmy Farrell. Quit the room, sir—
quit the room, or I'll kick you out !"
Farrell was not slow in obeying the order, but not
quick enough to escape the penalty of his intrusion :
he made the best of his way to the door, and had
nearly effected his retreât, when his departure down
stairs was accelerated by a violent kick, which sent
him heels over head to the bottom.
It appeared upon inquiry made by Farrell, that
Anderson had mistaken him, in the haze of inebria¬
tion, for the great man of some greater man, who was
to bring him some intelligence, with which the
columns of his journal were to be enriched and his
readers enlightened.
Mr. Farrell, after passing through various vicissi¬
tudes, and being compelled whilst living to announce
his own demise, to prevent the too urgent and too
frequent inquiries that were being continually made
after him, at length died in earnest, and was buried
in ihe neighbourhood of London, his funeral expenses
being defrayed by the keeper of a coffee-house, whose
beneficence exceeded the tardy benevolence of his
friends in Ireland.
THE LAST HALF CENTURY.
193
CHAPTER VIII.
Haydon—General Tom Thumb—A Boanerges—William Jerdan—
A .Planetary Aberration — Omnibus Bailey— How to decline
Lending Money—The ''Great Gun"—Dr. Forbes Winslow—The
Rev. Mr. Clarke and Mrs. Fry—A Royal Duke—Mrs. Billington
—Sussex House — The Prince Regent and Madame Grisi —
Curious Copy of Verses — Sheridan's Verses on Brooks, the
Money-lender—The Statue of the Duke of Wellington—Death¬
bed Speeches of Great Men—Mistaken Identity—John Ward's
Fox-hounds—Vulpes loquitur et Agrestis.
At the table of Mr. Wyatt I also met the late Mr.
Haydon, the artist, with whom I had been previously
acquainted. Haydon was undoubtedly a man of
considerable talent, but of insatiable vanity. He had
concentrated in his own estimation of his merits those
atoms of admiration that ought to have been diffused
among the general community, who were certainly
something slow in recognising the claims which he
was continually urging ; indeed, they were far too
slow to satisfy his craving for applause, and for a slice
or two of that " solid pudding" w^hich many people
value much more than " empty praise." The conse-
VOL. II, O
194
EECOLLECTIONS OE
qaence was, that he was continually indulging in
querulous complaint and bitter vituperation ; every¬
body was rewarded except himself, nobody but him¬
self had any merit or capacity or " feeling for art."
All the world were fools; he was the little bit of leaven
that was to bring the stolid lump to fermentation;
the one wise man whose presence rescued the mass of
mankind from unqualified insignificance and fatuity.
This inordinate vanity overlaid the many good
qualities which he possessed, blinded his perspicacity,
and perverted his judgment. I have seen his picture
of the Mock Election in the King's Bench Prison ; it
is perhaps his best effort, and for it I believe His
Majesty George IV. gave five hundred pounds. It
is now at Windsor, not certainly among the gems of
the royal collection, but hanging in a place in which
its merits and defects alike escape detection.
Shortly before his death he was employed in
painting a series of subjects illustrating the horrors of
the Reia;n of Terror ; one or two of these were exhi-
bited in a room in the Egyptian Hall, Piccadilly, in
company with his pictures of the Banishment of
Aristides from Athens, Nero playing upon his harp
whilst Rome was being burnt, and several others
which he called historical pictures, of the quality of
which I decline giving an opinion. In the large front
THE LAST HALE CENTURY.
195
room of the Egyptian Hall, General Tom Thumb
was holding his levees, and a perfect swarm of people
was crowding his apartment, whilst scarcely a creature
came to Hajdon's exhibition. This was a wound so
severe to his vanity that it never healed, tie was
continually abusing the public, contrasting his own
merits with those of his diminutive rival, and mixins:
' o
up the sublime with the ridiculous in such a manner
as to make his complaints the source of laughter
rather than commiseration. He was at some moments
in so excited a condition from his own disappoint¬
ment, contrasted with the success of the dwarf and
Barnum, the showman, that he appeared ripe for a
forcible vindication of his superiority. I was not in
the least surprised at the tragic termination of his
days ; he had appeared to me to be in a state of ex¬
citement for some time previous which would lead to
something fatal.
The mention of General Tom Thumb affords me
an opportunity of alluding to a rumour which about
this time was current respecting that illustrious person.
It was whispered, whether truly or falsely I cannot
decide, that the great man was a little girl. Whether
or not a substitution of the masculine for the feminine
gender, in relation to the individual in question, in¬
creased or diminished the marvellous interest excited
o 2
196
RECOLLECTIONS OE
by his or her appearance, Mr. Barnum would be the
properest referee to decide.
At the table of Mr. Wyatt was also to be met a
burly Boanerges, the incumbent of a city benefice,
whose name I abstain from mentioning. This reve¬
rend divine was incessantly lecturing, and attempting
to engross, not all the conversation, but all the talk
to himself ; and the company were on one or two
occasions not a little indebted to the rough jocularity
of another gentleman of the party, whose boisterous
interposition at such times relieved the party from
the pompous dulness of an egotist.
William Jerdan was frequently amongst the guests ;
his wit, humour, inexhaustible fund of anecdote, and
felicitous manner of telling a story, contributed in no
small degree to make these meetings agreeable. He
was a perfect antithesis to the parson, and as he had
not the patience to listen to a lecture, so he had not
the folly to attempt the delivery of such an infliction.
I remember dining at the house of a city alder¬
man, now Lord Mayor of London, who was in the
habit of entertaining large parties of artists, authors,
wits, and those who passed for wits. Jerdan and I,
being among the least considerable of the guests, were
seated at the lower end of the table as supporters of
the Amphitryon of the feast, whilst his reverence, and
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 197
another person of presnmecj importance, acted as
Lion and Unicorn to the Alcmena at the head of the
board. When the ladies retired, and the gentlemen
were left to themselves, the divine came down to the
alderman, and Jerdan, who perceived his approach,
observed, in his peculiar manner, and in that northern
accent which sharpened the zest of his jokes, I have
often seen the Moon come to the fool (full), but this
is the first time I ever saw the fool (full) come to the
Moon."
A Mr. Bajley was among the people w^ho got hold
of Dr. Magilln, and by the process of what is termed
sucking his brains," contrived to obtain a good deal
of information, of which he availed himself much to
his own advantage. I am ignorant of the christian
name of Mr. Bayley, but he had so many prefixes to
his surname that there was no fear of his identity
being mistaken. By some he was called Alphabet
Bayley, why, I know not ; by others. Omnibus Bayley,
of the origin of which description I am in equal igno¬
rance. He was a tall, awkwardly-built man, with a
huge head, from which descended and fell on his
o •'
shoulders, in snake-like ringlets, a profusion of long
black greasy hair. His face was broad and inexpres¬
sive, and only redeemed from perfect vacuity by a
certain sinister expression of the eyes. He was, I
198
EECOLLECTIONS OF
believe, a West Indian Creole, originall}^ from an
Irish stock, with a slight streak of the Negro. Mr.
Bayley was one of a class that assumed the title of a
literary man, though of literature he had not a par¬
ticle. He had, however, what answered his purpose
quite as well, perhaps better—he was not easily
abashed, profuse in professions, and indomitable in
impudence. He would undertake anything, and by
some means extract money from everybody. He
was not entirely without talent; he could string
together a parcel of words, and rattle his periods into
rhyme; he could make the most of a worn-out idea,
and pirate with the facility of a practised hand the
good things of others; with these qualifications he
became a public writer, a critic, a poet, and an editor.
He had a tolerable knowledsje of what would " take"
with the public ; and if he had been as steady in
availing himself of the results of this faculty as he was
clever in putting it into operation, he might have been
an opulent man. He was the originator of the pub¬
lication, the " Illustrated News," of which he became
the editor, and was paid a very liberal salary by the
proprietors. Their liberality, however, did not keep
pace with his expenses, and after a short time he
relinquished his employment. He then became
connected with other periodical publications, and
THE LAST HALE CENTURY,
199
managed to obtain and to spend a good deal of
money. It was about this time that I was one day in
the back-parlour of a publisher in the neighbourhood
of the Strand. The publisher, whose name need not
be told, came into the room and said to me, I have
a request to make of you, which is, that whatever I
ask you to do, and with whatever importunity I press
you, refuse me during the next half-hour, and in
expressing your refusal exalt your voice so that it may
be heard in the next room."
I considered this an odd request, but agreed to
comply with it, and the publisher having retired, I
shortlv afterwards heard him in eonversation with
some other person in the next room, whom in a few
minutes he left, and came back again to me.
" I w^ant you," said he, to do me a favour; be kind
enough to lend me five pounds till to-morrow."
" I really cannot," I replied, in a loud voice.
" Then lend me two pounds."
" You must excuse me," I replied, in the same tone.
" I really must entreat your kindness."
"Tt is to no purpose," I rejoined.
ÍÍ Very well," said he, and again retired.
I heard a sort of muttering in the next room, and
shortly after some person went out by the street door,
and the publisher returned once more to me.
200
EECOLLECTIONS OF
^^The plan has succeeded capitally/'said he; "the
man with whom I was in conversation in the adjoin¬
ing room w^as Bay ley. He came here to borrow
money, and I was not inclined to lend him any. He
knew you were here, and I knew that when I should
tell him I had no money by me, he would ask me to
borrow of you, and hand over to him whatever sum
you might lend me. I was resolved that this round¬
about method of raising the supplies should not
succeed, and that was my motive for asking you to
refuse any request I might make to you. He heard
your replies to my solicitation, and he has gone away
fully believing that I did all I could for him, and that
if I had had what he wanted I would have given it
to him."
This explanation elucidated everything.
Another publication projected and brought out by
Bayley, was the " Great Gun." He had the address
to persuade two persons who had money that he
would, by the aid of the " Great Gun," increase that
money tenfold, and under that persuasion his services
were retained, and well paid for, to secure success to
the enterprise.
His two supporters had an extraordinary opinion
of his merits, and a feeling almost of adoration for
literary men. They had seen little of the class, and
THE LAST HALF CENTUEY. 201
their ignorance of its components was therefore
excusable. Bayley undertook to introduce them into
the society of the brilliant circle of wits, savans, and
critics, whom the " Great Gun" was to be primed,
loaded, and fired, and bj?^ whose labours, directed by
him, their capital was to produce an inordinate
interest.
For this purpose, a dinner for twenty persons or
so was ordered at the "Café" in the Hay market,
and Hemmings, who was then the landlord, was
instructed to provide amply, and let everything be
of the best.
I received a letter of invitation without being at all
aware of the nature or the intention of the festivity,
and was ushered into a room in which the company
were assembled.
I forget the names of many whom I met there,
but I remember that Leman Rede, Laman Blan¬
chard, a Mr, Rosenberg, Mr. Stirling Coyne, Mr.
Greenhuysen, Mr. Morris Barnett, and I think, Mr.
Bourçicault, were amongst the number. Everybody
was introduced to the gentlemen at whose expense
the dinner was to be put upon the table, and I shall
not very soon forget their bewilderment as the name
and qualifications of each guest were announced by
Bayley. These simple people stared in amazement
202
RECOLLECTIONS OE
and admiration at the extraordinary beings who were
about to do them the honour of eating and drinking
at their expense^ and were in a state between self-
gratulation and terror.
The dinner proceeded as such things generally do.
Success was drank to the " Great Gun/' and Bayley,
who acted as the chairman, described in acknow¬
ledging the toast, seriatim and at full length, the
peculiar capabilities of each person present for the
respective department of the paper assigned to him.
The " festivity was kept up till a late hour," and
everybody retired well pleased.
In a short time an office was taken, and the Great
Gun" was brought into action ; but I am compelled to
say, it was a most useless piece of ordnance. It
hung fire most deplorably, and though plenty of
ammunition, as long as the money and patience of
the proprietors lasted, was supplied in the shape of
salaries and payments to contributors, so wretched
was the whole affair that in the course of a few months
its reports were heard no more.
\
After this Mr. Bayley sunk gradually in the
estimation of the learned and the unlearned, the
patrons and supporters of literary speculation, became
less careful than heretofore of his personal appear-
ance and the respectability of his associates, was occa-
THE LAST HALF CENTURY
203
sionally disfigured with a black eye, and after a
severe attack of yellow jaundice, took the road to that
bourne from which no traveller returns.
At the table of another gentleman I have met
with guests of a different class from those whom I
have met wdth at the table of Mr. Wyatt, or indeed
of any of my acquaintance. I allude to the ladies
and gentlemen w^ho form the inmates of Sussex House,
Hammersmith, and whose peculiar visitations have
received from Dr. Forbes Winslow that alleviation
which only the most thorough professional knowdedge
and the most unw^earied attention to his duties could
afford.
I am, of course, not going to say anjThing about
these persons, but I cannot omit the opportunity of
making public, as far as these pages will afford pub¬
licity, my testimony to the admirable arrangements
of the institution over which he presides ; of recording
my respect for his worth, and saying a few^ wmrds
connected with him, and of observing, that not the
least of the improvements of societ}^, is the mode of
treatment in cases of insanity in this day, of which he
has been one of the principal, if not the most distin¬
guished principal assertor, as contrasted with the inhu¬
manity and barbarism with which lunatic asylums, or
rather prisons, were in my recollection conducted.
204
RECOLLECTIONS OE
I have known this gentleman for some years ; 1
trust he will excuse the liberty which I take in men¬
tioning his name, and assign it to those motives which
respect for his character and talents engenders.
This gentleman, w^ho, fortunately for the public, is
still in the prime of life, and in the enjoyment of
all his physical as well as his mental faculties, is an
instance of what the energy of self-reliance can effect.
After receiving an education which made him a clas¬
sical scholar, and confirmed his natural love of litera¬
ture, he studied the sciences more immediately
connected with the profession to which he belongs
with an ardour and an assiduity which no temp¬
tations of pleasure or views of lucrative employment
in other pursuits could allay or divert. To defray
the expenses of his studies, he for a time made use
of his acquirements in contributing to the general
literature of the day. He was a reviewer, an essayist,
and a metaphysician, and in these capacities exhibited
the same closeness of investigation, and the same
correctness of deduction, which have secured him his
reputation in the vocation to which he now dedicates
his undivided attention.
He was, whilst in his literary probation, engaged by
the editor of a journal in the columns of which many
of the most eminent men of this country have served
THE LAST HALE CENTURY.
205
their novitiate as political^ scientific, and argumen¬
tative writers on subjects connected with the public
good ; and it is no little credit to his talents, integrity,
and independence, to say that he fully justified the
opinion which that editor had formed of his ability
and honour, and by his conduct secured the friend¬
ship and respect of one of the most competent judges
of merit whom I ever recollect to have met.
The subject of lunatic asylums recals to my recol¬
lection a fact connected with the inmate of one of
them, which involved the dignity, and in some degree
the safety, of a female Friend," whose restless bene¬
volence was by the uncharitable occasionally mistaken
for an impertinent propensity for prying into things
with which she had no business.
The Rev. Mr. Clarke, son of the traveller, Dr.
Clarke, was at one time confined in a lunatic asylum.
His visit to the place was fortunately but a short one,
and he was pronounced perfectly compos mentis, A
day or two before he left the place he perceived,
from the unusual bustle that arose, that something of
consequence was about to happen ; and he learnt
from one of the subordinates that no less a person
than the great Mrs. Fry, attended by a staff of
females, was about to inspect the establishment.
Being fond of a joke, Mr. Clarke prevailed upon one
206
EECOLLECTIONS OE
of the keepers to introduce the lady to him. This
was accordingly done. Mr. Clarke assumed the ap¬
pearance of melancholy madness ; the lady and her
suite advanced to offer consolation and condolence ;
he groaned, rolled his eyes, and gibbered ; they became
alarmed. Fie made gestures indicative of a rush at the ^
parties ; they retreated towards the door in precipita¬
tion ; he rose from his seat, and was in instant pursuit.
" Sauve qui peut" was the word ; the retreat became
a flight. Mrs. Fry, whose size and age prevented
celerity of movement, was upset in the attempt ; the
sisterhood were involved in her fall; their screams
were mingled with the simulated bowlings of the sup¬
posed maniac ; and it was with some difficulty that
they were eventually removed from the floor and out
of the room, I believe Mrs. Fry did not again extend
her researches into the mysteries of lunatic asylums.
When first I knew Sussex House, a prince of the
blood, one portion of whose life was employed in an
attempt to legitimate the children of his marriage
with a noble lady, and another portion in the resist¬
ance of their claims, was occasionally located therein.
The celebrated singer, Mrs. Billington, was the occu¬
pant. The vocal attractions of the corpulent Calypso
were no doubt the charm by which the no longer
youthful Telemachus was attracted to the spot.
THE LAST HALE CENTURY.
207
The mention of royalty and a celebrated prima
donna puts me in mind of an anecdote of His Ma¬
jesty George lY., who was understood to have pos-
sessed some knowledge of music, and a not incorrect
I
taste for its beauties.
His Royal Highness, then Prince of Wales, was
present at the second commemoration of Handel at
Westminster Abbey. The Abbey was crowded, and
the heat was intense. The Prince, who was swelter¬
ing with caloric and steaming with perspiration,
beheld with pain and pity a lady in the crowd fainting
from the want of fresh air. Who is that unfortunate
lady ?" asked he.
" It is Grisi, your Royal Highness," replied a noble
lord.
"Grisi I" said the Prince, "why, Pm Grisi (greasy)
too, and I suspect there's a considerable number of
us who can lay claim to the name."
But to revert to the entertainments given at the
house of Mr. Wyatt, and let it be observed, that
though several of the people who went there brought
nothing to the table but inordinate hunger and in¬
satiable thirst, there were many others from whose
contributions something beyond the mere common¬
place observations of a dinner party was to be obtained.
It was from one of these last mentioned that I ob-
208
RECOLLECTIONS OE
tained a copy of the following lines, which I believe
have never appeared in print. I know that the gen¬
tleman who gave them to me had showm them to Sir
Walter Scott, and that Sir Walter then saw them for
the first time. I print them here, because I think
their sweetness deserves to be more generally dif¬
fused.
Lines presented hy George^ Luhe of Clarence^ to Lady
Anne Beaiichamp (a Lancastrian^^ during the War
of the Roses
{The Duke presente a white rose.)
"If this fair rose offend your sight,
Rlaced on your bosom bare,
'Twill blush to find itself less white,
And turn Lancastrian there.
But if thy ruby lips it spy,
To kiss it shouldst thou deign.
With blushes pale 'twill lose its dye,
And Yorkist turn again."
As w^e were on the subject of poetry, another of
the guests, who was in possession of an unpublished
copy of verses written by Sheridan, as he surveyed,
from one of the club-houses in St. James's-street, the
funeral of Brooks, the wine-merchant and money¬
lender, with whom he had many dealings in both
branches of his business, favoured us wdth a recital of
them, and afterwards gave me a copy.
THE LAST HALF CENTURY.
209
Anything that Sheridan wrote is worth being read,
and so I transcribe these lines
''Alas ! that Brooks returned to dust,
Should pay at length the debt that we,
Averse to parchment, mortgage;, trust,
Shall pay when forced—as well as he.
And die so poor too J He whose trade
Such profit cleared by draught and deed^
Though pigeons called him murmuring Brooks,
And dipped their bills in him at need»
At length his last conveyance see,
Each witness mournful as a brother,
To think that this world's mortgagee
Must suffer judgment in another !
Where no appeals to Courts can rest,
Reversing a supreme decree ;
But each decision stands confessed
A final precedent in re."
A little before the completion, by Mr. Wyatt, of
the colossal equestrian group, in honour of the Duke of
' Wellington, which now, rather oddly, surmounts the
archway of the entrance from Hyde Park-corner into
St. James's Park, a large company M'as invited to the
studio at Paddington-green to see the progress of the
work. I was one of the invited, and attended. The
body of the horse w^as not fitted up precisely in the
manner of a refectory, neither was it the most commo¬
dious place for partaking of the pleasures of eating and
drinking, nevertheless, I can testify to the fact that on
that occasion twelve gentlemen contrived to ensconce
VOL, II. p
210
EECOLLECTIONS OE
themselves in the abdomen of the brazen monster, and
to drink the health of the artist with the honours.
" utero sonitum dedere,"
The repetitions of the toast rendered it a matter of
some difficulty for several of the party to emerge
from the claustra, from which they were at length
extricated by the assistance of their companions.
I mention this to convey a notion to those who
have only seen that group on its present elevation^ of
the enormous dimensions of the horse, and of the
labour and difficulty which were incurred in the
casting of it.
Maginn was in everything a man of originality. He
lived in an original manner, and the manner of his
death was original. I will relate some of the inci¬
dents of his last moments, as they were related to me
by a gentleman who was at his bedside when he was
in extremis*
He died at Walton-on-Thames, I am sorry to say,
in circumstances which rendered it totally out of his
power to make any provision for his family. His
placidity and philosophic resignation to his fate
upheld him to the last, and what might have dis¬
turbed the last moments of a man of different
temperament appeared to have little effect upon his
equanimity.
THE LAST HALE CENTURY.
211
He called his sons and daughters around him to
receive his blessing, and to take his farewell. I am
ignorant of the christian names of these young ladies
and gentlemen, but it is not necessary for my
description of his last words.
You," said he, addressing himself to one of them,
have not much talent, but I do not despair of your
success in life. I have remarked, as I have passed
through it, that talent has very little to do with a
man's prospects."
" You," addressing another, have talent, and
therefore I have no doubt you will be able to push
your fortunes to a prosperous issue. Good-bye."
\ " You," addressing himself to a daughter, are
good looking and clever ; there is no doubt you will
do well. You will be well married;—beauty and
cleverness are certain of success."
"You," addressing another young lady, "are
neither so handsome nor so clever as your sister, but
from what I have seen I know that girls get as good
husbands without beauty and cleverness as wdth them."
Thus he resigned himself to what was inevitable ;
and, perfectly satisfied that the ftilfilment of his pre¬
dictions would ensue, departed in peace with all the
wwld, and in the persuasion that he had done all that
was requisite to secure the happiness of those he left
p 2
212
RECOLLECTIONS OF
behind him ; and what is equally matter of astonish¬
ment and gratification to his friends is, that his
observations hav^ proved his prescience to have been
beyond the extent to which most prophets can lay
claim.
The death of a late illustrious personage, if not
so edifying as the death of the poet Addison, shows
that the complacency of egotism can help a man
even in his last moments to pass with great respec¬
tability out of this world into the next.
It was, I have been told, in this manner:—
Fnding his last hour approaching, he sent for a
man who at that time was at the top of his pro¬
fession as an advocate, and who afterwards obtained
a seat on the Bench, and thus addressed him :—
ÍC p said he, " I am about to leave this mortal
existence. You have known me, and, I think, will
concur in the retrospect 1 take of my past life. I
have in my public career, both as a statesman and a
military man, done my duty. True, I have not been
so great an orator or minister as Mr. Pitt, and some
others, but if I had had their opportunities I do not
apprehend I should have been much behind hand
with them. True, I have not commanded in the
field with the eclat by which the Duke of Wellington
has been attended, but, then, remember, I have not
THE LAST HALE CENTURY.
213
had his opportunities. I have always done my duty
in private life. I have been an exemplary husband,
and if I had had children I have no doubt I should
have been equally exemplary as a father."
Those who have read the account given by Xeno-
phon of the death of Socrates, have now an oppor¬
tunity of comparing the dignified composure attending
the " closing scenes" of great men.
Being on the subject of death, it will not be out of
place to make mention of what, in my recollection,
occurred after it (I mean in regard only to the mortal
remains of the defunct), by the inattention of two
undertakers to their respective duties.
It may come under the title " mistaken identity,"
and was thus :—
A baronet of great wealth departed this life.
The arrangements of the funeral were intrusted to
Mr. , an eminent undertaker at the West-end of
the town. He was directed to prepare everything
in conformity with the rank and wealth of the
deceased, and to see him conveyed with all the
paraphernalia of hearse, feathers, scutcheons, mutes,
&c. &c., to the estate at , in shire, in the west
of England, in the parish church of which retired
locality his remains were to await the last trump in
the company of his ancestors.
214
EECÖLLECTIONS OF
At the same time that the baronet bade this world
farewell, an ancient dowager of quality was gathered to
her fathers. Orders were given to another libitinarius^
Mr. , to make arrangements for the funeral of
her ladyship, and to convey the corpse to the family
vault at , also in the west of England.
It happened that somewhere in the neighbourhood
of Hounslow the two processions met, and as it was
then growing late, the sable functionaries of the
respective funerals agreed to proceed together to the
place at which they were to stop for the night, and at
which, as their respective routes diverged, they were
to part company the next morning.
This being agreed upon, all passed in solemn pomp
along the road, the subordinates and their masters,
not exactly discoursing on the vanity of worldly
greatness, but rather availing themselves of those ad¬
vantages which worldly wealth affords.
On arriving at the place at which they were to
"put up" for the night, the coffins were removed
from their respective hearses, and placed in a room
provided for their security, and the whole party
sought, in the indulgence of a good supper and plenty
of wine, that consolation which the gloomy nature of
their missions required.
It is to be regretted that, in their efforts to drive
THE LAST HALF CENTUEY. 215
sorrow away, they also succeeded in forcing sobriety
to retire, and long before the time fixed for the de¬
parture of the two groups, both masters and men
were too drunk to be very clear as to what they were
about. However, after some delay, the coffins were
replaced in the hearses, and, one funeral procession
taking one road and one the other, the revellers of
the evening parted company.
In due time the remains reached their long homes,
but when it was too late to repair the mistake, Mr.
-, the undertaker of street, made the awful
discovery, that instead of the carcase of the baronet
which had been placed under his care, he had got
possession of the body of the noble dowager, which
had been intrusted to Mr. of street, whilst
this last-mentioned gentleman was for a moment
horrified to find that he had exchanged all that
remained of an old lady for all that remained of
an old gentleman. The exchange of the coffins
and their contents was fortunately not perceived by
any one but those engaged in keeping the blunder
secret ; the baronet sleeps quietly amongst strangers,
and the dowager, embalmed in the tears which were
meant for another, occupies his crypt in the village
vault of —.
Mr. John Ward was an English gentleman of the
216 EECOLLECTIOlSrS OF
old school ; indeed, the school to which he belonged
could never have been anything else than an old one,
and he himself bore no appearances about him that
he had ever been anything else than a man who had
reached maturity without passing through the grades
by which it is generally arrived at.
He had a good estate in Kent, to which county he
was said to have originally belonged. When I knew
him he lived in the west of England, and kept a pack
of hounds, which followed the foxes in Wiltshire and
the lower part of Berkshire.
Mr. Ward, though a heavy man, was in some re¬
spects a tolerably fast one. His hounds, I regret to
say, partook of the weight of their master, without
the advantage of the celerity of motion which is so
desirable in a good pack.
He was one morning out early in the field, cheering
the " cry" of his dogs, when, in passing through a
gatewa}^ into ' a field, a knowing-looking sylvan, who
had the reputation of being a poacher, made him the
rustic obeisance which his dignity exacted. The
fellow had a grin upon his countenance which at¬
tracted the attention of the squire, who, knowing the
character of his customer, was resolved to discover
what it meant.
" Well, man," said he, "have you seen the fox?"
THE LAST HALE CENTUEY.
217
"Yes, master," replied the man; "I have just
seen him go through the gap."
Did he see you ? "
" Yes, he did;" and the grin became more decided.
" Well, fool, what did he say to you ? "
He axed me whose hounds were out this morn¬
ing ? "
" He did ! what did you tell him ? "
" I told him they were Master Ward's hounds."
" Well, what then ? "
" And he replied, ^ Thank ye, farmer ; then I've
no need to hurry myself, so good morning.' "
218
RECOLLECTIONS OE
CHAPTER IX.
Theatres—Saloons in Drury Lane, Covent Garden, and Haymarket
Theatres—Donaldson, the Bow Street Officer—Passages in his
Life—Strange Death—Mrs. Bartram and Jew Bella—-A Fight—
State of Morals—Yauxhall Gardens—Bradbury, the Clown—
Mental Aberration—Simpson, the Master of the Ceremonies—
Epistolary Specimens — George Stansbury — John Nash — A
Slight Defection—Widdicomb—Tlie Nepaulese Princes—Mr.
Barnett and the Brougham Division—A Man with a Heart in
his Belly—Ingenious Expedient, &c.
Fifty years ago there were only three theatres in
London in which what was called the legitimate "
drama could be performed—Driiry-lane, Covent-
garden, and the Haymarket theatres. The two first
of these were open for the winter season, the third
was only open in the summer months. The actors
were good, and the dramas of a quality averaging
about the worth of such things as are now produced.
These theatres were better attended than theatres
are at the present time, but it must be taken into
consideration, that it was not the attractions of the
stage that induced the majority of people to go to
THE LAST HALF CENTUKY. 219
them : it was what took place in the saloons of the
establishments that filled the houses with visitors and
the pockets of the proprietors with money.
It is a notorious fact, within the recollections of
thousands of people, that the saloons of the theatres
were bazaars in which were assembled nightly hun¬
dreds of women of the town, tricked out, and arrayed
in all the meretricious display of finery and dress, by
which their appearance could be enhanced and their
somewhat faded charms renovated and restored.
Their presence induced the attendance of young
men and old, who flocked in hundreds to the great
market of profligacy which formed their inducement
to go to a play-house. The sort of conversation, the
behaviour, and the tout ensemble of such scenes, I
leave to the imagination of those who have not been
present thereat ; those who have been present will
require no description at my hands to refresh their
memories. Fortunately, now-a-days, such scenes exist
not, morality is not so openly insulted, and so far the
public are gainers.
At each end of the saloons in which these people
were assembled was a bar, at which wines, spirits, &c.
were sold. These were well attended, and were a
considerable source of emolument, uniting the profits
of a tavern to those of a brothel.
22a
EECOLLECTIONS OE
The police arrangements were intrusted to the
officers of Bow-street, three or four in number at each
house, and to dignify the perpetrations both on and
off the stage a guard of soldiers protected the
entrances in the street, the "whole being supposed
to be under the patronage of royalty.
Covent-garden Theatre, and the morals and pro¬
perty of those by whom it was frequented, were under
the especial supervision of a man named Donaldson,
a principal officer of Bow-street. This man never
bore very high reputation for virtue of any sort. He
was, however, perfectly acquainted with the haunts
proceedings, practices, and plans of thieves, pick¬
pockets, and rogues ; and in the state of London at
the time I speak of his services were found useful.
Wherever a mob of people are assembled, there a
commensurate number of the classes just mentioned
will be assembled also. " Where the carcase is, there
will the eagles be gathered together ; vulgariter^
where the carrion is, there will the crows be." There
was plenty of carrion in the saloons of the theatres,
and plenty of pickpockets were there also.
Donaldson was accustomed from time to time to
exclaim with a loud voice—^^Take care of your
pockets."
Most persons considered this exclamation as a
THE LAST HALE CENTUEY.
221
warning to the unwary. Others less charitably in¬
clined, affirmed that it was a notice given to the pick¬
pockets to be on the look out, and take heed who
the gentlemen were who immediately on the utter¬
ance of the words put their hands in their pockets
to ascertain that the contents were safe, and thus
furnished the thieves with a cine to wffiere they could
go to work with the greatest chance of success.
I had occasion to employ the services of this
minister of justice on one emergency. A servant, whom
I had discharged, entered the house I lived in, one
morning, under pretence of making some inquiry,
and on his departure, a silver milk-pot and some
other articles of plate were found to have departed
also.
I gave Donaldson a guinea to come and examine
the other servants. He came, took a seat in the par¬
lour, partook of meat and drink, and examined in his
way all the inmates of the premises. His inter¬
rogatory w^as short and uniform,
" Have ^owfree gress and regress into the house ?"
and of course produced no effective result. Having
concluded his examination and his meal, he retired
with a significant wink of the eye, declaring it was
all right," and he would soon let me know more
about it.
222
RECOLLECTIONS OF
About a week after I met the man I had discharged,
at the end of Castle-street: he no sooner saw me
than he "bolted." I pursued him; he rushed into
a hovel in an adjacent court. I followed him, col¬
lared him, and in spite of his resistance dragged him
along the street to the Bow-street Police-office. The
sitting magistrate, Hicks, had him searched; along
iron instrument, apparently formed for hooking pro¬
perty out of shop windows, was found upon him, and
various duplicates of property pledged at pawn¬
brokers. I stated my case and my suspicions, and
asked for a remand of the prisoner, till I could pro¬
cure witnesses. Mr. Hicks, wffio, by the bye, was more
fit to scrape lint and rinse gallipots at a hospital
than to sit as a dispenser of the law, talked learnedly
about the rules of evidence, the liberty of the subject,
and matters of that sort, dismissed the case, liberated
the prisoner, and gave me a rebuke.
I of course retired; within a week the man dis¬
charged was apprehended for a burglary, and it then
came out that my suspicions as to his having robbed
me were correct.
Donaldson's death was as strange as his life. He
was sitting amongst the company at the Brown
Bear, Bow-street, indulging in the things in which
he and his associates delighted, and in that kind of
THE EAST HALE CENTURY. 223
discourse which expands distinctions of opinions into
a mode of argumentation that neglects all distinctions
whatever. After the re-establishment of order, the
company resumed their seats, and jeverything went on
well for some time. One of the party, looking round,
asked, " What's become of Donaldson ?" " Oh,"
replied another, "he's ^cut.'" The conversation was
renewed, and some regret expressed at the absence of
him, by whose contributions it was generally enlivened.
After some time, a gentleman present observed.
Here's a dog fast asleep under the table,; I have
kicked him several times, but he wont move, and
now he has rolled round against my legs."
"Turn him out," said the landlord; "I'll have no
dogs here," and stooping down he laid hold of what
he thought was the dog, when, to his alarm and
surprise, he perceived the body of Donaldson, who
had passed from " life into death," with a suddenness
and under circumstances which startled the apathy
of those assembled, though accustomed to scenes of
horror.
Amongst the " ladies" who were in the habit of
frequenting the theatrical saloons, and taking an
active part in the amusements and business of the
evening, were two, the most notorious courtezans of
the time. One of these fair frailties I have already
224
RECOLLECTIONS OE
said a word or two about—Mrs. Bartram^ alias
" Mother Bang," the other *^Jew Bella," or Jewess.
I remember on one occasion a battle between these
two interesting specimens of the fair sex ; the com¬
pany, so far from attempting to part the combatants,
encouraged the conflict, and what commenced as a
single combat was on the point of becoming a mêlée^
when the additional assistance of constables put an
end to the disgraceful scene.
These things were of continual recurrence, and
were rather an attraction to visitors than otherwise.
" Mother Bang," after a career of prostitution and
infamy, became the companion of a man who drove
an omnibus. Being resolved to make herself useful,
she assumed the costume of a " cad," or conductor,
and in that capacity might be heard shouting behind
the carriage, " Bank !" &c. &c., as it rumbled along
the New-road into the City.
Those who appeared on the stage in these days
were, in external decency at least, not so respectable
as their successors. The drunken vulgarity of John
Reeve and several others was more detestable than
anything we now see ; and I much doubt if comic
talent, however great, would prevent an actor who
indulged in the disgusting liberties for which Reeve
was notorious from being hooted off the boards.
THE LAST HALE CENTURY.
225
The scenes which were exhibited in the saloons
and lobbies have been transferred to more appro¬
priate places. Casinos are under the restraint of
comparative decorum, and the interposition of the
police can be procured, when things become too bad,
to prevent the repetition of indecency and riot.
Whether or not London be more moral than it was
fifty years ago, is a question to which to give an
answer requires great powers of discrimination, unin¬
terrupted experience, and strict impartiality. I con¬
fess I am hardly able to make up my mind as to what
to reply. I believe there is less open vice, less
flagrant indecorum, and less obtrusive profligacy.
There is as much or more hypocrisy, more cant, and
more pretence to propriety than formerly. External
decency of behaviour is more generally assumed.
Appearances are better kept up amongst a large class,
and the alterations in the law and the establishment of
the police have placed a more stringent restraint upon
the vices of the lower class. Education, and the diffu¬
sion of intelligence amongst the masses, have human¬
ized a good deal that was formerly brutal : and though
a great deal too much of what is brutal unfortunately
still exists, society to a certain extent has been a
gainer by the alteration.
Amongst the higher classes, the barefaced profli-
VOL. II. Q
226
RECOLLECTIONS OF
gacy which displayed itself towards the conclusion of
the last century, and to a great extent flaunted in
defiance of a better sense of feeling within the first
quarter of the present, has been scouted by all but
universal reprehension ; and though a very vitiated
practice may or rather does exist in the privacy of
many great and many little people, the requirements
of society, as now constituted, force the most aban¬
doned to be upon their guard, and to
Assume a virtue, if they have it not."
Political corruption, the preference of selfish in¬
terest to the public good, rapacity for power and
place, neglect of obvious duties, subserviency to party,
the auri sacra fames^ which stifles generous feelings,
I
and makes hands, once clean, dirty with dirty work,
I regret to say exists, as far as ray observations go, to
an extent as great or greater than ever.
The simulated sanctity of saintly counterfeits, the
noisy vociferations of professional patriots, the pe¬
tulant volubility of mendacious statesmen, have suf¬
fered no diminution within the scope of my experience.
The events of the last few months show rather an
increase than a decline in such things.
Vauxhall Gardens have undergone little change
within my recollection. The place was certainly
attended fifty years ago by people of a more aristo-
THE LAST HALE CENTURY. 227
cratic rank than it has been of late years. George
IV.5 when Prince of Wales, and his brothers, w^ere
formerly amongst the visitors, and their presence
attracted other people, who thought it expedient to
do as their betters did, and imitate the practices of
the great. It was at that time decorated with better
pictures than the daubs by which the walls of the
boxes are now covered ; but the amusements, the
fire-works, and the illumination of the coloured lamps,
were neither so much diversified, so numerous, or so
brilliant. I never recollect it resembling the account
given in the " spectator," either as to warbling of the
birds, or the beauty of the groves, &c. The slices of
ham were as transparent fifty years ago as they are
now ; the chickens were as diminutive as now-a-days ;
the charges were equally extravagant. People did
not drink so much champagne, but the^'^ contrived
to get the headache with arrack punch, and kettles of
burnt" wine were in more request than brandy Tind
water.
The vocal performances were better, the concerts
were better conducted ; the dancing w^as much the
same as now, and those who took part in it were
neither morally nor physically any better than their
successors.
I have met many strange people here, seen some
Q 2
228
RECOLLECTIONS OF
Strange sights, and passed through some strange ad¬
ventures. I shall say nothing about the sights and
adventures ; I will say a word or two about some of
the people.
Bradbury, the celebrated clown of his time, was
a constant visitor at the gardens. He was a raw-
boned, impudent bully, very fond of insulting other
people, and exhibiting his strength of limb and skill
as a boxer to the dismay and terror of the ' company.
I had the pleasure one night of seeing him " catch
a Tartar," and retreat from the scene of the exploit
with two black eyes and a bloody nose.
I recollect one evening, I think it was at Drury-
lane Theatre, this man, in the character of the clown
in a pantomime, coming on the stage in company with
the pantaloon. " Here we are," said the fellow, as
the introductory address to the audience, and at the
same moment two sheriff's- officers, who had been for
some time in search of him, sprang from the pit upon
the stage. " And here we are," said they ; and so
saying, collared the object of their solicitude, and
carried him off to a " lock-up" house.
Some time after this, Bradbury was on a professional
tour in the country, in the course of which he arrived
at Portsmouth, and took up his quarters at one of the
principal inns. It so happened that a lieutenant of
THE LAST HALF CENTURY.
229
the navy was staying at the same inn at the same
time ; the lieutenant was a member of an honourable
family. I know his name, but think it right not to
make mention of it. One night, after everybody had
retired to rest, Bradbury, who was lying awake in
bed, perceived by the light of a rush candle some one
enter his room, and explore, with scrutinizing eye,
the state and contents of the apartment. Although
wide awake" in more senses than one of the words,
he feigned sleep, and deceived the intruder into a
notion that he really was so. The intruder pro¬
ceeded to put his hand under the pillow of the bed,
and extract therefrom a watch and a purse, with
which he was about to retreat, when the owner sprang
up and effectually prevented his exit. The noise of
the struggle between the parties brought a third
person, the " Boots," into the room. The thief, who
turned out to be the lieutenant, was given into the
custody of a police-officer, charged with robbery. A
true bill was found against him by the grand jury,
and the trial came on at the ensuing assizes for the
county. In the mean time, the " Boots" had been
"squared" and walked off. Serjeant somebody,
who was "concerned" for the prosecution, regretted
his absence, and the more so, as he informed the
court and the jury, with the forensic pathos usual on
230 EECOLLECTIONS OF
I
such occasions, that the principal witness, Mr. Brad¬
bury, had, since the finding of the bill by the grand
jury, been subjected, by the dispensation of a mys¬
terious but all-merciful Providence, to the loss of his
reason, and was at that moment the unconscious
inmate of a lunatic asylum, from which there was no
hope of his removal till death should kindly come to
his release. Under these circumstances the lieutenant
was acquitted for want of evidence. Fortunately
for Bradbury, the opinion of the learned Serjeant, as
to the duration of his detention at the lunatic asylum,
proved incorrect. He recovered his reason within a
marvellously short time after the acquittal of the
accused, enjoyed it during the rest of his days, and,
what was a little strange, was by some mysterious
dispensation periodically supplied with money where¬
with to live and fiourish in the manner in which he
rejoiced !
One of the celebrities of Vauxhall was Mr. Simpson,
many years arbiter elegantiarum^ master of the cere¬
monies of the place. The appearance of this gen¬
tleman was in keeping with the oddity of his
character. He was a short man, with a large head,
a plain face, pitted with the small-pox, a thin thatch
of hair plastered with pomatum and powder. His
body and limbs were encased in black cloth of antique
THE LAST HALE CENTURY. 231
cut, and occasionally his head was covered with a hat
as heavy as a coal-scuttle^ or a life-guardsman's
helmet. This awkwardly constructed piece of felt
was more often in his hand than on his head. He
was continually bowing to everybody he met, and the
incessant moving of his arm and the hat at the end
of it resembled the motion of a parish pump-handle
in full play. He was the very climax of obsolete
politeness ; the most obsequious and painstaking man
to oblige everybody, and express his gratitude for
their condescension in giving trouble, that I ever
remember to have met with. The oddity of his ges¬
tures was only equalled by the singular phraseology
in which he gave utterance to his proffers of service,
and his thanks to those who availed themselves of
it. As his literary effusions are as distinct as can be
imagined from everything that has hitherto appeared
in print, and as the epistolatory literature of England
is not very rich in the letters of great men, I will
give a specimen or two of Mr. Simpson's style, to
redeem, in some degree, the poverty which has been
deplored:—
Rotal G-ardens, Vauxhall.
23rci August, 1834, Saturday, Two O'clock.
" Highly esteemed and most eminent Sir,—I
again most dutifully and most respectfully return
232
EECOLLECTIONS OF
you, my most eminent sir, my most heartfelt thanks
for that most magnificent piece of composition which
you, eminent sir, was so graciously pleased to insert
in praise of my humble person, in your wise and
talented journal of this morning, and which great
favour I shall endeavour, by every means in my
power, to return with gratitude. But unfortunately
for me, kind sir, as the proprietors have commenced
that foolish shilling admission, all free admission is
entirely superseded, and I am totally deprived of the
happiness of inclosing for the amusement of your
amiable friends next week (as I fully intended) either
some orders or my own private tickets. But unfor¬
tunately for me, sir, both my own tickets as well as
my orders are now entirely suspended ; and which, I
do assure you, sir, grieves me to the soul, as I cannot
inclose some for your amiable friends. However,
sir, I hope to return the favour. Again thanking
you, eminent sir, most truly and sincerely for all your
kindnesses to me,
" I have the honour to remain, with gratitude,
" Highly esteemed and most eminent sir,
" Your obedient and devoted servant,
" C. N. Simpson.''
THE LAST HALF CENTUEY.
233
Eoyal Gardens, Yauxhall, and 31, Holtwell-street,
Milbank, Westminster.
21si July, 1834.
"Highly esteemed and most eminent Sie,—
With every mark of the most grateful duty, I
entreat to return my most grateful thanks for the very
generous and splendid manner in which you, most
eminent sir, was graciously pleased to speak of my
humbie person and my benefit in your truly fashion¬
able and invaluable journal of yesterday morning ;
and for such unbounded kindness to me, generous
sir, I shall never cease to testify my most unbounded
gratitude for the same, and, most eminent sir, the
very moment orders are granted, I shall have the
very high honour of sending you some for your
amiable friends. I shall also, as a mark of gratitude
to you, eminent sir, the very moment my second
benefit is fixed, I shall do myself the honour of
enclosing you two of my own benefit tickets for
two of your truly amiable friends to visit our Royal
Gardens as soon as my benefit night.
" I have the honour to remain, with every sense of
gratitude,
" Highly esteemed sir,
" Your very devoted servant,
" C. N. Simpson."
234 RECOLLECTIONS OF
\
Amongst the vocalists was George Stansbury, a
man of considerable musical knowledge^ admirable
taste, and a facility of adaptation of the music of
others, which made him very valuable as the con¬
ductor of a concert or of the orchestra of a theatre.
A particular friend of Stansbnry was Mr. Paul Bed¬
ford, with whose merits the public are so well ac¬
quainted that it is needless for me to enlarge upon
them. The praise that I could give would only
bring superfluous blushes upon cheeks which nature
and art have combined to tint in a manner that
requires no additional floridity. Another friend of
the vocalist was Mr. John Nash, better known as
Jack" Nash, a gentleman who had passed through
many stages of the journey of existence, and con¬
trived to follow the advice, dum vivimus vivamus,
which he translated, " whilst we travel through life,
let us live on the road," both to the letter and in the
spirit.
I formed one of a party of four, at a dinner given
by Stansbury at his residence in Melina-place. It
was a bet dinner, and it had been understood that
nothing was to be placed on the table but a leg of
pork and potatoes. Stansbury, who had lost the
wager, adjourned the dinner for so many months,
that his reputation for prompt payment was some-
THE LAST HALF CENTUKY
235
thing damaged by the delay, and whether it was to
remove the tarnish from his honour, or from a natural
magnanimity of disposition, he was resolved to astonish
his guests and regain their estimation of his cha¬
racter. The board literally groaned beneath the
weight of the viands placed upon it. At one end
was a huge tureen, containing several gallons of soup,
" thick and slab" as the broth of the witches ; at the
other a cod fish, as large as a grampus, and almost
as formidable in appearance. A whole barrel of
" natives," which astonished" their namesakes,
stewed in scalding butter was an accessorial arrange¬
ment, and a bushel of potatoes boiled and served up
in their "jackets," formed the first course. Each
guest was supplied with a foaming tankard of " stout,"
and bottles of port and sherry were placed at intervals.
The lady who acted as the mistress of the house,
and was introduced as Mrs. Stansbury, though dis¬
similar from the neat handed Phillis" of Milton, had
concocted the " messes" with equal attention to the
tastes of the guests. With the assistance of a bluif
headed Maritornes, steaming with perspiration, and
stained with grease and soot, she contrived with some
difficulty to remove the soup and fish, and to supply
their places with an enormous piece of roast beef and a
leg of boiled pork, that must when living have belonged
236
EECOLLECTIONS OF
to the largest specimen of hog's flesh ever crammed for
the Smithfield Show. . Then came two apple-pies and
a plum-pudding on a scale of magnitude to shock
the fastidious delicacy of modern times. Mr. Stans-
bury both by precept and example encouraged the
guests to do justice to the feast, and promoted the
absorption of the fluids by repeated invitation to
" take wine."
Jejunus raro stomachus vulgaria temnit"
may be very true, but I confess I was never so happy
as when I made my escape from the accumulated
profusion of this enormous dinner.
As it was totally impossible for Stansbury and his
lady to consume the fragments of the feast without
/
assistance, they invited the dramatic corps of the
Surrey Theatre to lighten their labours, and the
appetites of the ladies and gentlemen of that esta¬
blishment being as accommodating as their conde¬
scension, the whole was next day " cleared out," and
no " wreck" left behind.
On the death of Simpson, the proprietors of Vaux-
hall had great difficulty in flnding a gentleman com¬
petent to succeed him. They very soon discovered,
as Mr. W. Farren said of himself, that there was but
one " cock salmon" in the market ! They had lost the
" oddest fish" that had been for many years the great
THE LAST HALF CENTUKY.
237
^ ^feature" of the place, and though there were manj^
^^odd fish" to be had, they despaired of replacing
their loss.
In this dilemma the well known Mr. Widdicomb,
whose preternatural longevity and extraordinary re¬
tention of youth procured him the title ofimmortal,"
was appointed to the vacant office. He did his best,
but was not very successful in his endeavours, and he
very properly, after a short time, returned to his
duties at Astley's Theatre, where his merits were
properly appreciated by the public.
The mastership of the ceremonies was then put in
" commission but the commissioners being remark¬
able for nothing but dulness and debauchery, their
services were dispensed with, and the office has not
hitherto been filled up.
On the visit of the Nepaulese princes to this country
they became great patrons of Vauxhall, and. were to
be met with there continually. Jung Bahadoor, His
Highness, who exercised a tyrannic rule over his
brothers and his suite, either from his solicitude for
their morals or anxiety for his money, never suffered
them to have a shilling in their pockets on occasion
of their visits to the Gardens. Now, as the ladies and
gentlemen who usually attend there are not in the
habit of devoting their attentions to anybod}^, how-
238
RECOLLECTIONS OF
ever exalted his rank or amiable his disposition may
be, without a pecuniary remuneration, these inter¬
esting young gentlemen, in extending the circle of
their acquaintance amongst the company, were feign
to borrow a sovereign or so of those who would
lend it, to support their position and partake
of those enjoyments which the discipline of their
commander denied them. I am very happy to have
it in my power to say, that these small loans were
always repaid with the strictest punctuality.
J ung Bahadoor himself, though most considerate for
the purity of his brothers, was somewhat latitudina-
rian in his own habits of enjoyment, and somewhat
lavish in the expenses with which they were attended.
He formed a liaison at Vauxhall with the notorious
Laura Bell, and cemented his attachment by an outlay
of several hundred sovereigns.
Mr. Morris Barnett became at one time connected
with the "royal property." I hardly know in what
capacity his talents were employed, but I think the
engagement of the musicians, the performers, and
the dramatic and equestrian employés^ was under his
superintendence. He had also a power over the
" free list," and in the exercise of that power was
looked up to as a person of no small importance. It
required a man of temper as well as experience to
THE LAST HALE CEHTÜEY. 239
exercise such a power in a satisfactory and judicious
manner. I have no doubt his experience was equal
to the task assigned him^ and I know his temper had
sufficient trials to vex it.
I met him one day in a state of more than usual
excitement, and in a hurry of movement which he
was not in the habit of exhibiting.
" What," said I, is the matter ? You seem in a
prodigious bustle."
" The Brougham division," answered he.
" The Brougham division ! What do you mean ? "
" The Brougham division—the women who keep
Broughams and come in them to the gardens. These
women are on the free list. But, would you believe
it, the ——" (here he made use of a term by which
females of the canine genus are specified) are not
able to write their names in the book, and I am going
to get ^bones' for them, that they may be passed at
the doors."
It may be necessary to inform some readers that
" bones " are ivory tickets of admission used at
theatres, &c.
I have mentioned Mr. Widdicomb. I will relate
a story of one of his emploj^ers, Mr. ——who was
proprietor of Theatre during part of Widdi-
'comb's engagements there.
240
RECOLLECTIONS OE
Mr, began his professional life, to use his
own description, " with a prad and a monkey." The
prad," or horse, conveyed him from one fair to
another, and assisted his master and the monkey in
the performance of various tricks and eccentricities.
The trio lived lovingly together, and picked up at
times a humble competency. Times were sometimes
hard, and it was daring the hardness which a want
of appreciation of his merits occasioned, that Mr, ,
who was in despair, was lucky enough to find the
shoe of a donkey. He received the omen as one of
future success, kept the bit of iron about his person
as a popish devotee would keep the relic of a saint,
and from that moment dated the advancement of his
fortune and his progress to riches.
He became in due time the proprietor of
Theatre, the summit of his ambition. His prede¬
cessors had both established a code of regulations for
the government of the establishment, which was
apparently coercive and severe ; his fertility of inven¬
tion and ingenuity of contrivance begot improvements,
which kept order, and which, when order was broken,
put money in his pocket.
Thus he was accustomed to go into the stable
amongst the grooms and helpers, and address them
in this manner :
THE LAST HALF CENTUEY. 241
" My boy S3 I'm a man with a heart in my belly ;
when it turns up trumps for me, I take care that you
share in my luck. I have a heart in my belly. Last
night I'd a good house^ so here's half-a-sovereign
among you to drink success to the concern. But
remember the regulation. Whoever kicks up a row
forfeité a week's wages. Be merry and wise. I'm a
man with a heart in my belly,"
The consequence of this seeming generosity was
nine times out of ten the '^row" which Mr. —— had
deprecated. The gin and beer caused a fermentation
in the tempers of the recipients ; old jealousies were
revived^ old quarrels renewed, and a " battle royal "
was the result. The proprietor entered when the
affray was at its height, rebuked the combatants, and
mulcted each and all of them a week's wages. This
novel method of showing he had a heart in his
belly," was a means of raising his reputation for libe¬
rality, and at the same time increasing the contents
of his purse.
Having made a great deal of money, he retired,
took a house in the country, and being resolved to
acquire the respect of his neighbours, as well as to
increase his very limited knowledge of the doctrines
of the Church of Englarid, no edifice connected with
which, he was accustomed to say, he had ever
VOL. II. K
242
EECOLLECTIONS OE
entered but twice in his life—viz., when he was
christened, and when he was married, he rented a
pew in the district chapel, and regularly attended the
services performed therein.
He described his proceedings in the following
manner:—
" I've been a bad man, but I've got a heart in my
belly. I've got a pooh (pew^) at the church, just for
all the world like a box at a booth ! I bought a
stunning rale prayer-book, not a property prayer-
book (a sham book used on the stage), a rale prayer-
book, bound in rale red morocco, with beautiful silk
garters, for all the world like the garters in the ring.
I've called on the parson, had the creams " put to
the " drag," and gived him a border for . Fine
man. A reg'lar cove to cackle; can't he cut whids
(speak to the purpose) neither. I've been a bad
man, but it's all right; he pitched it pretty strong,
but it's a great consolation I've a heart in my belly."
Whether the ministerial labours of the reverend
gentleman, on whose eloquence he passed the com¬
pliment above-mentioned, succeeded in softening the
heart which Mr. carried in his belly, is not
known to me. Mr. has, since he related the
progress of his reformation, had ample opportunity
for carrying his resolutions of amendment to the
point which he no doubt attempted to reach.
THE LAST HALE CENTURY.
243
CHAPTER X.
Smugglers—Kentish Knockers—Borrowing a Boat—Christ Church,
Hants—Expedient in Smuggling Wine—The New Forest—Sir
William Curtis's Yacht—The First Steamer in Margate Harbour
—Lord Falkland and Pogie Powell—Major O'Shaughnessy and
his Brother—The Margate Sea-bathing Infirmary and the Rev.
Mr. Bailey—^An Action for False Imprisonment—A Tiger Story
—Captain Polhill and Miss Clifton—^The Victory—Lord Nelson
—A First Appearance on any Stage—Boulogne—Duelling—
Tréport—Louis Philippe—Their Majesties George III., George
IV, and William IV.
I MUST say a few words about the practices of smug¬
glers. The alterations of the Custom-house laws
have made so complete a change in the habits of
the numerous class which comes under the category
of " long-shore" people, that those who have not wit¬
nessed what took place in connexion with them a
few years ago, might almost doubt the truth of the
stories told of them, if they were not supported by
evidence too strong to be resisted.
J
It was before my time that gangs of forty or fifty
smugglers might be seen on the Dover and Brighton
roads, well mounted on strong hardy horses, with
R 2
244
RECOLLECTIONS OF
half-ankers of brandy and Hollands slung across
their saddle-bows, well armed, and prepared to resist
force with force, making their way to London, and
crossing Westminster-bridge in defiance of the laws.
I have known many persons who have seen such
groups, and testified to the perfect impunity with
which the ^^free traders" of those days carried on
business. My own experience enables me to testify
to some curious facts in which the immediate de¬
scendants of this class were en^ao-ed.
iw-' o
When a boy, I lived in a house my father had in a
wild part of Surrey, Combe, about a mile and a half
on the left of Croydon, going from London, at a
corner of the Addington Hills. The house was
almost isolated ; it had originally been a farm-house,
and was surrounded with barns, stables, and out¬
houses. The whole of these have long been pulled
down, and the place is more desolate now than it
was fifty years ago. We w^ere frequently disturbed
in the night by the most unaccountable noises ; the
trampling of many horses, the putrem sonitu quatit
ungula campum^ with " bit and bridle ringing," accom¬
panied with the hum of yoices, &c., which sounded
not unlike the noises with which the phantom hunters
of the Black Forest are accompanied in the descrip¬
tions of German romance writers.
THE LAST HALF CENTUEY.
245
It was not long before we discovered the cause of
all this. About twenty or thirty men and horses
were in the habit of quartering themselves, as their
occasions required, in our barn. They were a mixed
congregation of " Kentish Knockers," or smugglers
from the Kentish Knock, gipsies, and assistant con¬
trabandists from London. Here they arranged in
what manner to " run" their goods to the metropolis,
and having done so, retired and left the barn to its
proper owners. They never committed the slightest
injury to the place, nor did we ever suffer in any
way from their depredations. We certainly received
a hint not to be too curious in prying into their
proceedings, which we took in good part, and as
they left us alone, we did not meddle with their
affairs.
The New Forest and the Hampshire coast were the
scenes of similar transactions. The smugglers and
their confederates were too strong for the ordinary
force of the Custom-house, and when extraordinary
force was brought against them, many sanguinary
encounters were the result. Those who knew the
character of these people were not very fond of
coming into hostile contact with them, and both high
and low rather connived at their doings than endea¬
voured to put them down.
246
EECOLLECTIOiîS OF
A man who has long retired from this kind of
business is still living, and after having weathered,
•»
both metaphorically and actually, many a storm, and
been in many a fearful encounter with parties of
the Custom-house officers, coast-guards, and revenue
cutters, is in possession of a good estate in Oxford¬
shire, respected bj'' his neighbours, and beloved by
the poor of his neighbourhood, to whom he has been
a very active benefactor. With him I am acquainted.
I shall not mention his name, neither shall I mention
that of a gentleman of fortune in Hampshire who is
still alive, as the anecdotes I am about to relate will
do quite as well without it.
On one occasion a considerable quantity of brandy,
gin, &c., being arrived off the coast of Christ Church,
Hants, and the weather being exceedingly rough, all
the boats employed in landing contraband cargoes
were staved by the tremendous surf on the beach.
P knew that a gentleman, Mr. , lived about
half-a-mile from the shore ; the gale had abated, and
the moment was propitious for landing. He was
aware that this gentleman had a boat lying high and
dry in his barn, and that this boat was the only one
to be had. Without delay he and upwards of a
hundred of his followers marched up, about an hour
after midnight, to the house of the gentleman.
THE LAST HALF CENTURY.
247
P knocked loudly at thfe door^ and the gentle¬
man, aroused from his sleep, put his head out of
window, and demanded what was the occasion of the
visit at that hour. " Oh, Mr. B answered
P , " we want your father's boat, all our own
are rendered useless, and lie staved on the beach."
if Why, P ," replied Mr. B , I cannot
lend you the boat ; you know that would not do. I
say I cannot lend it, but at the same time I cannot
prevent you from breaking into the barn in which it
is locked up, and taking it away with you."
" Ay, ay, sir ! many thanks, and good night."
In the course of a very few minutes the padlock on
the barn doors was broken, the doors opened, and the
boat hoisted on the shoulders of a dozen or fourteen
sturdy operatives, transported to the beach, and
launched. The whole cargo w^as landed in safety,
the boat safely returned, and a new padlock replaced
that which had been broken.
A gentleman wishing to procure a quantity of
champagne and claret of the very best quality, and in
the days of which I am speaking such wines were not
to be procured but at an enormous scale of charge,
asked P if he could contrive to procure it for
him. " Certainly," replied P , and immediately
went to work after his manner.
248
EECOLLECTIONS OE
The vessel containing the wine arrived in due
time upon the coast ; but^ unfortunately, at the
critical moment, the Custom-house officers were
keeping so sharp a look-out at the proposed place
of landing, a sequestered spot near High Cliff,
Christ Church, that it became necessary to land
near the Isle of Portland. The whole caro;o was
safely got on shore. P , whose genius was fertile
in expedients and sharpened by necessit}^, adopted
an ingenious method for its conveyance by land.
He had the wine packed in hampers, directed "for
General Sir Henry Clinton, K.C.B., near Lyming-
ton." The wine arrived safely at its real place
of destination, and was highly approved of by the
gentleman into whose possession it came, and by
his friends, who did not fail to drink the healths of
the gallant General and the sagacious consignor.
P , on being asked the reason of directing the
hampers in the above manner, replied, " Did you
suppose I was fool enough to have directed to you
such a suspicious looking cargo, or to any man like
yourself ? No ; I knew the only way to escape sus¬
picion and capture was to address them to a great
man, to whom no suspicion could attach, so I chose
the General as the nominal consignee, and you see
my plan has been successful,"
THE LAST HALE CENTURY. 249
•
This man had for some years an immense store of
all kinds of contraband goods, deposited in a sort of
subterranean excavation beneath the flooring of a
house in the New Forest; the entrance to the exca¬
vation was beneath the fireplace of the lower room of
the house, and was discovered by the simplicity of a
child to a custom-house officer during the absence of
the inmates. The officer having procured assistance,
&c., returned to possess himself of his prize. P
was, however, too sharp for him, and whilst he and
his men were actually in possession of the premises,
contrived to rescue the greatest portion of his stores,
and send them off in carts.
I several times accompanied Sir William Curtis,
the first baronet of that name, in his yacht to Rams-
gate, of the pier and harbour of which place he was a
commissioner, and at which he had a good house.
The yacht was a Dutch-built vessel of very peculiar
appearance, and was well known all along the coast.
Some smugglers procured a vessel of similar appear¬
ance, and had her painted and rigged so as closely to
resemble Sir William's. They employed her for some
time successfully in the contraband trade. The
custom-house officers were deceived by her appear¬
ance, and it was not until she had performed a suffi¬
cient number of trips between the Continent and
250
EECOLLECTIONS OF
England to secure a very large profit that the impos¬
ture was discovered.
I was at Margate when the first steamer l)etween
that place and London came into the harbour. I
remember standing on the pier with my father, who
had been an officer in the Royal Navy, Captain
Mackenzie, who at that time was in command of
the " Zenobia," Captain O'Shaughnessy, R.N., and
Major O'Shaughnessy, his brother. The wind was
blowing fresh, and there was a heavy sea. The
steamer rolled a good deal, and was awkward in her
motion ; everybody was ridiculing the idea of a steamer
attempting a sea voyage, and the three naval men I
have mentioned w^ere laughing at the performance.
It was unanimously agreed that the thing was an
absurdity, and that the only place for a steamer was a
canal. Experience very shortly proved that a steamer
could not only travel between London and Margate,
but that she could also cross the Atlantic, and that
the only place in which she could not be of use was
on a canal, the effect of her paddles on the water
washing away the banks or undermining them. So
much for people's judgment as to the progress of
improvement and science.
Whilst I was at this time staying at Margate I
accompanied Captain O'Shaughnessy over to Kings-
THE LAST HALF CENTURY.
251
gale, to be present at an interview which he had with
Mr. Powell, better known as "Pogie" Powell, the
prefix to his name being placed there in consequence
of his peculiarity of appearance and natural stupidity
of disposition. " Pogie" had long been made the
butt of his fashionable acquaintance, and at length
received so marked an insult from Lord Falkland,
who was accustomed to inflict his insolence on all
wdiom he thought he could bully, that Pogie" was
obliged to resent it. Lord Falkland was known to be
a good shot at pistol practice ; Pogie" knew nothing
of deadly weapons ; and when a hostile meeting was
to come off, he was booked by his friends as a dead
man. The business, however, turned out quite
contrary to universal expectation. Pogie" killed
his antagonist, and escaped unhurt. This exploit
secured him from future affronts, and he was looked
up to as a person of some respectability. Captain
O'Shaughnessy was a proficient in the art of duelling,
and had been ^'out" on several occasions. His
brother, the major, who was a red-hot, fire-eating
Irishman, was a still greater adept in such pastime ;
and, to use his own words, he " was in the
habit of taking his opponent by the nose whenever
he warmed in a controversy." It was thought by his
friends that the business with "Pogie" could be
252
EECOLLECTIONS OE
better arranged without his presence. It fortunately
was arranged, without any unpleasant episode, to the
satisfaction of all concerned.
The major, shortly after, went out with his regiment
to India, where, in the course of his proceedings he
made such strong love to a native princess, that he
was waylaid on one of his visits to her place of resi¬
dence, murdered after a desperate struggle, and
thrown down a well, from which his body was not
until some days afterwards rescued. The captain
died at Paris, like a peaceable man, in his bed, to
which he had been confined by illness. Had he
survived the illness it was next to an impossibility
that he would have escaped a violent death, as he
w^as engaged as a man of honour to figure as a prin¬
cipal in at least half-a-dozen duels with men who had
the reputation of being first-rate shots !
Professed duellists, like some other pests of society,
have, by the progress of civilization, been driven from
this country; the breed still unfortunately exists in
the more barbarous countries of the Continent, and on
the other side of the Atlantic. '
Whilst at Margate I was witness to a disturbance of
the. propriety of the Isle of Thanet, which occa¬
sioned a good deal of discussion and ill-blood.
The vicar, or rector of Margate, was a Mr. Bailey.
THE LAST HALF CENTUEY.
253
This person, to a certain degree was, and to a greater
degree aspired to be, king, priest, and prophet of the
place. He had long directed, as he thought proper,
the arrangements and economy of the Sea-bathing
Infirmary, and when an opposition was offered to his
plans and projects by others who had an equal right
to be consulted on the affairs of that charity, he
exercised his influence as a magistrate in preventing
the annual ball in aid of the funds from being held at
the Royal Hotel, and refused to permit a charity
sermon to be preached in his church.
The patrons and subscribers to the hospital were
determined that his conduct should not prevent a
ball and a subscription coming off.
The ball accordingly took place in what was then
"Bettison's Library," and a very good ball it was;
and about a dozen gentlemen, some of them visitors
to Margate, and others persons of the highest respec¬
tability in the county of Kent, published placards and
handbills, announcing that on the following Sunday
they should take their respective places at the
entrances of the church and the church-yard, with
plates in their hands, to receive such charitable con¬
tributions towards the support of the Infirmary as the
charitably disposed might be willing to afford.
At this announcement Mr. Bailey waxed wroth.
254
RECOLLECTIONS OF
and put forth a manifesto in which he stated that
the meditated collecting of money was contrary to
law, and that he, as a magistrate in the execution of
his duty, should consider all persons holding plates
for , collecting money as rogues, vagabonds, and
beggars, and as such commit them to the cage;
and to show that he was in earnest he had the cage
cleaned out, and a supply of straw placed in it as an
accommodation for the culprits.
On the Sunday the parties took their places with
their plates at the entrances to the church and church¬
yard, and obtained a larger amount of money than the
eloquence of the reverend gentleman had ever been
known to procure on occasions of the annual sermon.
He, however, failed not to put his threat into execu¬
tion. The whole of the plate-holders were seized
upon by the beadles and constables, and conveyed to
durance vile. Their abode there was, however, not
very long. Whether the parson cooled, or his legal
I
adviser gave him a hint that he was going a little
beyond his authority, it is not necessary to inquire.
The prisoners were released.
The business did-not end here ; they put their case
into the hands of an eminent solicitor, and brought
an action for false imprisonment against his reverence.
The trial was about to come on at the assizes at
THE LAST HALE CENTURY.
255
Maidstone, when a compromise was agreed to. The
parson made an apology for his conduct, paid all the
expenses of the proceedings, and in addition contri¬
buted a donation of ¿&200 to the funds of the hospital.
The affair probably cost him <£^500.
I was witness to a catastrophe on Margate Pier
of a very painful nature. I allude to an acci dent
which occurred to Mr. Marsh, who, in stepping
from the packet in which he had arrived, entangled
his foot in the coil of a rope; it was cut off just above
the ankle as the rope ran out, and he was crippled
for life.
Mr. Grey, of Cork-street, whose great skill in the
construction of artificial limbs is well known, ren¬
dered him all the assistance that art could supply,
and though, as I have said, he was crippled, so inge¬
nious was the contrivance of that gentleman, that his
lameness was hardly perceptible.
I shall take this opportunity of mentioning another
gentleman, Mr. Aubert, an officer in the East India
Company's military service, to whom Mr. Grey ren¬
dered similar aid, as the manner in which he met
with the accident which rendered it necessary, is an
uncommon one.
Mr. Aubert was out on a tiger shooting excursion.
As usual on such excursions, he was mounted on an
256
HECOLLECTIONS OE
elephant. Having beat the jungle, it was not long
before an enormous tiger was roused from his lair.
The elephant, whether from terror or from some
other cause, became restive, and was with great dif¬
ficulty kept in his proper place. Mr. Aubert had
time to fire before the tiger made his spring at him,
and fortunately sent the ball of his rifle into the loins
of the infuriated monster, who rolled over disabled
on his back. The elephant at this moment made a
bolt from the scene of action, and rushed so quickly
beneath the overhanging branches of a large tree,
that his rider had barely time to catch hold of one of
them to prevent his head being crushed by the force
and celerity of the movement. He hung from the
branch as long as he could, and would have hung
much longer if his strength had allowed him ; for
immediately beneath him lay the tiger, roaring with
pain and fury, and with outstretched jaws anticipating
his fall. Fall he did at last, and most unfortunately
within reach of the claws and teeth of his antagonist.
The tiger got the lower part of his leg in his mouth,
and commenced biting ofl* the foot. Mr. Aubert
made a desperate eflbrt to escape ; he had no weapon ;
but doubling his fist, he dealt the tiger a tremendous
blow in the face ; the animal was for a moment
stunned and let go the foot, and Mr. Aubert had
THE LAST HALE CENTUEY. 257
just sufficient strength to drag himself beyond reach
of the claws of the dying beast, before he became
insensible from pain and loss of blood.
I used when visiting Margate and Ramsgate and
places in that neighbourhood almost invariably to
meet Captain Polhill. The connexion of that gen¬
tleman with theatres is well known. Because he
could not get rid of his money fast enough in the
management of Drury-lane Theatre, he became lessee
at the same time of Covent-garden Theatre, and
between the disbursements and expenses of the two,
succeeded in a short time in reducing an ample for¬
tune to a very limited competency. Ill-natured
people were used to say that the almost universal
affection which he entertained for the fair sex was
a stronger inducement with him to indulge per¬
petually in the society of actresses than any gra¬
tification he derived from mere histrionic predilec¬
tions. Be this as it may, the gallant little man was
incessant in contriving interviews with the ladies
of his two establishments; and being aware of the
efficacy of Ceres and Bacchus in advancing the
interests of Venus and Cupid, his method was to
invite the immediate object of his admiration to a
petit souper, and prove the potency of champagne. It
was in an experiment of this sort that he rather mis-
VOL. II. S
258
KECOLLECTIONS OF
calculated his own strength, and whilst endeavouring
to make the lady tipsy, got so drunk that he fell
under the table, an object for the laughter and con¬
tempt of his companion.
This lady was Miss Clifton, a fair American of
great personal attractions ; she had two sisters of equal
beauty.
Having spoken of steamers, brings to my recollection
a trip I had with some other persons in a cutter down
the Channel to meet the "Victory," Lord Nelson's
flag-ship, which was returning from Gibraltar, into
which she had been towed immediately after the
battle of Trafalgar. We were received wnlh great
politeness by Sir Thomas Hardy and the oflScers, and
shown all over the ship. I remember the stump of
her mizen-mast, near which the great admiral re¬
ceived his death wound : it was so thickly peppered
wdth bullets, that the wonder is not that so many were
killed on the quarter-deck by the fire from the enemy's
tops, but how any one could possibly escape. We
heard many anecdotes of the battle, one of which was
a curious fact—viz., that almost all the marines who
were wounded lost their arms, whilst the sailors lost
their legs.
I had been introduced to Lord Nelson a few days
before he sailed from England for the last time, and
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 259
I have a vivid recollection of his appearance. He
seemed reduced almost to a skeleton ; his clothes hung
loosely about him, and had none of the smartness
by which some modern commanders are distinguished;
his cocked-hat was old and had weathered some
rough gales. It was placed at the back of his head,
not " fore and aft," but across wise. His w^hole
appearance, however, betokened something different
from the people of every day, and there was a fire in
his sole remaining eye, which showed how the moral
nature of the man triumphed over the feebleness of
his shattered frame.
Margate was the only place in which I ever at¬
tempted to gain theatrical honours. I made my first
and last appearance on any stage there, as the Ghost
in " Hamlet," at an amateur performance, to a crowded
house. The prompter was drunk, and I was very
imperfect in the text of the " immortal bard." I got
as far as " I am thy father's ghost," when to my
dismay, the prompter who had opened the play-book
at the tent scene in " Richard HI.," whispered audibly
enough for the audience to catch his words, "of
wretched Anne thy wife." I contrived as quickly
as I could to get off the stage, leaving Hamlet
and the spectators more startled with my sayings
and doings than if Mr. John Cooper himself, or
s 2
260
EECOLLECTIONS OF
any other celebrated performer had entered as the
apparition,
Boulogne some forty years ago was a very different
place from what it is now. It was a city of refuge
for those for whom England had become too hot. I
was summoned to attend the death-bed of a relation
who had taken up his residence there at a place
called " Hotel Tessiliac." The hotel had been a con¬
vent, The monks were no longer there, and their
places were supplied by successors who had nothing
monastic about them. These gentlemen were mostly
half-pay officers in the army and navy. There were
no Frenchmen on the premises; the morals of that
accommodating nation were not sufficiently supple to
withstand the continued strain made upon them by
the étrangers.
The custom of some of the inmates was to rise
before the sun every morning, and betake themselves
to the downs which stretch beyond the town towards
St, Omer. At sunset they returned, and were
amongst the most noisy and joyous at the group
assembled at the dinner-table. Their motive for
these daily trips to the "hills and far away" was,
that being amenable to the law of debtor and cre¬
ditor as existing in France, their persons were not
safe as long as the god of day was above the horizon ;
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 261
as soon as he sought the couch of Thetis, the power
of the huissier ceased, and they made use of its sus¬
pension to enjoy the period of liberty and relaxation.
We could see them from the upper windows of the
old monastery, by the aid of a telescope, " putting in"
what fugitives call " leg bail," to avoid the pursuit of
the officers.
We had also, from the pugnacious disposition of
many of them, opportunities of seeing frequent ex¬
changes of shots on the hills from our observatory.
Nothing fatal resulted during my abode there from
this amusement, though on one occasion the life of
one of them was preserved by the bullet aimed at his
body being luckily intercepted by a bunch of watch
seals, which caused it to diverge from a straight line,
and go off at an angle.
I had some difficulty myself from being engaged
in an affair of this kind. The gentleman whose life
was preserved in the manner I have just mentioned,
having more confidence in my honesty than in the
honour of his friends, put into m}^ possession a bag
containing some hundreds of crown pieces, some
Napoleons, &c., with a very strict charge on no
account whatever to part with a single coin to any
applicant, upon whatever pretence, during his absence
on pleasure or business. I was assailed wdth im por
262
EECOLLECTIONS OF
tunities from every quarter, accompanied with an
affirmation from each applicant that he was to be
considered an exception to the general rule of refusal,
and with a hint that if his honour were doubted, he
had a peremptory method of removing the doubt.
Under these circumstances, I put myself into the
hands of Major Kelly and Major Milne, and those
two gentlemen, to my great satisfaction, released me
from the awkward predicament into which my dragon-
like vigilance over the treasure entrusted to my
keeping had brought me.
I have been at Boulogne many times since that
adventure occurred ; I am glad to say few vestiges
of what then existed remain.
I was at Treport when her Britannic Majesty
visited Louis Philippe, and I saw quite enough of
the gesta of the astute old gentleman to be aware
that the meeting would be attended with conse¬
quences to be deplored. It was at the Chateau d'Eu
that the vulpine propensities of the monarch over¬
reached himself; the crafty cajolery by which he
and his Ministers deceived Queen Victoria and the
thick-skulled people by whom she was accompanied
in the affair of the Spanish marriages, reacted upon
his own destiny, and was the first act in the drama
which terminated in his deserved expulsion from his
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 263
throne. I also at this place saw what to English
notions had a strange appearance. The daughter of
a man who expiated his crimes by sentence of a
criminal tribunal in this country admitted to the
regal palace, not only as a professional performer in
the amusements, but as a guest at the festivities.
The lady herself was certainly not responsible for the
criminality of her parent, nor do I take upon me to
visit the sins of the fathers upon the children ; but it
was assuredly in bad taste to allow the presence of
anybody at such a meeting from which even the
slightest want of delicacy might be inferred.
As I have made mention of one king, I will relate
a story of two or three others, with each of whom I
was contemporary, and to whom, as the heads of the
executive, I was bound to look up with the respect
their exaltation required. I allude to their Majesties
George III. and IV., and his Majesty William IV.
When I was a boy at Eton I had frequent oppor¬
tunities of seeing George III. He was accustomed
to ride through the town, and he occasionally stopped
his horse to speak to people who attracted his atten¬
tion. He was one of the least difficult colloquists
with whom to converse that I ever remember. He
continually asked questions, and as continually gave
the answers to them himself. His volubility of utter-
264
RECOLLECTIONS OE
anee and repetition of his queries were so rapid, that
it was impossible for the most attentive auditor to
comprehend what he meant, or to obtain an oppor¬
tunity of reply. He was, however, full of good
temper, condescension, and pleasantry. His personal
appearance had little dignity, and conveyed no notion
of a king; and there was a jocular frivolity in his
manner that was at variance with the exalted situa¬
tion he filled. He was popular in the neighbourhood
of Windsor. His beneficence to the poor, though not
very extensive, was accompanied with a certain ori¬
ginality of manner which extended the reputation of
his good deeds ; and he either did say, or was re¬
ported to have said, many things which begat respect
for his practical wisdom and keenness of observation.
He was neither penurious nor extravagant, and
contrary to what is generally the case, he was more
lavish in his expenses in his old age than he had been
in his youth.
He had some portion of that sagacity with which
the late King of the French was understood to
abound, and he put it in practice in the economy of his
palace at Windsor, in a manner which occasioned, at
the time, considerable merriment amongst most people,
though those whom it most concerned exhibited no
merriment whatever.
THE LAST HALE CENTURY.
265
He becaQie aware, in the course of his inquiries
into the household expenses of the Castle, that he
was paying a great deal beyond what was necessary
for the supplies sent in by the various purveyors, and
that a host of people were, under the title of per¬
quisites, deriving inordinate gains from the arrange¬
ments and abuses of the system. This state of things
he was resolved to put an end to, and he adopted the
following method of efíecting his resolution.
He instituted an examination into the amount of
salaries and perquisites received by every functionary
in the commissariat department of the palace. All
these people, on their own showing, appeared to
receive little or nothing beyond the regular stipends
of their respective appointments. They all averred
that their perquisites were a mere nothing, and that
the reports that had got abroad about the extent of
them were most untrue. They were then directed
to make an average statement for a certain time of
the actual amount of those perquisites. This they
did, reducing the emolument derived from them to a
very trifling sum, and this being submitted to his
Majesty, he at once adopted the report, and directed
them to be informed that, from that time, no per¬
quisites whatever would be allow^ed; but that, in the
place thereof, the amount at which each individual
266
RECOLLECTIONS OF
for the future had valued his own would be paid in
addition to the salary.
They found out, when it was too late, that they
had fallen into a trap which they had themselves been
accessory in contriving ; and his Majesty congra¬
tulated himself in having cut down his expenses.
On the first symptoms of insanity observable in
this monarch, Willis, who was eminent for his skill
in the treatment of those who were mentallv afflicted,
was amongst the medical men called in to give his
opinion, and to afford relief. At his first interview
with the patient he was alone with him. The King
was seated at some distance from the fireplace of the
room, and Willis was opposite to him. The King
exhibited, in the conversation which arose, no symp¬
tom that would have led an inexperienced person to
conclude that his mind was disordered ; but Willis
was too experienced a practitioner not to perceive
the real state of the case. He kept his eye fixed
upon him with that peculiar expression with which
he was enabled to overawe those placed under his
charge ; and his Majesty, who seemed to be aware
that he was confronted by a person of a very different
sort from those who generally attended upon him,
became uneasy and fidgetty. He contrived gradually,
without rising from his seat, to bring his chair towards
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 267
the fireplace, and when he was almost close to the
chimney-piece he suddenly started up, seized the
poker, and made a blow at the head of the doctor,
which, if he had not been fully upon his guard, would
have knocked his brains out. Willis immediately
closed with him, wrenched the poker from his grasp,
gave the signal to his attendants, who forthwith
rushed into the room, and effectually secured the
royal madman from further attempts at violence.
George IV. was a man of a totally different nature
from his father. There was scarcely any subject on
which they could sympathize. They differed in all
the relations of private life, and on most of the great
political questions of the time. George IV. no doubt
committed many actions which had little appearance
of emanating from a man in full possession of his
mental faculties ; nevertheless, no man was more in
possession of his senses, and in intellectual endow¬
ments he very far surpassed his father and his
brothers.
His tastes were sensual, and though he was ambi¬
tious of being considered the most polished gentleman
in Europe, there was little real refinement and little
delicacy in his behaviour. He could play the fine
gentleman, as Louis XIV. is said to have played the
monarch, at certain times with great effect, but after
268
EECOLLECTIONS OE
all he was but an indifferent copy of the Grand
Monarque^ and in his old age, from corpulence and
disease, what had once been prepossessing, attractive,
and dignified, was altogether obliterated.
His liaisons, which even in his youth were without
sentiment, where, when he grew old, ridiculous and
vulgar.
I remember the mirth which was caused by the
transfer of his affections from one noble claimant to
another. She who was fortunate enough to secure
the transferred attentions of royalty was a good horse¬
woman ; and as he, notwithstanding his great weight,
was at the time accustomed to exhibit himself as an
equestrian, the lady's skill in equitation was considered
one of the attractions of his roving fancy.
The deserted fair one had for many years ceased to
fill a side-saddle ; indeed her age and bulk prevented
such a performance. The experiment was, however,
tried of placing her again on horseback, and an
animal, almost as large and as strong as a dray-horse,
was procured at considerable expense from a fashion¬
able dealer in Duke-street. The lady was regularly
rehearsed in the riding-house of a master in the art of
riding. Unfortunately the attempt was a failure;
by the time she had attained sufficient proficiency to
take the field and the road, and got the better of her
THE LAST HALF CENTUEY. 269
bumps and bruises, her rival had made such progress
in the good graces of her admirer that she relinquished
all further attempts to regain him, and retired from
the contest as hopeless.
William IV. differed from his immediate predeces¬
sors on the throne in many respects. He had many
of the good points of his father, but he had little of
that quality which court flatterers term flrmness, but
which plainer people called obstinacy. He had seen
fnuch more of the world, and had improved by his
contact with humbler people than himself. From
being, at one time, an unpopular prince, he became a
deservedly popular monarch. The falsehoods which
have spread abroad concerning his connexion and
treatment of a certain celebrated actress had been
exposed and refuted, and the public did justice to his
character. He was a straightforward, plain-spoken,
indeed, very plain-spoken man; generous without
ostentation, and in his domestic duties a model which
it would be well for some of his subjects to have
adopted.
He had no dignity of demeanour, no taste for
luxury, and little notion of the observances of a Court.
Indeed, so little did he comprehend the routine and
etiquette of his position that on his first arrival at
Windsor Castle as a king, he is said to have been
270
EECOLLECTIONS OF
seated on the box of the royal carriage, so that when
the functionary in attendance opened the carriage
door he was amazed to find the carriage empty, and
in some alarm asked, " Where is his Majesty ?" His
Majesty at once removed his alarm by answering
from his seat, " I am here and having descended, he
walked into the palace.
He had some appreciation of humour, and was fond
of a joke ; he sometimes took advantage of his exalted
rank to cultivate his taste for such things. He would
at the royal table affect sleep, so that all there assem¬
bled were compelled to be silent, and he would after¬
wards disclose to his confidants the stratagem, and
laughingly exult in its success, to "bam" or cajole
the Poloniusses, male and female, by whom he was
surrounded.
THE LAST HALF CENTUEY.
271
CHAPTER XL
The Tournament at Eglinton—Westminster Elections : disgraceful
scenes—Sir Francis Burdett—Captain Muri-ay Maxwell—Orator
Hunt—Lee, the High Constable—The Whigs pelted—Special
Pleading—Saying of George III.—Improvements in the Law—
Serjeant Andrews—Dunbar—Honour of the Profession—Sir
A. Parke—Daniel Wakefield—Casus Oonsimiles—Advantages
of a Bad Memory — A Celebrated Aurist — Baron de Bode —
Waghorn—The Screw Propeller—Conclusion.
I WAS present at the celebrated tournament held at
the seat of the Earl of Eglinton, in Ayrshire. The
number of people assembled to witness the martial
sports on the first day was immense. Groups flocked
from all quarters of the country, and from places
beyond the seas. The pageant was one of the
most gorgeous things ever witnessed; and had the
weather been propitious, the whole spectacle would
have well repaid the outlay of money incurred, and
the fatigue which many thousands of the visitors
must have undergone in reaching the place of
action.
Unfortunately, the rain, which in the early part of
272
RECOLLECTIONS OE
the day descended in torrents, destroyed the efledo
anticipated.
I well remember the procession of the knights,
esquires, archers, &c., from the Castle to the tilting-
ground, and the show of ladies which formed the
most attractive part of it. The whole was admirably
arranged, and though it was impossible under the
circumstances to preserve the order of the arrange¬
ment to the letter, enough was done to show the care
and judgment which had been exercised.
It was the grandest masquerade that has been
exhibited in Europe for two centuries, and will not
easily be obliterated from the memories of those who
were present.
In the Castle were assembled the most incongruous
and motley groups that imagination can conceive;
scores of men in armour of all ages and countries,
costumes of the remotest times and regions. The
veracious narratives of Froissart, and the fabulous
descriptions of Aniadis de Gaul, were illustrated in
the festivities, encounters, and etiquette. The pavi¬
lions of the knights, the banners, pennons, armour,
surcoats, weapons, the flourish of trumpets, the clash
of steel, the shouts of the spectators, the splendour
and quaintness of the resuscitated fashions of the
middle ages, the re-union of youth, beauty, and ele-
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 273
gance, the strangeness of the devices^ and singularity
of the contrasts, all co-operated to produce a scene
which is as dîfBcult to imagine as to describe.
The guests entertained in the Castle, and the
attendants by whom they were accompanied, were
far too numerous for the hospitality of the noble
owner of the domain to afford a nightly lodgment
for the whole. Feasting and merry-making lasted all
day and late into the night, but many there were
who had to seek their places of repose at a long
distance from the immediate scene of the festivities.
Every cottage in the neighbourhood was swarming
with guests, whom the unsophisticated cotters re¬
garded with bewilderment. Every hostelry was
crammed with men-at-arms, archers, Highlanders, and
nondescripts.
Of the humbler class admitted to the Park, were
some who had trudged on foot from the southernmost
parts of England, and amongst them was a blind
fiddler, who had actually performed a pedestrian tour
from Chichester to ingraft the gratings of his cat¬
gut upon the squeajing of the bag-pipe.
Notwithstanding the hundreds of persons who went
in and out of the Castle in the most promiscuous
manner, there was scarcely any loss of property of
any sort. The local police were in attendance, and
VOL. II. T
274
RECOLLECTIONS OF
there were several experienced officers from London.
It was fortunate for the owners of jewels and things
of value that such was the case. Several of the
class known as the " swell mob" were on the ground ;
the vigilant eyes of the London officers, who were
themselves accoutred as franklins and yeomen of
ancient days, penetrated through the assumed dis¬
guises of the thieves. The latter on being detected,
requested leave to remain where they were : they
pleaded the length of way they were from London,
the charges they had incurred in coming so far from
home, and the charges of getting back again. They
promised, if allowed to " make their expenses," they
would keep their hands from picking and stealing
anything beyond, and pledged their honour" to
adhere to the compromise. The officers, very pro¬
perly, were deaf to such protestations; they were
placed on board a steamer at Ardrossan, and returned,
via Liverpool, to London, without delay.
There was certainly something ridiculous as well
as incongruous in the proceedings. This was unavoid¬
able. The sudden assumption in the nineteenth cen¬
tury of the habits, customs, modes, costumes, and
pastimes of the fourteenth, required a longer rehearsal
than could be afforded by those who were the chief
performers on the occasion,
THE LAST HALF CENTURY.
275
Two obvious improvements in the political and
moral state of the community have taken place within
my recollection.
I allude to the alterations in the law of election of
members of parliament, and in the simplification of
the legal code generally.
It has been within my time, that in the city of
Westminster, the most flagrant outrages against
decency and the most riotous violence have been
the certain concomitants of a contested election.
For a fortnight the trade of the streets adjacent to
Covent-garden, in which the poll was taken, was sus¬
pended. The shops were closed, and the doors of
those who took or were suspected of taking an active
part in the cause of either of the candidates secured
against the expected attacks of those who took a dif¬
ferent view of the cause.
Hired mobs, headed by blackguards from the
purlieus of Tothill-fields and St. Giles's, organized
under the title of bludgeon-men, and headed by
recognised ruffians, paraded the streets in the garb of
sailors or mechanics, as the case required, preceded
by flag-bearers and bands of discordant music,
shouting, holloaing, and insulting all who were not
of their own faction. Collisions between them were
inevitable and, frequent, A universal uproar re-
T 2
276
RECOLLECTIONS OF
sounded throughoat Covent^garden, and in front of
the hustings was drawn up a mob of vagabonds,
whose pleasure as well as business it was to jostle
and intimidate every voter who was about to poll in
opposition to the interest of their employer.
I saw this for the first time at the election of Lord
Cochrane, now Earl of Dundonald. I saw it at the
election of Sir Francis Burdett, whose nomination on
the hustings, by Mr. Sturch, of Clare-market, I was
sufficiently foolish to second—a piece of folly I have
for many years regretted. A greater political quack
than the honourable baronet, or a more hollow pre¬
tender to patriotism, never existed. Whilst pro¬
fessing his admiration for popular government and
liberal institutions, he was in core a Tory., Cobbett,
who saw through him, was not long in discovering
his real character, and predicted that " Old Glory"
would become ' as much despised by his constituents
as he had originally been worshipped.
His pantomimic performance at his house in Pic¬
cadilly, when he was arrested by a warrant of the
Speaker of the House of Commons, involved the lives
of many persons who assembled to stare at him. The
Horse G uards, who, from the brutal manner in which
they executed the orders given by the Secretary of
State for the dispersion of the mob, obtained the
THE LAST HALE CENTUKY. 277
appellation of '^Piccadilly Butchers/' were pressing
their horses amongst the people, and driving them
backwards and forwards with their swords, whilst
Burdett was instructing his son in the provisions of
Magna Charta, solacing his egotism with the notions
of his importance, and flattering his vanity that all
the noise, riot, and bloodshed were in honour of his
uncompromising zeal for the public good.
At the election in Westminster at which I seconded
his nomination, the scenes of riot and disturbance,
though not equal to the scenes with which the con¬
tests in which Fox had been engaged, were disgrace¬
ful to a civilized people. Captain Murray Maxwell,
who stood very near to me, was assailed with the most
opprobrious and blasphemous language. The hired
ruffians whose services were secured in support of the
"freedom of election," developed their energies not only
in words, but in acts of violence, which it was for¬
tunate were not attended by the most fatal results.
Finding that their " sweet voices" were unheeded,
they commenced pelting the objects of their dislike
with mud, the garbage of the market, and such filth
as was in readiness. A large stone was thrown, with
sinister precision of aim, at Captain Maxwell. It
struck him on the forehead, and he fell senseless in
the arms of those who were standing close to him.
i
278
KECOLLECTIONS OF
He was carried into the Grand Hotel, in which was
his committee-room, and medical assistance procured.
Fortunately, the wound was not sufficiently severe to
cause death, though it was inflicted with such good¬
will, that it was wonderful the wounded man survived.
This act of violence, and the fall of him who w^as
the victim of it, was hailed with shouts of exultation
by his opponents. An episode, occasioned by a
regular hand-to-hand fight between Lee, the High
Constable of Westminster, and a brother of Orator
Hunt, a deaf and dumb amateur pugilist, on the
hustings, succeeded. The " Orator" himself addressed
the " constituency" on the usual subjects of reform,
&c., and was received with roars of approbation. A
dissentient to his principles had nearly been sacri¬
ficed to the fury of the mob. Hunt pointed him out
to the ruffians around, and by way of increasing their
fury, exclaimed, " the ^ fellow' who is endeavouring
to interrupt me is one of the ' Vere-street gang.'" I
need not go into any account of what the Vere-street
gang was, but at the time this assertion was made, it
was quite sufficient to place the life of a man on whom
the imputation was fixed in the most imminent
danger.
It was at this election that the supporters of Sir
Samuel Romilly met with rather rough treatment.
THE LAST HALF CENTURY.
279
Lord Durham, Lord Sefton, and other great and
little Whigs, who formed an equestrian procession to
the hustings in honour of their candidate, were pelted
by the mob, and driven down Henrietta-street in
most calamitous retreat.
Gale Jones, Dr. Watson, Hunt, Walker, and others
of the same stamp, were the men for the " situation."
They maintained it during the whole period of the
proceedings, though I believe not one of them had
a vote for the city, or any right whatever to interfere
with the election.
I was for nearly four years a pupil to a special
pleader, Mr. George, No. 1, Inner Temple-lane. It
was in a set of chambers in this stack of buildings that
Dr. Johnson once lived, and the tenant of the premises
in my time assumed some little consequence from
the fact that he was amongst the successors of the
great lexicographer and moralist. The man's name
was Bayle. The attorney's clerks, who had to ascend
a flight of stairs to reach him, were in the habit of
calling him Bayle (Bail) above, which legal pun was
exactly suited to the place and the people by whom
it was frequented.
In the office of the special pleader, what may be
properly called the study of the law had not the
remotest chance of being attended to. No books.
280
RECOLLECTIONS OF
but the Reports of the Courts, were ever made use of.
The mode of obtaining information on any point
required, was to hunt through indexes and marginal
abstracts, till what was called a casus consimilis yiSiS
routed out. The ingenuity of the pleader and his
assistants was then employed in the process called
" splitting hairs," that is, in endeavouring to find
some discrepancy between the case laid before them
and the casus consimilis unkennelled. This discre¬
pancy, or what was supposed to be one, being dis¬
covered, or supposed to be so, all sorts of sophistry
was put into requisition to make the better reason
look like the worse, or the worse look like the better,
as the case might be. An opinion was then written
in as bad a hand as the writer could scribble (good
penmanship would have made the writer look like an
attorney), and the paper on which it was written
folded in such a way as not to be "demurrable,"
indorsed with the name of the wise man, and the fee
with which his labours were to be rewarded. The
interesting document was then laid upon the pleader's
desk,"and awaited the call of the attorney's clerk.
During my attendance at this office I had the
labour of writing opinions for several eminent bar¬
risters who were too ignorant or too lazy to write
such things themselves. Amongst them was Serjeant
THE LAST HALE CENTURY. 281
Andrews. Without claiming to be a peacock, I can
assert that he adopted the feathers that belonged to
me, and gained distinction above the ordinary jack¬
daws of his order.
Another part of my labours was to prepare decla¬
rations, pleas, rejoinders, sur-rejoinders, rebutters,
sur-rebutters, demurrers, &c. &c. The endless tau¬
tology and inexplicable repetition employed in this
process is only equalled by the language and phrase¬
ology of an Act of Parliament or a Government
announcement in the " Gazette." Special counts,
common counts, work and labour counts, account
stated, and such like unintelligible nonsense, were
the staple of the tedious and expensive preliminaries
which preceded the regular contest beforè the judge
and jury when once the combatants "joined issue," or,
in other words, gave each other the lie in an unmis-
takeable manner. The business was then considered
out of the pleader's hands, and the barristers " stood
in" to protect the interests of their clients and them¬
selves.
It is recorded of George III. that he said, " law¬
yers knew no more of law than other people ; all
they knew was where to look for it, which other people
did not."
I certainly took more law into the Temple than
282
EECOLLECTIONS OF
I ever took out of it. I lost three years and a half of
the best part of my life in drudgery and toil, and I
spent several hundred pounds for the advantage of
hunting through "Tidd's Practice" for information
which could never be reached, and modifying
Wentworth and Chitty on Pleading," to suit the
requirements of the cases which daily occurred.
The alterations in the law have swept away these
absurdities; the practice of pleading is simplified,
and the rules of court, if not perfect, are at least
i
intelligible.
o i
The criminal law has been pruned and weeded;
the bloody code which was put into force at the Old
Bailey, and at other criminal courts by Sir John
Sylvester and others of the old school of recorders
and judges, has been succeeded by milder enact¬
ments. We do not see now, as I have seen formerly,
whole strings of our fellow-creatures hung up for
strangulation for offences which, now-a-days, are
expiated by the imprisonment of a few months, or a
nominal deportation; nor are our feelings harrowed,
and our senses offended, by the spectacle of malefac¬
tors gibbeted on our roadsides within ten miles of
London.
One of the originals whom I remember, a barrister
on the Home Circuit, was Dunbar. If he had little
THE LAST HALE CENTURY.
283
law, he had what is of equal use to a Nisi Prius
advocate, unconquerable pertinacity and impudence
which nothing could abash. He was a man whom it
was impossible to put down." I have seen him set
counsel, judge, and jury at defiance. I have seen
him, when neither retained by plaintiff, defendant,
prosecutor, nor prisoner, continually interfering as
amicus curicBy and by repeated interruptions obstruct¬
ing the business of the Court. The late Sir Alan Park,
who was, on the occasion to which I am about to
allude, presiding in the Criminal Court at one of the
assize towns on the Home Circuit, was so annoyed by^
his interference, that he expostulated with him in no
very measured terms. " Mr, Dunbar," said the judge,
"if you have no respect for your own character,
respect the honour of the Bar."
" My lord," replied Dunbar, " you and I, and
everybody else, have heard of the unicorn, but
neither you, nor I, nor anybody else, has ever seen it.
I take it the honour of the Bar is much such another
fabulous nonentity; everybody has heard of it, but
nobody has as yet been so fortunate as to see it."
This observation of the learned gentleman, I am
sorry to say, was received with an audible expression of
applause by the auditors in the Court, who seemed to
concur in the opinion of him by whom it was uttered.
284
RECOLLECTIONS OF
Dunbar, amidst other eccentric developments,
appeared one Lord Mayor's Day as the " man in
armour" in the civic procession. His martial appear¬
ance was acknowledged by the mob which thronged
the streets. On descending from his horse, he was
assisted by the attendants at Guildhall to his place at
the gorgeous festival. His place, however, was not at
the table but behind it. He occupiëd a lofty pedestal,
immediately at the back of the chief magistrate,
standing somewhat in the attitude of Mars in the
cartoon of Paul preaching at Athens.
Now it unfortunately happened that though he
Carved not at the meal
With gloves of steel/'
he
" Drank the red wine through the helmet barred"
in such large quantities, that the heat of the room
and the weight of his armour, co-operating with the
strength of his potations, affected his equilibrium«
After " reeling" almost " gunwale to" both larboard
and starboard," he toppled head foremost from his
perch and fell, fortunately missing his lordship in his
descent, sprawling at full length upon the table over
which his lordship presided.
It may be supposed his unexpected intrusion
caused a "sensation" of no ordinary kind. The
crash of tureens, dishes, plates^ and glasses, was
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 285
accompanied by the squalls of women and the indig¬
nant expostulations of men. To neither did he, or
could he, offer apology or explanation. The waiters
and the constables came speedily to the rescue, and
in a state of unconscious intoxication, or collapse,
he was conveyed with some difficulty from the scene
of his achievement.
Unfortunately for his success in his profession he
had so great a fondness for it, that when he had no
clients to whose causes he might devote his attention,
he became a litigant on his own account. The con¬
sequence was a serious diminution of his pecuniary
means, and an illustration of the old saying, He who
is his own lawyer has a fool for his client."
I remember, also, Daniel Wakefield, whose success
at the bar had no connexion whatever with his know¬
ledge of the law. He was originally a clerk in the
Navy Pay-office in Somerset House. He ate his
terms" at one of the inns of court, and was called to
the bar by the venerable benchers in the usual manner,
without ever having opened the pages of any law
book whatsoever. He told rne this with his own lips,
and on my expressing surprise that he had not even
looked into " Blackstone's Commentaries," he assured
me it was all humbug, and that the only law necessary
to be known might be picked up by an ingenious
286
RECOLLECTIONS OF
man as he went along, and was to be had fresh for
every day's practice at a much easier rate than studying
obsolete nonsense, and of a much better quality than
old law books could supply.
He commenced practice at the common law bar,
went the Oxford circuit, and was leader at the Berk¬
shire sessions. His success was equal to his impudence,
and he pocketed no small amount of fees. The
attorneys were not slow in discovering that he was
precisely the man to bully the witnesses and cajole
the jury, and he was with them a favourite ad¬
vocate.
His impudence at the quarter sessions was almost
«
unexampled. He was aware that the Rhadamanthuses
who presided were greater pretenders than himself,
and he took advantage of it in this manner :
However desperate the case which he had to sup¬
port might be, he invariably assumed that his client
had law and justice on his side. He could show the
Bench that the judges in the courts above had deter¬
mined a precisely similar claim (or repudiation, as
the case might be) in favour of a party who was pre¬
cisely in the same predicament as the party he had
the honour to be concerned for was in. He then
proceeded to cite " Brown against Green," " Jones
versus White," Ex parte Tomkins," &c. &c., and
THE LAST HALE CENTUEY.
287
argue, from the analogy of their cases, that the same
principle was applicable to his.
He was continually dipping into his law bag, and
pulling forth a volume of Reports, of which he turned
over the leaves with an attention suited to the gravity
of the research. If, as it sometimes happened, that
he was asked to hand up the Report to the Bench, he,
wdthout losing his courage, observed he had brought
s
the wrong volume with him, but he felt assured their
worships would take his word that the case cited was
as he had stated, and pardon his inadvertency in
putting one book into his bag instead of the other.
This ingenious mode of gaining the " ear of the
Court" was almost invariably successful; and his repu¬
tation as well as his wealth was augmented by its
adoption.
He left the common law bar for the equity bar, in
which a greater scope was furnished to his powers of
mystification, and obtained an extensive practice and
silk gown.
He was in the habit of making use of a shower-
bath every morning, under the absurd notion of pro¬
longing his days. The result was the exact contrary
to his expectations. He was found dead in the
machine he had employed for his gratification.
I believe there are many men now at the bar whose
288
RECOLLECTIONS OF
knowledge, not of their profession, but of what their
profession ought to be, is not a jot more extensive
than this man's was, I believe I could name not a
few amongst the " men of the robe" in Westminster
Hall who are as ignorant of the principles of law and
of the science of jurisprudence as the most humble
law clerk in the office of an attorney.
A good memory is reckoned among the blessings
of Providence, and no doubt many enjoyments and
advantages are derived from its possession. I have,
however, met with an instance in which the total
want of it, in everything but the most common occur¬
rences of life, conferred a sort of benefit upon the
person who was destitute of the faculty.
This was the case of an old lady, who was among
the clients of Mr. George, the special pleader. I
will give an illustration of her deficiency and its ad¬
vantage. Everybody has experienced the pleasure
which the first perusal of De Foe's novel " Robinson
Crusoe" imparts. Now this old lady had read
" Robinson Crusoe" through and through, so many
times, that it might have been supposed she would have
had the whole book by heart. Not a bit of it. By
the time she had got to the last page, not a vestige
of what the other pages contained remained in her
memory; she commenced de novo with as much zest
THE LAST HALF CENTURY. 289
for the ^ale of the hero as if she had never gone
through the narrative before, proceeded in her task
with increased delight, and arrived at the termination
of her reiterated perusal ready to repeat her task as
often as opportunity was afforded.
The incessant renewal of mnemonic virginity was
actually a source of the most delightful intellectual
enjoyment.
I may as well suggest in this place, that though
ninety-nine times out of a hundred Memory and
Recollection are considered to be synonymous, they
are different things.
I illustrate my notion of the distinction between
them thus : Memory is the well in which a fluid
exactly the contrary to the waters of oblivion is con¬
tained. Recollection is the bucket by which this
fluid is drawn up when it is wanted for use. Most
*
persons possess the well, but of those who have got
the bucket, some seldom have it at hand, and others
are so inexpert in its use, that their employment of
the apparatus is frequently attended with results
exactly the contrary of what they desire.
As akin to loss of memory and recollection may be
mentioned loss of hearing ; and I mention this loss
heré, as it affords me the opportunity of telling a
story of an acquaintance of mine who applied to a
VOL. II. u
290
KECOLLECTIONS OF
celebrated aurist for the recovery of the last named
loss.
Mr. —— was not only a deaf man, but was also a
nervous man. He was not only too polite, but he
was too timid to oppose or contradict an opponent.
He said " yes" to everything, or " no" to everything,
just as he by whom the question was put desired, or
as he conjectured he desired, to be answered.
This gentleman having heard, or rather read much
of the " Royal Dispensary for the Cure of Diseases
of the Ear," and of Mr. Curtis, by whom it was con¬
ducted, applied to that gentleman for advice and
assistance. Mr. Curtis was a man who from long
experience was able to form a correct idea of the
characters as well as the diseases of the people who
made application for his services, and he very soon dis¬
covered that the new applicant was not a very wise
man. Mr. Curtis in his practice adopted rather the
vigorous energy by which Dr. Radcliffe was distin¬
guished than the persuasive lenity with which modern
practitioners in nervous cases are accustomed to treat
fine ladies and gentlemen. He took patients by storm
rather than by protracted advances, and in the case of
my deaf and nervous acquaintance, he came in.contact
with the man who was of all others least calculated
to withstand his robustnéss ; in short, he could not
THE LAST HALF CENTUHY. 291
extract such a reply from him as would enable him
to judge correctly of the extent of his malady, or of
the progress of the means employed for its removal.
He seated the patient in a chair in which patients
were placed during examination, and after various
questions proceeded thus :—
" You hear what I say to-day better than you did
yesterday ?"
" Yes, sir."
"You hear what I say without difficulty; don't
you ?"
" Yes, sir."
" What's your name ?"
"Yes, sir."
" How old are you ?"
" Yes, sir."
The practitioner was growing irate, the patient
was trembling with fear, he could hear nothing, but
concluded that his safety depended on the acquies¬
cence of his responses. The practitioner was resolved
not to be so easily satisfied ; he pulled out his watch,
and held it to the ear of the patient.
Do you hear that watch tick ?"
" Yes, sir."
That's a fcUifclWH lie, for it doesn't go."
The patient, though he could not hear tue wörds
u2
292
KECOLLEGTIONS OF
of Mr. Curtis, was aware that something was wrong.
He got out of the chair and out of the house as fast
as he could, and never troubled the owner of them
again with his presence.
There are several persons with whom I was ac¬
quainted of whom I should have been glad to have
said something ; but my task draws to a conclusion,
and I can only allude to them briefly. Among them
was the Baron de Bode, a man whose treatment by
the Government of this country is a disgrace to its
records, and a flagrant example of the injustice which
exists in high places.
He called upon me a few days before his death :
he was at the time in high spirits at what appeared a
favourable turn in his fortunes. I was about to leave
town for Ramsgate, and as he stepped into his car¬
riage he made an appointment to call upon me
on my return that day week. Alas ! he was not
destined to keep that appointment. Whilst I was
absent, in consequence of a very powerful influence
being exerted in his favour, he became so excited
that his constitution, enfeebled by the continual
vexations to which he had been exposed, sunk under
the vehemence of his feelings.
On my return from Ramsgate, on the arrival of
the railway train at Canterbury, I bought a copy of
a morning newspaper, in the columns of which, to
THE LAST HALE CENTURY. 293
my most sincere regret and great surprise, I found
the account of his death.
Waghorn, by whose exertions the overland
passage to India was first planned and carried into
execution, met with every opposition to his plans,
which the indifference and the ignorance of the
Government could throw in his way. He was pooh-
poohed, ridiculed, and discouraged. I had it from
his own lips, that when on his first visit to Downing-
street, he was, after an interview with the great men
there assembled, treated with cold civility, and bowed
out of the room, the great men who remained therein
could not restrain their mirth. As he retreated from
the place, he heard himself called an ass, an idiot,
and a madman by those who could neither estimate
his merits nor calculate the importance of his designs.
Nevertheless, his plan succeeded, and its results
have conferred the greatest benefits on this country.
On himself they conferred little benefit. The nig¬
gardly reward for his services, and the scanty remu¬
neration for the heavy sums he had expended from
his private resources in establishing his views, were
doled out from time to time in a wav that reflects no
«/
little disgrace on those whose duty it was to have
done justice to his claims, and the paltry allowance
made to his widow is among the most contemptible
acts of contemptible people.
294
EECOLLECTIONS, ETC.
Mr. Smith, the inventor of the screw-propeller,
with which so many men-of-war are furnished, and
by the introduction of which naval tactics have been
almost altogether changed, was at the commencement
of his labours thwarted and opposed in every way by
the Government authorities. After having spent a
handsome private fortune in advancing the interests
of science, and increasing the power of his country,
he received an appointment connected with the in¬
vention which he had brought to perfection. Of this
he was deprived by the miserable truckling of the
Administration to the clamour for economy in the
House of Commons, raised by men whose equivocal
public services had given them a bastard popularity
that frightened the Minister.
Had my limits allowed me, I would have said
something of the gambling-houses of London, and
given some anecdotes of people connected with them
that would have enlightened as well as amused my
readers. I may reserve these things for a future
opportunity. For the present I take my leave of my
readers, hoping that I have not been wearisome or
impertinent in what I have presented for their enter¬
tainment.
INDEX TO VOLS. L AND XL
Aberpield, William, alias Slender Billy," i. 9—12.
Adams, Dr., i. 129.
Age of Reason," when and where written, ii. 178
Amhross, Bertie, Esq., ii. 37.
An Amateur Thief-taker, i. 36.
Anati, M., i. 233—5.
Anderson, Mr., editor of the '^Morning Advertiser," makes a curious
mistake, 190—2.
Andrews, Serjeant, his knowledge of the Law, ii. 281.
Angelo, Miss, her preternatural juvenility, &c., i. 87—89.
Apprentices, Abduction of, i. 187.
Apsley House, i. 19.
Archbishop Tenison's School, i. 62.
Archdeacon Pott, Anecdote concerning, i. 53.
Armstrong, Mr., makes a curious discovery at Charenton, ii. 115.
Aubert, Mr., wounded by a Tiger, ii. 255.
Bacon, Mr., his ascenb in a balloon, ii. 154, 155.
Bahadoor, Jung, the Nepaulese Prince, and his brothers at Yauxhall,
ii. 237—238.
Bailey, the Rev. Mr., and the Margate Sea Bathing Infirmary, &c. &c.
ii. 253—255.
Bankhead, Dr. ; his evidence on the inquest on the Marquis of London¬
derry, i. 295—303.
Banks, Mr. J., alias Stunning Joe," i. 33.
296
INDEX TO VOLS I. AND II
Barfoot, Mr., i. 201.
Barnard, Dr., Provost of Eton, i. 84.
Barnes, Thomas, education at Christ's Hospital ; a City Dame makes
him a curious present. At Cambridge ; pupil to Mr. Chitty, the
special pleader, &c. &c., i. 193—200.
Barnett, Morris, ü. 238, 239.
Barnwell, i. 207.
Barrymores, family of, ii. 127—136.
Bartram, Mrs., alias ^'Mother Bang," i. 51 ; ii. 524.
Battine, Dr. ; his four female ^rvants and the Duke of Clarenee^
i. 127, 128.
Bayley, "Alphabet," alias "^Omnibus,"' alias &C'. &c. ; his births
parentage, education, pesto, and death, ii. 197—202.
Bearcroft, Mr. James, or "Jemmy;" his birth, parentage, education,
pursuits, and death, ii. 27—37.
Bella, Jew, she engages in a conflict with Mother Bang at Covent
Gfarden Theatre ; disgraceful scene, ii. 224.
" Belly, a man with his heaii; in it," ii. 239—242.
Beloe, loses his appointment at the British Museum, Why, i. 82.
Beevor, the Eev. Mr. ; his pursuits, clerical and secular, i. 129—-131.
Bench, King's, Prison, ii. 1—^59, passim.
Benyon de Beauvoir ; he pleads poverty, is laughed at, ii. 98—99.
Berri, the Duke of; Mrs. —, a lady under his protection, i, 187—189»
Best, Captain, ii. 34, 35.
Beverley, Mr., Esquire Bedell at Cambridge ; his peculiarities,
i. 147—151.
Biffin, Miss, anecdote of her, i. 71.
Billington, Mrs., ii. 205.
Birnie, Sir Eichard, i. 55.
Bittoon, Ikey, i. 129, 130.
Blake, Dr. ; his adventures at Newmarket, i. 131—135.
Blood Money, i. 36.
Bode, Baron de, ii. 292, 293.
Bolton, Mr. Greorge; a hoax, i. 73—75.
Bolton, proprietor of the Holden Cross Inn, ii. 22.
Bond, Justice, i. 57.
Bond, Junior, i. 57.
"Bottisham," i. 171.
Boulogne, thirty-five years ago, ii. 260, 261.
Bradbury, Mr., a celebrated clown, curious anecdotes of, ii. 228—230»
Brooks, the wine merchant, verses on him by Sheridan, ii. 209.
INDEX TO VOLS. I. AND II.
297
Brougham (not Lord), the "Brougham Division," ii. 238.
Browning, Mr. Harry; his pugilistic contest in St. John's College, and
extrication, i. 203—205.
Bryant, Mr. ; an obstinate debtor, ii. 39,
Brummell, Beau, anecdote of his greediness, i. 21.
Buckingham, Albina, Countess of, and Theodore Hook, ii. 152.
" Bull Dogs," the Breed at Cambridge, i. 159.
Bulley, Mr., the Esculapius of Beading, anecdotes of, ii. 88—93.
Bunbury, Colonel, a lady protected by him, i. 185.
Burdett, Sir F., ii. 276.
Burke, Edmund, anecdote of, i. 154.
Burke, the " Deaf'un;" his last moments, i. 271.
Butcher, Mr. Samuel ; his life and death, i. 59, 60.
Butler, the Editor of "Coke upon Lyttleton," i. 69.
Byron, Lord, a member of the Pugilistic Club, ii. 169.
B , the Bev. M. ; how he " settled" a dinner bill, ii. 166.
Cambridge, University of, i. 112—228.
Canning, George, ii. 158—162 ; his inquiry as to the King of the
Sandwich Islands, ii. 159—160.
Carter, his capacity for drink, i. 77.
Cartwright, Major, ii. 156—158.
Cathcart, Mr., he reads a play before MissMitford, ii. 65—68.
" Charlies," their nature, propensities, and duties, i. 35.
Chesterfield, Lord, anecdotes of, when at Cambridge, i. 139—141.
Christie, Captain, ii. 12.
Clarence, George, Duke of, a Copy of his verses, ii. 208.
Clarke, Dr., i. 146.
Clarke, the Bev. Mr., and Mrs. Fry, ii. 205, 206.
Clifton, Miss, her adventure with Captain PoMll, ii. 257.
Cocking, killed in a parachute, ii. 155.
Colman, George, ii. 149.
Combination Boom of Trinity Hall, i. 121.
Cottingham, the police magistrate, i. 131.
Craven, Dr., St. John's College, Cambridge, i. 205,
Curtis, Mr., the aurist, anecdote of, ii. 290.
Curtis, Sir W., his yacht ; smugglers, ii. 249, 250,
Davis, Scrope, Esq., i. 156—158.
Dawson, Dan., the horse poisoner, i. 224—226,
Dean's Yard, i. 7.
298
INDEX TO VOLS. I. AND II.
B'Egville, i. 73.
Beigh-ton, the caricaturist, i. 79, 81.
Belphini, i. 17 ; ii. 128.
Disney, Captain, i. 190.
Donaldson, the constable, his death, ii. 220—223.
Duelling, ii. 281.
Dunbar, a Barrister, the " Man in Armour," a strange adventure,
ii. 263, 284,
Durham, Lord, i. 89.
Duval, the conveyancer, i. 125.
Egan, Pierce, anecdotes of, i. 242—252.
Egiinton, the tournament, ii. 271—274,
Elisée, Père, ii. 124.
Elliston, ii, 149.
Elmore, his daughters, i. 181.
Empson, Captain, i. 264.
Erskine, Lord, i. 220.
Eton, education thereat, &c., i. 82—ÏÏ2, passim.
Falkland, Lord, duel with Powell, ii. 251.
Faniani, Marchioness of, ii. 125.
Farrell, Jemmy, anecdote of, ii. 191, 192,
Fauntleroy, the banker, ii, 44—57.
Fearby, the Young Ruffian, i. 133.
Fordham, a Poacher, &c., i. 171.
Frost, John, anecdotes of, ii. 177, 178.
Fry, Mrs., in a lunatic asylum, ii. 205.
George III,, iL 263—267.
George IV., ii. 267, 268.
Gibbons, Bill, curious anécdotes of, ii. 172—176.
Gloucester, Duke of, i. 189.
Goodhall, Dr., Master of Eton School, i. 84, 85, 93.
Gordon, Jemmy, i. 149,
Graham, Dr., his Celestial Bed, ii. 63.
Graves, Nat., anecdotes of, ii. 183, 184.
Green, the aeronaut, ii. 153.
Gregory, Barnard, i. 22, 25—28.
Grim wood, Eliza, ii. 182.
Grisi, Madame, remark of George IV, at Handel's Commemoration,
ii 207.
INDEX TO VOLS. I. AND II;
299
Hamilton, Duke of, his solicitude for Bill Gribbons, ii. 171—173.
Hare and Hounds in St. Griles's, i. 33.
Haydon, the artist, ii. 193.
Hetherington, Mellor, Esq., his long residence in prison, curious
anecdotes of, ii. 19—40, ^passim, j
Hodson, Provost of Eton, i. 89.
Holland, Lord and Lady, ii. 116, 117.
Hook, Theodore, ii. 150, 151.
Hooper, the ^'Tinman," ii. 128.
Hort, Jonathan, anecdotes of, ii. 102—110.
Hunt, Orator, ii. 278.
Ireland, Block Book-maker, ii. 163.
Jackson, John, the pugilist, ii. 167—171.
Jacques, Monsieur, and " Jacko" the Monkey, i. 247.
Jerdan, William, ii. 196.
Jersey, Lord, his addiction to apple-pudding, ii. 73.
Jones, Bill, the Lynn coachman, i. 175.
Jones, the Marshal of the King's Bench Prison, ii. 8.
Jowett, Dr., Professor of Civil Law, Cantab., i. 120—122.
Kean, Edmund, i. 276.
Keate, Dr., Master of Eton School, i. 86.
Keeping Acts, i. 169.
Kenneth, the theatrical agent, i. 272—274,
Kentish Knockers, ii. 245.
Kilburn in the Olden" Time, i. 21.
Killaloe, the Bishop of, and his Wife, ii. 185.
Knowles, Sheridan, i. 230.
Latin of the Schools at Cambridge, i. 170.
Leaders" in a Morning Paper, proposition to write them;, i. 29.
Leblanc, Master of the Court of King's Bench, i. 126.
Lee, Alexander, ii. 129.
Lee, Harry, ii. 133.
Lee, High Constable of Westminster, i. 36 ; ii, 278.
Lemon, Mark, his tavern, &c. in Wych-street, i. 280.
Liston, the actor, i. 63.
Liston, the surgeon, ii. 154.
Londonderry, the first Marquis of, what caused him to commit Suicide ?
i. 283—304.
Lowthorpe, ü. 17;
300 INDEX TO VOLS. I. AND II.
Mackintosh, Sir James, ii. 137.
Macphail, mosaic gold maker, ii. 179.
Maginn, Dr., ii. 186.
Mandell, the Eev. Mr., a Cambridge Proctor, i. 158.
Hansell, Bishop of Bristol, i. 146.
Maxwell, Captain Murray, the Westminster election, ii. 277.
Mayne, Colonel, ii. 80—88.
Memory" Thompson, i. 22.
Mendoza, Daniel, i. 201.
Milner, Dr., Dean of Carlisle, mode of taking a shower bath, i. 145.
Mitford, Dr., ii. 61.
Mitford, Miss, ii. 64.
Mornington, Earl of, i. 138.
Morris, Captain, i. 268.
Morris, John, i. 61.
Morris, proprietor of the Haymarket Theatre, i. 69.
Nash, Mr, John, alias Jack," ii. 234.
Nelson, Lord, ii. 258.
Nepaulese Princes, ii. 237.
Newberry, Mr. Jacob, solicitor, Beading, ii. 77.
New Forest smugglers, ii. 245.
Norfolk, Duke of, ii. 117—123.
Cakes, the surgeon at Cambridge, declines attendance on Scrope Davis,
i. 157.
Off Alley, dangerous adventure therein, i. 49.
O'Shaughnessy, Major and Captain, ii. 250.
Owls,"the Club, i. p. 229.
Paine, Thomas, ii. 177.
Palmer, John, the actor, his strange death and apparition, i. 65.
Palmer, C. Fyshe, Esq., M.P., anecdotes of, ii. 69.
Palmer, Lady Madelina, ii. 7 5.
Panmure, Lord, ii. 163.
Park, Sir Alan, ii. 283.
Parr, Dr., i. 190.
Pease, Mr., 1. 113.
Penn, Mr., ii. 116.
Percival, Mr. Eaymond, pursuits of knowledge, &c., i; 252.
Philippe, Louis, King of the French at the Château d'Eu, ii. 262.
INDEX TO VOLS. I. AND II. 301
Phillips, a "fast" youth of former times, i. 57.
Pigott, Judith, ii. 75.
j" Pogie" Powell, ii. 251.
Polhill, Captain, his method of courtship, ii. 257.
Porson, Eichard, Grreek professor, i. 198.
Pott, Archdeacon, presentation plate, i. 53.
Prideaux, Dr., his proposal for academic reformation, &c. i. 161—167.
Çurley, Diversions of, ii. 98.
Queensberry, Duke of, ii. 123—127.
Eede, Leman, i. 238.
" Eesurrectionists," account of, i. 42—46.
Eheo Ehio, King of the Sandwich Islands, ii. 159.
Eichardson, "Muster," the showman, his booth at Pott Fair, i. 209.
Eichmond, "Bill," i. 17.
Eookery, St. Gfiles's, i. 32.
Eussell, "Jerry Sneak," i. -73—76.
Sandys, Sir E., Bart., ii. 39.
Screw propeller, ii. 294.
Shakspeare's Head, Wych-street, i. 280.
Sham corpse, a curious story, i. 262.
Shelley, ii. 167.
Sheridan, his verses on Brooks, ii. 209.
Sidmouth, Lord, ii. 89.
Simpson, Master of the Ceremonies, Vauxhall, ii. 230.
Smith, Mr., ii. 294.
Smith's "Eejected Addresses," ii. 153.
Smokers and non-Smokers, i. 214.
Smugglers, ii. 243.
Smyth, Sir H., Bart., M.P., i. 181.
Special pleading, ii. 279.
St. Martin's Watch-house, i. 37.
Stanhope, the Hon. and Eev. Fitzroy, i. 138.
Stansbury, the composer, his dinner party, ii. 234.
Statue of Wellington, ii. 209.
Stephenson, Mr., his Hessian boots, i. 136.
Stepney, Sir T., Bart., ii. 147.
Stokes, the Eev. Mr., desperate struggle with burglars, i. 223.
Storer, Mrs., ii. 93—99.
302
INDEX TO VOLS. I. AND II.
Stowell, Lord, ii. 89.
Sumner, ArclilDisliop, i. 152.
Sumner, Bishop of Winchester, i. 153,
Sumner, Dr., Provost of King's College, i, 152.
Sussex House, ii. 206,
Sykes, Lady, i. 181.
Theatres, saloons of, ii. 218.
Tigers, origin thereof, ii. 129.
Tom Thumb, General, a little girl, ii. 195.
Tournament, ii. 271.
Townsend, the Bow-street officer, i. 58.
Trajan's Bridge, the destruction of, ii. 87.
Trinity Hall, Cambridge, i. 112.
Tyssen, Mr., how to avoid damp beds, ii. 101.
Undertakers, mistake of, ii. 213.
University Vultures, i. 114.
Urquhart, Gordon, Esq., i. 40—43.
Valpy, Dr., ii. 60.
Vaughan, Dick, the celebrated Cambridge coachman, i. 177.
Vauxhall, ii. 226.
Vernon, Mrs., i. 65.
Villebois, H., Esq., i. 177—181.
Vine-street, a murder committed therein, i. 37.
Wade, Augustine, i. 231.
Waghorn, ii. 293.
Wakefield, Daniel, Q.C., ii. 285.
Walker, the Eev. S., i. 108,
Ward, John, Esq., his fox-hounds, ii. 215.
Waylett, Mrs., ii. 131.
West-end Fair, i. 38.
Whimper, Mrs., ii. 26.
Whitbread, Samuel, Esq., ii. 75.
Widdicomb, Mr., ii. 237.
Wigglesworth, Mrs., i. 185.
William IV., ii. 269.
Winslow, Dr. Forbes, ii. 203,
INDEX TO VOLS. I. AND II. .303
Wolsey, Cardinal, his bed, i. 23.
"Wynne, Sir W., Dean of the Arches, i. 123.
Xantippe, a modern one, ii. 117.
Yates, Frederick, the actor, i. 243.
Yonge, the Rev. C., i. 111.
Zenobia, the brig of war, what became of her chronometers, ii. 41.
THE END
LONBON"
SAYILL AND EDWAEDS, PBINTEES, CHANDOS STEEET,
COVENT GAEDEN.
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