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ANGELO'S PIC NIC; 
 
 OR, 
 
 TABLE TALK, 
 
 INCLUDING NUMEROUS 
 
 RECOLLECTIONS of PUBLIC CHARACTERS, 
 
 WHO HAVE FIGURED IN SOME PART OR ANOTHER OF 
 
 THE STAGE OF LIFE FOR THE LAST FIFTY YEARS; 
 
 FORMING AN 
 
 ENDLESS VARIETY of TALENT, AMUSEMENT, and INTEREST, 
 
 CALCULATED TO PLEASE EVERY PERSON FOND OF 
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES AND ANECDOTES. 
 WRITTEN BY HIMSELF. 
 
 " Othello's Occupation's gone .'" // 4/ 
 
 IN ADDITION TO WHICH ARE SEVERAL 
 
 ORIGINAL LITERARY CONTRIBUTIONS, 
 
 jFrom tfiz fotlotDittg IBistinguisi&etr ^ulfjors :- 
 
 COLMAN, 
 
 THEODORE HOOK, 
 BULWER, 
 HORACE SMITH, 
 
 MRS. RADCLIFFE, 
 MISS JANE PORTER, 
 MRS. HALL, 
 
 KENNY, 
 
 PEAKE, 
 
 BOADEN, 
 
 HERMIT IN LONDON, &:c. 
 
 LONDON : 
 PRINTED FOR JOHN EBERS, 27, OLD BOND STREET. 
 
 1834. 
 

 
 5-^' 
 
 LONDON ! 
 
 PRINTED EY T. BRETTELij RUPERT STREET, HAYMARKET. 
 
TO HIS GRACE 
 
 THE DUKE OF DEVONSHIRE, K.G. 
 
 Lord Chamberlain of His Majesty's Household, 
 *L. &c. &c. &c, 
 
 \ 
 
 (BY HIS GRACE'S KIND PERMISSION) 
 WITH EVERY SENTIMENT OF RESPECT AND GRATITUDE, 
 
 MOST HUMBLY DEDICATED, 
 
 BY HIS GRACE'S 
 
 OBEDIENT AND VERY FAITHFUL SERVANT, 
 
 HENRY ANGELO. 
 
A WORD TO THE READER. 
 
 In putting forth the following pages, in 
 continuation of his Reminiscences, the 
 Author regrets that he has to speak so 
 much of himself; but circumstanced as he 
 is, he has no alternative. There are some 
 incidents in real life, more romantic than 
 romance itself; and this remark will be 
 found to apply to many of the narratives 
 which follow. He has no scruples on this 
 head, however, in laying them before the 
 public, being conscious of no deviation from 
 the truth. He is merely anxious to excuse 
 himself for that awkwardness which always, 
 more or less, attends a narrative of personal 
 anecdotes and adventures, although they 
 may be of a kind highly interesting to the 
 public. 
 
OUT OF DATE, 
 
 BY 
 
 WAY OF INTRODUCTION. 
 
 A MAN is somewhat like an almanack, he has, 
 like it, his day and date, his coming out, and his 
 going out. The novelty of seeing him, gives him 
 a starting point ; the world goes with him in his 
 progress, but age, like a relentless creditor, arrests 
 him. He is then out of date, neglected, and laid 
 on the shelf. Thus I have found it too ; but let 
 me further follow the simile, why is it thus with 
 us both ? Because mankind only praise us for 
 what they can get out of us; they consult us for 
 their own information, to assist their memory, or 
 to pass an idle moment. When a successor comes 
 out in fresh print, well tagged with gilding and 
 morocco, a new picture, a fresh face, — farewell old 
 friend and old almanack; the last impression is 
 like a prosperous man rising into notice ; or, like 
 the ghost in Macbeth, it pushes us without cere- 
 mony from our stools. The new almanack is 
 
IV 
 
 to be found in every body's drawing-room, at the 
 breakfast table, on the sofa by lady fair, by the 
 fire-side, or is carried about like a vade mecum by 
 Prince and Peer, by Lord and Commoner, by 
 rich and poor. The young thriving man, in like 
 manner, is welcome at every board, admitted to 
 stately library, and elegant boudoir, the arm com- 
 panion of the gay, and, in short, known to all the 
 town. " Ah, Angelo ! and so it used to be with 
 thee. Where do you dine to-day ? Shall we see 
 you at our party ? Do you go to Covent Garden, 
 Old Drury, the Opera, or Promenade, to-night ? 
 Can you spare us a few tickets for the Masquerade, 
 or will you take some for the benefit Concert?" 
 Such was the order of the day, and my round of 
 amusements. Angelo, with a good cook, and a 
 full cellar, was almost an Angelo indeed to youths 
 with keen appetites and trencher friends ; but 
 when out of date, might go al Diavolo, and shake 
 himself. How often have I sauntered down Bond 
 Street, St. James's Street, and Pall Mall, in search 
 of side dishes at my table, id est, for stray friends, 
 and those to whom roast beef and bright port 
 might be an object, to edge in round my dinner 
 table. That was the time of day ; but now " you 
 
have really the advantage of me, when had I the 
 pleasure of seeing you ? My memory really 
 betrays me as to your name," (and well it is, if 
 not betrayed for thee). " I quite forget your 
 face." This is the language of the almanack of 
 other years, of the Angeld out of date ; but it is 
 more the altered features of the case than of the 
 face which produce this species of oblivion, of 
 " friend remembering not." 
 
 But I am not going to turn old proser, or 
 quarrel with the world. No ! I shall rather tell a 
 short story of an impudent guest of mine in by 
 gone years, and with it conclude my philosophic 
 reflections, grateful that some patrons have still 
 stuck to me, and anxious that my Pic-nic, made 
 up as it is by abler hands than mine, and furnishing 
 better fare than my poor brains can afford, may be 
 both in time and in good odour with my indulgent 
 customers, and that my old stories may serve as a 
 foil (this savours of the shop), to more valuable 
 modern ones, and that poor Angelo may not, 
 like the fallen Angelos of old, be consigned to 
 utter social darkness and oblivion. 
 
 In my usual court-end of the town, my Sunday's 
 lounge, wandering about, not seeking whom I 
 
VI 
 
 might devour, like the rooks of the day, but 
 seeking for persons to fill up my table ; I fell in 
 with the son of a certain general officer, and, as 
 usual, offered him pot luck, which he accepted, 
 yet still remained in a stationary attitude at a 
 post, planted at the corner of a street. I now 
 looked at my watch, and perceiving the hour of 
 attack on roast beef and plum pudding approaching, 
 I urged him to come away ; still he lingered, and 
 when harder pressed, confessed that there was 
 still a chance of a great man's riding by, this being 
 near his time and beat, who gave splendid dinners 
 and copious libations of French wine, and that he 
 did not like to throw away a chance. I left him 
 indignantly, but he appeared when dinner was 
 begun, and so talked me into good humour that I 
 forgave him ; and he made up for lost time on my 
 sirloin, where there was cut and come again. — 
 A word to the wise — there are many guests of the 
 same stamp. 
 
 A YOUNG HUNTER. 
 
 Previous to my father's building a riding house 
 in Carlisle Street (then King's Square Court), and 
 publicly teaching equitation, his time was totally 
 
Vll 
 
 devoted to Lord Pembroke, who had a manege at 
 his mansion in Whitehall. His lordship, who had 
 long been known for his gallantry, and his opera 
 manoeuvre when abroad with the beautiful Signora 
 Crevelli, the first dancer at the Scala, Milan (which 
 excited the mirth of all the English there), and 
 who was the great attraction of the Italian 
 Noblesse, kc, ; but the care of the mother, who 
 like the many who bring their daughters here for 
 sale, depending on the best bidder, the mercenary 
 madre expecting to raise her price, each shared 
 alike that refusal, no one could say che felicita. 
 Lord Pembroke, who well knew no time was to 
 be lost, and ever fond of a frolic, especially when 
 un tour d'amour, while the audience were all 
 waiting for her appearance, His Lordship only 
 waited till she was dressed, all expectation, when 
 instead of seeing her '^fantastic toe''' on the 
 boards, she had stepped into his Lordship's car- 
 riage, which was in readiness to take her away to 
 Florence, leaving the Italians to swear cose petto 
 di Bacco, questo poco d' Inglese. Pleased as he 
 was with this adventure, having out-witted the 
 mother, and the disappointed bidders, supplanting 
 them, at his return to England, though this 
 
Vlll 
 
 might have been considered merely a theatrical 
 false step, another that followed soon after was 
 a far different step, though a fashionable one then, 
 which has lasted to this day, and at the time made 
 not a little noise in the gay world. 
 
 Miss Hunter, who was the general admiration 
 of every one, Lord Pembroke, though then a 
 Benedict, ran away with her ; the consequence was, 
 a son, who, after, was my schoolfellow and crony 
 at Eton, and went by the name of Repkombe, (the 
 letters of his father's name), afterwards changed to 
 Montgomery, and died a captain in the navy. 
 This elopement filled the newspapers with anec- 
 dotes of his Lordship's amours, mentioning the 
 Signora CrevelH, and the following lampoon, which 
 I perfectly remember hearing many years ago, and 
 only lately repeated to me, as my father's name is 
 mentioned, and coupled with Lord Pembroke's, it 
 will show the lessons of the latter were not con- 
 fined to riding in a house only. 
 
 With Angelo, Pembroke had taken much pains 
 
 To keep a good seat, and manage his reins — 
 
 But to ride this Young Hunter, he found it a hardship, 
 
 For she swallowed the bit, and run off with his Lordship. 
 
THE PIC-NIC. 
 
 THE BANQUET HALL: 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE ANNIVERSARY OF ST. ALBANS. 
 
 (Now first published.) 
 BY THE CELEBRATED MRS. RADCLIFFE. 
 
 Far distant rose those walls upon the light, 
 The stately walls, with tapestry richly dight, 
 Of th' Abbof s banquet-hall, where, as on throne, 
 He sat at the high dais, like Prince, alone, 
 Save when a Royal Guest was there. 
 Or papal Legate claimed a chair. 
 Here marble platforms, flight o'er flight. 
 Slow rising through the long-lined view. 
 Showed tables, spread at different height. 
 Where each for different rank he knew. 
 
10 
 
 THE BANQUET HALL. 
 
 And with pleased glance, adown the hall, 
 Saw Bishops in their far-sought palle 
 The Abbey's noble Seneschal, 
 Barons and Earls, in gold array. 
 And warrior knights, in harness grey. 
 
 There was the Prior s delegated sway, 
 The grave Archdeacon sat below. 
 And th' hundred Monks, in row and row ; 
 Not robed in dismal sable they 
 Upon a high and festal day. 
 
 But all in copes most costly and most gay. 
 There, too, the Abbey-Marshal shone. 
 And there, beside the Abbot's throne, 
 
 Chaplain of Honour from the Pope, alone. 
 
 II. 
 
 Thus the Lord- Abbot, were he proud. 
 Might muse upon the checkered crowd ; 
 Nor always did his mind disdain 
 The worldly honours, though so vain. 
 His board with massive plate was laid. 
 And rare inventions it displayed ; 
 Each Sewer- Monk his homage paid. 
 With bended knee and bowed head ; 
 And latin verse, half sung, half said 
 On every platform, as he rose 
 Through the long hall to its high close, 
 
THE BANQUET HALL. 11 
 
 Where frankincense from golden urns 
 In light wreath round the Abbot burns. 
 The chaunted Latin Grace was sung 
 With pomp of instruments that rung 
 The arched roofs, galleries, and screens among. 
 And, when a royal guest was there. 
 The Abbot rising from his chair. 
 Blest with spread hands, the ordered feast, 
 While reverend stood each princely guest, 
 And far adown the hall might see 
 Knights, Bishops, Earls, on bended knee. 
 
 III. 
 
 And when came up, at old Yule-Tide, 
 The boards head, trimmed with garlands gay, 
 With shining holly's scarlet pride. 
 And the sweet-scented rosemary, 
 O ! then what merry carols rung ! 
 What choral lays the Minstrels sung ! 
 Marching before it through the hall. 
 Led by the stately Seneschal. 
 This was the joyous MinstreFs call, 
 In Leonine with English strung : 
 " Caput Afri defero. 
 
 The boar's head here in hand bring I, 
 
 With garlands gay, and rosemary ; 
 
 I pray you all sing merrily, 
 
 Qui estis in convivioT 
 
1^ THE BANQUET HALL. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Then every voice in chorus joined 
 Of those who sat in festal row, 
 You might have heard it on the wind — 
 Heard it o'er hills of desert snow, 
 That sudden chorus sweeping high. 
 Then sinking on the wild waste, die. 
 As if the winter-wind would sigh 
 Some sad, lamenting prophecy 
 O'er all — Qui erant in co7ivivio ! 
 And from these hills of desert snow 
 Oft have been seen, in vale below. 
 Through windows of that Banquet-hall, 
 The mighty Yule-C lough blazing clear. 
 And the Yule-tapers, huge and tall, 
 Lighting the roofs with timely cheer. 
 But ere a few brief hours were sped. 
 The blaze was gone — the guests were fled ; 
 And heavy was the winter's sigh. 
 As those lone walls it passed by. 
 
 V. 
 
 Now, ere the Abbot's feast began. 
 Or yet appeared the crane and swan, 
 The solemn carver, with his keen 
 Knife, and well armed with napkins clean, 
 
THE BANQUET HALL. 13 
 
 Scarf-wise athwart his shoulder placed, 
 
 And on each arm and round his waist, 
 
 Came, led by Marshal, to the dais. 
 
 There every trencher he essays, 
 
 O'er the great-salt makes flourishes, 
 
 Kisses each spoon and napkin fair. 
 
 Assaying whether ill lurk there, 
 
 Ere he present it to the lord. 
 
 Or oiFer it at the rewarde ; 
 
 The Sewer, half-kneeling on his way. 
 
 Of every dish receives assaye 
 
 At the high board, as guard from guile. 
 
 The Marshal waiting by the while. 
 
 And ancient carols rising slow 
 
 From the young Choir and Monks below. 
 
 And thus, as every course came on. 
 
 These pomps an awful reverence won. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Soon as the last high course was o'er. 
 The Chaplain from the cupboard bore 
 The alm's-dish to the Abbofs board. 
 With viands from the tables stored. 
 And ample loaf, and gave it thence, 
 With due form and good countenance, 
 That the Almoner might it dispense. 
 
14 THE BANQUET HALL. 
 
 Next came the cup-bearers with wine, 
 Malmsey and golden metheglin, 
 With spice-cake and with wafers fine. 
 This o'er, when surnaps all were drawn, 
 And solemn Grace again was sung, 
 Came golden ewer and bason, borne 
 In state to the high board along. 
 
 VII. 
 
 But at high-tide, ere all was past, 
 Marched the huge wassail-bowl the last, 
 Obedient to the Abbot's call. 
 Borne by the Steward of the hall, 
 The Marshal, with his wand before. 
 And streamers gay and rosemary, 
 And choral carols sounding o'er. 
 'Twas set beside the father's dais, 
 Where oft the Deacon in his place. 
 Who bearer of the Grace-cup was. 
 Filled high the cordial Hippocras 
 From out that bowl of spicery, 
 And served the Abbot on his knee ; 
 Thus sent around to every board 
 This farewell-wassail from his lord. 
 The Abbot, tasting of the wine. 
 Rose from his chair, in wonted sign 
 
THE BANQUET HALL, 15 
 
 The feast was ©""er ; yet stood awhile 
 In cheerful converse, with high guest, 
 Who from the table round him pressed. 
 Then with a kind and gracious smile, 
 The wassail and the board he blessed, 
 Ere yet he left the gorgeous scene, 
 And sought the tranquil shade within. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Here, with proud grace, did Wolsey stand, 
 Signing forth blessings with his hand. 
 And oft the Grace-cup had allowed 
 To move among the willing crowd. 
 Grandeur sat on his steadfast brow, 
 'Mid high Imagination's glow. 
 He seemed to feel himself the lord 
 Of all who sat beside his board. 
 And whether peer, or prince, or king, 
 'Twas meet to him they homage bring ; 
 And homage willed they since his pride 
 Had genius, judgment, taste, for guide. 
 Which held it in such fine control. 
 Pride seemed sublimity of soul. 
 
16 
 
 LORD BYRON. 
 
 Although so much has ah'eady been written 
 about Lord Byron, including the most trivial 
 anecdotes of his childhood, I will venture to let 
 one of mine take its chance with the public, along 
 with its many predecessors, some true, some 
 doubtless fabricated, and if mine lacketh good 
 telling, the truth of it must make amends for the 
 style ; for I have always thought with the great 
 satirist Boileau, 
 
 " II n'y a rien beau que le vrai, le vrai seul est aimable." 
 
 I have already had occasion to speak frequently 
 of his Lordship, and recollections are continually 
 recurring to my mind of by-gone years, when I 
 felt honoured by the notice which he conferred 
 upon me. Yes: I cannot omit this trait of his 
 personal courage, which might have been of 
 very serious consequence; and though it may 
 seem told, merely to introduce his name, nHm- 
 porte^ I shall not hesitate to insert it; having, 
 in fact, been present at the occurrence. In the 
 year 1806, one night in the month of July, I 
 was seated with Lord Byron in the last row of 
 
LORD BYRON. 1*7 
 
 the front boxes, at Coleman's Theatre ; the heat 
 was so intense as to oblige us to keep the box- 
 door open during the intervals of the acts, when 
 a young man, with a blustering air and noli me 
 tangere look, intruded himself on the same seat. 
 As soon as the curtain drew up, his Lordship told 
 him, in a firm yet polite manner, that the box was 
 already full ; he nevertheless tenaciously persisted 
 in keeping his place : some words ensued, but 
 seeing that he was still determined to maintain 
 his position, Lord Byron, being next the door, 
 pushed him sans ceremonie into the lobby. 
 Having watched his behaviour, and hearing him 
 mutter something to himself on this faire reculer, 
 ending with, " I know who you are, I know ;" — 
 I followed him out, and insisted upon his explaining 
 what he meant. " Oh ! you are Angelo," said he, 
 " that taught my brother to fence, and I am an 
 officer," with other bullying expressions. I was 
 by this time surrounded by a number of my 
 friends, who were laughing at the man's arrogance, 
 as if his military rank entitled him to insult me. 
 Considering it as coupled with his insolent intru- 
 sion, and not to be excused by the humiliation 
 of being thrust out of the box, I here demanded 
 
 c 
 
18 WILLIAM THE FOURTH. 
 
 his name, but he endeavoured to evade the 
 question, by quitting the theatre. This, however, 
 did not prevent me from following him into Pall 
 Mall, where, apologizing, by saying that he did 
 not mean to offend me, he informed me that he 
 was a cornet in a regiment of light cavalry, and 
 that his name was Hanson. Some time after- 
 wards, I recollect reading his name in the list of 
 the killed, in an action in Spain ; and I found by 
 my book that his brother had been a scholar of 
 mine, in the city. I have since heard that his 
 father was an orange-merchant. 
 
 WILLIAM THE FOURTH. 
 
 A Striking instance of skilful seamanship in his present 
 Majesty, William the Fourth, when, in the year 1790, 
 his Royal Father's ship, the Valiant, was distinguished by 
 bearing on her books the name of the then Duke of 
 Clarence, as Captain. 
 
 It will appear by the books of the above ship 
 of the line, that, from the 12th of May, 1790, to 
 the 217th of November following, the Illustrious 
 Duke was borne on her books as Captain, and 
 continued on board nearly the whole of that time, 
 cruising in the chops of the Channel, and several 
 leagues to the westward, with a view of exercising 
 
WILLIAM THE FOURTH. 19 
 
 her crew, and giving expertness to such of the 
 people as had newly entered. It may be here 
 observed, that during the preceding period an 
 armament was in progress against Russia, for 
 aggressions in the British district, and seas of 
 Nootka Sound. 
 
 Early in November, the Empress of Russia 
 had the discretion and good sense to authorise 
 her ministers to offer such atoning explanations, 
 and assurances, as led to a termination of all 
 our hostile preparations ; and, in consequence, the 
 Valiant was one of the ships ordered to be paid 
 off, and laid up. As she was at Portsmouth, her 
 Royal Commander received orders to proceed 
 thither. It, however, occurred to his Royal High- 
 ness, upon the approach of the Valiant to the 
 destined port, that, in consequence of sudden 
 unfavourable appearances in the weather, it would 
 be advisable for the ship to proceed through the 
 Needles ; and orders were accordingly issued to 
 that effect : but the Duke having learnt that the 
 master had never taken a ship of the line through 
 that Channel, and had become alarmed at so 
 important a charge (as at that period such an 
 undertaking was deemed), lost not a moment in 
 
20 MEMOIRS OF MONSIEUR DE ST. GEORGE. 
 
 relieving the master from his apprehensions, by- 
 saying, in the presence of the entire ship's com- 
 pany, that he would himself navigate the ship, 
 with the blessing of Providence, to her anchorage. 
 And to the high gratification of the officers and 
 men, the Valiant was ably piloted through the 
 Narrows and brought to her berth at Spithead. 
 
 His Royal Highness soon afterwards departed 
 for London, leave of absence having been lodged 
 with the Port Admiral, the worthy veteran 
 Roddam, who wrote next day to the Earl of 
 Chatham, extolling the skill and conduct of the 
 Royal Seaman, which letter that excellent noble- 
 man communicated immediately afterwards to 
 our then Venerable Monarch, George the 
 Third. 
 
 MEMOIRS OF MONSIEUR DE ST. GEORGE. 
 
 After the flattering encouragement I received 
 from the many who were my late scholars, and 
 pleased with the fencing anecdotes in my " Remi- 
 niscences," already having spoken of the Dieu 
 de Dance Vestris; though " Othello's occupa- 
 tion's gone," still sticking to the shop, I cannot 
 
LIFE OF THE CHEVALIER DE ST. GEORGE. 21 
 
 say too much of the Dieu d'Armes, St. George. 
 Some years ago, having published my Extracts, 
 and the medical opinions on the utility and 
 advantages of Fencing ; although in print, and 
 extinct, except the few copies in possession of 
 those who received them from me. 
 
 The following is a narrative of the Chevalier 
 de St. George, which I sent for purposely, to my 
 friend. Monsieur Saint Ville, at Paris. 
 
 His memoirs cannot fail to be acceptable to those 
 who have only heard of his skill ; but more par- 
 ticularly to the amateurs of the art, the life of a 
 man that was universally admired for his many 
 accomplishments. 
 
 LIFE OF THE CHEVALIER DE ST. GEORGE. 
 
 The Chevalier de St. George was born at 
 Guadaloupe. He was the son of M. de Boulogne, 
 a rich planter in the colony, and who became the 
 more fond of him as he was the result of an illicit 
 connexion, by no means uncommon in the West 
 Indies. His mother was a negress, and was 
 known under the name of the handsome Nanon. 
 She was justly considered as one of the finest 
 women that Africa had ever sent to the planta- 
 
%% LIFE OF THE CHEVALIER DE ST. GEORGE. 
 
 tions. The Chevalier de St. George united in his 
 own person the grace and features of his mother, 
 with the strength and firmness of M. de Boulogne. 
 The youth's vigour was highly pleasing to the 
 father, who frequently laughed, and said he thought 
 to have produced a man, but in fact he had pro- 
 duced a sparrow. This sparrow, however, grew 
 into an eagle. No man ever united so much 
 suppleness to so much strength. He excelled in 
 all the bodily exercises in which he engaged — an 
 excellent swimmer and skaiter. He has been 
 frequently known to swim over the Seine with 
 one arm, and to surpass others by his agility upon 
 its surface in the winter. He was a skilful horse- 
 man, and remarkable shot — he rarely missed his 
 aim when his pistol was once before the mark. 
 His talents in music unfolded themselves rapidly ; 
 but the art in which he surpassed all his cotempo- 
 raries and predecessors, was fencing : no professor 
 or amateur ever showed so much accuracy, such 
 strength, such length of lunge, and such quickness. 
 His attacks were a perpetual series of hits; his 
 parade was so close that it was in vain to attempt to 
 touch him — ^in short, he was all nerve. St. George 
 had not attained his 21st year when his father 
 proposed him to go to Rouen, and to fence with 
 
LIFE OF THE CHEVALIER DE ST. GEORGE. 23 
 
 M. Picard, a fencing master of that place, with a 
 promise, that if he beat him he should have, on 
 his return, a little horse and a pretty cabriolet. 
 Like Caesar, he came, saw, and conquered, and 
 St. George had his cabriolet. This Picard had 
 been formerly in the army, and harangued very 
 foolishly against the science. St. George, whom 
 he called the Mulatto of Laboissiere, would, he 
 publicly asserted, soon give way to him ; but he 
 was mistaken, for Laboissiere's pupil beat him 
 with ease. 
 
 M. de Boulogne survived but a short time this 
 first triumph of his son ; he left him an annuity of 
 7 or 8000 francs, and an adequate pension to his 
 handsome Nanon, whom he brought to Paris. The 
 remainder of his immense fortune went to a 
 daughter of his, by a Creole woman : but the 
 various talents of St. George were like a mine of 
 gold ; he might have amassed considerable wealth, 
 if he had united prudence to his other qualities. 
 He was very liberal in money matters, and indulged 
 freely in all the pleasures which then made Paris 
 such a delightful residence : he mixed in every 
 circle, and yet seemed to neglect nothing. His 
 concertos, symphonies, quartettos, and some comic 
 
24 LIFE OF THE CHEVALIER BE ST. GEORGE. 
 
 operas, are the best proofs of his extraordinary 
 progress in music. Though he was very young, 
 he was at the head of the concert of annateurs ; 
 he conducted the orchestras of Madame de Mon- 
 tesson, and the Marquis of Montalembert. 
 
 In 1779 he was received as an inmate in the 
 house of the Duke of Orleans, and held the rank 
 of Lieutenant de Chasse de Pinci ; he lost this 
 place at the Duke's death : — this post of honour 
 and of profit was obtained by St. George through 
 no mean intrigue — no underhand proceedings. 
 The loss was serious to him, and he felt it, and he 
 was reduced again to apply himself to his favourite 
 art. He came to London, and had the honour of 
 fencing before His Royal Highness the Regent, 
 with Fabian, a celebrated professor at Paris, and 
 thrusting Carte and Tierce with Madame le 
 Chevalier D'Eon. He returned to this country in 
 1780, and was again received by His Royal High- 
 ness at Brighton, and went to London, under an 
 idea of establishing himself in this country ; but 
 his plans were so badly laid, that he was altogether 
 unsuccessful. 
 
 On his return to France, it was with difficulty 
 he could avoid uniting in that astonishing impulse. 
 
CONTRIVANCE. 25 
 
 which then animated twenty millions of people. 
 He went with the torrent, and was soon elevated 
 by the prevailing party to a very high rank in the 
 revolutionary army. He was presented with the 
 colonelcy of a regiment of Hussars, and in this 
 character served under General Dumourier, in 
 Brabant ; but St. George, who was perfectly 
 ignorant of the details of a military life, became a 
 victim of the intrigues and arts of individuals. 
 His regiment charged, and, notwithstanding its 
 bravery, was overpowered by the number and 
 discipline of their opponents. He was defeated, 
 and his first steps in the career of glory were the 
 area of his downfall. He never after held up 
 his head. 
 
 The Chevalier de St. George died at Paris, in 
 1810 or 1811, regretted by his friends, and by the 
 few who know how to feel for, or excuse, the 
 imperfections of humanity — qualities from which 
 none of us can hope to be exempt. 
 
 CONTRIVANCE. 
 
 Resuming my pen again about fencing, a few 
 words of a contrivance, un jeu convenue, 
 
26 CONTRIVANCE. 
 
 between a late fencing-master here, named God- 
 dard, though his merits (we both practised at the 
 same time together at Paris) were not to be dis- 
 puted as an instructor, yet, to excel all his com- 
 petitors, not contented at his return to this country 
 when boasting his superiority to all others in the 
 profession ; his puffs in the papers, assuming the 
 name of Piecass (French charlatanerie), the better 
 to attract the attention of John Bull, but he must 
 fence with St. George, publicly challenging him in 
 the newspapers, exciting that curiosity, and to 
 give tclat to the assaut, the Pantheon was an- 
 nounced for their meeting. I should first premise, 
 previous to the time of the contrivance, St. 
 George on his second visit to this country, what 
 with the expenses at the time, living in ex- 
 travagance at Grenier's Hotel, Jermyn Street (so 
 few then in London), which was as fashionable as 
 the Clarendon, at the time surrounded with fencers 
 of all descriptions, amateurs, masters, flatterers 
 (many depending on his liberality), fiddlers in- 
 cluded, their continual reception at his table, and 
 that profusion of Champagne, Burgundy, &c. — so 
 reduced, and not able to continue his prodigality. 
 Not a doubt existed but Goddard's proposal (with 
 
CONTRIVANCE. 27 
 
 the expectation of promoting this business) that 
 the money received at the door (tickets half a 
 guinea each), and the money of those who had pre- 
 viously, out of curiosity, with their guineas visited 
 him for a ticket, he (St. George) was to possess 
 the whole, well accounts for what followed ; the 
 hits were to be equal, making it appear their 
 abilities were the same. The day fixed, and the 
 room crowded, " impatient for the pay." Myself 
 a spectator, I trust, professionally speaking, my 
 opinion may have some little weight, however 
 I might have bowed to St. George's superior 
 judgment. Not one of those subterfuges, or false 
 attacks, which I have taught during fifty years, the 
 fausse attaque to discover your adversary's inten- 
 tions, that instruction which emanated from my 
 father and the first fencing master at Paris, it 
 appeared to me St. George, from the commencing 
 of the assaut, never once adopted ; on the con- 
 trary, suffered Goddard to stretch out his arms, 
 instead of defending himself. Had he waited but 
 half a second, other resources might have deranged 
 his opponent, ihefraissementi coup de Jhuet, etc., 
 which he avoided, and, to my utter astonishment, 
 the umpires decided the fencing match — Hits 
 
sill THOMAS LAWRENCE. 
 
 equal — Partie egale. St. George neglected, on his 
 first allongement, the great advantage, " such a 
 length of lunge " (as mentioned in his memoirs), 
 that extension, his adversary so inferior in size, he 
 must have been out of measure. In fact, after the 
 remarks I have made, as far as my opinion may 
 agree with amateurs or instructors of the science, 
 little doubt appeared to me, but, that from the first 
 attack to the last, the whole was a contrivance ; 
 the ambition of one, and the hisoin of the other, 
 speaks for itself. The next day St. George left 
 London to return to the continent. I need not 
 say, as long as fencing is considered the science of 
 attack and defence, it is the person attacked to 
 defend himself, especially if opposed to a sword. 
 To stretch out his arm then, he must be fool-hardy 
 indeed, to have recourse to such an alternative. 
 
 SIR THOMAS LAWRENCE. 
 
 Soon after his arrival in London, from the 
 intimacy subsisting between his family and 
 Mrs. Lindley, I had an opportunity of intro- 
 ducing Sir Thomas to my father. Young Law- 
 rence had a peculiar mildness in his deportment 
 
SIR THOMAS LAWRENCE. Xy 
 
 and manners, which was irresistibly pleasing. 
 Mrs. Lindley often brought with her a sister of 
 his, a beautiful girl of about seventeen. I met 
 the then Mr. Lawrence, some twenty years after 
 the period mentioned, at the house of a Mr. 
 Malton, where we spent the evening, and where 
 the great artist sang a duet in a most amoroso 
 and affetuoso style, with a very lovely young 
 lady (now living), who seemed to attract him 
 very much, if one might judge par le langage 
 des yeux. Mr. Malton was a celebrated instruc- 
 tor in perspective, and lived in the neighbour- 
 hood of Covent Garden. Some time after this, 
 Sir Thomas applied to me, to give him lessons 
 for exercise, when I resided near Soho Square ; 
 but the time was not fixed, and the lessons never 
 took place. Two or three summers ago I paid 
 him a visit in Russell Square, and remained 
 with him half an hour ; I reminded him of our 
 meeting at Malton's, and of the duet sung so 
 completely con amore, at which he laughed 
 heartily ; it was indeed all amour et tendresse, but 
 
 Si I'amour passe avec le temps, 
 Le temps passe avec Tamour. 
 
 Talking of the race of time, mine has been a 
 
30 SIR THOMAS LAWBENCE. 
 
 long one, yet it seems but of a day ; how rapidly 
 in succession do the weeks, months, and years, 
 pass, and though long in prospect, how short in 
 the retrospect ! And such is life ! — and I am 
 to-day old Angelo, whose father was old Angelo 
 a few seasons back, and yet we all talk of 
 killing time, whilst time is killing us. 
 
 SIR THOMAS LAWRENCE. 
 
 LETTER FROM J. HEATH, ESQ. 
 
 My dear Sir, — I will give you, as you desire, 
 the particulars of my acquaintance with Mr. 
 Lawrence. When I first knew him he was a 
 boy with his hair about his shoulders, and I 
 believe near eighteen years of age. We lived 
 very near each other, he in Leicester Fields, and 
 I in Leicester Street. We saw each other several 
 times a week. During our acquaintance I fre- 
 quently remonstrated with him about his paint- 
 ing nothing but little crayon portraits, for which 
 he received five guineas a piece. He said he was 
 perfectly contented, as he had as many to do as 
 he wished. But one morning he called on me, 
 and said he had something to show me which he 
 thought would please me, and upon going to his 
 
CHARLES MACKLIN. 31 
 
 lodgings he surprised me with a portrait of him- 
 self, done in oil, as large as life. I expressed 
 myself much pleased, and promised him a sitter, 
 a Mr. Dansey — who at my recommendation sat 
 to him ; and this was the first portrait he ever 
 painted in oil. It was so well done, that it was 
 universally admired, and he promised me that 
 he never would paint another picture in crayons, 
 which promise he faithfully performed. He 
 then told me he could not draw the human 
 figure, upon which I recommended a master, 
 who afterwards attended twice or thrice a 
 week, till he thought himself quite completed. 
 He then painted a picture of Homer reading his 
 verses to the Greeks, after which he rose to 
 such eminence as to be patronised by the King, 
 and visited almost all parts of Europe, to paint 
 the Pope, and the different monarchs of Europe. 
 
 JAMES HEATH. 
 
 CHARLES MACKLIN. 
 
 In the fashion of his day, this Veteran directed 
 his satire against the natives of Scotland ; and 
 in two dramatic characters, Sir Archy M'Syco- 
 phant and Sir Pertinax, he has attributed to 
 
32 CHARLES MACKLTN. 
 
 them, with little consistency, a love of sarcasm , 
 and the practice of sycophancij. In whatev^er 
 proportion the Scottish mail of the world may 
 possess or practise these qualities, Macklin 
 himself was wholly addicted to sarcasm. — 
 Where he for a moment intended to flatter, 
 some unlucky word or other defeated his de- 
 sign ; his nature prevailed against his inte- 
 rest, his praise became ironical, and his very 
 preference suspected. I am about to relate one 
 of his attempts to minister the " sweet poison 
 of the age's tooth," to no less a man than David 
 Garrick. But in order to do this with suitable 
 effect, I must recal from the partial oblivion 
 which near a century has thrown upon it, the 
 fact, that the Shylock of Shakspeare, Charles 
 Macklin, in the year 1754, established in the 
 Piazza, Covent Garden, an Ordinary and School 
 of Criticism under the same roof. In the former, 
 he brought in the first dish himself, placed it 
 upon the table, and profoundly bowing to his 
 guests, retreated to the side-board ; then, by 
 signs, he directed his dumb waiters, who never 
 spoke but to answer a question from one of the 
 guests. On the removal of the cloth, and the 
 
CHARLES MACKLTN. 38 
 
 covering the table with the bottles and glasses, 
 Macklin himself tied a bell-rope to the arm 
 of the president's chair, and, again bowing 
 profoundly to the company, quitted the room, 
 leaving them to the enjoyment of their port or 
 claret. The charge for each guest was three 
 shillings. As soon as the dinner was served, the 
 outer door was closed. Here the great actor was 
 nothing more than the head servant, and as 
 such, he appeared with the servile badge, a 
 clean napkin, crossing his left arm. 
 
 But, in whatever changes he may indulge, the 
 actor's pride is in strict preservation of character. 
 The quondam professor of silent obedience soon, 
 in turn, imposed silence upon his guests; and in 
 full dress became himself the orator of what was 
 called the British Inquisition. Of the peripa- 
 tetic school, Macklin now assumed to be the 
 modern Aristotle, and to lecture upon the 
 Drama, ancient and modern, though of either 
 Greek or Latin he was entirely ignorant ; and, as 
 he read no language but his own, he was unable 
 to acquire even the imperfect acquaintance with 
 antiquity, that French translation placed within 
 the reach of the polite. From Dennis and Dryden, 
 
84 CHARLES MACKLIN. 
 
 however, something was to be picked up. Shak- 
 speare he may be presumed to have read, as 
 players commonly read him, in the interpolated 
 copies ; but as to his fables, Mrs. Lenox had, the 
 very year before he started, published two volumes, 
 containing the novels and histories on which 
 his plays had been founded, with her own 
 critical and not very gentle remarks. Yet these, 
 with a confident brow, an emphatic utterance, 
 the practice of public speaking, and an established 
 reputation, kept the young Templars for some 
 time in hopes of improvement, and the tavern 
 dreamers in the notion of his authority, upon 
 all subjects at least connected with the stage. 
 
 And now we are arrived at the moment to 
 relate our incident. The rival Romeos of 
 Garrick and Barry had shaken the scenic world 
 to the very centre ; and, though the public contest 
 had dropt, the critical strife was likely long to 
 continue. Macklin, mfact, had been the adviser 
 of Barry, in his desertion of Garrick, and the 
 competition between them ; and, as his country- 
 man and sworn friend, is likely to have really 
 preferred the more material requisites of Barry, 
 his beautiful person and harmonious voice, to the 
 
CHARLES MACKLIN. 35 
 
 energy and consummate professional skill of Mr. 
 Garrick. But he took an opportunity to com- 
 municate to the little manager that he was at 
 length in a station which enabled him at orice to 
 close all debate upon the subject of the Romeos, 
 and decide the point for ever in Mr. Garrick's 
 favour. " Eh! Ho W ?" exclaimed Garrick, " my 
 dear Mack — Eh ! how can you contrive to bring 
 this about?"—" Sir," returned Macklin, " the 
 British Inquisition shall settle the matter ; I 
 shall discuss the play." — " Why, eh ! to be sure, 
 my dear Mack, no man in the world can be more 
 competent than yourself to do this; but I don't 
 conceive the mode exactly of exhibiting the — the 
 differences of conception and manner!" — " I'll 
 tell you. Sir," rejoined the critic, " I mean to 
 show your very different deportment and utter- 
 ance in the Garden Scene ; — the Garden Scene 
 itself is decisive of the whole business. Barry 
 comes into it. Sir, as a great Lord, swaggering 
 about his love, and talking so loud, that, by G — , 
 Sir, if we don't suppose the servants of the 
 Capulet family almost dead with sleep, they must 
 have come out, and tossed the fellow in a 
 blanket." — " To be sure," said Garrick. 
 
36 
 
 SELFISH. 
 
 ^' Well, Sir, having fixed the attention of my 
 auditors to this part, then, I shall ask them — ' But 
 how does Garrick act this ? ' Why, Sir, sensible 
 that the family of the Capulets are at enmity with 
 him, and all his house, he comes in creeping upon 
 his toes, whispering his love, and cautiously look- 
 ing about \\va\,just like a thief in the night r 
 
 At this unlucky illustration, Garrick could hold 
 no longer. He thanked Macklin for his good 
 intentions, but begged he would decline his 
 purpose ; " it might seem invidious to poor 
 Barry ; and besides, after all, was it not a ques- 
 tion better left to the decision of an audience in 
 the theatre, than to become the subject of a 
 lecture, however able the Professor?" 
 
 That Macklin enjoyed this, I know, for he used 
 to tell the story. 
 
 POWDEN. 
 
 SELFISH. 
 
 Like the too many frequenters of the Theatre, 
 whose prepossession and partiality for the old 
 school, they consider the present inferior. Howr 
 ever, I may fancy myself competent, from long 
 
SELFISH. 37 
 
 experience, of comparatively expressing my opinion. 
 Residing these last twelve years far distant from 
 the seat of amusements, lost to the " mirror up 
 to nature " — eminent as those performers of the 
 day ; deprived as I have been of that gratification 
 (free of the Theatres) when an evening seldom 
 intervened that I was absent ; recollection now 
 is only left me of those bright stars that once 
 shined : though I was young at the time, yet my 
 memory has not failed me. Referring, first, to 
 that great planet, Garrick — 
 
 " A Garrick's excellence engaged his lays, 
 
 " And claimed the fairest wreath of critic praise." 
 
 CHURCHILL. 
 
 I may venture to affirm, from Lear to Abel Drug- 
 ger, I have seen him in all his characters, to his 
 final conge, Powell's Castalio, Barry's Romeo, 
 Woodward's Bobadil, Mrs. Yates's Lady Macbeth, 
 Mrs. Crawford's Lady Randolph and Alicia, 
 Mrs. Clive's Kitty, in High Life below Stairs. 
 These I mention as seniors, previous to the many 
 others that followed, who were the favourites of 
 the day, eminent as they were, not forgetting 
 King's Lord Ogilvie.' I may never expect to 
 " look on the like again." 
 
THE KEEP LINE CLUB. 
 
 At the Keep Line Club, so often mentioned 
 by Reynolds, in his " Life and Times," Fitz- 
 gerald, the patriot poet, so admirably shown up in 
 the Rejected Addresses, made a very conspicuous 
 figure. One of this gentleman's earliest produc- 
 tions was his Prologue to Morton's Drama of 
 Columbus, with which, as with most other of 
 his lucubrations, he was himself so well satisfied, 
 that he was long in the habit of reciting it to all 
 companies, and on all occasions. This was very 
 well once in a way ; but his prose contributions to 
 the " Keep the Line " were of a much more for- 
 midable character ; and Angelo, who liked a little 
 of " the Table Talk " to himself, was sometimes 
 tempted to break the line, steer a-head of him in 
 his awful career, and pour in a broadside of raillery, 
 for the protection of the rest of the party, which 
 Fitzgerald returned with more weight of metal, 
 though his guns were not so sharply served. 
 This at all events operated a diversion, in every 
 sense of the word, and the dialogue certainly 
 went off with more applause than the poet's 
 monologue. When the latter, however, which 
 
CHARLES LAMB. 39 
 
 was sometimes the case, became irritable and per- 
 sonal, the Fencer generally closed the contest, 
 exclaiming, " Well, never mind, Fitz, keep your 
 temper, and tip us the Prologue to Columbus." 
 
 KENNEY. 
 
 THE LATE MR. HOLCROFT 
 
 Was an excellent reader of his plays, and 
 always believed that he should have succeeded as 
 an actor. Asking Lewis, if he remembered him 
 on the stage, and what was his success ; " I 
 remember him," said Lewis, " only when acting 
 with him, as the original representative of Figaro, 
 in his own play of the ' Follies of a Day,' on which 
 occasion, at the fall of the curtain, old Harris 
 came up with great good humour, and shaking 
 him by the hand, said, ' I give you joy, the play 
 has got over your acting, and nothing can give a 
 stronger proof of its intrinsic merits.' " 
 
 KENNEY. 
 
 CHARLES LAMB, 
 
 Whose ready wit and rich vein of humour are 
 well known, was staying at Paris, with his friend 
 
40 
 
 CHARLES LAMB. 
 
 Kennej, when Talma invited them, with Howard 
 Payne, to come and see an original picture of 
 Shakspeare, on an old pair of bellows, which he 
 had purchased for a thousand francs, and which 
 proved to be a well-known imposture, of which 
 the great tragedian had recently become the 
 victim. After admiring his supposed acquisition, 
 the party announced their intention of seeing him 
 that evening, in the play of Regulus, and invited 
 him to sup with them afterwards, to which he 
 assented. Lamb, however, could not at all enter 
 into the spirit of French acting, and in his 
 general distaste made no exception in favour of 
 his intended guest. This, however, did not pre- 
 vent their mutual and high relish of each other's 
 character and conversation, nor was any allusion 
 made to the performance, till, on rising to go. 
 Talma inquired, '* how he liked it ? " Lamb 
 shook his head, and smiled. '' Ah !" said Talma, 
 " I was not very happy to-night ; you must see 
 me in Sylla." — " Incidit in Scyllam," said Lamb, 
 " qui vult vitare Charybdim." — " Ah ! you are a 
 rogue ; you are a great rogue," said Talma, 
 shaking him cordially by the hand, as they parted. 
 We cannot paint the good-natured tone and look. 
 
GEORGE COLMAN. 
 
 41 
 
 which took all sting out of this joke, as it does 
 out of all others uttered by the same distin- 
 guished humorist. 
 
 KENNEY. 
 
 GEORGE COLMAN. 
 
 On a ramble with Jack Bannister and George 
 Colman, we passed an evening at the Castle at 
 Richmond. After supper, Colman, inquiring of 
 the waiter about his master, was informed, that 
 very day he had hung himself in the cellar. Though 
 my endeavours were often very inferior at a pun, 
 I could not help saying, " Very low, very low 
 indeed !" When to my surprise, he laughed, at the 
 same time observing — "That's not bad, Angelo!" 
 Ever since, I have occasionally made an attempt 
 to pun ; and what is far from encouraging to my 
 attempts, have often been obliged to explain them. 
 When looking for a laugh, not the least notice ! 
 However, I have this comfort left — I can boast 
 that I have often excited the smiles of Lord 
 Byron, who was most pleased with those which 
 he said were " far-fetched." 
 
4S 
 
 REPARTEE. 
 
 Whether wit, pun, or repartee, if not in print, 
 to those that never heard the anecdote lately told 
 me, I leave it for their perusal. At a fete given by 
 our late Majesty George the Fourth, the costume 
 as w^orn at the coronation, on that occasion, was 
 introduced. George Colman, who was one of the 
 Exons of the King's guards, his dress so adorned, 
 attracted the notice of the Duke of Wellington, 
 who laughing, said, " Why, Colman, you look like 
 Pam." — " Do I, your Grace ? then, / am the hero 
 of Loor 
 
 THE MINUET. 
 
 Referring to the old school. Of the many 
 changes, the present is now considered superior ; 
 though but few years have intervened, I cannot 
 omit alluding to the gentlemen of the pump — 
 dancing masters. Considering my late profession 
 not only as a science, but personal improvement, 
 promoting the expansion of the chest, the graceful 
 attitudes of the form, whilst it gives motion and 
 activity to every part of the body — speaking 
 
THE MINUET. 4S 
 
 technically of the beneficial effects, not merely as 
 an accomplishment ; such an inducement was 
 my sheet anchor, I experienced, during fifty years. 
 Universally patronised by the nobility and gentry, 
 and, if in quoting Lord Chesterfield, in his letters to 
 his son, I may be acquitted of vanterie puffing 
 my late profession, though now long independent, 
 having grounded my arms — " I am very glad 
 you have taken a fencing master; that exercise 
 will give you some manly, firm, and graceful 
 attitudes, open your chest, place your head 
 upright, and plant you well on your legs." 
 
 However I may give offence to the Artistes of 
 the " fantastic toe," a new term adopted by the 
 French, Following their example here, a seller of 
 oysters, in large letters, calls himself a purveyor; 
 so is a cook-shop, to any passer by. Having, as 
 well as my father to his late Majesty, when 
 Prince of Wales, shown some hundreds how to 
 make their bow, little practised now, a sailor's shake 
 by the hand being more preferable, particularly 
 to the ladies, the squeeze, "How are you?" the 
 general salutation. After what I have seen of 
 the present system, though not an artiste (the toe 
 no compliment to the brush), it appears to me the 
 reverse to those advantages ; dancing would give a 
 
44 AN OLD ACQUAINT A XCE. 
 
 finish, united with fencing — both accomplishments. 
 As to the curtsey, I cannot but remark, instead of 
 the body erect, the shoulders back. Madam, or 
 Miss, stooping forward, with her arms extended, 
 holding her gown, one leg at a distance behind the 
 other, almost to the ground, makes her revef^ence. 
 As to the minuets I have seen at the dancing 
 masters' balls, the boarding school fry, from 
 the position of their arms, that distance holding 
 their dress from them, the more they must con- 
 tract their shoulders. Is this graceful ? Is it not 
 contrary to improve the shapes, or open the 
 chest ? I should be sorry to offend the gentlemen 
 of the I^it; but whilst no blame can possibly be 
 attached to them, obliged as they are to follow the 
 fashion of the day, probably the novelty intro- 
 duced by some of the Corps de Ballet here, 
 besides pleasing the papas and mamas. How- 
 ever I may be considered no Jbil to the artistes 
 of Terpsichore, they cannot deny, but the fencing 
 master's opinions are pointed. 
 
 AN OLD ACaUAINTANCE. 
 
 On a visit lately to Brighton, I was agreeably 
 surprised at meeting an old acquaintance, I had 
 instructed above forty years ago, at the late 
 
AN OLD ACaUAINTANCE. 45 
 
 Doctor Burney's, who at that time had an 
 academy at Hammersmith, called Fairlawn House. 
 When I mention the name of Barrett, those of 
 the last century, who have either frequented Bath 
 or Brighton, must recognise the name as that of the 
 child of nature, or more appropriately as Lubin. 
 His general knowledge was great, having, when a 
 pedestrian, visited the first courts in Europe, and 
 obtained various acquirements, speaking fluently 
 the different languages. His company was uni- 
 versally courted ; having known him from his 
 youth, though the traits of his character then 
 might appear eccentric, still, to do him justice, 
 it was a proof of his perseverance to excel in 
 improving his mind, as well as his accomplish- 
 ments. At the time (then growing to manhood) 
 when he was at the Doctor's, who, after Parr, was 
 considered with George Glass the two best Gre- 
 cians, not content with one good master, certain 
 days in the week he left his Omega at school to 
 learn new derivations in London from another. 
 After the erudite abilities of the names of Burney, 
 the Tourist, the Grecian, and Novelist, my feelings 
 caused no alarm ; however proud I may have been 
 of my name, which to many, looking up to their's. 
 
46 
 
 AN OLD ACaUAINTANCE. 
 
 have been a "tower of strength," a father's pre- 
 vious abilities, the son following his profession. 
 Like Dr. Burney's scholar, so it was with me ; my 
 instruction alone was not sufficient ; the fencing 
 schools in town were such inducements, my 
 lessons were not enough to keep him to myself. 
 At that time there were many academies (previous 
 to the Revolution), continual new visitors making 
 their dehut, soi-disant fencers of the premiere force 
 from Paris, merely les oiseaux de passage, w ho, 
 boasted of their abilities ; my young elhve was the 
 first in these schools to put their abilities to the test, 
 especially at Olivier's, who taught in Bell-yard, 
 Lincoln's Inn, a favourite with the benchers, v/here 
 he was much encouraged. Lord Macdonald 
 (who for years attended mine) was considered the 
 strongest fencer, and occasionally exhibited an 
 assaut to the visitors ; his lordship was above six 
 feet, and a difficult antagonist (un pen baroque). 
 On those occasions, Barrett was always his oppo- 
 nent ; yet, whatever his pursuits were to improve 
 himself abroad, nevertheless, he was a constant 
 attendant to my fencing room, at that time at the 
 Opera House, a favourite with all, where Sir 
 Francis Burdett gave him the preference, and who 
 
AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE. 4T 
 
 was the best fencer I ever instructed, particu- 
 larly for that coolness and presence of mind so 
 very necessary when depending on science and 
 judgment. When opposed to these vaunting 
 foreigners, with their fanfaronade, and inti- 
 midating noises, nothing could flurry him, or 
 put him off his guard ; and though not from 
 quickness, but skill, few were able to cope with 
 him, leaving no great proof of their premiere 
 force. My old scholar Barrett, still retaining 
 that activity and strength, which years ago 
 gave him such superiority, was as anxious as 
 myself to engage with these grands tireurs, from 
 the grand metropolis. However their abilities 
 (some excellent fencers) might have entitled them 
 to encouragement, their dissipated conduct, their 
 extravagance, was such, that few remained here 
 long enough to establish themselves ; and the 
 French revolution following, those that remained, 
 as aliens, were sent to the right about, leaving me 
 the champs de bataille to myself; and I may 
 venture to say, I kept it till the year 1S21, when 
 I then grounded my arms. Le rideau est tomM, 
 " Othello's occupation's gone." My father, when 
 in his eighty-sixth year, but a few days before his 
 
48 AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE. 
 
 decease, gave lessons. Could / have continued to 
 this time, though my health is good, yet many are 
 the advantages I have been deprived of promoting 
 it, forbid ever to use that exercise again. I did 
 hope to follow my father's example, " H^las ! on 
 n'est pas heros partout." Whilst I was at Brigh- 
 ton, my friend informed me that Mr. Leslie, who, 
 in my opinion (for many years past he preferred 
 my room to practise in, having received his pre- 
 vious instructions at Brussels), was by far the best 
 fencer there, both for science and quickness, and 
 with that calmness, the more hits his opponents 
 received, the more his sang-froid displeased them, 
 some en tHe fancying themselves his equal, 
 during the time he was at Brighton with Sir 
 Michael Stewart, encouraging the exercise there. 
 Sir Michael, when a boy, having been my scholar, 
 and following it up since, whose excellence not 
 only with the foil but the Scotch broadsword, 
 was always a great acquisition to my academy. 
 These two gentlemen forming a party, with my 
 singular eleve^ they occasionally met to fence 
 together, and to keep up the science, setting the 
 example to the many who, though they may have 
 had the best masters — it is not merely the lesson 
 
AN OLD ACaUAINTANCE. 49 
 
 can make them excel, without the absolute neces- 
 sity of keeping up the practice, at the same time 
 promoting that health, which otherwise they 
 might be deprived of, without that sudorific pro- 
 duced by the foil in preference to master Galen. 
 
 Hearing that a Monsieur Micheles, fencing 
 master at Brighton, was patronised by Mr. Leslie, 
 to me was a sufficient estimation of his abili- 
 ties ; and being informed he was much taken 
 notice of by the nobility and gentry there. 
 Desirous to be introduced to him, my friend took me 
 to his house, where, after a civil reception, having 
 been previously informed of my intended visit, he 
 exhibited before me, fleuret a la main ; not with 
 one of his scholars, or inferior antagonists, but with 
 a French amateur, whose scientific knowledge and 
 execution must have been acquired from long 
 practice abroad. Pleased, seeing the correctness 
 and science of the old school , the veritable attack 
 and defence, if not so strictly attended to now, no 
 disparagement to the efforts of the present school, 
 when some learn for a few months, only because it 
 is genteel, and they have had the first masters ; 
 some for a good sweat, and, like the school boy, 
 impatient to read before he can say his ABC, 
 
50 AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE, 
 
 fence loose before they can thrust carte and 
 tierce; no wonder they are ferailleurs, far 
 different to those who, not only learn for amuse- 
 ment, but, strictly attending to the master, become 
 scientific and good swordsmen. As I have as yet 
 said very little of the art, my intention being to 
 write more at a future time, I cannot refrain from 
 mentioning one of my former scholars, who had 
 practised at my room for a number of years, 
 adopting a method peculiar only to himself, and 
 very unpleasant to those he fenced with. Not 
 succeeding in his attack, sooner than defend him- 
 self (no matter if he is hit) against the tisposte 
 (return), instead of replacing himself on his 
 defence, kept pushing (more appropriate poking) 
 on. This is not the science of the attack and 
 defence, and quite the reverse to the use of the 
 sword. If I have been prolix, dwelling so much 
 on my late shop, I trust those who read my opin- 
 ions will excuse my pen wandering, referring to 
 those days when I had the general esteem and 
 friendly notice of my scholars ; it was not my pen 
 then, but " my voice is in my sword." Referring to 
 Monsieur Micheles ; on taking my leave, he would 
 not suffer me to depart, without first partaking 
 
AN OLD ACaUAINTANCE. 51 
 
 of a goute with him, when we were all ushered 
 up stairs, where I found a table set out, with 
 a large Perigord French pie, and different sorts 
 of wine, when the foil gave way to ihe four chette ; 
 the latter, if not so quick, not a little in motion, 
 assisted by the exertion of the former, to promote 
 the appetite. After, coffee, and chasse cafe 
 liqueurs, beholding his portrait in a costly 
 hussar dress, covered with silver, and the cross of 
 the Legion d'honneur, I was informed he had been 
 a captain in Buonaparte's guard ; and judging from 
 his affable manners, and his civilities to me, the 
 more I was pleased with my introduction, and 
 at passing such a morning's agreeable lounge so 
 unexpectedly. In mentioning my recollections of 
 many years ago, what I have said of my accom- 
 plished friend, his indefatigable perseverance to 
 improve his mind and his person (no compliment 
 either to the Grecian savant^ or his fencing 
 master), I should hope, knowing his goodness 
 of heart, he cannot be offended with me. His 
 father, whom I had long known, and had often 
 seen at my house, having formerly been an officer 
 in the blues, was considered one of the first 
 horsemen of the regiment, and a strong fencer, 
 
5» MORE BEEFSTEAKS. 
 
 was not without peculiarities, as well as the son. 
 Often when attending my schools, at the time he 
 resided at Knightsbridge, I have seen him walking 
 to town followed by four dogs, his attachment to 
 one having originated in saving his life, when 
 attacked by a midnight assassin ; and, strange as 
 it n^ay appear, I have heard that, at his decease, 
 he left 40/. per annum for their maintenance. 
 
 MORE BEEFSTEAKS. 
 
 During the short interval that Louis XVIII. 
 returned to France, I passed a few days at Brigh- 
 ton. Dining one day in the coffee room, facing 
 where the packet from Dieppe anchored, four 
 Englishmen entered, who had just landed from 
 the vessel, after damning the French parlez-vous 
 and their country, saying that they had been 
 starved ; impatient for their dinners, first calling 
 for pots of porter, desired to have plenty of beef- 
 steaks ; this was about seven in the evening. 
 Having dined, and drank my coffee previous to 
 taking my walk, I was pleased to listen to their 
 uncouth remarks of what they had seen, and waited 
 till their beefsteaks appeared ; when on the table, I 
 
HEWARDINE. 5S 
 
 left them silent, no longer abusing the mounseers 
 and their damned maigre soups, their voracious 
 appetites " eager for the fray." It appeared 
 the excursion they had made did not exceed 
 Dieppe, remaining there only till the packet 
 returned. Leaving them to take my evening 
 promenade, at my return, an hour after, I 
 found them still calling out, " Are the beefsteaks 
 coming ? " Travelling often may create an appe- 
 tite, but not to be compared with such complaining 
 John Bulls, " as if increase of appetite had grown 
 on what it fed on" — beefsteaks. After dinner, I 
 left them singing — " Oh the roast beef of Old 
 England!" 
 
 HEWARDINE, 
 
 With whom I have passed many a pleasant and 
 convivial hour, and having professionally en ami 
 obliged him. However, his songs a la Morris 
 proved lucrative to him, and amusing to the many 
 who have listened to them. He voluntarily offered 
 to write one for me, as a select and exclusive, 
 that no person should sing it, first, but myself. 
 Leaving me the choice of the air, I fixed on 
 
54 
 
 CHARLES DIBDIN. 
 
 " Poll, dang it how do ye do?" the Sailor-boy 
 capering on shore. The following week I was to 
 have it, when, alas ! poor fellow, he was no more. 
 His social company — his humour — and courted 
 society, that dissipation exceeding his stamina, 
 and no resolution to recruit it, by absence from 
 those who gratified their own amusement, hastened 
 him, at an early age, to his grave. 
 
 CHARLES DIBl^IJJ. 
 
 Some little distance beyond Bear Hill, where 
 the late Duke of Kent once resided, Dibdin had 
 his country house, where John Bannister and 
 myself passed our evenings. This was during 
 his summer residence. Till supper, I was amused 
 hearing some of his new compositions, preparatory 
 to his exhibiting them at his theatre in Leicester 
 Street. It was in his summer-house he told us 
 that " Poor Jack," and the greater part of his 
 favourite songs, were composed. His harpsichord, 
 I think, he told us, belonged to Handel. After 
 supper, the song following, when it came to my 
 turn, jiar complaiscmce to our musical host, I 
 
SIR VICARY GIBBS. 55 
 
 sang " Meg of Wapping," and occasionally was 
 favoured with his smiles ; however my endeavours 
 might have failed, rCimporte, it was his composition. 
 My friend Bannister, who was in high spirits, and 
 who had kept us the whole evening amused with 
 his drollery and imitations, sang the " Rushlight," 
 then the favourite comic song of the day, written 
 by Colman. However diverting were Dibdin's 
 ballads, for eccentric humour they were not to be 
 compared to the ridiculous idea of putting out a 
 candle, by which Bannister had so often created 
 such roars of laughter, in the different attempts, 
 holding it in his hands to no purpose. All our 
 laughing did not alter a muscle of Dibdin's 
 countenance, when, out of patience, stopping him 
 in the middle of his song, he found fault with the 
 words, " rushlight and crushlight. Ha ! ha ! what 
 nonsense; too bad! too bad, Jack." Uamour 
 propre. 
 
 SIR VICARY GIBBS. 
 
 M^'Howarth, who was an amateur of the 
 Highland Broadsword exercise, having wrote an 
 excellent treatise on that science, which was 
 
56 SIR VICARY GIBBS. 
 
 SO much admired, being pirated by a bookseller, 
 near St. Paul's, was sold in numbers, at a very- 
 inferior price, and caused a very considerable loss 
 to him. When an action was brought at the 
 Guildhall, in the city, against the invader of his 
 rights, I was subpoenaed as a witness, being 
 a professional man of that science. Counsellor 
 Garrow, who pleaded for the defendant, and cross- 
 examined me, was endeavouring to puzzle me 
 with questions about my profession (his son could 
 have done it better, who was once one of my 
 scholars), which it appeared to me he was little 
 acquainted with ; but when he persisted in some 
 questions, and feeling myself hurt, just as I was 
 going to answer. Sir Vicary Gibbs, who was 
 counsel on the other side, and who sat near, said 
 something aside to him, then smiling and address- 
 ing me, " Mr. Angelo, I remember you many 
 years ago, at Eton, we were old school-fellows." 
 Soon after, no longer subjected to be cross- 
 examined, and opposed in my replies, I was 
 released from my unpleasant situation, and much 
 to my pride and satisfaction the notice conferred 
 on me so many years after by such a high legal 
 character. In referring to a list I have by me, who 
 
POURttUOI. 57 
 
 were at Eton in the year 1767? I find the name of 
 Gibbs in the fifth form, a few boys above the pre- 
 sent Rev. Dr. Randolf, the late Dr. R. Rennell, of 
 the Temple, and the late John Reeves, Parliament 
 Place, all collegers on the foundation, and must 
 have been about seventeen, when I was at the 
 lower part of the school. 
 
 POURQUOI. 
 
 If the recollection of many years ago, anecdotes 
 of my younger days and since, the various situa- 
 tions my pursuits have placed me in these last 
 fifty years, so well known sur le pave, my entre 
 free to all public places, received at the tables of 
 my superiors, the notice of the many, including 
 those authors, artists, &c., who have distinguished 
 themselves by their superior abilities, my " Remi- 
 niscences " have derived material information; and, 
 after the approbation bestowed on my second vo- 
 lume, I flatter myself my scribbling efforts again may 
 not be unacceptable, at least to those I am known 
 to, either as a professional man, or an old acquaint- 
 ance ; and when late in life to have recourse to 
 
58 
 
 POURaUOl. 
 
 memory, recording those events, the issue of many 
 years gone by, if I fail with my pen, having 
 ever wielded the foil in preference to the book- 
 making trade. However, the many who have 
 succeeded au fait to writing fictions stories of the 
 dead, characters that emanated from the author 
 only nemine contradlcente. Of the many I have 
 spoken of, the greater part whom I was personally 
 known to, nobility, gentry, &c. now living, I 
 leave them to say, if in one instance I have de- 
 viated from the truth. Indeed, bold as I have 
 been to venture my lines for the press, such em- 
 bellishments as fiction^ however they may amuse, 
 are far beyond my endeavours to impose by in- 
 vention, or impose on those who have patience 
 to read my Reminiscences ; and whatever may 
 be the opinions of my friends, should they put 
 the question to me 'pourquoi^ what could possibly 
 tempt me to become an author, a fencing master 
 too, and to write about himself, they are welcome 
 to my reply, ** It was my poverty, not my will 
 consents." Chacun doit peiiser a soi. 
 
59 
 
 PREJUDICE. 
 
 Retired in a village for several years, those I 
 were known to there were surprised (though only 
 two miles from Bath) at my want of curiosity 
 to go to the theatre, especially when visited by 
 London actors, leading stars, astonishing the coun- 
 try, being a Paijsan. During the space of seven 
 years, only three times they had my company ; 
 it was far different years ago, when my constant 
 practice (living in Bolton Row), particularly on 
 Tuesdays and Saturdays (having my entre at all 
 the theatres), on those nights in my way visiting 
 the opera, attracted by the Bravura song in the 
 first act, and the dance (always then two ballets, 
 pastoral and serieux); next, Drury Lane, to see 
 Kemble in the last act, taking Covent Garden 
 in time for the after-piece, and in my way home 
 making the Opera House my finale for the grand 
 ballet. " mias, tempora mutaniur.'" And what 
 I may judge of the many (some like myself) of 
 the present day, indulging their amusements sans 
 payer; others, who were renters, sure nightly 
 visitors opinidtres, are attached only to the actors 
 of last century, and fastidious of what they have 
 
60 AN HONEST BLACK-LEG. 
 
 seen. However those who excel now, and whose 
 transcendent abilities are sure of filling the house, 
 and though curiosity could not excite them to 
 judge, they will even persist that the performers 
 now are far inferior ; and, unless Garrick and his 
 cotemporaries could tread the boards again, no 
 inducement could possibly tempt them to visit 
 the theatres. " Dire et Jaire, sont deux choses 
 hien differentes'' 
 
 AN HONEST BLACK-LEG. 
 
 Soubise, whom I have already mentioned in 
 my first volume of Reminiscences, a blackamoor, 
 except Mr. Holwell (son of Governor Holwell of 
 Black Hole memory) who had been in India, and 
 boarded at my father's house in Carlisle Street, was 
 the only one who refused to sit down at the same ta- 
 ble with him. However, my mother soon persuaded 
 him to the contrary. Although Soubise's sooty 
 complexion was objectionable, yet his insinuating 
 manners, his accomplishments, his drollery, were 
 such, and that amusement from his endeavours 
 to do the agreahle, he became the general 
 
AN HONEST BLACK-LEG. 61 
 
 favourite. Of his eccentricities, if I may so call 
 them (this must have been above fifty years ago), 
 I remember seeing him, when presenting a chair 
 to a lady, if from some distance, make three 
 pauses, pushing it along some feet each time, 
 skipping with an entre-chat en avant, then a pi- 
 rouette when placed. One of his songs, truly 
 ridiculous, his black face and powdered woolly 
 head not suitable to the words, was a Vauxhall 
 song then, " As now my bloom comes on a-pace, 
 the girls begin to tease me ;" when he came to 
 tease, making a curtsey to the ground, and 
 affecting to blush, placing his hands before his 
 face, an encore was sure to follow. As an orator, 
 his favourite exhibition was Romeo in the garden 
 scene. When he came to that part, "O that I was 
 a glove upon that hand, that I might touch that 
 cheek," the black face, the contrast of his teeth, 
 turning up the white of his eyes as he mouthed, 
 a general laugh always ensued, which indeed was 
 not discouraging to his vanity, and did not pre- 
 vent him pursuing his rhetorical opinions of 
 himself. Fancying he was admired by the ladies, 
 he boasted much of his amours, and his epistolary 
 correspondence. At the time, I sketched, on copper, 
 
r FENCING. 
 
 a caricature of him, called the Mungo Macaroni, 
 which was exhibited in Barley's shop, in Rupert 
 Court, St. Martin's Lane ; his portrait, by Zofani, 
 which belonged to the Duchess of Queensberry, 
 given to my mother, I made a present to my 
 friend, Mr. Burgess, Solicitor, Curzon Street. 
 
 FENCING. 
 
 Extract from the Morning Herald, April 9tht 1787. 
 
 On Monday, a grand assault was made at 
 Carlton House, before the Prince of Wales, the 
 Due de Lausanne, Madame d'Eon, and a few of 
 his highness's select friends. The principal com- 
 petitors were M. St. George, M. Fabian, M. Moge, 
 and Mr. H. Angelo. The assault between M. St. 
 George and M. Fabian had every claim to admi- 
 ration ; the quickness of the first-mentioned gen- 
 tleman was incredible ; to the praise of M. Fabian, 
 we must also add that he discovered very con- 
 siderable skill. The Prince did M. St. George 
 the honour to thrust with him, in carte, and in 
 carte and tierce, and astonished every beholder 
 with his amazing grace ; whenever his Royal 
 
 / 
 
VANITY. 63 
 
 Highness put himself on his guard, his attitudes 
 were highly elegant and easy. From the sanction 
 of the Prince to this polite exercise, many of our 
 young nobility have began to apply with un- 
 common attention to the practice of defence. The 
 Prince avowed himself highly diverted with the 
 various encounters, which continued between the 
 different parties, from two o'clock till past four. 
 
 VANITY. 
 
 St. George having made me a present of his 
 portrait, painted by Mather Brown, I was proud 
 to place it over my chimney-piece in my fencing 
 room ; and as many of my scholars solicited me 
 to permit them to have a copy, which I refused, 
 I employed Ward, a famous mezzotinto scraper, 
 to make a print. When finished, previous to its 
 being made public, the first proof I sent to St. 
 George, who was then at Paris, when I received, 
 by return of post, a letter to delay its appearance 
 till he sent me some lines to put under. A few 
 days after I received the following poetical effu- 
 sions of his friend the fencing master, M. De la 
 Boussiere, not a little flattering, to please the vanity 
 of his scholar. 
 
64 VANITY. 
 
 M. ST. GEORGE. 
 
 From an Original Picture at Mr. Angelo's Academy. 
 
 Dans les armes jamais on ne vit son egal, 
 Musicien charmant, compositeur habile, 
 A la nage, au patin, a la chasse, a cheval, 
 Tout exercice enfin, pour lui semble facile, 
 Et dans tout, il decouvre un mode original. 
 Si joindre a ses talens autant de modestie, 
 Est, le nee plus ultra de Hercule Frangais ; 
 Cest que son bon esprit exempt de jalousie 
 N'a trouve le bonheur en cette courte vie. 
 Que dans les vrais amis que son cceur s'etoit fait. 
 
 The above eloge is not a trait of his 
 " autant de modestie,'' verses written purposely 
 to be placed under his portrait ! What ! a 
 fencing master ? I may say, " Would the gods 
 had made me poetical." As a fencer he certainly 
 was considered for a number of years far superior 
 to all the others ; many who travelled expres to 
 Paris to oppose him, returned back heaten ; and, 
 except his abilities as a musician, a thorough master 
 of music, his other accomplishments may have 
 been superficial. Two years after, he returned to 
 this country; which happening in the month of 
 August, the usual period of my vacation, I fol- 
 lowed him to Brighton, where he resided at that 
 
VANITY. 65 
 
 time, and took up my abode in the same house, 
 by which means I had the opportunity of prac- 
 tising with him every morning. On his return 
 to France, during the revolution, he was pre^ 
 sented with the colonelcy of a regiment of hussars 
 (the greater part des tireurs d'armes). In this 
 character he served under General Dumourier; 
 but St. George, who was perfectly ignorant of the 
 details of a military life, became a victim of 
 intrigues, and of the arts of individuals. His 
 regiment charged, and, notw^ithstanding its bra- 
 very, was overpowered by the numbers and dis- 
 cipline of their opponents ; he was defeated, and 
 his first career of glory was the era of his downfall ; 
 he never after held up his head. The Chevalier 
 St. George was born at Guadaloupe ; he was the 
 son of M. de Boulogne, a rich planter in the 
 colony ; his mother was a negress, and was known 
 under the name of the handsome Nanon. St. 
 George died in Paris, in 1810 or 1811, regretted 
 by his friends, and the few who knew how to feel 
 for and excuse the imperfections of humanity, 
 qualities from which none of us can hope to be 
 exempt. 
 
66 
 
 PIETY IN PATTENS. 
 
 A private party of theatrical amateurs having 
 selected Foote's burlesque interlude of Piety in 
 Pattens (first performed at his primitive puppet 
 show, 1774, Little Theatre, Haymarket), a piece I 
 have often seen him play the Squire Western, and 
 Thomas the butler. I once attempted the part 
 of the latter, by far the most comic, interlarded 
 with a deal of dry humour. O'Keefe, in his Life, 
 speaking of it, alludes to the taste of the day, 
 " To ridicule the sentimental comedies, the piece 
 consisted of the most trifling and common-place 
 thoughts, wrapt up in a bundle of grand phrases 
 and high-flown words, and had its full effect as a 
 burlesque on sentiment." A worthy friend of 
 mine, whose acting once delighted the whole town, 
 and whose ready wit and repartee were proverbial, 
 to give a zest, and to add to myjinale as a butler, 
 introducing his technical ideas, purposely wrote 
 the following song for me : — 
 
 Attend, my dear Polly, attend to my song, 
 And as 'tis a short one, it cannot be long ; 
 The Squire, my dear Polly, is full of deceit, 
 As full, my dear Polly, as an egg's full of meat. 
 
 Derry down, &c. 
 
MY WATCH. 6T 
 
 An egg^ if once cracked, will never be sound, 
 And its virtue, dear Polly, oft falls to the ground ; 
 With you it will be, should the Squire prevail, 
 For virtue, when cracked, from that moment is frail. 
 
 Derry down, &c. 
 
 Say your virtue's as sound, as bottled brown stout. 
 Which nought but the corkscrew of wedlock draws out ; 
 On your side, like a bottle, unless thafs the case. 
 You'll lie safe and sound, till the parson says grace. 
 
 Derry down, &c. 
 
 MORAL. 
 
 Pure maids and pure liquor for ever will please. 
 But damaged, grow stale, like wine on the lees ; 
 Then wire down your honour for virtuous use, 
 Or else it may burst, like a bottle of spruce. 
 
 Derry down, &c. 
 
 MY WATCH. 
 
 Six years ago, at one of the pugilistic benefits in 
 Windmill Street, in expectation of meeting my 
 old acquaintance, Jackson, I was one of the 
 mSlange de haut en has — such they proved to me. 
 T had been but a few minutes in the place, which 
 
68 
 
 MY WATCH. 
 
 was densely crowded, and was endeavouring to 
 advance to the temporary stage, when a whiskered 
 dandy, in a braided blue frock coat, was con- 
 tinually placing himself in my way. Although I 
 tried to avoid him, if possible, he seemed still 
 determined to keep me back : no sooner had he 
 quitted me, than, to my surprise, I missed my 
 watch. Considering myself an old stager, and 
 too knowing, as I thought, for the light-fingered 
 gentry, never before having experienced such a 
 loss — enraged at the moment, I vociferated 
 aloud, " Take care of your pockets, thieves and 
 blackguards ! plenty of them here." Furieux, I 
 could not contain myself, but continued my 
 complaints so pertinaciously, that a friend, who 
 was with me, was frightened away by the noise. 
 Two days after, calling on a gentleman who was 
 an amateur of the Jist, I mentioned the cir- 
 cumstance to him. Knowing the greater portion 
 of the ring, this friend said, " I'll speak to Frosty 
 Face'd Fogo, I dare say he'll find it out for you." 
 As I had another watch, and although the chain 
 and seals of the lost one were gold, I was not 
 inclined to purchase them back of a thief. I 
 regretted, indeed, the loss of a mourning ring given 
 
NO GRECIAN. 6S 
 
 to my father, who was included in one of the 
 coaches, a mourner at Garrick's funeral. This 
 ring I very much valued. However, thanking 
 him for his kind offer to serve me, I said I should 
 be happy to pay for the ring, could I possibly 
 procure it again, — and I entertained not the least 
 idea then of ever seeing it. To my astonishment, 
 on calling at his house, he had obtained it for me, 
 having paid a sovereign ; truly rejoiced I was to 
 get back such a valuable memento. According to 
 Fogo's account : " Knowing a gemman that was 
 acquainted with a thief, who knew another 
 gemman, it was traced to Duke's Place, where 
 my watch was found deposited cum multis aliisr 
 No matter who were the gemmen, the ring since 
 then has eve?' remained on my finger. Having 
 been from a child so well known to Garrick, the 
 loss to me, of this valued memorial of such a 
 friend as the Roscius, would have been most 
 severe. 
 
 NO GRECIAN. 
 
 Upon the examination for the Remove at Eton 
 (that part of the school between the fourth and 
 
70 ETON MO^^TEM, 
 
 fifth form), which takes place every half year, 
 though I succeeded with my Theme and Verses, 
 I was not so fortunate when tried in Greek. 
 Doctor Foster, who was then head master, having 
 called me up to derivate (Eton term) the Greek 
 word BccXXu, and the boy before me a Colleger, 
 brother to Sir Flanbury Williams, next to me the 
 Honourable Charles Monson, the two, des ignorans, 
 all three indeed of one feather, I stood no chance 
 of being prompted, or of having a side whisper to 
 assist me ; answering B«AAw, BaAAw, BuKeAa, instead 
 of B«€AeK«, I was ordered to sit down — previously, 
 as I surmised, to a good flogging. Charles 
 Monson, who was called up next, replied no better 
 than myself, but being an honourable, escaped the 
 vapulation. However, as I was the Fencing 
 Master's son (my father at that time attending 
 Eton), I got my remove into the fifth form. 
 ** Nemo mortalium omnibus horis sapit." 
 
 ETON MONTEM. 
 
 One year there was a mock Montem among 
 the inhabitants of the town, at Eton. The elder 
 
ETON AND WESTMINSTER. 71 
 
 Williams, the carpenter, was marshal, who 
 strutted at the head of the Hommes de Metier, 
 holding his baton ; who the captain was, I do not 
 recollect ; my Dilly Stevens who let horses to the 
 boys, the two Pipers, and Gill their boats, Frank 
 Wetheridge the bricklayer, famous for his slang, 
 were the most conspicuous characters of the 
 motley crew in the procession to the Brocas 
 (those old Etonians who read this, may remember 
 their convenient acquaintance for boats and horses 
 when running tick), a clump of high trees near 
 the river, facing Windsor, where a collation with 
 plenty of beer and punch enlivened their sham 
 festival, much to the amusement and fun of the 
 Etonians, who assembled around them, listening to 
 their songs and merriment alfresco. 
 
 ETON AND WESTMINSTER. 
 
 The Etonians, who ever distinguished themselves 
 at cricket, were challenged, near forty years ago, 
 by the Westminsters to play a match. It was 
 accepted ; Uxbridge was fixed for the field of trial, 
 and it took place in the August vacation. 
 
72 THE HOPEFUL. 
 
 Invited by the Westminsters to the dinner there, 
 and the match in the early part of the day being won 
 by the Etonians, this hastened dinner, and a very 
 pleasant agremen followed. The songs and 
 hilarity w^hich accompanied, keeping the rival 
 discipuli in high cheer — indeed, after the exertion 
 and the fatigue of the bat, the wine did not a 
 little " set the table in a roar." On our return to 
 town at a late hour, particularly when we got into 
 the Bath road, at Hammersmith, there were plenty 
 of windows smashed, as a memento of the day's 
 port. However, the Westminsters may justly value 
 their skill at cricket, when the disadvantage they 
 labour under is computed ; fixed in the metropolis, 
 they have little time to improve, the distance to 
 the fields is so far, and they are so often obliged 
 to fight the Vulgars (as they call them) for the 
 ground, it is then no wonder they are inferior to 
 those where the fields are adjacent to the College. 
 
 THE HOPEFUL. 
 
 Judging from the appearance of Morland, 
 this truly eminent artist's works retain more the 
 appearance of the stable than the parlour. Hone, 
 
FAT AND LEAN. 73 
 
 the portrait-painter, told me a story of him when 
 a boy. One winter morning calling on his father, 
 who resided at Paddington, young Morland, then 
 not more than twelve years old, was in the room 
 during the time, when the father was called out on 
 some business. Directly, the boy placing himself, 
 and holding up his clothes, turned his back to the 
 fire, and began whistling. Hone, surprised at the 
 consequence he assumed, asked him, where he went 
 to school, when he replied, " None of your schools 
 for me." What do you do at home ? " Kiss the 
 maids, demme !" At that moment, the father 
 entered, saying, " Well, don't you think my son 
 a nice little fellow ?" Oh yes ! a very nice little 
 fellow indeed. The dress, as described of him to 
 me, then a boy, had the resemblance of a groom 
 or jockey to a pony race ; a green coat, striped 
 waistcoat, tight leather breeches, yellow topped 
 boots, and a coloured handkerchief round his 
 neck. Such talents, thrown away, left to record 
 his name ! 
 
 FAT AND LEAN. 
 
 Whilst I was on a visit to Lord Barrymore's, 
 in August 1799, who then resided on the Steine, 
 
74 FAT AND LEAN. 
 
 at Brighton, the conversation after dinner was 
 about Pedestrianism. Bullock (at the time well 
 known on the turf), a heavy and corpulent man, 
 was of the party, who offered to start against his 
 lordship, on foot, for one hundred guineas — a 
 hundred yards, provided he would give him thirty- 
 five, at the same time he (Bullock) was to choose 
 the ground. The bet was instantly accepted, and 
 the following day was fixed for this grand exploit. 
 The Prince, who was ever pleased with the many 
 diversions (Lord Barry more kept the place on the 
 qui vive), was present, with a numerous assemblage, 
 many bets, on both sides, depending ; the odds 
 against Bullock, who did not hesitate to take 
 them, when to the surprise of Lord Barry more 
 (who did not weigh ten stone, the other eighteen) 
 who, considering himself sure of winning his 
 wager, had fixed on one of those narrow alleys 
 (only room for one person to walk), a high wall 
 on each side, well known at Brighton, on the east 
 side of the town ; and as the previous wager was 
 specified and witnessed on paper, no objection 
 could possibly be made. At starting, each party 
 took his place, Bullock thirty-five yards in 
 advance, and though Lord Barrymore soon got 
 
MURDEll. 75 
 
 close to him, the other by his contrivance, what 
 with his breadth of shoulders, his arms extended, 
 and being the most powerful, keeping the other 
 behind, laughing, with ease took his time to win, 
 to the annoyance of the many who lost their 
 money. 
 
 MURDER. 
 
 At the time I attended at the East India 
 College, at Hertford, a shocking murder was 
 committed at Hoddesdon, in Hertfordshire, on 
 the Friday evening, October 20, 1807, by Thomas 
 Simmons, a clown about twenty (through jealousy 
 of a maid servant he courted, who lived with a 
 Mr. Boreham, a quaker). Frantic at the time, he 
 wanted to murder all who came in his way. The un- 
 fortunate victim with the former was a Mrs. Warner, 
 an inmate in the house ; he was so exasperated, 
 brandishing a knife he held, that with difficulty he 
 was overpow ered, and secured. Being confined in 
 the county gaol at Hertford, curiosity excited me to 
 see him. I was ushered into the kitchen of the go- 
 vernor's house, at the end of which was a window, 
 with iron bars, that looked into the prison yard ; 
 
76 THE CITIZEN. 
 
 placing myself there, I had to wait till he was called 
 for. After the gaoler loudly repeated his name, 
 calling Tom ! Tom ! as if a dog, Tom made his 
 appearance, placing himself before me, a lank 
 looking figure (middling size), in a ploughman's 
 smock frock, an ugly countenance, and prominent 
 pointed nose ; seizing the moment, having my 
 pencil, and procuring some paper, I sketched a 
 likeness of him, as he stood some time motionless 
 before me ; the back-ground was the prison, and 
 a group of felons. 
 
 THE CITIZEN. 
 
 Having had a general invitation to Benham, in 
 Berkshire, the Margravine's residence, mentioning 
 to her Highness how very fond I was of fishing, 
 and her domains being famous for that sport, 
 I had her leave to take a friend with me. To 
 gratify the pride of a Bourgeois gentilhommei the 
 son and partner of a wealthy hop factor in the 
 Borough, well known at that time (some years ago) 
 by the nickname of Young Dashem, vulgarly called, 
 up to any thing. Favourite as he was with his 
 
THE CITIZEN. 77 
 
 acquaintance, none could keep pace with him in 
 extravagance. Of one trait, which must have 
 been more for boasting and talk^ were his hunters, 
 horses which he kept at Epsom, for the Derby 
 Hunt ; and seldom, I have heard him say, had he 
 occasion for them, other amusements interfering. 
 Each time that he hunted during the season, the 
 expenses attending, must have cost him thirty 
 guineas, fancying it gave him the consequence 
 du premier pas. By way of a show off, when we 
 have been playing at three-card loo, till six in the 
 morning, a post-chaise and four have been 
 waiting to take him to cover. Dissipated and 
 extravagant, he was glad at all times for me to 
 take him out on a fishing excursion, having cards 
 of permission for the different waters ; on those 
 occasions I took on myself to be the Sir Clement 
 Cotterell, those conditions as master of the cere- 
 monies, point d' extravagance. Pleased as he was 
 to go with me to enjoy his favourite sport, the 
 order of the day was, live well — not too well. 
 Master Dashem was then obliged to leave his 
 ostentatious city manners at home, I, the pisca- 
 torial ami, taking him by the hand ; it was vasano- 
 piano, slow and sure ; we then were ever d'accord. 
 
78 THE CITIZEN 
 
 Such was my friend who accompanied me to 
 Benham ; and as my gig-horse was not good 
 enough, his (as he said) having cost eighty guineas, 
 and could trot sixteen miles within the hour, his 
 chaise of the last fashion, so preferable to mine ; 
 besides the bedisened livery of groom, so vastly 
 genteel; our appearance would be more gentle- 
 manlike, and respected. He should have said, that 
 on the road we should be more welcome as a 
 couple of Flats to the inn-keepers, for the good of 
 the house. However, I did not oppose his offer; 
 though, being incumbered with his groom, it would 
 have been cheaper for me (fifty-four miles), as we 
 divided our expenses, to have made one day's 
 journey, and paid my share for a post-chaise. 
 Leaving town about twelve, our first stage was to 
 the Windmill, Salt Hill. Forgetting myself at 
 the time what o. genteel companion I had with me, 
 when I ought to have known better, I left him to 
 order dinner ; instead of for two, as if his eyes 
 were larger than his stomach, he must have 
 ordered dinner for six — such a display of dishes — 
 claret, &c. When I travel, leaving eating at 
 home, to me a veal cutlet is as good as a feast ; 
 and many a day, when I have been fishing, and 
 
THE CITIZEN. 79 
 
 only got a nibble, one comfort was left, a bite at 
 the bread and cheese I carried with me in my 
 pocket. When the bill was called, I might have 
 fancied myself at the other inn, formerly the 
 Castle, and in the same situation. Samuel Foot 
 was there (though an old story, it may be new to 
 the reader), when finding fault with the bill, he 
 desired to see his master, and asking his name, 
 when told Partridge, the wit replied, " By the 
 length of your hill^ I should have taken it for 
 Woodcock." However, judging of the expensive 
 commencement, so vastly genteel, at night, when 
 we arrived at Newbury, I took care to order the 
 supper, a roast fowl and one jorum after ; he would 
 have called for red and white wine; here I put in 
 a negative, " ce qui vient par la flute, s'en va avec 
 le tamhourT The next morning, in our fishing 
 costume, we sallied forth to the Margravine's, 
 about half a mile from the inn. Her Highness was 
 not there, and the Margrave was taking his ride. 
 However, I left my card, at the same time desiring 
 the servant to say I was gone to the river, about 
 a quarter of a mile from the house, to fish. As it 
 was not the first time, I was well acquainted 
 where the best and largest fish were — trout, pike. 
 
80 THE CITIZEN. 
 
 and perch. Preferring our sport to a dinner, in- 
 tending to make a day of it, we provided ourselves 
 with sandwiches, and remained fishing till eight 
 o'clock, then the month of June, when my friend, 
 who was some little distance from me, called out, 
 " Here's a queer old farmer coming, to call us 
 away," thinking we had got beyond where we were 
 allowed to fish ; " Ay, and he will take away our 
 rods." Before we could put up our tackle, he 
 approached us. " Mr. Angelo, I am glad to see 
 you ;" and with that cordiality as if we had been 
 old acquaintances. " Have you had any sport ? " 
 not a little to the surprise of my brother fisher- 
 man, particularly so, when replying, " famous, your 
 Highness." When introducing him — this is my 
 friend, I have taken the liberty to bring with me 
 to fish in your domains. Such a meeting was so 
 unexpected to the abashed citizen, who, but a 
 moment before, was abusing the old fellow (fearful 
 his rod would be taken from him, and swore he 
 would push him into the water first), now felt 
 himself " a fish out of water," and seemed to be 
 at a loss how to make his oheissance. However, 
 the Margrave's extreme affability, shaking hands 
 with him, saying how welcome he was, removed 
 
THE CITIZEN. 81 
 
 all that mauvaise Jionte^ which, otherwise, his 
 presence might have flurried him into, how to 
 behave, the first time he found himself in company 
 with a prince. Had we been fishing in private 
 property, and any one had attempted to take away 
 his fishing tackle, I have not the least doubt but 
 he would have pushed him in the water, to boast 
 
 after to his friends in the city, what d d good 
 
 fun he had, pushing the farmer in the water. The 
 introduction over, and the Margrave telling us 
 dinner would be ready at our return, I took upon 
 myself to put up the fish and tackle, when he took 
 young Dashem by the arm, with as much good 
 nature as if they had long known each other. No 
 haute noblesse here. His condescension was pro- 
 verbial ; loved by all his neighbours, ever accosting 
 them with all the ease and freedom of a country 
 gentleman — not the least appearance, either in 
 dress or language. Leaving them to walk together, 
 I remained till a servant came to carry away the 
 fish. At my return, the Margrave had ordered 
 our things from Newbury to be placed in our bed 
 rooms, and we had only to go there to disrobe 
 ourselves of our fishing dress, and by the time 
 we had finished, dinner would be ready for us. 
 
 a 
 
 ( 
 
S2 THE CITIZEN. 
 
 Descending to the drawing-room (far different to 
 the situation we were in an hour before, when 
 hungry and ready for our dinner, which we must 
 have made at supper), a few minutes after the 
 servant announced dinner was ready ; when, 
 making our bows, we retired. Here was an 
 excellent repas of two courses, solely prepared 
 for us. Champagne, hock, &c. (the latter had 
 long been the Brandenburgh small beer to me). 
 This was a new sight to the young cit, smacking 
 his lips at the dessert, a pine apple before him — 
 the servants absent. — " Here's a go, what will 
 they say to this, when I tell them what the 
 prince has done for me ? " Whilst we passed the 
 glass, talking over our fishing day's sport, what 
 a change was here : such a sumptuous dinner, 
 instead of a mutton chop, which I told him might 
 be our fare, had we gone to the inn. Our dinner 
 finished, and on our presenting ourselves to the 
 Margrave, who, with his visitors, several tmigrL 
 French noblemen, were at cards. Some I was well 
 known to at Brandenburgh House, having seen 
 me perform there. — Counts Montalembert, Le 
 Chasse, and Daller, the Margrave's chamberlain. 
 About eleven, sandwiches were passed round; 
 
THE CITIZEN. OS 
 
 hon-soir followed. The next morning, after 
 breakfast, the Margrave and Master Dashem, who 
 now, " 'twas hail, fellow, well met." The latter 
 had not a little boasted of his hunters, and the 
 sums he had given for them ; and the other, having 
 a fine stud of horses, took him to his stables, 
 to show him, and was so pleased with his gig 
 horse, which was brought from the inn, and the 
 stories he told, — what an excellent trotter he was, 
 that he accompanied him in his gig, to try his 
 paces, and was so well pleased with my introduc- 
 tion, that every day during our continuance they 
 took their rides out together, Dashem having the 
 choice of any of his horses. As to myself (having 
 been my father's rough rider when he had his 
 manege), I had too much of the saddle, to like 
 riding again; my time was more pleasingly engaged 
 in fishing, till the dinner hour. This lasted a week ; 
 and if grandeur, crowded with every luxury, were 
 inducements not to quit our princely reception, my 
 Bourgeois spark would have been glad to have 
 cast his sheet anchor there. But business calling 
 me to town, not all his persuasions to stop longer, 
 could prevail on me to come in snacks for the 
 " good things," as he called them, much to his 
 
84 
 
 THE FLEAS. 
 
 regret. Making our devoirs for the honours con- 
 ferred on us, we took our leave. This excursion 
 was his constant theme after. The dinners — 
 wines — the notice the Prince took of him (not 
 Margrave), honouring him with his presence in 
 preference to me for his companion to ride out 
 with ; these absorbed his thoughts ; for a long time 
 he talked of nothing else. His hunters now were 
 laid upon the shelf; all was, that " some have 
 greatness thrust upon them." Returning to our 
 late pursuits, I to the foil, the other to his hops 
 (no dancing master) ; 'Twas " Stick to the shop, 
 and the shop will stick to you." 
 
 THE FLEAS. 
 
 During the August holidays, when I was a 
 school-boy, my father and mother took my two 
 eldest sisters to place them in a convent in French 
 Flanders, having fixed on the Ursulines, at Lisle. 
 On our arrival there, a grand fete was given 
 (that lasted during our stay), on the occasion of its 
 being the completion of the first hundred years 
 subsequent to the city being re-taken from the 
 
THE FLEAS, 85 
 
 Spaniards. The festivities consisted of fire-works, 
 jets du vin (fountains of wine) for the populace, 
 firing of cannon for prizes, a general illumination, 
 &c. On our visit to the convent, we were 
 received at the gate by the prioress, a tall hand- 
 some English lady, a Mrs. Skerratt, whom they 
 called St. Edward, and there my sisters were left. 
 Among the amusements that made the most 
 impression on me, though a boy, not understanding 
 a word of French, was the opera of the Deserteur ; 
 it .was so well acted, that with difficulty I could 
 refrain from crying : when often seeing it since, 
 whether the mind was dissipated with variety of 
 amusements I know not, and though perfectly ac- 
 quainted with denouement^ they were not like my 
 juvenile feelings. At our return to England, we 
 left Lisle for Dunkirk. Arrived there in the 
 evening, walking on the quay, we were informed 
 that a vessel was to leave the port that night, at 
 twelve o'clock. Having permission from the 
 superintendant to quit after the gates were 
 closed, we were punctual at the time to embark. 
 Captain George, an Englishman, having the com- 
 mand, though a small vessel, yet assured us 
 he could give us excellent accommodation. To 
 
86 
 
 THE FLEAS. 
 
 relate them would be the reverse of our expecta- 
 tions, a very small cabin, and cots, with blankets 
 only. The first two hours, however, we reconciled 
 ourselves (par force )^ but our patience was 
 afterwards exhausted; such a heavy sea rolling 
 over us, close confined under deck, huddled 
 together, that, what with the heat and the 
 pitching of the vessel, being sick the whole time, 
 feeling continual twinges all over me, impatient 
 too for daylight, my situation was qffreux, myself 
 most afflicted with the motion, was, as the French 
 called it, the first to payer le trihut, accompanied 
 as I found myself when daylight appeared, no 
 candles being suffered during the night. I found 
 that all sorts of vermin were my bedfellows, fleas, 
 &c. &c. My white stockings (having lain in my 
 clothes), where I had pinched my visitors, were 
 covered with red spots. The wind having sub- 
 sided at an early hour, we were admitted on deck ; 
 it appeared an elysium to us, when the truth 
 accounted for my troublesome companions; our 
 conveyance was laden with rags^ the refuse of the 
 hospitals, of which mendicants were inmates. At 
 eleven o'clock we got to Northfleet, when my 
 father, my mother, and a lady who was of our 
 
THE FLEAS. 87 
 
 party, went on shore (the tide at the time being 
 against us) ; there a dejeuner a la fourchette^ 
 beefsteaks and tea ; the previous night had not 
 taken away the appetite. I, who was still too 
 ailing to join them, was sent forward to make my 
 way to town, but was first loaded with lace, which 
 our female compagnon de voyage had purchased 
 and smuggled at Lisle. All my clothes being lined 
 with this handsome lace, not having met with 
 a conveyance, I had to tramp as far as Greenwich, 
 when a stage coach took me to town ; the party 
 leaving soon after their breakfast, when the tide 
 served, proceeded in the vessel to the Tower, and 
 were at home on my arrival there, madam not 
 a little pleased to receive her lace safe. Some 
 time after, my father having procured a situation 
 in the Custom House for Captain George, happy 
 to show his obligations when any thing was 
 wanted from France, was ever ready to smuggle 
 for my father ; French pies, game, &c. were often 
 got very cheap ; and I remember my mother 
 saying, that among the articles of hair powder, 
 perfumes, &c., with one guinea she has procured 
 what in England would have cost four. 
 
 I 
 
88 
 
 TOO MUCH PHYSIC. 
 
 Young Dashem, of whom I have already spoken 
 of in our fishing excursion to the Margrave's, how 
 proud he was being introduced to a prince, the 
 notice conferred on him ; there it was, " all honours 
 heaped ;" all was pleasant then ; not so the next 
 place I took him to, " the sun does not always 
 shine." Having a card of admission for myself 
 and friend to fish at Lord George Cavendish's, at 
 Latimer's, in Hertfordshire, as he was to meet me 
 there, and three more added, to make up the party 
 cheerful, at the same time, spectators to see our 
 fishing exploits, our place of rendezvous was six 
 miles distant from where we were to fish, Rick- 
 mansworth. Previous to our meeting at dinner, 1 
 was the avant courier^ to have every thing in 
 readiness, and order the dinner to be on table at 
 six o'clock. Leaving town at an early hour in the 
 morning, and the waters at Rickmansworth being 
 famous for trout, it was my intention, as a proof of 
 my skill, to produce some of my catching for their 
 dinner ; but the sun being bright, and the weather 
 intensely hot (July), there was no chance of sport. 
 Being no fly fisher, I declined the chance of catching 
 
TOO MUCH PHYSIC. 89 
 
 anything ; when, stripping off my coat, I laid myself 
 on the bed, a decanter of white wine, and a bottle of 
 spring water being placed by me. Reposing myself, 
 there I lay till they all arrived ; surprised to find 
 me on the bed, it was a subject for them to quiz 
 me, when I told them it was my Asiatic repose, my 
 otmm cum dignitate. They all acknowedged, ex- 
 hausted as they were, travelling in the heat of the 
 day in their gigs, that liad they arrived sooner 
 they would have done the same. However, dinner 
 soon relieved our complaints of the heat, and the 
 cool breezes of the evening entirely refreshed us till 
 supper time ; then followed the song and the punch, 
 whose spirits added the more to our own, " merry 
 men all," till a late hour. During the time, one of 
 the party, my old friend Maynard, a Proctor in 
 Doctor's Commons, who never missed taking a 
 wine glass every night of Daffy's Elixir, coming 
 without his usual recipe, a bottle was procured 
 from the country apothecary, when pouring out 
 a glassful, drinking to our sports on the morrow, 
 and cheerfulness to follow, out of compliment 
 (how polite ! except Dashem and myself), the other 
 two took bumpers of his medicine, with wry faces. 
 
90 TOO MUCH PHYSIC. 
 
 calling out hip ! hip ! hip ! success to fishing, 
 little thinking at the time what would be the 
 result of the toast. As I drank punch but once a 
 year, my brother fisherman and I drank negus ; 
 here we were fortunate to escape what followed ; 
 the two DafFy Elixir gentlemen, instead of accom- 
 panying us the next day, were the whole time con- 
 fined to their beds, through showing their politeness 
 to the proctor, who felt no ill effects from what he 
 had been long accustomed to, and was much 
 amused watching our fishing ; while the other two, 
 from the effects of the punch, were left to regale 
 themselves with mutton broth. At our return 
 back in the evening, my camarade pecheur, not 
 contented with the trout he had caught himself, as 
 they lay on the table to exhibit our day's sport, 
 was purloining some of my largest ; this I objected 
 to, and the scramble that ensued caused such a 
 quarrel, that the remainder of the time we were 
 together not one word was exchanged ; and what 
 made it the more disagreeable, we lay in a two- 
 bedded room, two orator mums, not a httle to the 
 risibility of the others. 
 
91 
 
 PERE LA CHAISE. 
 
 The last time when I was at Paris, meeting 
 with an old acquaintance I had known many 
 years, who, from being a horse dealer, and pro- 
 viding carriages, had made an ample fortune, 
 and retired to Paris, where he had long resided. In 
 the course of talking of the different places of 
 amusement, and the numerous sights, I men- 
 tioned Pere la Chaise, the one most impressive 
 to my feelings. To my surprise, he had never been 
 there ; that had excited the curiosity of every 
 stranger, when observing — " What, not yet been 
 to see Pere la Chaise ?" Still sticking to his shop, 
 he replied, " Poh ! Pere la Chaise, give me a chaise 
 and pair." 
 
 THE THRASHING MACHINE. 
 
 An amateur, as I have long been, of caricatures, 
 Rowlandson having been my instructor, for in my 
 opinion it is a dangerous amusement. Of the 
 many I once exhibited in the shops, I have ever 
 avoided giving offence, and have only sought 
 those characters who were known only for their 
 
92 THE THRASHING MACHINE. 
 
 singularity, and who were pleased that their 
 likenesses were made public, notoriety being their 
 sole aim. So far, to them, I made myself useful. 
 Latterly, having sketched the contour and resem- 
 blance of a schoolmaster, well known for his 
 morose disposition and austerity, his fondness 
 for the f /trashing machine and the on dit, not only 
 the pleasure he seemed to enjoy at the writhen 
 countenance of his victim, as he lays on his cuts 
 with all his force, but boasting of the number he 
 had flogged before breakfast. An old pupil of his, 
 to whom I have given the sketch, who had con- 
 tributed his share towards his old schoolmaster's 
 amusement, taking out his pencil, wrote under- 
 neath, *' sanguineos occulos, virgamqiie requiretr 
 Should Sir Francis Burdett's motion succeed, the 
 army and navy be exempt from flogging, and 
 the schools follow the example, this utendum 
 est aetate, w^hich this magisterial amateur of the 
 thrashing machine has so long amused himself, 
 however that deprivation may be a disappoint- 
 ment to him. After my former attempts at 
 caricaturing, I should be sorry to expose any one 
 publicly, or remind those who,, in their juvenile 
 days, felt the process of the thrashing machine. 
 
9^ 
 
 FATALITY. 
 
 Soon after I left Eton, I became assistant to 
 my father. Of the many I recollect to have 
 instructed near the same period, were five youths 
 in the navy; one a lieutenant, the others, four mid- 
 shipmen. The former, Lord Robert Manners, was 
 killed on the 12th of April, when captain of the Re- 
 solution, in Rodney's engagement with DeGrasse, 
 Mr. Halliburton (Lord Moreton's brother), who, 
 going on shore with the crew in the long boat, to 
 Long Island, during the American war, was found 
 the next morning with the others in a bog, frozen 
 to death ; — the Hon. Mr. Lumley (Lord Scarbo- 
 rough's brother), when captain of the Isis, lost his 
 life engaging with Suffrein, after the gallant 
 defence, the East Indiamen made at Port Prayer ; 
 — Young Falconer whom I had known when a 
 child, in an action in the West Indies, captain 
 of a frigate, who, whilst opposed to another of 
 superior force, on the bowsprit, in the act of 
 splicing them together, received a mortal wound ; 
 — the fifth is now the only one surviving. Lord 
 Maryborough, then a midshipman. Lord Moreton 
 (who was one of my cronies at Eton) told me that 
 
94 FRTOASSEE. 
 
 a monument was erected to the memory of his 
 brother, in Long Island, and that in the beginning 
 of the French revolution, when equality was the 
 order of the day, some French sailors, who had 
 landed there, seeing a coronet, with the other 
 insignia, not only defaced them, but the inscrip- 
 tion. — So much for liberty and equality. 
 
 FRICASSEE. 
 
 Of the various characters I assumed at the mas- 
 querades, some where the head was to keep pace 
 (tongue) with the head, one was a dancing paysan. 
 Here silence occasionally gave way to the heels, a 
 pas de deux different to all others. D'Egville (the 
 father of our excellent ballet master, we were all 
 indebted to for so much amusement, as well as 
 his numerous scholars, who exhibited their graces) 
 dressed as a French cook, myself en jupon^ a 
 Flemish woman, both of us en sabots (wooden 
 shoes), danced the fricassee, a favourite amuse- 
 ment of the French peasants, the noise of our 
 sahots keeping pace with the music ; whilst at 
 intervals, the clapping of our hands, and our 
 
R. S. AND P. 95 
 
 grotesque costume, such a novelty was the more 
 pleasing, as varying the evening's amusements. 
 Old D'Egville, who, although he had been many 
 years in this country, was not merely contented 
 with displaying the " fantastic toe," but by way 
 of keeping up his character as a Frenchman, 
 must speak broken English ; his attempt, not so 
 well as he spoke it in the morning. Many of the 
 John Bulls there, would have beat the Frenchman 
 at his own game, whilst I was continually in 
 motion, preferring the sound of wooden shoes, to 
 the patois flamand. 
 
 R. S. AND P. 
 
 When Sir was introduced to the honours 
 
 of the metropolitan shreivalty and of knighthood, 
 he became drawn out of that close application to 
 business to which he had laudably devoted his 
 earliest days. The first fashionable invitation he 
 
 received, was from Lady B , a civic dame, 
 
 the wife of a former sheriff. It was to an 
 
 " At Home;" and at nine o'clock. Sir 
 
 waited on my lady, to express his regret that he 
 
96 LONG BILLS. 
 
 could not attend the invitation. " I need not 
 tell you, my lady (said the knight), that business 
 must be attended to, before anything else. We 
 have a large order to pack up, which I fear will 
 not be done before half-past nine o'clock, so you 
 see I should be half an hour too late for your 
 party ; but I've brought the ticket back, that you 
 may scratch out my name, and then it will do for 
 another. Now, my lady, I hope you will excuse 
 me, but do tell me the meaning of this word in 
 the corner, it has puzzled us all at our house 
 exceedingly — R. S. V. P. ; my mother says it is 
 a French word, but I think it no word at all. I 
 think it is what they call initials, " a Regular 
 
 Small Whist Party. Now tell me. Lady B , 
 
 which of us is right?" 
 
 B. B- 
 
 LONG BILLS 
 
 and low bows. The landlord of the principal 
 inn at Henley-upon-Thames had retired from the 
 cares of business a few years since, with a hand- 
 some competency, and took up his abode at an 
 agreeable distance from town. An old frequenter, 
 
LOKG BILLS. 97 
 
 iseeing him at the gate of his garden, took occa- 
 sion to compliment him on his having had the 
 merit to realize a liberal independence in much 
 less time than was usual, and to express his sur^ 
 prise how he had been able to effect it. " All 
 done by long hills and low bows. Sir," answered 
 ex-Boniface, esq. — " Yes, Sir, always took care 
 to charge as liberally as I thought my customers 
 would bear ; and if they found fault, which they 
 sometimes did, rather outrageously, I always 
 mollified them with low bows. — Besides, tithes, 
 taxes, rent, and corn laws, were no bad excuse, 
 
 you know.'' — " But Mr. ■ -, I think you must 
 
 have made a pretty profit of your wine, for, 
 between ourselves, now the game is over, I may 
 
 say, it used to be d d bad." — " Always bought 
 
 the best wine I could for the price I gave ; that, 
 to be sure, was not much ; in fact, I made a little 
 fortune out of three pipes of port, which you have 
 often tasted. They were rather on the queer^ to 
 be sure, but a great bargain : — as often as you or 
 any body else damned the wine, I made a low 
 bow, and offered to change it with the utmost 
 pleasure ; that was civility, you know. Anything 
 may be done by civility, and a low bow. If any 
 
 H 
 
98 LONG BILLS, 
 
 one damned the wine, as being doctored and fiery, 
 I made a low bow, and said, " I perceive it is 
 too full bodied a wine for your palate ;" then I 
 took the bottle away, — emptied as many glass 
 fulls out of it as he had given damns, and filled it 
 up with water. Returning with a fresh bottle, 
 " There, Sir," said I, " that is an older wine, which 
 I flatter myself will meet with your approbation." 
 This, delivered with a look of modest assurance, 
 and a low bow, seldom failed. If, on the contrary, 
 he called it damned stuff, and said there was no 
 spirit in it, I used to bow, and say — " Sir, I see you 
 like a fuller bodied wine ; that is too light, too old^ 
 wine ;" then left the room, poured a little out, and 
 refilled it with a glass, or half a glass, of the best 
 JBritish brandy, A bow, and a confident look, 
 were again sure to procure approbation. My 
 best wine customers were the young gentlemen 
 from Oxford. They generally preferred Claret. 
 Port from the same pipes, with low bows, long 
 necked bottles, one third water, a little older 
 wine, and a squeeze of lemon, made excellent 
 Claret ; and the same things, with the second 
 squeeze of the lemon, and a few drops out of 
 Mrs. 's Bergamot bottle, for the bouquet, made 
 
CAUSE OF DEATH. 90 
 
 equally excellent Burgundy. The young gentle- 
 men were just as happy in sniffing the bouquet, 
 as I was in pocketing their twelve shillings a 
 bottle for a mixture that cost me little more than 
 one. Yes, Sir, three pipes of port were a little 
 fortune to me ; but long hills and loiv bows were 
 the great secret. 
 
 CAUSE OF DEATH. 
 
 On the explosion of the Columbian Loan 
 Bubble, in 1827, Mr. Zea, the Columbian 
 minister in this country, who was said, together 
 with certain jobbers in our good city of London, to 
 have devised the scheme, and enriched themselves 
 with the spoil of the credulous dupes, the 
 minister was so sadly beset by the disappointed 
 bond-holders, and certain accounts were required, 
 which he was unable or unwilling to furnisbj 
 when lo, he was suddenly called to render his last 
 account, -where finesse would be unavailing. 
 
 His unexpected decease, at such a crisis, 
 naturally gave rise to reports, that he had 
 destroyed himself; the only difference in these 
 accounts, being, as to the means used At a 
 
100 CERTAINTY OF THE MEDTCAt SCIENCE. 
 
 meeting of the directors of the Provident Life 
 Office, the gentlemen were busy in discussing these 
 
 contradictory rumours, when Dr. M made 
 
 his appearance, who, it was known, had been 
 attending Mr. Zea's family. All eyes were immedi- 
 ately turned to him ; and several voices exclaimed, 
 together, " You, Dr. M , can settle the ques- 
 tion, no doubt — What was really the cause of 
 Mr. Zea's death? "—" Most certainly," replied the 
 Doctor, " I attended him!" — A short pause was 
 succeeded by a general laugh, and the doctor was 
 not a little disconcerted, when he found that 
 his answer had been taken, before he knew that 
 he had delivered it. 
 
 B. B . 
 
 CERTAINTY OF THE MEDICAL SCIENCE. 
 
 The answer of another learned member of the 
 faculty, produced a hearty laugh in the Court 
 of King's Bench. On a question of hfe and 
 death, it became necessary to fix the precise 
 time at which a person had died ; for which 
 purpose, there was an examination of his medical 
 attendant. ** Pray state, as nearly as you 
 possibly can, doctor, at what hour Mr. 
 
ALWAYS FINISH YOUE SENTENCES. lOl 
 
 died." — ** Let me see," said the doctor, " I 
 attended him at eleven o'clock ; then I was called 
 to him again at two— yes, the last time I pre- 
 scribed for him was at two. Then he must have 
 died, as nearly as possible, at six o'clock." — " I see, 
 doctor," said the opposing counsel, " You can 
 calculate the exact time when your medicine 
 produces its effect." — " Most certainly," said the 
 son of Esculapius, with becoming gravity; and it 
 was some time before he could be made to under- 
 stand, how he, without being mirthful himself, 
 should be the cause of mirth in others. 
 
 B. B 1. 
 
 ALWAYS FINISH YOUR SENTENCES. 
 
 At the Surrey quarter sessions, a good-for- 
 nothing apprentice was found guilty of robbing 
 his master ; when the chairman was about to pass 
 sentence, the fellow muttered a sort of cry, in 
 which there was more of dislike of punishment 
 than sincerity of repentance. The chairman pro- 
 ceeded to expatiate upon the aggravation of theft 
 
102 ALWAYS FINISH YOUR SENTENCES. 
 
 in this case, he being in duty bound to protect 
 his master's property, instead of despoiling him 
 of it ; and remarking on his whimpering, he 
 declared his disbelief of his having any remorse of 
 conscience. " There," said the chairman, " you 
 stand, with your hands in your breeches pockets, 
 like a crocodile :" upon which frightful comparison, 
 the fellow's master, fearing that some severe punish- 
 ment would follow, jumped up, and implored for 
 mercy, assuring the worthy magistrate he had 
 such hopes of the prisoner, that if, after a short 
 imprisonment, he were set at liberty, he would 
 take him again into his service. The thread 
 of the chairman's discourse being thus broken, 
 he had occasion to ask his brethren where 
 he had left off, when one of them audibly 
 supplied the broken end, by saying, " You told 
 him that he stood with his hands in his breeches 
 pockets, like a crocodile'' The chairman could 
 scarcely believe his ears, and disputed the expres- 
 sion, amidst the giggle of the court, until he 
 recollected that the words " pretending to cry," 
 had been wanting to complete the sentence. 
 
HORNE TOOKE. 103 
 
 LUNATICS. 
 
 In accompanying a friend, one day, to West- 
 minster Hall, we happened to stroll into the 
 Committee Rooms of the House of Coriimons, 
 when we observed this very awkward notice, 
 affixed to one of the doors, which excited much 
 mirth among the beholders — " Committee of 
 Irish Lunatics'' 
 
 B ke. 
 
 HOENE TOOKE, 
 
 Hearing that a young man, possessing great 
 abilities as a public speaker, but uneducated, 
 was most anxious to study, particularly history, 
 and the learned languages, but totally without 
 means, very generously offered him two guineas 
 per week, for a time, that he might devote 
 himself exclusively to his studies. Being informed 
 that there were many malicious paragraphs in 
 the papers against Home Tooke, and that 
 they were mostly written by this same genius; 
 he would not believe it, till almost forced to the 
 printers of the paper, and shown the hand-writing 
 
)04 ATTRACTIONS. 
 
 of the scripts, he was convinced. Some time after- 
 wards, he called on the ingrate, asked him if he 
 had profited by the trifling assistance, and if he 
 had arrived at a state of information to enable him 
 to act for himself. The young man's reply was, 
 '' Yes, I thank you for it." What was Mr. Tooke's 
 reply, think you ? Oh ! bitter enough, no doubt. 
 Only " Good morning, Sir," and no more. If this 
 
 is not beneficence, what is ? 
 
 F es. . 
 
 STRANGE NOTICES. 
 
 At York, *' Lodgings for genteel young men, 
 who are taken in, and done for." 
 
 In a shoemaker's shop window, in Cavendish- 
 gtreet, Brighton, appeared this ludicrous bill, 
 ** Wanted here, a respectable woman'' s man." 
 
 ATTRACTIONS. 
 
 DON SALTERO'S COFFEE HOUSE. 
 
 Of my summer rambles, three places the same 
 day, were often my favourite resorts, some forty 
 
ATTRACTIONS. 105 
 
 years ago. The first was Don Saltero's Coffee 
 House, situated in Cheyne Row, at Chelsea, facing 
 the river. Of what I have read since, describing 
 this singular abode, — " It commenced as far back 
 as 1695, and was opened by one Saltero, who had 
 been the servant of Sir Hans Sloane. In addition 
 to merely a coffee room, a collection of curiosities 
 were deposited, in glass cases, which consisted of 
 a great variety of animals, preserved in spirits, 
 some stuffed birds, snakes, shells, &c. &c. The 
 greater part was furnished by his master, with 
 whom he had travelled. For the information of 
 the visitors, a catalogue of the whole was printed, 
 with the names of the donors affixed." 
 
 JEAN JAQUES ROUELLE S, 
 
 Distinguished by the name of Rousseau's, si- 
 tuated facing the Chelsea Bun House. Here 
 was an extensive garden, and at an early hour 
 a table d'hote, as a restaurateur, I believe the 
 only one at the time. For French dishes, this 
 house was a favourite receptacle of the epicures 
 for the jilats choisis. As an attraction, it was 
 called " Jean Jaques Rousseau." 
 
106 MY FLUTE. 
 
 JENNY S WHIM. 
 
 This was a tea garden, situated, after passing 
 over a wooden bridge on the left, previous to 
 entering the long avenue, the coach way to where 
 Ranelagh once stood. This place was much fre- 
 quented, from its novelty, being an inducement to 
 allure the curious, by its amusing deceptions, par- 
 ticularly on their first appearance there. Here 
 was a large garden, in different parts of which were 
 recesses ; and if treading on a spring, taking you 
 by surprise, up started different figures, some ugly 
 enough to frighten you ; — a harlequin, a mother 
 Shipton, or some terrific animal. In a large piece 
 of water, facing the tea alcoves, large fish, or 
 mermaids, were showing themselves above the 
 surface. This queer spectacle was first kept by a 
 famous mechanist, who had been employed at one 
 of the winter theatres, there being then but two. 
 
 MY FLUTE. 
 
 Previous to Newmarket Races, the younger 
 brothers of Lord Barrymore — Cripplegate, and 
 Newgate — if much company were assembled at 
 
MY FLUTE. 107 
 
 table, after dinner, made a general sale, and 
 put up to auction any thing of value they had 
 got from any one on trust, to " raise the wind " for 
 their intended race speculation. But on one 
 occasion, to add to the resources of the youngest, 
 unfortunately I was his jackall, to furnish him the 
 needful. As the flute at that time was my 
 favourite instrument,! occasionallyaccompanied his 
 sister, Lady Melfort, who played on the piano-forte. 
 Having left my flute at the house, a valuable one to 
 me, with many keys, the next day it disappeared, 
 and with it the young gentleman of the turf; 
 nor did I hear what became of it for above a year 
 after. A German, who called himself, " Joe, the 
 Conjurer," an adept at all games at cards (four- 
 herie), and an instructor to those rooks who are 
 upon the daily look out for pigeons, at all times 
 was welcome to the Adelphi, they having been his 
 worthy pupils. Joe had remarkable long hair, of 
 which he was proud to sport a long queue, which, 
 after inebriating him with brandy, the two hope^ 
 fuls cut off, and threw out of window. Joe 
 threatened to go to Bow Street, and make an 
 exposure — he had taught them to cheat at cards, 
 which he refused to conceal ; a douceur only could 
 
108 TWO COLLEGIANS. 
 
 prevail on him, after his loss of hair, not to pro- 
 claim his having been their cheating instructor. 
 Discarded from the house, no longer admitted, he 
 acquainted me that Newgate had pawned my flute 
 the day before he went to Newmarket, at a 
 pawnbroker's in Jermyn Street; when making- 
 inquiries there, the year had expired three weeks, 
 when it was publicly sold by auction. Here, I 
 may say, like the conjurer — Presto, hegwie. 
 
 TWO COLLEGIANS, 
 
 Who had lived on friendly terms in college, left 
 the university at the same time ; both, soon after, 
 entered into Holy Orders, one being appointed to 
 a curacy in London, and the other to a similar 
 situation in Cornwall. The distance, however, 
 made no alteration in their mutual good feeling, 
 which they continued to keep alive by frequent and 
 friendly correspondence. Many invitations passed 
 between them, which neither could avail himself 
 of, in consequence of the distance. At last, a 
 favourable opportunity offered to the London 
 Curate, and he lost no time in visiting his kind 
 
TWO COLLliGtANS. 109 
 
 friend in Cornwall, by whom he was most joyfully 
 welcomed, and the two friends were rendered 
 perfectly happy in each others society. In the 
 course of a few days, the London Curate perceived 
 that his friend had very little time to spare, being 
 continually employed in christenings, burials, mar- 
 riages, and writing sermons. It struck him that 
 he might be useful in taking some of the trouble 
 off his friend*s hands, and particularly proposed 
 preaching a sermon on the following Sunday. The 
 other friend thanked him heartily, but said,** Really 
 the people here are so little informed, that your 
 sermon must be carefully worded, or it will not 
 suit their slender comprehensions.'' The London 
 Curate said, he was perfectly assured that he 
 could compose a sermon to suit all capacities. 
 The proposal was accepted, and he preached 
 accordingly. After the service was over, he 
 asked his reverend friend, ** How he thought he 
 had acquitted himself?" The other replied — " Ex- 
 tremely well ; — still, I am sure, there were some 
 words that they could not understand." — *' Name 
 them," said the other. " Why," the Cornwall 
 Curate replied, ** you mentioned the word felicity; 
 now, had you said happiness, they would have 
 
110 OLFACTORY NERVES. 
 
 known your meaning, but the word felicity is 
 totally unknown to many of them. Suppose, how- 
 ever, to prove this assertion, I call my man of all 
 work, and question him ? " The man making his 
 appearance, the following dialogue took place : — 
 Curate — " Well William, I suppose you were 
 very much satisfied with the sermon you heard 
 this Reverend Gentleman preach to-day?" Wil- 
 liam — " Eez, Zur, I was indeed ; one of the finest 
 zurmons I ever did hear." Curate — " Now, tell 
 me, William, do you know what felicity means ? " 
 William — " Why, Zur, I think it to be zummut 
 of the inside of a pig.'' 
 
 J. B — — r. 
 
 OLFACTORY NERVES. 
 
 About forty or fifty years ago, Maberly, a coach- 
 maker, in Queen Street, in consequence of a 
 varnish he continued to make (which greatly 
 offended the olfactory nerves of the neighbour- 
 hood), was indicted for a nuisance. The trial took 
 place in Westminster Hall, when Lord Mansfield 
 was the Lord-Chief-Justice. Several witnesses 
 were examined, who declared the varnish to be 
 
DUNNING. Ill 
 
 SO very offensive, that the disagreeable smell had 
 obliged many of the inhabitants to quit their 
 houses. One man only, on being questioned, said, 
 ** The varnish did not offend his nostrils^, and that 
 he smelt nothing unpleasant at any time," This 
 appearing so singular to his Lordship, he observed 
 — " It is very extraordinary, that after so many 
 persons have declared the smell of the varnish to 
 be nearly overpowering, you should not have been 
 in the least annoyed by it ; do you live near the 
 spot?" — " At the back of the house, my Lord," 
 said the witness, " where the varnish is made." 
 " Pray, friend," added his Lordship, " who, and 
 what are you?" — " I am a nightman, my Lord," 
 replied the other. 
 
 J. B r. 
 
 DUNNING, 
 
 During Lord Mansfield's time, who was the 
 leading and most popular counsellor in Westminster 
 Hall, but in examination was occasionally too sar- 
 castical, in which vein he indulged rather too freely, 
 in the case of an uncertificated bankrupt, which 
 came before him, whom he called a King's Bench 
 
lis FUNERAL SEiiMOX. 
 
 Collegian, and asked him why he went to that 
 college ? " Why, Sir," replied the poor broken- 
 down bankrupt, " I went there to avoid the 
 impertinence of Dunning.'' 
 
 FUNERAL SERMONi 
 
 A journeyman ship-carpenter, belonging to one 
 of the dock-yards at Portsmouth, was very much 
 afflicted at the loss of his wife, for whom he had 
 the most sincere affection ; and, anxious to prove 
 it to the extent of his power, felt bound, in 
 gratitude for long past acts of kindness, to have 
 a funeral sermon preached at her burial. In con^ 
 sequence of this determination, he went to the 
 parson of the parish ; and relating his circum- 
 stances, and the loss he had sustained by the death 
 of his dear wife, begged to know what additional 
 expense it would be to have a funeral sermon 
 preached. The Reverend Gentleman informed 
 him, " that the customary fee was a guinea." — 
 " That's a large sum," said the poor carpenter, " fot 
 a man with small wages to put down ; but as I loved 
 my wife dearly, and wished to pay her this last mark 
 
SPECULATION. 113 
 
 of attention, I hope your Reverence, in considera- 
 tion of my want of nieans^ will be kind enough to 
 preach a funeral sermon for half a guinea. '' Half 
 a guinea !" said the Portsmouth Parson, " why, it 
 is contrary to all precedent ; but as you are so 
 anxious, and urge your request so pathetically, on 
 this occasion, I will, in consideration of your being 
 a poor man, preach a funeral sermon for half a 
 guinea, but really it won't be worth hearing^ 
 
 SPECULATION. 
 
 Two young ladies, actresses, who took lessons in 
 fencing of me, at least the Graces. The first was 
 Mrs. Jordan's daughter, Mrs. Alsop, preparatory 
 to two characters : she was to assume the male 
 attire. My attendance one day, reminds me of 
 my disappointment, twice being in company with 
 two of the first literary characters of the day, 
 without the gratification of being introduced. Of 
 the former. — On one of my visits to Mrs. Alsop, 
 he was there some time ; after he had taken his 
 leave, I was informed it was Mr. Campbell, the poet. 
 But a few days after, waiting on a lady, who had 
 
 I 
 
114 SPECULATION. 
 
 been governess to the late Mr. Dumergue, the 
 dentist, at whose house Miss Charpentier, whom I 
 had known from a child, formerly resided, and, at 
 the time, married to the person I am going to 
 speak of, — a tall man, whose conversation for some 
 time I listened to with attention. After he was 
 gone, to my surprise and regret, I was told the tall 
 man was Walter Scott : — this was previous to his 
 being made a baronet. 
 
 My other young Thespian ileve was a beau- 
 tiful girl, about eighteen, and like those good 
 of sale, whose papas (speculators) send their 
 daughters to India to get husbands, and, the better 
 to promote the traffic, endow them with every 
 accomplishment. This girl was not intended to 
 travel so far. No East Indiaman here. A hack- 
 ney would save that expense. A shilling to Drury 
 Lane Theatre, in preference to an Indian Bazaar. 
 Foolishly, I should say, her first debut was at the 
 Circus, disappointed of an engagement elsewhere. 
 Receiving a note from the mother, inquiring my 
 terms, I waited on her, who, autrefois, had been 
 a handsome woman ; but neither the males, or 
 the females, who smell the lamp, many as I 
 have instructed, were ever on my book as 
 
SPECULATION. 115 
 
 scholars, all en ami; as such, the young lady was 
 welcome to my professional visits, which were 
 accepted. If the graceful person, aided by beauty. 
 La Belle des Belles, the little trouble, the rapid 
 improvement that ensued, every time I attended ; 
 it was not the time that engaged me elsewhere, 
 but the pleasure of having such a pupil, whose 
 most engaging manners and modest diffidence, 
 caused me a genuine sorrow when I took my leave. 
 The mother, as I considered, the lady I received 
 the note from, was called the aunt; but from 
 the exact resemblance, the very contour comme 
 deux gouttes d'eau, not a doubt existed : it was 
 her mama's objection to be thought old enough to 
 be the mother of a girl of eighteen — what amour 
 propre ! " All eyes but your own can see you are 
 no younger." However, I took care to have the 
 politesse not to offend her jwcenile feelings, ever 
 addressing her as the aunt. As to accomplish- 
 ments ; of the young lady's acquirements (from 
 the aunfs information), in French, Italian, music, 
 and dancing, she was au fait, and no expense 
 was spared. The master who taught the harp 
 (I saw there an expensive one), was an eminent 
 performer from Paris; nine guineas for twelve 
 
116 
 
 THE COCK-LOFT. 
 
 lessons. Bravo, Monsieur ! All this for her future 
 elevation. Sums lavished to " build castles in the 
 air." Those fortunate damsels of the theatre, 
 must have turned aunty's head, fancying her 
 daughter would be tt'ap for another stage-struck 
 amoureux. Poor woman, here she fails ; beauty 
 alone, unless a prominent actress, is but a poor 
 speculation. It is years since I saw the beautiful 
 expectant, then in an inferior situation at Astley's 
 Theatre, and I never heard of her again. 
 
 THE COCK-LOFT. 
 
 At Easter, the trout streams at Rickmans worth 
 were my usual resort. While on a ramble there, 
 I prevailed on my friend John Bannister, with our 
 old crony, James Heath, the artist, to accompany 
 me. Bannister, whose time had always been 
 better engaged than standing for hours by the 
 water-side, encouraged, by my telling him I was 
 well acquainted with all the places where the 
 largest fish were to be found, and that he might 
 be sure to fill his bag, and astonish his family at 
 his return home, with such sport ; replied — " So 
 
THE COCK-LOFT. 117 
 
 I was told, when Wroughton lent me his Spanish 
 gun, what a number of birds I should bring 
 home. When, instead of birds, the gun bursting, 
 two of my fingers did not return with me. How- 
 ever, I'll take you at your word, the theatre is 
 shut this week. No danger now, unless I tumble 
 in the water, and who knows but I may be a 
 second Walton. But what is a fisherman without 
 a jacket? Snip shall go directly to work. You 
 know my way — I always dress in character." 
 Accordingly, pleased with his sporting jacket — 
 equipped with a new fishing rod, lines, a large 
 bag, and landing net, expressly purchased, with 
 me in my chaise, — Heath in his, — off we sallied to 
 Rickmansworth. Arrived there in the evening, 
 we yet had time to fish a couple of hours. But 
 Bannister, objecting, said that it was better to 
 defer it till the next day, he was certain then to fill 
 his bag; his pretty jacket, besides his^r^^ appear- 
 ance, would so attract the fish, he was sure of an 
 overflowing audience : we had better give the 
 large fish a respite till to-morrow. No time was 
 lost, for, with his eccentric humour, he amused us 
 till supper; giving us, as he called them (not 
 Le Brun's Passions), the Fisherman's Passions 
 
118 THE COCK-LOFT. 
 
 Attention — Looking at the float. Hope — a nibble. 
 Disappointment — No fish. Anger — The hook 
 entangled in a weed. Jot/ — A bite. Astonish- 
 ment — A large trout. This exhibition of coun- 
 tenance so often he has exhibited on the stage, 
 especially in the " Children in the Wood," when 
 seated in the chair, with a frantic state of 
 expression at the loss of them. He would often, 
 with the rod in his hand, standing by the water- 
 side, give us the different expressions of tragedy 
 and comedy. This he called his fishing rehearsal 
 — .telling us, " To-morrow I'll astonish the watery 
 natives. Turk Gregory never did such deeds." 
 Supper being announced, and lamb chops making 
 their appearance, having lunched at an early hour, 
 previous to our departure from town, two other 
 passions now followed — Hunger and Pleasure, 
 The first, our supper ; the next, the glass. When 
 in high spirits, singing " Fishermen all," enter 
 chambermaid, to tell us there were only two beds 
 for the three fishing gentlemen. The idea of 
 a bed-fellow was instantly scouted. Three must 
 be provided. Knowing that a company of a 
 marching regiment had come into the town that 
 morning, and that the oflScers quartered there had 
 
THE COCK-LOFT. 119 
 
 chosen their beds, no choice was left us ; it was 
 senior es prior es. What were we to do ? Still 
 persisting on another bed, when the landlord 
 informed us, that, to accommodate the officers, 
 who were to remain there some days, for another 
 party that was expected, he had been obliged to 
 give up his own bed ; how very sorry he was ; but 
 if one of us would put up with hooUJeetcher's, he 
 would make the room as comfortable as possible. 
 No alternative left us. " Hobson's choice," that 
 or none ; we had to wait till it was in readiness. 
 In the mean time, we proposed drawing lots, to 
 decide who was to take the place of JBoots, two 
 blanks to the chamber prize, when our merry 
 companion was the fortunate to displace him. 
 This was a thunder-bolt; no sham passion of 
 anger now ; to have fallen into the water could 
 not have been a greater damper to his spirits. At 
 first, he refused, and glad would he have been to 
 have paid for the supper, and our beds, if we 
 would resign one to him. Here he stood no 
 chance with all his comic characters ; this sudden 
 transition, though no laughing one here, certainly 
 was the most shining one, supplanting another 
 performer in his shining way. Having for years 
 
120 THE COCK-LOFT. 
 
 experienced his jokes, when I have been the sub- 
 ject, as chacun a son tour, it was my turn now, 
 and plenty of scope for my attempt at retort ! 
 But seeing him, thus chop-fallen, enact the knight 
 of the sorrowful countenance, my feelings were 
 such, that I had not the heart to hurt him, though 
 I am sure his good nature would not have been 
 offended. Indeed, I could have almost resigned 
 my bed to him ; but on the decision of his fatal 
 lot, he threatened to take possession of my bed in 
 his hoots. Directly, I took care to lock the door ; 
 nor was it opened till Heath and myself had seen 
 him to his snoozing ken (a term suited to his 
 apartment). The denouement that succeeded was 
 laughable. With a serious countenance we followed 
 the chambermaid to the end of the yard, where 
 a ladder was the only staircase for him to ascend 
 to a cock-loft. Whilst mounting it, all before 
 which was pensoroso, now performing the alle- 
 gretto, laughing, " Damme I'll be ranger ; up I go, 
 up I go."— Aye, " Go to bed, Basil, go to bed." Still 
 keeping up his spirits ; on opening his room door, 
 he wished us a good night, singing, not soto voce, 
 more the pianos " Fishermen all." The next 
 morning it was a theatrical appearance at break- 
 
THE COCK-LOFT. 121 
 
 fast, 1 rather think his first in that line. When 
 expecting to hear him complain of his night's 
 lodging, too cunning for us, aware of the advan- 
 tage we had secured, in procuring our beds, and 
 considering our inquiries were more to laugh than 
 sympathize, all gaiett had his prompt repartees at 
 the moment. Addressing him, " Great Angler, 
 how have you slept ?" — " Never better in my life. 
 It was the heavy dew of slumber." — " But your 
 room ?" — " The cabin is convenient ! " — " Surely it 
 must have been a filthy one ?" — " Whatever it was, 
 it did not forbid me to ' steep my senses into 
 forgetfulness ; ' my slumbers would not have been 
 better ' in the perfumed chambers of the great.' " 
 Here he was too much for us, turning all our 
 questions, with his quotations, into ridicule, and 
 humouring our curiosity. Whatever inconveniences 
 he must have had, he cunningly kept them to 
 himself. Now for the fishing. The morning, 
 unfortunately, was so windy, and boisterous 
 (a cold March and easterly wind), that we had 
 little hopes, and no chance of catching a fish. 
 However, we were determined to try our luck. 
 After two hours, shivering by the water-side, 
 without a bite, or even a nibble, we might have 
 
12^ 
 
 THE COCK-LOFT. 
 
 remained the whole day, and verified the old 
 saying, whilst holding our rods — " A fool at one 
 end, and a worm at the other." Following my 
 advice, the sooner we got back to town, the better ; 
 we should, at least, be sure of a good bite at our 
 own table, with little chance of the weather 
 altering : our tavern bill paid, we were heartily 
 glad to get away. Bannister, not* forgetting his 
 lodging to hoot, sang, " Adieu, thou dreary Pile." 
 The few hours our fishing excursion had lasted, 
 if two ounces only had been caught, it would have 
 cost above 2l, As to the Mr. Walton, en second, 
 what with his new jacket, fishing tackle, &;c., and 
 tavern expenses, he must have been five guineas 
 minus ; enough to sicken him for another fishing 
 excursion. He made me a present of his jacket ; 
 it was a memento years after, of the Three Jolly 
 Anglers. 
 
 If in fishing you take great delight, 
 In a punt you may shiver from morn to night ; 
 And if endowed with patience, Job had of old, 
 The Devil a thing will you catch, but a cold. 
 
123 
 
 BOOTS, 
 
 AN INCIDENT, 
 
 It is now a good many years since, as indeed the 
 point, if point there be, of this incident of my life 
 will sufficiently declare, that I had been passing 
 some time at the house of one of the most amiable 
 and agreeable men in the world (now alas out of 
 it), who lived a little way beyond the tar-smelling 
 town of Gosport ; and having fulfilled my engage- 
 ment with him, had resolved to go from Ports- 
 mouth to Brighton, at which place I proposed 
 passing the winter. In pursuance of this plan, I 
 dispatched my servant, the evening before, with all 
 my luggage, excepting one portmanteau, a bag, and 
 a dressing-case, in order that he might secure me 
 lodgings at the Castle Inn, which then existed, or 
 in Dorset Gardens, which at that period of my life 
 was my most favourite residence in Brighton. 
 
 Having so far proceeded in the execution of my 
 plan, I next day, at about five o'clock, month of 
 November, weather wet and windy, took leave of 
 my kind host, and stepped into his carriage, which 
 was first to convey me, my portmanteau, bag, and 
 
124 BOOTS. 
 
 dressing-case, to the landing, or rather, in my 
 instance, the embarking place at Gosport, thence 
 to return, to take him and his amiable wife to 
 some dinner party in their neighbourhood ; their 
 engagement at which terminated my visit in the 
 afternoon of that day, rather than on the morning 
 of the next. 
 
 All that had been projected in the programme 
 was duly put into execution, up to my departure 
 per ferry-boat to Point. A short delay on the part 
 of the boatmen, and a delicacy on mine, in keeping 
 my friend's carriage so long as to be too late for his 
 use, left me shivering and shaking for some minutes 
 on the Gosport shore, in company with my before- 
 mentioned portmanteau, bag, and dressing-case. 
 At length, however, I, and my accessories, were 
 afloat, and after ten minutes drenching in the 
 heaviest rain I ever felt, I did, what was extremely 
 satisfactory to myself, come to the Point, where 
 I was assailed by various porters, and others, who 
 proffered their services to carry my never-to-be- 
 forgotten portmanteau, bag, and dressing-case, to 
 any ostlery or lodging I might choose to select. 
 
 In those days the Crown was in high favour, 
 and to the Crown I directed my nautical mercury 
 
BOOTS. 125 
 
 with the luggage, and thither I proceeded myself. 
 I reached it in safety ; but, with regard to drapery, 
 dripping somewhat like a male Musidora ; it was 
 nearly dark, and the wind whistled 07it of the 
 gateway of the Crown right in my teeth. I pulled 
 a bell — the sound seemed lost in the breeze ; but 
 having made a second effort, a pale-faced waiter 
 made his appearance. 
 
 " I want dinner, and a bed," said I. 
 
 " This way. Sir," said he; and forthwith he 
 showed me into what was called a coffee-room. 
 The chimney and the company were both smoking, 
 the floor was sanded, and several gentlemen 
 were grouped at narrow tables placed in little 
 slips, separated from each other, having, on the 
 tops of the partitions which divided them, brass 
 rods and red fustian curtains, like those by which, 
 in a country church, the churchwarden's pew is 
 specially distinguished. 
 
 I was tired, wet, and uncomfortable ; I had left a 
 house where comfort and hospitality reigned with 
 unmitigated sway. Three weeks of social inter- 
 course with a friend I loved, and his family whom 
 I esteemed, had spoiled me for this sudden change 
 to boisterous mirth, strange faces, and unsavoury 
 
126 
 
 BOOTS. 
 
 smells. I sought to be alone, to think over my 
 past visit, to dwell upon the pleasures I had expe- 
 rienced, and rest my mind for a few hours after 
 the constant excitement in which the events of 
 the last twenty days had kept me. 
 
 " Can I have no sitting room ? " said I, drawing 
 back. — " This is the coffee-room," said the waiter, 
 which, no doubt, as a matter of technicality, is a 
 sufficient reason for eating dinners in it. — " I don't 
 think," — added he, looking first at my miserably 
 dripping hat and cloak ; and secondly, and in 
 vain, for my servant, and the proportion of luggage 
 adequate to the wants of a gentleman who had 
 the vanity and presumption to wish to dine by 
 himself — " I don't think we have a sitting room 
 disengaged ; I'll see. Have you any luggage, 
 Sir?" 
 
 Upon my answer to this question, I was con- 
 vinced much depended ; and what had I to boast ? 
 A small portmanteau, a bag, and a dressing-case. 
 
 " The porter has it," said I. 
 
 And the waiter went to the porter, and took my 
 luggage, and they whispered together ; and I could 
 see contempt and disinclination fill the waiter's 
 countenance, while he called " chambermaid," to 
 
BOOTS. 127 
 
 take '* the gentleman's things to a bed-room." 
 Having done which, he proceeded to the head of 
 some other department, to know whether I might 
 be allowed to put five or six shillings extra into 
 the landlord's pocket by enjoying my own proper 
 fire and wax candles. 
 
 I then had an opportunity of surveying the 
 chambermaid herself. Maid, thought I — Gorgon 
 — to call a patriarch, who at seventy-two, shakes 
 himself over the saddle of a post-horse, post-5oy, 
 is not more preposterous, than to call thee maid. 
 
 " Sally," screamed the Brobdignagian, " What 
 bed-rooms is disengaged? Here's a gentleman, 
 come by the Gosport ferry, wants a bed." 
 
 This was called up to somebody on the floor 
 
 above us ; the answer came down like thunder — 
 
 " There's only number two hundred and eighteen." 
 
 " Oh," replied my huge conductress, " this 
 
 way, if you please." 
 
 " I'll just stop one moment, to see if I can have 
 a room to dine in," said I. 
 
 " Yes, Sir, you can," said the waiter ; " I'll 
 show you the parlour, now. Sir." 
 
 And he did indeed show me a parlour, opening 
 directly from the gate-way, shaped like a cocked- 
 
128 BOOTS. 
 
 hat box, and half covered with a carpet, which, as 
 it was agitated by the wind drifting under the 
 door, undulated like a play-house sea. 
 
 I saw complaint was useless, so I politely asked 
 to have a fire lighted, ordered a boot-jack, and 
 with considerable force, which was absolutely 
 necessary to get them off in their limpid state, got 
 rid of my boots ; and having invested myself in a 
 pair of accommodating slippers, ordered some fish 
 and a broiled fowl, with mushroom, for dinner, 
 proceeded to my dormitory, my six feet Thais 
 leading the way. 
 
 We began to mount the stairs as the clock was 
 striking six, and continued to ascend in nearly a 
 perpendicular direction for a considerable time ; 
 we then appeared to me to take a south-westerly 
 direction, and shortly after rose rapidly up a pre- 
 cipitous ladder railed on either side, and reached 
 what, when the door was opened, appeared to me 
 to be the lantern of a light-house. It was a four- 
 sided room, three sides of which were windows ; 
 on the fourth side was the bed, and on the fifth 
 side the door. This was number 218. 
 
 " Why there is no fire-place here," said I. 
 
 " No, Sir. Should you want a fire," said Thais, 
 
BOOTS. 129 
 
 " this is the only room we have — it is uncommon 
 
 pleasant, I'm sure, in the day-time — why, in clear 
 
 weather. Sir, you can see from the Nab to the 
 
 Needles with the naked eye." 
 
 The idea of any thing naked in such a room, at 
 
 such a season, made me shudder. I said, " This is 
 
 not very snug, for the time of year." 
 
 " There is'nt no other room, I know. Sir," said 
 
 my patroness ; saying which, she banged down the 
 candlestick upon a painted deal table, which stood 
 at one of the shutterless windows ; and, having 
 deposited by its side one solitary towel, retired, 
 shutting the door after her with a noise which made 
 all the frames of my winter conservatory rattle. 
 
 In this distant and desolate spot I changed my 
 dress, and although the climate was none of the 
 mildest, I soon began to feel the comforts of dry 
 clothing; and thus, young in years, and buoyant 
 in spirits, the little ills by which I was encom- 
 passed became matters of mirth, and I could 
 scarcely help laughing at my own miseries. In 
 some twenty or five-and-twenty minutes, having 
 completed my toilette, I, to use the phrase of 
 Messrs. Green, Sadler, and Co. the aeronauts, 
 
 K 
 
130 BOOTS. 
 
 " began to descend ;" but as there were no finger- 
 posts in the passage, 1 was compelled to proceed 
 cautiously ; guided by a natural instinct for food, 
 I suppose, rather than by any knowledge of the 
 carte du pays, I reached what might be considered 
 the habitable part of the Crown, and at the end of 
 a passage leading to the front rooms on the first 
 floor, I saw a group of pretty faces smiling — and 
 when does a face look so pretty as when it smiles 
 on one, and looking earnestly at one — one per- 
 sonally with considerable interest not unmoved 
 with veneration, a tribute for which, at my time 
 of life, I own I was not quite prepared. I proceeded 
 on my way, and met the huge Glumdalia, who 
 had escorted me to the light-house. She glided 
 by me with a low curtsey, and seemed to sink at 
 least two feet into the earth as she passed. 
 
 Onward I went, until I reached the head of the 
 staircase, which, by the stiflf breeze which blew 
 upwards, I knew to be the one which led to my 
 salle a manger; judge my surprise at being stopped 
 on the first step by a prodigiously large, well 
 powdered, gentlemanly-looking man, with a broad 
 white waistcoat and black unmentionables. 
 
BOOTS. 131' 
 
 " This is the way, Sir," said the landlord — for 
 it was he who spoke — " this is the way to your 
 dining room." 
 
 " No," said I, ** I believe you mistake ; my 
 room is down stairs, I " 
 
 " I beg your pardon. Sir," replied mine host — 
 " I did mistake, Sir ; but that is rectified — this 
 way. Sir — lights there — this way." 
 
 The door of a handsome drawing room flew 
 open, and I discovered, before a blazing fire, such 
 as would have consumed my little three-cornered 
 room under the gateway ; a table served with such 
 taste, and fit for an emperor, was placed for my 
 reception ; while a huge sofa had been removed 
 from its ordinary resting place to a position at 
 right angles with the fire-place, before which was 
 drawn a sofa table, whereon lay sundry books, the 
 day's newspapers from London, a silver inkstand, 
 and all the comfortable accessions to reading and 
 writing. 
 
 " This is a better room than the other," said I, 
 with the confident air of a man who utters an 
 incontrovertible truism. 
 
 " I thought. Sir," said the landlord, bowing very 
 low, " you might, perhaps, have letters to write — 
 
BOOTS. 
 
 our post does not leave till late — I hope, Sir, you 
 will find every thing as comfortable as we can 
 make it." 
 
 " I thank you," said I. " Let me have dinner as 
 soon as you can." 
 
 " Immediately, Sir," was the answer, and mine 
 host disappeared. 
 
 True to his word, five minutes had not elapsed 
 before he reappeared, bearing in his hands a huge 
 tureen of soup, which I had not ordered, but which 
 he deposited upon the table himself, a trail of 
 waiters following — one with a lemon, another 
 with a hash, a third with a plate, and a fourth 
 with something else. 
 
 " I ventured to add the soup. Sir," said the 
 landlord — " his Highness the Stadtholder, who has 
 been here, approved of it greatly." 
 
 I bowed ; my landlord retired to a respectful 
 distance, and, under the attentive surveillance of 
 himself and his three aides, I swallowed what 
 appeared to me to be particularly disagreeable 
 broth ; however, the attention of mine host was not 
 to be so repaid ; when I had finished, I said, 
 " Excellent soup, indeed." 
 
 I ordered some sherry — the landlord vanished. 
 
BOOTS. 133 
 
 I had scarcely compounded the fish sauce, when, 
 like Aladdin's Genius, he stood again before me, 
 holding in his hand a bottle of the desired wine ; 
 I was startled at the quantity, and implied that 
 a pint of sherry would have been enough. 
 
 " Oh, Sir," said the landlord, " it makes no 
 difference how much you drink of it — it would 
 be a pity to divide it — it is Gordon's wine, fifteen 
 years old in my house. Sir — I have very little 
 of it, I assure you. Fetch a glass here," added 
 he, in a loud tone, to one of the waiters. " Allow 
 me. Sir, to pour it out." 
 
 I submitted to his overweening kindness, and 
 felt quite relieved, when he went to fetch, with 
 his own proper hand, my broiled fowl, which I 
 found, to my surprise, accompanied by two entrie 
 of cutlet and fricandies, and moreover, ushered 
 in with an announcement from mine host, that 
 the time had been so short, it was impossible 
 to do more, but that he had ventured to add 
 a couple of woodcocks, by way of a second course. 
 
 Thus fite'd, I nearly sank under the attentions 
 proffered me, which had a still more powerful 
 effect upon me, from the contrast they afforded 
 to my first reception ; cheese over, and a bottle 
 
134 
 
 BOOTS. 
 
 of claret put down (for I in vain mentioned port, 
 and suggested a pint), I asked one of the waiters, 
 still occupied in arranging the fire, if there was 
 a play acted that night. 
 
 The answer was in the affirmative ; Mr. Pope, 
 of Co vent Garden Theatre, acted Alexander the 
 Great. 
 
 " What time does it begin ? " said I. 
 
 *'It has began, Sir," replied the man. 
 
 "Should I find room, if I went after I have 
 finished my wine ?" 
 
 " Oh Sir," said the man, " my master will take 
 care there shall be a place secured for you, Sir." 
 
 This I thought particularly civil, because it 
 must be totally disinterested ; I thanked him, 
 and said I would avail myself of his attention. 
 
 I finished my wine, rang the bell, and announced 
 myself in readiness for the play. " I should like 
 a candle," said I ; "I must get myself a handker- 
 chief I left on the table in my bed-room, or 
 perhaps you will get it for me ; number 218." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Sir," said the waiter, " your 
 sleeping room is next to this, numbered three. 
 Sir — this is the door." 
 
 1 followed his instructions, and entered the 
 
 I 
 
BOOTS. 135 
 
 apartment, which contained appendages of every 
 possible comfort. I stared — wondered — said 
 nothing — took my handkerchief — and walked 
 down stairs. 
 
 At the bar, a small number of persons were 
 assembled, evidently to look at me, which they 
 did with the same marks of respect and admi- 
 ration, as those had evinced at the top of the 
 staircase, before dinner. One old lady I distinctly 
 heard, say, " God bless him." I still went on, and 
 found at the door my landlord again, attended 
 by two persons with lanterns, who, as I quitted 
 the threshold, moved forward towards the thea- 
 tre, mine host walking a little in advance of me. 
 
 We reached the Thespian fane, and I found 
 myself, as if by magic, transported by some side 
 door and passage into a remarkably comfortable 
 private box, where I was left by my guide and 
 another gentleman, who, however presently re- 
 turned, and, with a profound salute, gave me a 
 bill of the play. I then established myself snugly, 
 and enjoyed the excellent acting of the now 
 veteran Pope, in peace and quietude. There were 
 sundry disturbances in the pit, and some junior 
 marine officers had located themselves in one of 
 
136 i^oofs. 
 
 the boxes up stairs, over the stage, with long four- 
 horse whips, with which, at stated periods, they 
 commenced certain evolutions, not exactly cal- 
 culated for the interior of a theatre, but still 
 extremely amusing to me, from its novelty. 
 
 When the play was over, I felt that I had had 
 enough of pleasure for once, and did not stay to see 
 the farce. Lucky was it for the lantern bearers, the 
 English Musolgees, who had lighted me thither ; for 
 when I came out of the door, there I found them, 
 ready to return before me ; I naturally availed 
 myself of their services, and reached mine inn. 
 
 I met, in the passage, two remarkably pretty 
 girls, whose faces I recognised as having been 
 among the group on the top of the stairs. I was 
 struck with the laughing and joyous expression of 
 their countenances, which appeared to me to be 
 in some degree damaged by the tint of two bright 
 orange-coloured handkerchiefs, which they wore 
 over their shoulders ; a momentary glance from my 
 eye, suffused one of them with blushes, and dropping 
 a profound curtsey, as if she was afraid her beauty 
 had been too presumptuous, she shrank into the bar, 
 followed by her whom I imagined to be her sister. 
 At bed-time, when I retired to rest, no Glum- 
 
BOOTS. 137 
 
 dalia was to be seen ; a fair small-featured 
 blue-eyed personage, with a profusion of light hair, 
 held in her trembling hand a bed-chamber candle- 
 stick; she, like her young mistresses, wore an 
 orange-coloured bow in her cap ; so I set down the 
 prevalence of the taste to the results of a recent 
 election, in which orange had been the distin- 
 guishing colour of one of the candidates. I bade 
 my chaperon good night, but she seemed to me 
 to be too much alarmed to enjoy the smallest 
 civility : she retired, and so did I, wearied by my 
 day's exploits, and delighted with the courtesy of 
 the landlord, and the extensive comfort of his 
 accommodations. 
 
 The breakfast next morning was after the same 
 school ; and at eleven, I desired the waiter to order 
 me a chaise and pair to Chichester. He went — 
 but in a few moments came my landlord, to say 
 that he had ventured to order the horses to be put 
 into a chariot which belonged to a gentleman who 
 was in the Isle of Wight, and had left it there, 
 but who would be too happy that I should use it. 
 
 It seems to me, that when the current is setting 
 smoothly along, in the direction we wish, it would 
 be the height of absurdity to throw pebbles into it. 
 
138 BOOTS. 
 
 and check its course, or disturb its tranquillity ; so 
 I merely bowed assent, and, naturally, preferring 
 an easy carriage to a rattling " yellow," permitted 
 my kind landlord to go his own way to work. 
 
 The bill struck me to be considerable ; but 
 then the accommodations were commensurate ; 
 one charge, however, puzzled me, because, in 
 addition to every other doubt I might have had as 
 to its reasonableness, there was the fact, that I had 
 not been made aware of its having been incurred 
 — " Ringers, £.1 1^." — I ventured to inquire the 
 meaning of this item, and was informed that the 
 bells of the parish church had been rung in my 
 honour (luckily for me, before I awoke in the 
 morning). I thought it odd, and foolish ; but it was 
 done ; bells cannot be un-rung, said I to myself, 
 and accordingly settled the account, to the no 
 small deterioration of my property, and stepped 
 into the carriage of the unconscious gentleman in 
 the Isle of Wight, amidst a profusion of bows and 
 curtsies, my landlord standing at the door un- 
 covered, the powder from his head flying up High 
 Street like drifting snow before the wind. 
 
 At Chichester I stopped to pay a visit, and the 
 link between me and Portsmouth was, for the 
 
BOOTS. 139 
 
 time, broken, and I amused myself by reciting 
 to my friends the particulars of my adventure 
 at the Crown ; the moral of my tale being the 
 exhibition of the difference of accommodation to 
 be found at the same Inn ; and there the matter 
 rested. I went on to Brighton, took up my 
 residence in Dorset Gardens, rather dissatisfied 
 that the people of Brighton did not emulate the 
 people of Portsmouth in their endeavours to make 
 the amiable. 
 
 But time unravels more things — Junius will be 
 discovered at last. One morning, a friend did me 
 the pleasure to partake of my breakfast, after which 
 meal he proposed our usual walk till luncheon 
 time. I, too lazy to go up stairs to my dressing 
 room, called my servant to bring me my boots; 
 he did so, but not the pair I intended to put on : 
 see on what trifles great counts turn. He went 
 for another pair, leaving those which he had 
 previously brought. 
 
 " Those are handsome boots," said my friend 
 the colonel, who, at the same time was no colonel 
 at all. " Who made them ?" 
 
 " A man of the name of Paget Daly O'Shaug- 
 nessy, in St. James's Street," said I. 
 
140 BOOTS. 
 
 " Very nice boots, indeed." 
 
 " Yes," said I ; " and they fit me remarkably 
 well, although they were not made for me. He had 
 promised me a pair of boots for the day I left 
 town ; and when my man went for them, he had 
 not finished them ; but he sent these, which he 
 had made for the Prince of Orange, and they 
 suited me better than any he had ever made for 
 me purposely." 
 
 " That's odd," said the colonel ; *' but if I had 
 been you I should have made my servant scratch 
 out the Prince's name, which is written on the 
 inside of them, else it might appear that you had 
 appropriated His Highness's property to your 
 own use," 
 
 " What !" cried I, " is the Prince's name in the 
 boots?" 
 
 " Here," said the colonel, " read ;" and so I did, 
 and sure enough there were the words, H, S, H. 
 the Prince of Orange, 2,789,465 ; the figures 
 meaning to imply that Mr. Paget Daly O'Shaug- 
 nessy had himself made two million, seven hundred 
 and eighty-nine thousand, four hundred, and sixty- 
 five pair of boots. 
 
 " Now," said I, " I see it all ; now do I account 
 
BOOTS. 141 
 
 for my promotion from the conservatory, from the 
 sky-h'ght, to the drawing room at the Crown ; now 
 do I know why I was looked at w ith veneration and 
 respect ; now do I see why the girls wore orange 
 handkerchiefs, and the fair chambermaid trembled ; 
 now do I understand why I was blessed by old 
 ladies, and lighted to the play with lanterns ; now 
 do I comprehend why the bells rung in mine 
 honour, and why I was drenched with soup the 
 Stadtholder loved. Those, my dear colonel, those 
 are the boots saturated and dried at Portsmouth ; 
 from those boots did they derive their notions of 
 my character and consequence, and to those boots 
 am I indebted for being indebted to the landlord 
 of the Crown five pounds more than I should have 
 owed him if I had worn anonymous leggings. 
 
 " Ah," said the colonel, " as Titus Andronicus 
 says, if you had gone all bootless into them, they 
 would not have heeded thee." 
 
 " I confess," replied I, " my vanity is a little 
 wounded ; but no matter, I was well lodged, the 
 landlord was well paid, and I never will use the 
 word BOOTS reproachfully as long as I live." 
 
 THEODORE HOOK. 
 
142 
 
 JACK BANNISTER. 
 
 Having arranged, in the month of July, a ramble 
 to Latimers, the seat of Lord George Cavendish, 
 who honoured me often with a card to take a 
 friend to fish with me in his park. Bannister and 
 John Johnstone, who wei'e engaged at the Little 
 Theatre, Hay market, and, being in the bills the 
 following evening, I promised to be at Rick- 
 mansworth (a few miles from Latimers) the night 
 before, at the same time to provide a cold collation 
 for the next day, which I usually took to Hyat's, 
 the gamekeeper, or in the park, in sight of the 
 rods left by the side of us in the water. The 
 following day, whilst I was fishing, at a Weir close 
 to the road-side, Johnstone in his gig, with my 
 friend Bannister, approached me, when Johnstone's 
 first words were — " Harry, my boy, what have you 
 got for dinner ?" — "Cold lamb and salad." — "Augh! 
 and why did you not get mutton?" — "What, mutton 
 at this time of the year, in preference to lamb ? 
 Pooh !" Directly flying into a violent passion, " I 
 won't eat lamb."—" Then I will."—" Have you 
 got plenty of potatoes ?" — " I've forgot." This 
 was too much for the disappointed Hibernian, 
 
JACK BANNISTER. 143 
 
 outrageous, whipping his horse, away he flew 
 Although I had ever, on our previous fishing 
 excursions, taken care to provide his kingdom's 
 favourite, with their coats on, this time I failed ; 
 such a national disappointment was too much, and, 
 when told dinner would be ready at four, " I 
 won't dine at four, I'll dine at six." — " Comme il 
 vous plaira, there's French for you, I have ordered 
 it at four, and shall not alter the hour, as I have to 
 travel above twenty miles this evening to town — 
 a dark night, and a robbing road, your mutton 
 taste shall not alter mine, so, if you prefer fishing 
 to your dinner. Master Father Mac Shane (my 
 usual appellation), you may dine with Duke 
 Humphrey'' The consequence was, Bannister, 
 myself, and a friend I had taken in my gig, at 
 four o'clock, nearly devoured all the lamb, when I 
 heard after, at six o'clock, his repast was a fat eel, 
 the game-keeper had provided for him, and bread 
 and cheese, so that our mutton difference, that 
 shocking mistake, forgetting the pratees, though 
 for years previous we passed pleasantly many 
 fishing days together in perfect harmony, listening^ 
 to his Irish songs, this lamb v, mutton threw such 
 cold water as to prevent fish biting, had we ever 
 
144 MORE SAIL THAX BALLAST. 
 
 fished after together — this was our finale. In one 
 of our fishing duettos with the i^od, Johnstone, as 
 well as myself, had the privilege to take a friend 
 with him to Lord Melbourne's water, Brocket Hall. 
 While angling one day at a mill-tail, where the 
 water was very rapid, which is always preferable, 
 better when fishing for trout ; the wind being 
 easterly, we had been a long time fishing to no 
 purpose, not a bite or nibble, an Irish peasant, 
 who had been all the time standing by, looking on, 
 and out of patience, seeing us catch no fish, 
 exclaimed, "And do you call that fishing? I would 
 be after laving off." — And why ?" said Johnstone. 
 " Case the water bodders their heads too much.' 
 
 MORE SAIL THAN BALLAST. 
 
 Bannister, myself, and Rowlandson, for years 
 were constant companions in our rambles near 
 town ; the latter was frequently makinghis sketches 
 at Greenwich, his favourite resort, both for ship- 
 ping and scenes relative to the assemblage of 
 sailors. The fish dinners at the Crown and 
 Sceptre, often tempted us to accompany him there. 
 
MORE SAIL THAN BALLAST. 145 
 
 Our excursions were generally some time before 
 dinner ; when standing near him we were amused, 
 whilst his pencil was engaged delineating the 
 various objects, ships passing, and sketching the 
 different characters collected, that excited his 
 attention, which, when finished, were not unworthy 
 the genius of a second Hogarth. One hot evening, 
 while sitting at the window, viewing the vessels as 
 they sailed by, Bannister mentioned that the Albion 
 East Indiaman was at Blackwall (outward bound), 
 and that he was acquainted with the first mate ; we 
 therefore proposed to vary the evening, by going on 
 board. Having a boat, the tide serving about five, we 
 were welcomed on deck. I need not observe how 
 Jack Bannister's appearance was hailed; so much so, 
 that it materially added to our hearty reception ; 
 suffice it to say, in a few minutes all of us were as 
 sociable and acquainted as if we had been together 
 a five months' voyage from India. What with the 
 wine. Bannister's choice songs, merriment, and 
 humour, we must have kept laughing and singing 
 three hours. Mr. Laurie (late partner with Whittle 
 the printseller in Fleet Street) and a friend, who 
 were received previous to our meeting, were of the 
 
146 MORE SAIL THAN BALLAST. 
 
 party. About nine o'clock they left us, taking 
 Rowlandson with them, then pretty well, " how 
 came you so ?" Bannister's friend prevailed on us 
 to remain, so pressingly, that we could not resist, 
 although we were already quite enough gone, 
 thoughtless of the consequence of remaining, and 
 the many miles, at a late hour, to return home. 
 Soon after. Arrack Punch, Indian sweetmeats, and 
 biscuits, were placed on the table ; and what with 
 the wine, acids, and sweets that followed, " now 
 safe moored, with bowl before us," it was past 
 twelve o'clock when we were put on shore. At that 
 hour there was no conveyance from Blackwall, 
 and we had to walk all the way to town, occasion- 
 ally falling down, carrying too much sail in our 
 fore-tops, and holding, as we thought, fast of each 
 other, we always fell together ; about three^ after 
 our many tumbles, our clothes covered with mud, 
 our hats left behind, fortunately, a coach in the 
 Minories conveyed us safe home. The next 
 morning, feeling the ill effects of the previous 
 night's carouse, I recollected my reception, 
 already described, on board the Victorious^ man- 
 of-war, at Chatham ; this naval visit proved a 
 
'puck's tale; or, the love of a spirit. 147 
 
 warning to me never after to venture myself after 
 dark to heave a hand at the punch bowl, with such 
 friendly mess-mates, without carrying more ballast. 
 
 PUCK S TALE ; OR, THE LOVE OF A SPIRIT. 
 
 " Puck — Puck, where are you ? " — " Here, most 
 royal Oberon ! " — " Here ! " repeated the first 
 voice, in a sharp key of irascibility. " How, in 
 Mab's name, can I tell where here is ? " — " Ha — 
 ha — ha ! " — " Ho, laughest — thou loyal ! " cried 
 Oberon, in high wrath. '* Come forth instantly, 
 or I will shut thee up in an oak tree for seven 
 ages; even as I would serve the reptile that 
 mortals term a toad*. " — " If I come forth, shall 
 I have pardon full and free ? " — " The great are 
 merciful 1" answered Oberon. " I love not 
 general observations," replied the voice. " Some- 
 how or other, they never apply to particular 
 instances I " — " Well then, I promise thee, by my 
 crown and sceptre, that thou shalt have full pardon." 
 
 * This threat accounts for one of the most singular facts 
 in Natural History ! 
 
148 puck's tale; or, 
 
 " Behold me, then," was the answer ; and suddenly 
 the inverted acorn-cup, upon which his majesty of 
 all the fairies was sitting, began to heave in so 
 rebellious a manner, as to dislodge its royal occu- 
 pier, with a greater abruptness than was at all 
 agreeable to the dignity of that personage. 
 " How now, thou naughty fay," cried the 
 king, in extreme displeasure, as a small figure 
 crept out of the acorn-cup ; " how now ?" Puck 
 saw he had proceeded too far. " Forgive me, 
 mighty Oberon ! " said he, kneeling, and settling 
 his features into an air of repentant gravity. The 
 good-natured monarch was easily appeased. 
 " Rise ! " said he. " But what work hast thou 
 been employed in — see, thou hast a great rent 
 in thy best bees'- wing jacket, and thy cobweb 
 inexpressibles are all over dust ? " — " I got these 
 tokens of toil and labour," answered Puck, 
 rising, and throwing back his head with the air 
 of a Talma, in defending your majesty from your 
 enemies, the ants ; it was for this, that I pursued 
 them into the acorn-cup, where they were laying a 
 snare to attack you ! " — " Ants ! " repeated the 
 king, with a brave look. " Ants ! what care we 
 for ants ? " — and so saying, the monarch placed 
 
THE LOVE OF A SPIRIT. 149 
 
 his hand upon his sword, made of a hornet's sting, 
 of the most approved metal, and turned his eye 
 round with an air, in which, perhaps, caution was 
 not altogether unmingled with defiance. At 
 a short distance, he beheld, slowly approaching 
 towards him, three ants of the largest dimensions. 
 " Puck," said the king, with a quick tone, " this 
 is an untoward spot — catch me yon May-fly, 
 we will have a ride ! " The May-fly was caught, 
 and Oberon mounted. " Where shall I tell him 
 to go ? " said Puck, touching his hat, made out of 
 a beetle's wing. " To the fountain," said the 
 king; and to the fountain they went. It was 
 a beautiful spot, in the midst of a wood. The 
 fountain was small, but of the clearest and most 
 glassy water ; the banks were covered with wild 
 thyme and harebells, and the sun-loving cowslip. 
 Here and there, at the shallow edge of the 
 water, were clusters of reeds and water lilies. 
 A few fish, of the silver-scaled species of the 
 roach, were basking in the sunniest parts of the 
 fountain ; and the wind, which came from the 
 south, and was very faint, broke out through the 
 undulating boughs which hung over the waters, 
 and made the happy waves dance indolently to 
 
150 puck's tale ; ok, 
 
 its music. Just over the spot on which the fairy 
 equipage rested, a large dragon fly had been 
 wandering, and brushed out with his wings 
 a thousand odours, too faint for mortal sense, but 
 which were like breathings from a ruby to 
 the fairies. They alighted from their steed, and 
 gave him, in reward for his labour, a charm to 
 preserve him from his great enemy, the trout, 
 for the rest of his life. Nay, I have heard, that 
 it extended even to a universal protection from 
 the whole finny race ; even from the lust of the 
 salmon, to the volatile flippancy of the dace. 
 " This is pleasant ! " said Oberon, throwing him- 
 self under the shade of a young sweet-briar ; 
 while Puck seated himself, at the head of the 
 king, upon a beautiful large daisy. " Fetch me," 
 said Oberon, " a cup of May -dew ; by Mab's 
 under lip, I am exceeding thirsty." Puck 
 gathered a harebell, and carrying it into a cool 
 brake, which the sun had not yet pierced, filled 
 it with three drops of the most transparent dew. 
 Oberon took a most hearty draught ; and then, 
 settling himself once more under his sweet-briar, 
 said — " Thanks, good Puck ; and now tell us 
 a story."—" A story ?" said Puck. " Your majesty 
 
THE LOVE OF A SPIRIT. 151 
 
 must really excuse me ; I never had the least 
 voice for reciting ! and besides, I am so terribly 
 hoarse, with a severe cold I got the other night, 
 by falling into a damp tankard in a gudewife's 
 cupboard, I had not an opportunity of changing 
 my clothes for three hours afterwards." — " Pooh !" 
 said Oberon. " Thou art more full of airs than 
 Mab's eldest and ugliest maid of honour ; come, 
 begin." — " Well," said Puck, hemming thrice, 
 and using a violet leaf by way of a fan ; " well, 
 what sort of a story will your majesty have?" 
 — " Not melancholy," replied Oberon, " for I love 
 not weeping ; nor gay, for it is too warm for 
 laughter: but something hum drum, and sober, 
 and love-sick, as befits the day." — " Your majesty 
 shall be obeyed," said the fairy, and accordingly, 
 he thus began. 
 
 " Your majesty must know that, about fifty 
 years since, according to the chronology of 
 mortals, there lived a youth, named Psychus. 
 He was a strange, wild, solitary youth, that loved 
 to wander alone till he came to some spot less 
 familiar to him than those he had passed, and 
 then he would throw himself, like your majesty, 
 beside some tree, and look listlessly at the green 
 
15^ Puck's tale; or, 
 
 boughs, playing with the young west winds and 
 the idle sunbeams. But as he was approaching 
 towards manhood, a singular change become 
 visible in his appearance — his complexion softened 
 into a more delicate and transparent hue — a golden 
 light diffused itself over the rich chesnut locks 
 which fell over his forehead — his form became 
 more fragile, but more exquisitely proportioned, 
 than that of any other mortal existing ; and yet 
 he possessed such strength, that he could fell the 
 buffalo with a blow, and almost pluck up the 
 young tree, which bore the acorn your majesty 
 was sitting on when your servant vanquished 
 your enemies the ants — and over the youth's 
 eyes and lips, and cheeks, there was spread a 
 beauty so dazzling, and yet so indefinite and 
 dissimilar from that of earth, that none could 
 look upon it without love, mingled with wonder, 
 not only at its excess, but its peculiarity. And 
 whenever he lay down at noon-day, under the 
 shade, a thousand flowers sprang up beneath him, 
 and the boughs clung closer to each other, to 
 thicken the shelter from the sun ; and though 
 the day to all else was utterly still and sultry, yet 
 for him there was a light, undulating breeze, which 
 
THE LOVE OF A SPIRIT. 153 
 
 ** streaked his bosom with its gentle fan, and 
 played the wanton with him through the leaves." 
 " Where do those lines come from. Puck ? " said 
 the king, " I do not remember them, in my 
 edition of the fairy poets." — " They are some- 
 what altered from an old English poet, please, 
 your majesty," answered Puck. " I love the 
 old English poets ! " quoth King Oberon, " but 
 proceed." — " By degrees," continued Puck, " these 
 distinctions from the ordinary race of men 
 increased. At length, a beautiful bird, of the 
 most delicate sky-blue plumage, used to hover 
 around him wherever he went, and sing such soft 
 and low tunes, that the very gnomes would 
 pause from their evil works, to listen to a 
 melody that might have come from the rejoicing 
 hymns of the distant stars. But there were times 
 when Psychus felt a burning and mysterious spirit 
 
 within him — an irresistible and mighty " 
 
 " Nonsense," said King Oberon, whose taste was 
 formed in the fastidiousness of the old school, 
 " tell us, in plain fairyism, what thou meanest 
 — what was this burning spirit ? " — " It was 
 Poetry, please your majesty," answered Puck; 
 "this faculty, I need not inform you, is in no case 
 
 h 
 
154 puck's tale ; or, 
 
 natural to mortals, it is the gift and inspiration 
 of the female spirits of the air; who borrow a 
 human language to utter an Immortal's feelings, 
 and breathe the thoughts of the loftiest worlds 
 over the sterility of that which is the meanest. 
 But your majesty also knows, that there are 
 many mortals who pretend to the gift of poetry, 
 and pour forth curious imitations of the dictates 
 of the aether spirits ; now these are inspired 
 by grotesque little imps, with hump backs, and 
 blear eyes, and lame legs, that hobble about in 
 fogs and damps, and, entering into the brains of 
 young mortals, between the age of sixteen and 
 thirty, produce all those deformed, obscure, limping 
 productions, with which, in every age, the world 
 has been inundated. But to proceed ; the verses 
 of Psychus were so exquisite — they breathed such 
 a depth and purity of thought — such a glow of 
 language, and elevation of fancy — that all his 
 nation became enraptured with them ; they were 
 hymned in the churches, sang in the bower, and 
 hurdy-gurdied about the streets : nothing but 
 the Poetry of Psychus was endured. The 
 maidens used to dream over them by night, and 
 awake in the morning to wish the beautiful 
 
THE LOVE OF A SPIRIT. 15$ 
 
 young poet would woo as glowingly with his lips 
 jis his lute ; and to vow that, in that case, the feet 
 in his verses should not be the only ones that 
 would run off so smoothly. 
 
 " One day, in our own bright month of June, 
 Psychus wandered into a wood ; he came at last 
 to a spot more open than the rest ; the winds were 
 as still as night, scarcely a leaf stirred ; the turf 
 in this glade was as smooth as if a fairy had 
 watched over it, and covered with flowers of 
 a pale blue, and of a shape and odour that 
 Psychus had never before seen or felt. Pleased 
 with so beautiful a spot, and wearied by his 
 rambles, and the heat of the day, he threw him- 
 self upon a bank of the softest moss, and, lying 
 with his face upwards, felt the sunbeams breaking 
 through the green leaves to kiss the delicate beauty 
 of his brow and cheek. By degrees, he fell into a 
 light slumber. And then (though, as I told your 
 majesty, not a single breath of air seemed awake) 
 a violent agitation came over the trees and wild 
 flowers around him; and exactly over him, the 
 eye of a fairy might have discovered a pale faint 
 star : from this orb, a blue column of denser air 
 began to form, till it reached the turf upon which 
 
156 puck's tale ; or, 
 
 the boy's head lay, and then the star and the 
 column disappeared ; the leaves and flowers 
 resumed their stillness ; and close beside the 
 youth, stood one of those wonderful shapes, 
 composed solely of the purest aether, and the 
 most southern sun-beams — one of those all 
 glorious, yet all tender spirits, who hold the moon 
 as their palace, and the air as their illimitable 
 realm; — she leant over him for an instant in 
 silence, and then, putting aside the rich disordered 
 curls that fell over his face, she kissed each of 
 his eyes three times ; as she did so, her wings, 
 waving slightly to and fro, scattered around all 
 the perfumes they had been gathering among the 
 azure flowers, and the amaranthine allies of her 
 home. The lips of the boy parted as he felt 
 them, and he smiled, as if in the pleasure of a 
 dream. * Alas,' said the spirit, * for what 
 purpose have I loved you so long — all the gifts I 
 shower upon you, you can never know — all the 
 passion which dictates them, you can never feel. — 
 You imagine that Nature, not I, made you the 
 being that you are — that it was she who robbed 
 the midnight skies around the love-star, to deepen 
 the azure of your eyes — who stole from the 
 
THE LOVE OF A SPIRIT. 157 
 
 waters of the west, the light the setting sun had 
 bequeathed them, and mingled its gold with the 
 darker luxuriance of your hair — who wandered 
 from star to star, as they arose in the evening, 
 to breathe over your soul, and lyre the melody of 
 their rejoicing hymns ! Oh ! when the morning 
 came, laughing through your lattice, it was I who 
 stole upon its beams to print the earliest kiss upon 
 your cheeks. It was I who hung their spells 
 upon the mountain, the valley, and the river, 
 that to me, through them, your first vague and 
 indefinite idolatry might be given. Were the 
 winds of the east too cold, my sighs warmed the 
 atmosphere around you ; — was the sun too 
 enamoured of your cheek, my wings fanned it as 
 cool as the pomegranates of Areron. I watched 
 by you when you slept, as now, in the noon-day, 
 forbade the viper and the hornet to approach you. 
 But me — me you cannot thank — nor touch — nor 
 see. I would give for one of your kisses all the 
 bowers and the fountains of the moon, and my 
 lips seem to wither away in pining after their 
 food 1' With these words, the beautiful spirit 
 threw herself beside the mortal, and wept bitterly. 
 Presently, a slight rustling was heard in the moss- 
 
158 PUCK^S TALE ; OR, 
 
 bank, upon which the boy's head was laid, and 
 a small quaint figure, in a parti-coloured vest, 
 suddenly appeared before her. The expression of 
 his countenance was kind, yet arch, as if im- 
 pressed with the mingled love of doing mischief, 
 and doing good." — " Why, Puck," murmured 
 Oberon, who was little more awake than Psychus 
 himself, " Why, Puck, the little figure resembles 
 you ! " — " Perhaps it was I ! " answered the 
 favourite, gravely ; and then continued his tale. 
 " ' Daughter of the air,' said the figure, ' console 
 yourself with a less exalted nature than your's; 
 we have yet powers that can alleviate your 
 distress ; but there is a more effectual court than 
 our's, to which you can apply. The Spirit of 
 Love, who resides in the evening star, can grant 
 you all you desire. — -Repair to her ! ' So saying, 
 the figure, entering into a small cavity among 
 the moss, disappeared. 
 
 " The spirit slowly arose from the earth ; she 
 pressed one long last kiss upon the lips of the 
 sleeper, and, looking up, as if in command, the 
 star and column became again perceptible. She 
 spread her wings along the supporting air which 
 the column formed, and the star (which served as 
 
THE LOVE OF A SPIRIT. 159 
 
 her guide, and felt her commands by volition) 
 ascended rapidly. Towards the evening, the 
 spirit found herself in a much finer air than any 
 which surrounds the ordinary luminaries of our 
 system. She paused for a moment, to inhale the 
 exquisite transport which the purity of the 
 atmosphere afforded her ; below her eyes lay 
 the wonderful gardens of the evening star; her 
 hopes redoubled at the sight ; she resumed her 
 course till her guide stopped, and the column, 
 descending slowly from it, placed her upon the 
 ground of this new star. Immediately a delicious 
 languor crept into every part of her soul — the 
 air, of a deep rose colour, literally teemed with 
 music — there was not a sound from the wind, 
 the flowers, the trees — above, beneath, around, 
 there was not a sound, not a breath — but all was 
 the softest harmony. She felt herself glide 
 involuntarily along, as if in a gentle current, till 
 she came to a tent of rose leaves, the veins of 
 which undulated softly to and fro, giving glimpses 
 within of fountains, where the summer light 
 seemed to have been caught, and charmed into 
 sleep. Amidst these was an inner tent, that half 
 developed a couch, formed of crimson flowers of 
 
160 puck's tale ; or, 
 
 inexpressible beauty. The spirit paused at the 
 threshold of the outer tent, a faint trembling 
 crept over her — he felt the thrill of the presence 
 in which she stood. ' Mightiest — Eternal — 
 Universal Spirit' (she said, as she sank upon the 
 earth), * whose presence floats like an atmosphere 
 around every world in the creation, listen to 
 one whose whole frame has become a temple for 
 your worship ! ' The curtains of the inner tent 
 moved faintly as the spirit spoke, and a voice 
 came out, so soft, so drowned in its sweetness, 
 you might have fancied it was dying for love 
 of its own melody. * Daughter of the Air,' it 
 murmured, ' I know your history, and your love. 
 I can give you to Psychus, as his bride, if you 
 can consent to put away your divinity, and 
 become, for a while, a mortal ; but, beware ! there 
 is, in the love of men, a dark and debasing 
 essence — a contagion fatal to all the purer and 
 nobler particles of your nature — his passion can 
 degrade, and lower beneath himself, even the 
 perfection of a spirit.' — ' Alas ! ' cried the beau- 
 tiful air nymph, ' you know not Psychus. He 
 has not a fault that other mortals possess. His 
 love would exalt, rather than debase — purify my 
 
THE LOVE OF A SPIRIT. 161 
 
 nature, rather than pollute it.' A bright, yet soft 
 light flushed mellowly over the tent. The Spii^it 
 within smiled. * Daughter,' said the voice, 
 ' you shall have your wish, as far as my autho- 
 rity can extend ! Hear the limit of its power. 
 He shall love you as man never loved before — 
 through sorrow — sickness — change. Ye shall 
 cling unalterably together. If your love can exalt 
 his nature to your own, he shall never die — he 
 shall enter into the rank of your order, and 
 partake of your love to immortality. But if his 
 star gain an ascendancy over your's — if he lower 
 you from your divinity, even helow the standard 
 of his race — in that instant, when the measure 
 of your degradation is full, you shall separate 
 from him for ever. — * Joy — -joy,' exclaimed the 
 supplicant. — 'I shall love — and I shall possess 
 him to eternity.' Again the rosy light of the 
 Love Spirit's smile broke over the tent. * Enter, 
 my child and subject," said the voice, * and I will 
 teach you the method to have your will — enter.* 
 And as she spoke, ten thousand birds, whose 
 plumage was made of rainbows, clapped their 
 wings, and, lifting up their notes in one full 
 chorus, repeated — * Enter.' 
 
 M 
 
PUCK S TALE ; OR, 
 
 " Now, your majesty," continued Puck, " I come 
 to the second part of my story. 
 
 " To the city where Psychus dwelt, there came 
 a family to reside. It consisted of an old man, who 
 had apparently been a soldier, whose manner and 
 way of life bespoke pride, rank, and poverty ; his 
 wife, a good, gentle, and affectionate woman, about 
 the same age as himself; and an only daughter, in 
 whom every affection, every soft and fond feeling 
 in the nature of both, seemed absorbed and concen- 
 tered ; in truth, she deserved their love. She was 
 as beautiful as a fairy — her eyes were as blue as 
 violets ; her complexion so clear and dazzling, not 
 even our sight could have discovered a fault in it — 
 her hair was of that hue which is like gold in the 
 sun, but in the shade seems even of a dark 
 chesnut — ^her step was so light, she might have 
 trod on the wings of a butterfly without brushing 
 off a plume — and withal, there was a youth, a 
 joyousness, a freshness, a dawn about her face and 
 form, that seemed as if the May morning had been 
 her godfather, and given her his own attributes as 
 a gift. All the city was in commotion. The new 
 beauty attracted crowds wherever she went. Even 
 Psychus and his poetry were forgotten. Perhaps 
 
THE LOVE or A SPIRIT. 16S 
 
 the boy, who was vain enough of himself, was not 
 a little piqued at his rival — at all events, though 
 he had not yet seen her, he affected to decry, and 
 even threatened to satirize her. One evening, 
 there was a meeting in the gardens of the city, of all 
 that was young, beautiful, and wealthy among the 
 inhabitants. Thither went lone, the fair stranger. 
 The crowd assembled around her more numerous 
 and more admiringly than ever — wherever she 
 bent her ear, it caught a new accent of wonder and 
 homage. She leant upon the arms of her parents, 
 with downcast eyes, and a cheek blushing, like 
 sunset, into fresh beauties every instant; they 
 passed over a light bridge, that was the path across 
 one of the softest and stillest streams that ever 
 slept in the twilight ; against one of the columns 
 of the balustrade leant a youth attired in a dress 
 of the richest dye; his locks perfumed the air 
 with which they played. Had a fairy seen him, 
 he would have resolved, at the first glance, to have 
 played him a trick for his coxcombry ; but he 
 would have determined, on the second, to forego it ; 
 for, in spite of the pretension of his dress, there 
 was a loftiness, an energy in his air, a kinglike 
 pride upon his brow and lip, and the light but 
 
164 
 
 PUCK S TALE ; OR, 
 
 majestic symmetry of his figure, that made one 
 forget every minor impression, in the respect and 
 even awe which that high and glorious cast of 
 beauty involuntarily commanded. 
 
 " lone's eye caught his — she started — she saw 
 Psychus and her fate. But he — what words can 
 express his admiration?" — " Stop," said King 
 Oberon ; " stop, Mr. Puck, and just explain to 
 me who this lone is ; and how, if she be what I 
 suspect her, she ever came into her present form ? " 
 ** Your majesty," replied the fairy, " has, with 
 yom' usual penetration, doubtless discovered that 
 lone and the air spirit are one. All that I can 
 explain to you, with respect to the metamorphosis, 
 is this, — the real daughter of the old couple was 
 thrown into a trance, and quietly deposited in one 
 of the most beautiful bowers of the evening star ; 
 the spirit assumes her form, and only retains the 
 sense of her past state, and the condition of her 
 present, through a dim and dream-like recollec- 
 tion ; — she supposes herself to be mortal — to be 
 really the being she appears ; she imagines she 
 owes to her reputed parents the greatest gratitude 
 and affection, and all that she derives from her 
 divinity is a higher degree of beauty, intellect, 
 
THE LOVE OF A SPIRIT. 165 
 
 gentleness, and purity." — " Proceed," said Oberon ; 
 " but first smooth down this blade of grass, 
 crumpled under me, of a surety it has cut through 
 my inexpressibles." — Puck did as he was com- 
 manded, and continued. — " From the moment 
 Psychus first saw lone, he lost no time in gaining, 
 first, her acquaintance ; and secondly, her love — 
 to succeed in the first was to triumph over the 
 latter. They loved each other with an idolatry 
 and enthusiasm, of which your majesty can only 
 form an idea by recalling your courtship with 
 Titania." — " Humph," murmured his majesty, 
 stretching his royal head with a discontented air, 
 — " But the birth and fortune of Psychus," 
 resumed Puck, " were among the loftiest of the 
 land. Every obstacle was thrown in the lover's 
 way ; the stern old father of lone, suspecting the 
 purity of the youth's motives, and irritated by the 
 anger of his relatives, forbade lone to see him, or 
 to converse with him. * Meet me once more, I 
 implore you,' wrote the lover, *or you condemn 
 me to wretchedness and to death.' How, after 
 such an alternative, could lone refuse. In the 
 first evening that she met him, there was one 
 small dark cloud in the sky ; as it passed over the 
 
16^ puck's tale ; OR, 
 
 evening star she heard a faint roll of thunder, 
 which, to her ears, seemed to murmur * Beware ! ' 
 She met him at first in sorrow, in shame, and 
 tears — she listened to his vows, and how could 
 she keep a resolution of meeting him no more ? 
 * Where have you been ? ' said her father, at her 
 return in the evening. Her voice trembled. — ' To 
 our neighbour, Glycera's,' she replied. It was the 
 first falsehood she had ever told, and it was the 
 necessary parent of a thousand others — from that 
 time she lived in a perpetual system of deceit and 
 duplicity. Psychus wooed her in the burning 
 language which a love the most passionate and 
 ardent dictated. Young and innocent as she was, 
 she knew not his object, and she was terrified, 
 rather than inflamed, by the eagerness with which 
 it was urged ; but nature among mortals, is a 
 powerful enemy to the virtues we are taught only 
 by art. By degrees she caught a portion of the 
 warmth and the wishes of her lover — desires 
 hitherto unknown, and still uncomprehended, 
 entered into a spirit hitherto so pure. She became 
 restless and disturbed ; the duties and the occupa- 
 tions which had so long been her pleasure to 
 perform, became irksome at first, and afterwards 
 
THE LOVE OF A SPIRIT. 16T 
 
 altogether neglected. All the day, but the one 
 hour in which she saw Psychus, was wasted 
 away in an idleness more bitter than labour, and 
 more wearisome than its fatigue ; — she ceased to 
 watch the looks, and consult the comforts of her 
 parents ; — her steps went .sorely to the temple — 
 her heaf^t was always too engrossed to mingle with 
 its devotions. Thus passed weeks and months ; 
 at length she began to perceive a change in the 
 appearance and manner of her lover. He was 
 dejected, thoughtful, and melancholy — wept in 
 gloomy reflection, where he once breathed only 
 the rapture and passion, and often seeming to 
 forget her presence in that of some haunting and 
 oppressive recollection. One evening he was more 
 than usually disturbed — his step was hurried — 
 and as she saw him approach, she was struck by 
 the livid paleness of his cheek, and the wild but 
 determined expression which reigned over the lofty 
 and eloquent character of his beauty. * lone,' he 
 said, ' I see you for the last time ; I am an outlaw 
 from this country; I quit it to-night for ever.' 
 She threw herself into his arms and fainted. 
 Wrapt in those arms, and warm with the pressure 
 of his lips, she awoke once more to the wretched- 
 
168 puck's tale ; ok, 
 
 ness of life. It was then, as he knelt beside her, 
 that he poured forth, in rapid accents, the history 
 of his crime and its punishment. Proud, restless, 
 discontented, and ambitious, he had entered into 
 a league against the government of the city ; that 
 day his plots had been discovered, and his punish- 
 ment was set — perpetual exile. ' Shall I depart 
 alone, lone ?' he said, as he pressed his lips to her 
 cheek ; and with these words the whole current 
 of their thoughts was changed. Before the moon 
 rose that night lone fled from her home, the 
 companion and the dependent of an exile and a 
 rebel. So far, your highness will perceive that the 
 prediction of the Spirit of Love was fulfilled. From 
 the purity of her first nature, lone had incalculably 
 fallen ; she had forgotten her duties — she had 
 neglected her parents — she had offended against 
 her religion — she had changed candour to deceit, 
 and embraced falsehood for truth ; to crown all, 
 she had left, lonely and deserted, in age and 
 poverty, those who had watched over and cherished 
 her from her childhood, with all the providence 
 and devotedness of love. It was to a scene of the 
 utmost privacy and seclusion that Psychus and his 
 companion fled. Here they lived for some time 
 
THE LOVE OF A SPIRIT. 
 
 169 
 
 in a happiness which banished remorse from the 
 mind of lone, and reflection from the working 
 brain and feverish ambition of Psychus ; and here 
 insensibly but powerfully commenced the influence 
 of lone. It was her presence, her gentleness, 
 that soothed him — her self-devotion, her genero- 
 sity, even sin, that exalted him. The meekness 
 with which she Lore the infirmities of his temper 
 made him ashamed to allow them — he learnt to 
 curb the impulses his education and loveliness 
 had encouraged him to indulge, and in the 
 beautiful solitude where he dwelt, the high 
 nature of the musings which no earthly intrusion 
 of passion or prejudice could pollute, and the 
 society of the one being, whose whole existence 
 was in the blessing and the ennobling of his own, 
 he forgot for a while all the wayward aspirations 
 which had hitherto led him to behold no vision 
 that ended not in fame, and no guilt that was 
 instrumental to its success. Time rolled on ; but 
 one day a stranger, who had lost his way in the 
 forest where they dwelt, came for guidance to 
 their cottage. He was struck with the beauty of 
 lone, but more with the genius of Psychus; for 
 he was an old man who had survived his love for 
 
170 puck's tale ; on, 
 
 the graces, and only lived for the utilities of life. 
 He was the chief minister of the petty state to 
 which they had flown. Before he left their 
 cottage, he discovered his rank. He solicited 
 Psychus to accompany him to court. The young 
 enthusiast wanted but little pressing ; and in 
 three days, to the great grief of lone, he was 
 presented to the sovereign of the country, and 
 enrolled among the officers of his state. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, friend Puck, for interrupt- 
 ing you," said Oberon, *' but I am very impatient 
 to know what became of those unhappy old people, 
 whom the supposed lone deserted." — " Grieve 
 not your benevolent heart for them, my liege," 
 replied Puck, " the spirit of the evening star 
 befriended them ; immediately on the departure of 
 the false lone, she restored the true, making 
 her sensible to all that had passed (except the 
 love affair) by a dream, in which she imagined 
 herself to be the performer." — " I understand!" 
 quoth the king. " Continue thy tale." 
 
 " The three great vices in Psychus," proceeded 
 Puck, " were his love of pleasure, his vindictiveness, 
 and his ambition ; it was for lone to save him 
 from these, or to yield to them." 
 
THE LOVE OF A SPIRIT. 171 
 
 " The new capital, where he now lived, was one 
 of the most dissipated of the time. Psychus was 
 invited every where. * Go,' said lone to him — 
 and the tears stood in her eyes, but she attempted 
 to smile them away — ' Go, my beauty begins 
 to fade ; of its possession you must necessarily be 
 tired. — You will be courted by all ; I cannot 
 expect that you will be faithful to me.' She could 
 say no more ; she pressed her lips to his hand, and 
 turned away. Two nights afterwards, Psychus 
 went to the house of the most celebrated beauty 
 of the town. By degrees the few people invited 
 dropped off, and Psychus was left alone with 
 his hostess. * Beautiful stranger,' said she to 
 him, as she pressed her faultless cheek towards 
 his own, * I adore you — Shall it be in vain ? ' 
 At that moment the moon — that dangerous 
 softener of human passions— looked through the 
 open lattice, and shone upon the flushed cheek 
 and trembling lips of the speaker. Psychus drew 
 nearer to her — one instant more and he had been 
 lost. But that instant sufficed ; it brought back 
 to him his lone— his own — his noble — his pure 
 — his worshipping lone ; she, whose devotion 
 had made every sacrifice for him — whose genero- 
 
1^2 
 
 PUCK S TALE ; OR, 
 
 sity had demanded none in return — who never 
 resented the harshest expression — who hoarded 
 his least smile as a treasure — who was alone at 
 that moment thinking, dreaming, of no earthly 
 being but him. And - he — was he — no, he was 
 not — he could not be false to her image and her 
 love. He left the house in safety. He had con- 
 quered, through lone, the most dangerous of 
 his sins. 
 
 *' Equally thoughtful and daring by nature, Psy- 
 chus soon grew weary of the lighter amusements 
 of the court ; — he entered into the loftier occu- 
 pations and visions of the state — the vast depth 
 of his wisdom in conceiving, and the resolute 
 energy with which he executed his plans, led 
 him on, step by step, to the highest pinnacle 
 of reputation, and almost of power. The old 
 Chief Minister who had first brought him to 
 the court was dead — a Prince of the blood royal 
 had succeeded him — he held the only place next 
 to the king higher than that occupied by Psychus. 
 He was a man of ability and honesty, but arro- 
 gant, self-sufficient, and envious of all his rivals — 
 especially of Psychus. It was the business of 
 the latter, to frame laws respecting the people ; 
 
THE LOVE OF A SPIRIT. 173 
 
 he proposed one, of the most vital consequence 
 to them, but prejudicial to some of the minor 
 prerogatives of the nobles. It made a vast sen- 
 sation throughout the country, but the whole 
 aristocracy was in an uproar against the author. 
 The Chief Minister, glad of so favourable an oppor- 
 tunity to vent his envy, and to destroy its object, 
 repaired to the Ring. He exaggerated the law, 
 he distorted its tendency ; in a word, he so terrified 
 the royal mind with the inflamed picture which 
 he drew, that he obtained an immediate order 
 for the imprisonment of Psychus ; that very day 
 it was fulfilled. Your Majesty may imagine 
 the feelings with which my hero found himself 
 in this reverse — conscious of high desert — impa- 
 tient of affront — proud — ^vindictive — and suscep- 
 tible. He was not however long in utter lone- 
 liness ; lone collected from the seizure of his 
 wealth some valuable jewels, with which she 
 bribed the keeper of the prisons to admit her 
 to her lover. It was then that all her powers, 
 never yet exerted, were required, and tasked to 
 the utmost ; she had at once to listen to his 
 complaints, and to soothe their bitterness, without 
 affecting to undervalue their magnitude ; she had 
 
174 puck's tale; or, 
 
 to sit beside him in silence at one while, and 
 at another, to strain a weary spirit and heavy- 
 heart into gaiety and cheerfulness. But this 
 came to her without an effort — all things were 
 easy that could soften one pang of his captivity ; 
 nay, there were times when she was almost selfish 
 enough to rejoice at a state which made her 
 more necessary to his wants, and more important 
 to his happiness. As time passed on, the prisoner 
 became calm and resigned ; his nature could not 
 be constantly in companionship with her's, without 
 partaking of its gentleness, and that diviner part 
 of philosophy which men so rarely possess, and 
 which in women has the name of meekness. 
 But the period of his captivity was at a close ; 
 the people, who would have been so benefited 
 by the law for which he suffered, were in despair 
 at the imprisonment of their benefactor — harassed 
 by their laws, their troubles, and their king — and 
 exasperated to the last extreme, at the thought 
 that every measure for their relief was to have 
 punishment for its reward — they arose in a body, 
 they besieged the capital, they put to death the 
 king and his sons, they seized upon the nobles, 
 they burst the prison, they released Psychus, 
 
the;, love of a spirit. 175 
 
 proclaimed their benefactor as their King, and 
 they threw into the dungeon he had occupied 
 the minister who had accused and traduced him. 
 * Now/ said he, when the crowd had retired, and 
 he was left alone with lone in the palace, ' now 
 can I feed both my ambition and my revenge — 
 the crown is on my head, my accusers are at 
 my feet ; ' he smiled bitterly as he ceased. lone 
 summoned her courage — she threw herself at his 
 feet — she was only alive to his real glory, and 
 his permanent honour. At that time, or at least 
 in that part of the world, the sanctity of legiti- 
 macy was undisputed ; to seize the crown by no 
 right of blood was considered among the greatest 
 of crimes ; the people were deemed the inheri- 
 tance, and not the bequeathers of power. Hence 
 lone only beheld in the ascent of Psychus to 
 the throne, a crime which would be detested by 
 the surrounding nations, and entail upon him 
 long successions of harassment and bloodshed. All 
 this she implored him to consider ; she adduced 
 all the arguments her affection could suggest; 
 above all, she besought him, even if he yielded to 
 his ambition, at least to stifle his revenge, and 
 to pardon an accuser, whom, if he destroyed, the 
 
176 puck's tale ; or, 
 
 world would consider rather as a victim to his 
 usurpation, than an offering to the justice of his 
 resentment. 
 
 " At the conclusion of her prayers, the ivoman 
 vanquished the reasoner, and the dread of his anger 
 overcoming all other considerations, she threw 
 herself, dissolved into tears, in his arms, and im- 
 plored him to pardon her presumption. Pyschus 
 kissed her cheek gently, and with a thoughtful 
 air turned away from the apartment : that day 
 she saw him no more. He walked out alone into 
 the free air, from which he had been so long 
 debarred; bethought much and deeply, and vir- 
 tuously, if not well. He was of too strong and 
 haughty a mind to be overcome by one con- 
 versation with lone, it was the hahit of constant 
 interchange of sentiment and opinion with her, 
 which operated upon the bias and temper of his 
 thoughts. Besides the view which she presented 
 to him, I cannot deny he was influenced by many 
 motives more immediately selfish, but still more 
 connected with lone. His confinement with her 
 had brought him closer to her than ever — her care, 
 and vigilance, and affection, had cheered and com- 
 forted him more than the pursuit of his ambition 
 
THE LOVE OF A SPIRIT. 177 
 
 had ever contented or recompensed his toils; perhaps 
 it was not without satisfaction that he contem- 
 plated living with her once more in the solitude he 
 had left. However that may be, his determination, 
 after many and great struggles with himself, was 
 made. The next morning, he summoned the 
 chiefs of the people, * You have sinned greatly,' 
 said he, ' when you destroyed your sovereign and 
 his sons — you sinned more when you appointed 
 me to their place. I am not, it is true, of that 
 opinion, commonly received, that the people have 
 not the right to depose their hereditary rulers, 
 or to elect whomsoever they please in the stead — 
 I do not question the original right, but the 
 wisdom — whatever is unwise, becomes vicious. If 
 you placed me on the throne, you would draw 
 against me the resentment of all the neighbouring- 
 sovereigns, and upon yourselves the consequences 
 of that resentment would fall — war, devastation, 
 and massacre would ensue. And believe this as 
 a most invariable truth, no evil you suffer in 
 peace, no exaction from one ruler, no cruelty 
 from another, is equal to the exhaustion and 
 the barbarity of a single war. Moreover, if you 
 placed me on your throne, I would not answer 
 
 N 
 
178 PUCK^S TALE ; OR, 
 
 for myself, I know the grasping nature of my 
 ambition ; — at home, I might enslave you, in order 
 to mould you to my will — abroad, I might lead 
 you to conquests more pernicious to you than 
 defeats. For these reasons I reject your offer — 
 I do more, I venture to proclaim as your sovereign, 
 the only prince of the blood you suffered to sur- 
 vive, in order for me to condemn ; — he is my 
 enemy, but he is your friend. But that you may 
 not be left to his mercy and caprice — that you 
 may no longer suffer from the tyranny of a king, 
 or the worse oppressions of an aristocracy, I pro- 
 pose to you to remodel your laws — to curb the 
 one, to humiliate the other, and to make all power 
 not only emanate from the people, but to place 
 the army at your own disposal, and thus, to 
 leave that power no other protection but their 
 ranks.' 
 
 " The speech of Psychus was received with accla- 
 mations, the laws he proposed were accepted, and 
 his enemy and accuser was set upon the throne 
 which he rejected for himself. * Come,' said he 
 to lone, when the whole city was in joy at 
 the new system, which promised so much, ' come,' 
 said he, ' once more to our cottage in the desert ; 
 
THE LOVE OF A SPIllIT. 179 
 
 through your love, and your exampkj I have 
 conquered the vices of my nature; and the soli- 
 tude to which we return shall reward me for 
 the effort, by yielding a more constant oppor- 
 tunity to watch, to worship, and to imitate the 
 virtues of your's.'' Puck paused. " Proceed," said 
 Oberon. " There ends my story, because my 
 knowledge of the lovers," answered the favourite — :• 
 " all that I can add to the tale is, that about 
 ten years afterwards, two beings of the most 
 beautiful order of the Air Spirits were seen en- 
 tering the empire of the Evening Star. They 
 glided along to the tent of the presiding genius ; 
 they knelt down at the threshold, and from the 
 inmost canopy murmured the voice of that spirit 
 whose presence is felt every where, but whose 
 wonderful beauty no created thing has beheld. 
 * My children,' it said, * welcome to the eternal 
 happiness you have won ; your history shall be 
 written upon rose leaves, and preserved in the 
 archives of my realm. It has taught us these 
 axioms in love, that the passion which was law- 
 less and forbidden, vitiated and degraded you — 
 that that which was lawful, ennobled and exalted 
 you — that, in mortal affection, the irregular and 
 
180 ARTHUR MURPHY. 
 
 fitful passion of the man overcomes, by its vio- 
 lence, and infects with its errors, the purer but 
 weaker characteristics of the woman ; but, that 
 in constant and daily intercourse, the subtler and 
 holier essence of her nature refines and purifies 
 the grosser attributes of his. That love therefore 
 is not made for a wandering and transitory feel- 
 ing, for then it lowers and deprave, but a constant 
 and everlasting spirit, which purifies itself by its 
 continuance, and triumphs, in proportion to the 
 length of its existence, over the earthlier excesses 
 of its birth.'" 
 
 " Thank you, good Puck," said Oberon, rising, 
 and stretching himself, when he perceived that the 
 fairy had done, " your story interested me much 
 during the time I was not dozing. And now 
 to our banquet ! Mab has the best temper in 
 the world, but she loves not long tarrying for 
 dinner. Catch us another May-fly." 
 
 E. L. BULWER, 
 
 ARTHUR MURPHY. 
 
 Some time after my father left Ireland for this 
 country, he met Arthur Murphy, whom he had 
 
ARTHUR MURPHY. 181 
 
 been acquainted with when in Dublin. Murphy 
 had been a great admirer of Mrs. Woffington, but 
 her penchant for my father was too predominant 
 to listen to the addresses of the many over whom 
 neither fortune or person could have the least 
 influence. Murphy, there, was one of his most 
 intimate acquaintance. For years after, my 
 father used to tell a long story of a rencontre 
 that took place at a coffee house in Charles Street, 
 Covent Garden, called Willis's, at that day 
 frequented by wits, authors, and select characters. 
 Murphy, who had come gris from a party where 
 the claret had passed too freely, got into a quarrel 
 with a brother scribe ; both, at the time violent, 
 drew their swords, when my father, being present, 
 rushed in between them, to save his friend, 
 (who from his inability from the wine could not 
 have defended himself), and received the point of 
 Murphy's adversary's sword in his wrist, and was 
 nearly losing the use of his hand from the wound. 
 Years after I have often heard my father, showing 
 his wrist, tell the story ; but when they met at 
 his table, the tale of the two combatants was ever 
 repeated ; it was the same renewal of friendship. 
 Murphy acknowledging his friend had saved his 
 
182 LOUD BAIIKYJNIOKE. 
 
 life, my father showing the scar on his wrist. By 
 what I remember of the costume of the old school. 
 Murphy retained it to the last — conspicuous to 
 every one, his dress suit and bag, latterly no 
 sword. My friend James Heath, the artist, whose 
 summer's residence was at Turnham Green, near 
 where Murphy lived, was often in the habit of 
 receiving his visits, mentioned to me, however at 
 all times he was pleased to see him, he had to 
 regret at his departure often to find his drawing 
 room chairs spoilt — poor Murphy had a complaint 
 that obliged him to leave a memento of his 
 advanced time of life. 
 
 LORD BARRYMORE 
 
 Having invited to his cottage, at Wargrave, a 
 good natured simple little fellow, about eighteen, 
 whom we all called " Farmer Stone" (his father 
 being a respectable man of property near Reading), 
 after he had remained there a few days, finding 
 him of an easy disposition to be at his command, 
 took him with him to London, where he soon got 
 initiated into the dissipations of town. At his 
 
LORD BARRYMORE. 183 
 
 return to Wargrave, now the travelled gentleman, 
 he was continually going to Lunnon, that he's the 
 place ; he was continually speaking of it, ever 
 anxious to return ; and, having been seen so often 
 with his Lordship on the road, he was considered 
 a young nobleman, particularly at Prince Walker's, 
 at Hounslow, who, like the rest, never hesitated to 
 trust him with horses, sometimes four, and at others 
 indulging himself alone with a chaise to himself; 
 when, at last, by his clownish dialect and uncouth 
 manners they smoked him, and all were impatient 
 for their money. No longer able to impose on 
 their credulity, the Johnny Raw was obliged to 
 change his route, not daring to show his face as 
 before. One day, as he said he was going to 
 LiUnnon, and should cross the country by Windsor 
 and Kingston, so much out of the right road, I 
 asked him why ? — " Because as how I owes a bill, 
 I bean't the mon they once tooks I for." Hopeful 
 youth ! his visits to Wargrave, and his London 
 pursuits, did not a little alter the opinions of his 
 father, after the progress he made, keeping com- 
 pany with a lord ! 
 
184 
 
 FETTERS. 
 
 Stone some time after was invited to stop two 
 days at Wargrave, and had remained there two 
 months. Lord Barrymore, being tired of his 
 company, said to him — " Be off — go to the devil." 
 " Na, dwont ye, my lord, send I back, let un stay a 
 little longer." — " Well, if you'll say a good thing, 
 you shall stay a week longer." — " Then here goes. 
 I wish as how I was the brother next to you, and 
 that you was double fettered in Newgate, and to be 
 /20??^^^ to-morrow." — ^' Damned good, give me your 
 hand, that is the best thing I ever heard you say ; 
 to-morrow I will take you to town, you shall stay 
 a month with me." 
 
 MY FIRST VISIT TO AN EDINBURGH BOARDING HOUSE. 
 " O! Caledonia, stern and wild V'—Sir Walter Scott. 
 
 The admiration which has of late years been 
 bestowed on the modern Athens, otherwise called 
 (a great contrast) '' Auld Reekie,'' has risen to 
 such a pitch, that anything connected therewith 
 possesses some degree of interest ; even the pages 
 
My KIRST VISIT TO AN EDINBURGH BOARDING HOUSE 185 
 
 of the great and much regretted novelist of the 
 day, are so interlarded with broad Scotch, that it 
 is as necessary for a fashionable reader to have a 
 glossary in order to understand them, as it is 
 absolutely requisite to speak French, in order to 
 be qualified for society in high life. Neverthe- 
 less, I firmly believe, that many of the readers 
 and admirers of these admirable productions, 
 are like the cockney company, drawn by fashion 
 to the Italian opera, who know as much of that 
 sweet language, as an elephant does of algebra. 
 But they extol it for two reasons ; first, because 
 others do so ; and, secondly, precisely because 
 they do not understand it. With this impression, 
 I have ventured to treat my indulgent readers 
 with a little of the descriptive, on scenes which I 
 witnessed, in Edinburgh, some twenty years back. 
 The present one is in a certain square, at a certain 
 boarding-house, kept by a worthy, virtuous, 
 formal, and very scotified spinster of ancient 
 familie, and where I went, for the first time, to 
 visit a medical student of high talent. On 
 knocking at the door, I was ushered into a well- 
 furnished parlour, by a florid complexioned lasSy 
 with hair of the hue of the highest coloured carrot. 
 
186 MY FlllST VISIT TO 
 
 and who, without giving me time to ask for my 
 friend, answered, in a very broad dialect — " Step 
 hen. Sir, an ye please, my mistress will he at you 
 in a momenta — Not prepared for this speedy 
 rencontre, and personal engagement, I was about 
 to explain, that it was a young gentleman whom 
 I had come to see, when young firelock prevented 
 me, by observing, " AibVms, it will be Miss 
 Cristy that ye'll be waunting." — (This was 
 Miss Christina, another sister, and a maiden of 
 fifty.) — " Pardon me," said I, " it is neither Miss 
 Cristy, nor Miss Crusty, that I want, but" — here 
 she stopped me again, by — " What's your wuU ?" 
 
 — *' I wish to know if Mr. be at home ?" 
 
 — " I dinna ken ; but I'll gang and spear J' 
 This looked like bringing matters to a point at 
 once, doubtless when the lady was to be at me. 
 I, however, patiently waited the servant's return, 
 who preceded her mistress, and threw open two 
 folding-doors, through which, slowly, gravely, 
 deliberately, and majestically, entered a tall, thin, 
 raw-boned lady, of about fifty-five, evidently 
 grown grey, but having a carefully-dressed poodled 
 wig, of a flaxen hue ; and, as I was pacing the 
 room, she made me a formal, but respectful 
 
AN EDINBUllCill BOAUDING HOUSE. 187 
 
 acknowledgment, and motioned me with these 
 words — " Come into thefit^e. Sir, if you plaise^ — 
 " Bien oblige non,'' — thought I, for this was out 
 of the frying-pan into the fire ; I was to be 
 speared in the first instance, and now to be 
 roasted alive. I, however, made my best bow, 
 and inquired after my friend — " He's gone to the 
 Grinder^,'' replied the stiff lady. — " For what 
 purpose ?" inquired I, somewhat alarmed. — " He's 
 just preparing for his degree." 
 
 I was fully as much in the dark as I was 
 before, but my friend arrived at the moment, and 
 relieved me from my difficulty. Miss Barbara 
 (barbarous I then thought would have been 
 more appropriate) contented herself with re- 
 marking that it was a coarse day, and retired in 
 due form. After a few mutual inquiries as to 
 the family of my friend, and my own, he ex- 
 pressed a wish that I should dine with him, to 
 which I agreed, and at six o'clock we sat down 
 
 * A Grinder is a person, who, being a good Latinist, and 
 accustomed to the routine of examinations, prepares Under 
 Graduates for taking their degree ; — they sharpen the edge 
 of the student's dullness, and ehcit a spark from the dense 
 silex of the brain ; they also assist the medical aspirant to 
 write his thesis ; or, perhaps, to write it in lolo, proving the 
 old rule, that — " Qui facit per altrum, facit per se." 
 
188 MY FIRST VISIT TO 
 
 to a substantial repast, with a forest of bottles, 
 rearing their crests above the edibles. Their 
 description, or cast, was as varied as that of our 
 party ; for the former consisted of the produc- 
 tions of Portugal, Spain, France, and Germany, 
 whilst the latter was composed of English, 
 Irish, native Scots, and trans-atlantics ; such a 
 melange rather pleased me, for it afforded great 
 variety, and happy am I to say, that the diver- 
 sified materials, or component parts of our circle, 
 fitted all in harmoniously together, and formed 
 a happy whole. Placed by the side of Miss 
 Barbara, she asked me if I " would take a few 
 broth ;" this I declined, and fell upon as fine a dish 
 of fish as ever I tasted. The rest of the dinner 
 was extremely good, barring a dish on which 
 I cannot report, namely a haggis, which looked 
 to me like a boiled bag-pipe, and of which I did 
 not taste ; but all the rest was abundant, and very 
 fairly cooked. I drank wine with Miss Barbara 
 and Miss Christina, who mutually called each 
 other Babby* and Cursty; the waiting maid and 
 
 * Bawby, which sounded like Babby, is a very common 
 friendly abbreviation of Barbara. I must here observe that 
 Bella, or Isabella, was not over-encumbered by beauty, so 
 that the classical boarders denominated her " Bella, horrida 
 bella." 
 
AN EDINBURGH BOARDING HOUSE. 189 
 
 other attendant were unceasingly summoned to do 
 their duty, under the names of Jacky and Bella, 
 and the one turning rather masculine and the 
 other doubly feminine, seemed to justify their 
 extraordinary names. 
 
 Touching the soup, or rather barley-broth, it 
 had rather a dingy appearance, observing which, 
 a Scotch student, who had a rooted aversion to 
 pepper, was, on discovering a few black grains 
 in his plate, about to send it away, when Miss 
 Cursty assured him it was no paper (pepper, so 
 pronounced). " What will it be then ?" said the 
 Scot, in a lengthened monotonous note. " It's 
 juist a little dart (dirt), the lum (chimney) 
 has no been sooped for a while." This sentence 
 was wholly unintelligible to me in those days. 
 When cheese was put on the table. Miss Babby 
 asked me if I would be helped to some referts ; I 
 hesitated a moment, when she handed me some 
 radishes; but I had forgotten that I was still 
 more posed before this by being invited " to tak 
 a parton tae^' (the claw of a crab, mirahile dictu !) 
 how engaging the idea of a toe is, I accordingly 
 came off with a claw. 
 
190 MV FIRST VISIT TO 
 
 When the cloth was removed, and a very 
 expensive dessert was put down, the elderly 
 ladies j)arfered taking a nice pickle ivhushy toddy 
 to cold wine; and I, who had not then tasted 
 this beverage, agreed to join them ; however, 
 as I did not dispatch my tumbler as speedily as 
 was expected, I was politely and hospitably 
 stimulated so to do, with, ** Sair, ye mak nae 
 impression on your glass." I took the hint, and 
 in a few minutes the two maiden ladies left us. 
 They were both extremely kind-hearted, worthy 
 women ; the one, however, given a good deal to 
 puritanism and snufF; the other, fond of hard 
 names, which she always misplaced, and pro- 
 nounced wrong ; but it was scarcely to be won- 
 dered at, since she was continually confused by 
 the technicalities of the students, and had in- 
 cessantly such hard words as the hyperoxygen- 
 ated muriate, carbon, and caloric, philology and 
 pathology, the prognoss and diagnosis, &c., &:c. 
 ringing in her ears, so that she frequently took 
 one term for another, as in the instance of a 
 Portuguese student, who spoke English so well 
 that I expressed my wonder at it, when the 
 
AN EDINBURGH BOARDING HOUSE. 191 
 
 younger sister assured me that " he was quite 
 neutrali%ed since he had been there, and that 
 his sister was mare-id upon a Scotch physician." 
 
 Wine loosens the organ of speech in all 
 nations, so that, after the ladies had retired, the 
 different tongues were blended in convivial har- 
 mony. We had two young gentlemen, who 
 came in after dinner, and who had taken their 
 doctor's degree that day ; on hearing of which, 
 an Hibernian exclaimed, " O murder !" This 
 was an ejaculation partly of delight, and partly 
 of surprise, in spite of which their health was 
 drank most cordially by the same Hibernian, 
 with a wish that they might have most extensive 
 practice. 
 
 It would be an act of injustice and ingratitude 
 at the same time, not to state that I never spent 
 a happier evening, in the assemblage of graduates 
 and under-graduates. There were youths of 
 talent and humour, classics of the first class, and 
 one or two generally well-informed men. Great 
 hospitality prevailed at our board, whilst the 
 inmates of the boarding-house appeared like one 
 family ; so merrily did they live, that my only 
 wonder was how they found time to study; but 
 
192 COFFINS. 
 
 doubtless the grinder and other auxiliaries were 
 all brought into play, as the time of examination 
 approached. So pleased was I with my reception, 
 that I very frequently dined with the medical 
 party, until at last I w^as almost as fit to pass for 
 an M.D., as many of my young friends, and until 
 there was not a single word in the Misses M'Clish- 
 myclaver's vocabulary which was not perfectly 
 familiar to me. And here, old Caledonia, and 
 honest auld Emhrif, receive a tribute of my 
 affection ; thousands are the happy moments I 
 have passed on your hospitable soil ; many a 
 wrinkle of care has been smoothed by ye, which 
 can never be forgotten. 
 
 HERMIT IN LONDON. 
 
 COFFINS. 
 
 One evening Lord Pembroke was entertaining 
 a party of his friends, at his hospitable and 
 splendid mansion at Wilton ; there being at the 
 time a considerable flood, one of his lordship's 
 servants entered the room in a great fright, and 
 informed him that the flood had broken into the 
 
MORLAND. 
 
 193 
 
 family vault, and that a number of coffins were 
 actually floating, asking at the same tiaie what 
 was to be done ? " Do what you like, John," 
 replied Lord Pembroke, " but be sure to keep my 
 father, it would not do for him to come amongst 
 us, and bring us to task." 
 
 MORLAND, 
 
 Calling on Rowlandson, at the time he lived at 
 Mrs. Lays, three doors from Carlton House, who 
 kept a print-shop, a loud knock at the door 
 aroused us to the window ; it was Colonel 
 Thornton (of sporting memory), inquiring for 
 Morland, who lodged in the next room (second 
 floor). Rowlandson told me, that, about a year 
 back, the Colonel had advanced him fifty pounds, 
 towards painting a picture, which was to be 
 finished in three months, and he had long promised 
 it would be the week following ; he had called for 
 it. Morland, who had not began it, took care 
 always to be denied to him. I was ever fond of 
 the arts, and had always boasted of my collection of 
 drawings. " Now," said Rowlandson, " if you want 
 a dravi^ing, you have only to go and drink gin, 
 
 o 
 
194 LETTER TO MR. BANNISTER. 
 
 smoke, and give him one of your slang songs, in 
 the true blackguard style (then the middle of the 
 day), and he'll make you a drawing for nothing." 
 
 A LETTER TO MR. BANNISTER, FROM MR. COLMAN. 
 
 " Brompton Square^ 29th November , 1831. 
 
 " My Dear Jack, — At present, I have a load 
 of dry official business on my hands, and am too 
 much occupied in examining the compositions 
 of others, to think of attempting any of my own. 
 I finished the enclosed song, three or four years 
 ago, for Mr. Charles Taylor, who has sung it 
 at a few convivial meetings ; but it has never, to 
 the best of my knowledge, been published. 
 
 " If your friend Angelo should think it worthy 
 of insertion in his forthcoming work, it is heartily 
 at his service, and his acceptance of it, as a 
 trifling tribute of my esteem for an old acquaint- 
 ance> will give me great pleasure. 
 
 "Your's, my dear Jack, ever most truly, 
 
 *' G. COLMAN." 
 
195 
 
 OIKOMANIA, 
 
 THE RAGE FOR BUILDING. 
 
 I. 
 
 Since Ovid's Four Ages of Metal have fled, 
 We must put up with minor materials instead ; 
 And London, grown longer by many long miles, 
 Has brought in an Age of Brick, Mortar, and Tiles. 
 
 Tol de rol, tol de rol, &c. 
 
 II. 
 
 But some of our builders are given to dash, 
 And so flimsy their work, while so scanty their cash, 
 That their half-finishM, half-mortgag'd houses near town, 
 By the wind, or George Robins, are daily knocked down. 
 
 Tol de rol, &c. 
 
 III. 
 
 Still has London so widely its limits o'erstept, 
 
 Hyde Park Corner's old turnpike to Knightsbridge has 
 
 crept ; 
 Still new suburbs arise, and so soon are complete, 
 That a month makes a villa, a house in a street. 
 
 Tol de rol, &c. 
 
196 OIKOMANIA. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Hence it happens that mansions we sadly miscall ; 
 Prospect Hermitage faces a dismal dead wall ; 
 There's a tripe shop to look at from Paradise Grot, 
 And a brewery smokes over Violet Cot. 
 
 Tol de rol, &c. 
 
 V. 
 
 Mr. Wick, who turned candles to gold very fast. 
 Retired from Cornhill, to his bandbox, at last, 
 Making one of the settlers, on CamberwelFs plains. 
 Who have ousted the wild aboriginal swains. 
 
 Tol de rol, &c. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Nothing elbow'd Wick Lodge ; and Wick relished full 
 
 well 
 A cow-house behind, notwithstanding the smell ; 
 In front was the road, then a field, 'twas a spot 
 Where rubbish, and duellist, came to be shot. 
 
 Tol de rol, &c. 
 
 VII. 
 
 The first morning when Wick, in his rural abode 
 Bustled out of his bed to look over the road, 
 A Travelling Giant had blocked out his view, 
 In a large caravan, painted yellow and blue. 
 
 Tol de rol, &c. 
 
OIKOMANIA. 197 
 
 VIIL 
 
 Wick was mortified much, there can scarce be a doubt. 
 At this total eclipse of his pleasant look-out ; 
 But in lieu on't, the giant's own portrait was there. 
 In a bed-gown, red breeches, and well powder'd hair. 
 
 Tol de rol, &c. 
 
 IX. 
 
 When the Giant wheeFd off — though he made a month's 
 
 stay- 
 Wick beheld in the field, to his utter dismay, 
 A long range of brick, which had risen like a dream, 
 'Twas a Joint Stock Company's Wash-house, by steam. 
 
 Tol de rol, &c. 
 
 X. 
 
 " Though this nuisance might drive one away," observed 
 
 Wick, 
 " I'm a Freeholder here, and determined to stick." 
 So, while he remain'd in this resolute plight, 
 A Tinman erected a house in his sight. 
 
 • Tol de rol, &c. 
 
 XI. 
 
 A house building close to us, sure, is a curse. 
 But when built, if a Tinman's the tenant, 'tis worse ; 
 And, when Wick of his patience was nearly bereft, 
 A Trunkmaker set up a shop on his left. 
 
 Tol de rol, &c. 
 
198 JERVIS'S GHOST. 
 
 XII. 
 
 As the new rage for building increased, there arose, 
 Fresh annoyances, constantly, under his nose ; 
 Till Wick swore at last, with a countenance grim. 
 That, though he had left town, the town would^nt 
 leave him. 
 
 Tol de rol, &c. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Now think, when of London, who love rural seats, 
 How neighbourhoods swarm round your cockney 
 
 retreats ; 
 And the more you build villas, the more you'll agree, 
 That the less in the country youll certainly be. 
 
 Tol de rol, &c. 
 
 GEORGE COLMAN. 
 
 JERVIS S GHOST. 
 
 The night was dark ; the wind moaned in fitful 
 gusts ; the sleet fell in slanting lines, resembling 
 those in use by modern improvers of the art of 
 caligraphy, who teach their pupils to write a fine 
 running hand in six lessons. 
 
 With an umbrella blown inside out, forming 
 a capacious and rapidly filling bowl poised on a 
 
JERVIS'S GHOST. 199 
 
 stick over my head, and the pitiless shower inci- 
 piently introducing itself through various parts 
 of my person, it was with an agreeable emotion 
 that I espied, in spite of all the drizzle, at the 
 corner of the street, a Hackney-coach — it was 
 lonely, unhired, untenanted, unheeded, save but 
 by myself. The driver had apparently abandoned 
 his box for the purpose of taking shelter in a 
 watering house, to get out of the wet. 
 
 It was in vain I several times called out, " Coach, 
 Coach, Coach !" 
 
 The weather-beaten vehicle stood before me : 
 the aged horses were both fast asleep, and yet 
 one, the grey, had its eyes wide open, the light 
 of a gas lamp discovered to me that the dis- 
 tended orbs of the poor brute were sightless : the 
 wretched animals were leaning side to side for 
 warmth and ease ; the ribs of the grey fitting with 
 tolerable accuracy the ribs of the dun like a tally — > 
 (had either of them in the hey-day of their colt^ 
 ships ever heard of a tally-ho?) Two little 
 cobbler's aprons on their backs partially warded off 
 the incessant dripping of the rain, which, however, 
 accumulated into a channel formed by the hip- 
 bones, and soaked into the helpless haunches. 
 
200 JEllVls's GHOST. 
 
 A rising steam from the nostrils to the cruppers 
 was beaten down again by the weather ; the knees 
 of the once gallant grey stood in advance, twisted 
 jout like the elbows of an old-fashioned chair, and 
 one fetlock was graced with a gaiter of damp and 
 dingy canvas. Some hay, which had been left at 
 the top of the pole (and for the good it could do 
 to the horses it might as well have been with 
 Captain Parry at the North Pole), was blown 
 upon the roof of the coach, saving the scattered 
 particles, saturated with the shower, which ad- 
 hered to the patched harness. The old beasts 
 (like Socrates when he had swallowed his hem- 
 lock) were, or appeared to he, resigned to their 
 fate. With drooping and dripping ears, and tails 
 tightly tucked down, they braved the horrors of 
 the storm in silence, save that the dun made all 
 the ironmongery of his trappings jingle, and ever 
 and anon awaked his yoke-fellow. Poor quad- 
 ruped ! would that a pectoral lozenge could alle- 
 viate thy sufferings ! (I had a box full of Dawson's 
 in my pocket, and sympathetically swallowed 
 one;) would that, my poor worn-out Bucephalus, 
 you were in a warm stable, littered up for the 
 night, in a cap and wrapper, luxuriating on a hot 
 
JERVIS'S GHOST. SOl 
 
 mash ! The coach was on a par with the cattle 
 (it was a coach, not a chariot), and had probably 
 been manufactured in the period of the second or 
 third George; many modern additions had dete- 
 riorated from its original splendour and inconve- 
 niences — the box and boot had never appertained 
 to aristocracy, but had been put on by a bungling 
 artisan — the wheels were of three distinct colours — 
 the springs f alas, had seen many winters — the 
 steps were unsteady, like the steps of age ; and as 
 for the glasses, one might use the sea term to 
 them, " glass and half glass ;" if you looked for 
 any further embellishment in that department, 
 you would have to " pity the poor blind." The 
 panels, once highly varnished, had now assumed 
 a deadly rhubarb aspect, and contrasted as woe- 
 fully with the coat of arms of Mexborough painted 
 thereon in gorgeous display, as the coach itself did 
 with the family motto, " be fast." But the rain 
 was finding its way to my skin — no longer waiting 
 for the driver of the equipage, without further 
 ceremony I endeavoured to open the door, and 
 with a hard pull, for the damp had closed it firmly, 
 I effected my object, and got inside. Aware that 
 possession is nine points of the law,. I threw 
 
202 JERVIs's GHOST. 
 
 myself in a corner ; wrapt in my cloak, and lulled by 
 the pattering of the storm, I insensibly fell asleep, 
 and, like Addison, Steele, Johnson, and others of 
 the great essayists and authors of allegory, I 
 dreamt. Methought I heard a voice uttering 
 melancholy plaints, mixed with deep sighs. — " Who 
 art thou ?" said I. — " I am 239," replied the voice. 
 " What is 239 ?" said I.—" Would that I had 
 never known," exclaimed the voice ; " time was, 
 and time is ; I am on a time job now ! Once I 
 was attached to nobility, now my creaking body is 
 destined for any vile purpose." — " Poor fallen crea- 
 ture," said I, " proceed." — "The arms of a noble lord 
 still cleave to my side, though I am so degraded ; 
 my pockets, which once contained scent bottles, 
 fans, or reticules, are now the receptacles for 
 two or three rusty nails, a piece of cord, a ham- 
 mer, and a horse picker !" — " Pockets !" said I, 
 " what is your name ?" — " My present name is 
 that of a famous admiral (since Lord St. Vincent). 
 I was born (thanks to my maker !) in Long Acre : 
 for a considerable period I regularly attended 
 every drawing-room, levee, and birthday at St. 
 V James's. But, alas ! pride must have its fall, and 
 my fate has been as chequered as is my lining. 
 
JERVIS'S GHOST, 203 
 
 " Once I was the admiration of the ring at 
 Hyde Park ; I am not now permitted to enter the 
 gates. 
 
 " I shall never forget the feelings of mortifica- 
 tion I experienced when I was stripped of my 
 lace ! — when they barbarously deprived me of my 
 hammercloth ; and, worst of all, when the carpet 
 was removed from the bottom of me ! That 
 which had hitherto only been pressed by the silken 
 foot of high-born beauty, was now covered with 
 damp straw, trodden down by the canaille, 
 
 " When I first appeared in the world, the nobi- 
 lity alone kept us, but now any body — every body, 
 and even persons who are nobody, sport us — with 
 bodies. 
 
 " I have waited in the street a whole winter's 
 night for the late Mr. Sheridan, who, when he 
 had rejoined me after his seventh bottle, has been 
 on my seat in such a state of mental aberration, as 
 to fancy himself Mr. Wilberforce. 
 
 " Wilks has squinted out of my windows : in 
 more modern times Cobbett and Hunt have quar- 
 relled in me. 
 
 " I conveyed, in a soaking shower, Ronneo 
 Coates, Esq., from Carlton House, when the cruel 
 
204 JERVls's GHOST. 
 
 hoax was passed on him of the forged ticket for 
 
 the grand fete given to the Allied Sovereigns 
 
 and exceedingly wet were the crimson velvet coat 
 and white satin smalls of that much injured gen- 
 tleman ; to say nothing of the water which came 
 out of his pumps. 
 
 " I went with the mysterious mask to Newgate, 
 he who decapitated the Cato-street conspirators. 
 I did not much like my company, yet there is a 
 gratifying sensation in being useful to one's country. 
 I thought so, as I rested on my perch at the Old 
 Bailey ! 
 
 " I have had my gradations in rank, from the 
 rank of a peer to a Hackney-coach rank. Thou- 
 sands of my inmates must ere this be numbered 
 with the mighty dead, whilst I am regularly num- 
 bered in Essex Street in the Strand. 
 
 " I was once exceedingly disgusted with a pert 
 yalet of the secretary of the French ambassador, 
 who called me 2i fiacre! but I trifle... if I am gar- 
 rulous (and garrulity accompanies age) gently pull 
 my check-string, — but I am breaking down, almost 
 crazy, existing only by two plates. 
 
 " The streets, in a state o£ demi-macadcankation, 
 jolt me till I shudder to my very linch-pins. 
 
JERVIS'S GHOST. 205 
 
 " Though wretchedly old, damp and filthy, I 
 have the consolation to reflect that I never ran 
 over any one in my existence, and the pride to 
 remember that when a silly dog has bitten at 
 my revolving wheel, that he always had the worst 
 of it. 
 
 " Adieu, farewell ! farewell !" 
 
 At this moment I was awakened by a less plain- 
 tive voice, which uttered, — " Vy d — n my catskin 
 if here ain't a covee inside my leather rusky a 
 snoozing ? 
 
 " Now, Sir, vere am I to drive to ?" 
 
 Peake. 
 
 FurnivaVs Inn ChamberSf Feb. 2\st. 
 
 My dear Mr. Angelo, 
 
 Soon after my return from India, in the year 
 1807, our friend John Bannister opened his funny 
 budget, which he took with him about the country, 
 and to which I, with many other far more distin- 
 guished drolls, contributed my scrap of scribblery. 
 Sublime nonsense it was ; but, as George Colman 
 laughed at it (which his did in my presence in 
 Jack's own proper house in Gower Street), it 
 
206 W. LTNLEY. 
 
 could not be very dull nonsense at any rate. Monk 
 Lewis had not long before published his Tales 
 of Wonder, which put the public a gog, after 
 goblin stories of every description ; so I thought 
 that I would write one for John's Budget. He 
 insisted upon it that I should contribute, though I 
 told him how very much it was out of my way ; 
 so, what could I do ? — My subject was new, at 
 all events. — It was the Ghost of a Turkey Cock 
 haunting an Alderman ! I composed a tune to 
 my doggrels, and John contrived, by his inimitable 
 * Gobble, gobble, gobble,' at the close of every 
 verse, to keep his audience in a full roar through- 
 out the song, which he still continues to sing. 
 
 If he will give you a copy of it, you shall be 
 welcome to insert it in your Pic-Nic Publication, 
 and this facetious note as a precursor, as it so 
 please you. 
 
 Ever, my dear Sir, 
 
 Your*s faithfully, 
 
 W. LINLEY. 
 
 Henry Angelo, Esq, 
 
 P.S. — Should Bannister forward you the song, 
 let me see it before committing it to the press. 
 
207 
 
 THE ALDERMAN S DREAM- 
 
 A Tale of Wonder or Terror, as the Reader may choose to 
 consider it. 
 
 Sir Gregory Grill was an Alderman bold, 
 
 Who'd a wife that was comely and kind ; 
 And she'd a cock turkey, she petted, good soul, 
 
 Because the poor gobbler was blind. 
 The Alderman, too, seem'd this pet to regard. 
 
 And with very great kindness to treat him ; 
 But a stranger might see, — tho' the turkey could not, 
 
 That he longed most devoutly to eat him. 
 
 Gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble. 
 Lack and well-a-day, ho ! 
 
 For much tho' he loved on rich turtle to feed. 
 
 Venison pasties, scotch-collops, and fish ; 
 Yet a turkey, well stuffed, was the joy of his heart. 
 
 Of all exquisite dishes, the dish. 
 " So Dolly," cried he, to his favourite cook, 
 
 " We may now be as merry as grigs ; 
 " Lady Grill to fair Henley is gone for a week, 
 
 " And I'll eat the blind cock, please the pigs." 
 
 Gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble, 
 Lack and well-a-day, ho ! 
 
THE ALDERMAN S DREAM. 
 
 So blithe was Sir Greg as the bird he devoured, 
 
 And blithe went his worship to bed ; 
 No compunction felt he for the poor turkey's fate, 
 
 Not a tear did the Cormorant shed. 
 But not long did he sleep ; from long snorings disturbed. 
 
 The Alderman sorely was hobbled ; 
 When the ghdst in full feather brushed into the room. 
 
 And the feather-bed shook as he gobbled ! 
 
 Gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble, 
 Lack and well-a-day, ho ! 
 
 Too well knew the glutton the sound of his voice. 
 
 And the blood thrilled in every vein ! 
 "And what would'st thou have, dreadful vision?'^ cried he, 
 
 " You know I can't eat you againr — 
 " And why,'' quoth the ghost, " didst thou eat me at all "^ 
 
 " Not a slice shall your worship digest ; 
 " Give me back, cruel monster, my legs, and my wings, 
 
 " My gizzard, rump, sidesmen, and breast," 
 
 Gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble, 
 Lack and well-a-day, ho ! 
 
 Ring, ring, went the bell, and up flew the ghost, 
 
 And Deborah up ran she ; 
 And up came the doctor, and up came the potion, 
 
 And down went the camomile tea. 
 And thus ends my story ; full fairly appeased, 
 
 Was the turkey cock goblin so blind ; 
 
GEORGE BARNWELL. 209 
 
 Foul feeders and gluttons, delighting to stuff. 
 Keep the Alderman^s penance in mind. 
 
 Gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble, 
 Lack and well-a-day, ho i 
 
 W. LINLEY. 
 
 PARODY. 
 
 This Parody is very gratifying to me, having 
 received it from the gentleman who wrote it, 
 who was so obliging as to give me a copy, and 
 is one of the first authors of the day. We are all 
 much indebted to him for his prolific pen. 
 The burlesque speaks for itself, when I say, 
 it is Mr. Horace Smith's humour. 
 
 GEORGE BARNWELL. 
 
 Tu7ic — Drops of Brandy. 
 
 I. 
 
 George Barnwell stood at the shop door, 
 
 A customer hoping to find. Sir ; 
 His apron was hanging before. 
 
 And the tail of his shirt hung behind. Sir. 
 When a lady, so gay and so smart. 
 
 Said, " Sir, IVe exhausted my stock of late ; 
 p 
 
210 GEORGE BARNWELL. 
 
 <« I've got nothing left but a groat, 
 
 " Can you sell me four penneth of chocolate ?" 
 Rumply, nagetty, fidgetty, rumply, fiddle, diddle dum ; 
 Oh ! this is a doleful tragedy ,,helum, dodum, diddle dum. 
 
 II. 
 
 Her face was rouged up to the skies, 
 
 Which made her look prouder and prouder ; 
 His hair stood on end with surprise, 
 
 And her's with pomatum and powder. 
 The business being soon understood ; 
 
 For the lady she wished to be more rich : 
 Said, " Sir, my name is Mil wood, 
 
 " And I live at a gunner's in Shoreditch.*' 
 Rumply, nagetty, fidgetty, rumply, fiddle, diddle dum ; 
 Oh ! this is a doleful tragedy, helum, dodum, diddle dum. 
 
 III. 
 
 Now nightly he'd skip out, good lack. 
 
 And into her lodgings would pop, Sir ; 
 But often forgot to come back. 
 
 And left master to shut up the shop. Sir. 
 Her beauty his wits did bereave. 
 
 Determined to be quite the crack O ; 
 He lounged at the Adam and Eve, 
 
 And called for his gin and tobacco. 
 Rumply, nagetty, fidgetty, rumply, fiddle, diddle dum ; 
 Oh ! this is a doleful tragedy, helum, dodum, diddle dum. 
 
GEORGE BARNWELL. 211 
 
 IV. 
 
 But now, for the truth must be told, 
 
 Tho' none of a 'prentice should speak ill. 
 He robbed from the till all the gold, 
 
 And eat the lump sugar and treacle. 
 Which made his old master complain, 
 
 " Dear George, don't engage with that dragon : 
 " She'll bring you to ruin and shame, 
 
 " And leave you the devil a rag on." 
 Rumply, nagetty, fidgetty, rumply, fiddle, diddle dum; 
 Oh ! this is a doleful tragedy, helum, dodum, diddle dum. 
 
 V. 
 
 In vain he condemns and deplores, 
 
 This simple and amorous ninny; 
 At length turns him quite out of doors. 
 
 And Georgy soon spent his last guinea. 
 His uncle, whose generous purse. 
 
 To relieve him so often has I know ; 
 Now finding him grow worse and worse. 
 
 Refused to come down with the rhino. 
 Rumply, nagetty, fidgetty, rumply, fiddle, diddle dum ; 
 Oh ! this is a doleful tragedy, helum, dodum, diddle dum. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Now Milwood, whose cruel heart's core 
 Was so hard that nothing could shock it, 
 
 ♦*. 
 
212 GEORGE BARNWELL. 
 
 Said, " Sir, if you come here any more, 
 
 " You must come with more cash in your pocket. 
 " Make nunkey surrender his dibbs, 
 
 " Or wipe his pate with a pair of lead towels ; 
 " Or whip a knife into his ribs, 
 
 " Then I warrant hell show you some bowels." 
 Rumply, nagetty, fidgetty, rumply, fiddle, diddle dum; 
 Oh ! this is a doleful tragedy, helum, dodum, diddle dum, 
 
 VII. 
 
 ^ A pistol he got from his love, 
 
 'Twas loaded with powder and bullet ; 
 Then he trudged off to Camberwell Grove, 
 
 But had not the courage to pull it. 
 Here's nunkey as fat as a hog. 
 
 And I am as lean as a wizard, 
 So here's at you, you sturgy old dog. 
 Then whips a sharp knife in his gizzard. 
 Rumply, nagetty, fidgetty, rumply, fiddle, diddle dum ; 
 Oh ! this is a doleful tragedy, helum, dodum, diddle dum. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 All you that attend to my song, 
 
 A terrible end of the farce shall see ; 
 If you join the inquisitive throng. 
 
 That followed poor George to the Marshalsea. 
 Was Milwood but there, dash my wigs. 
 
 Said he, how I'd pummel and bang her well ; 
 
GEORGE BARNWELL. 213 
 
 Had I stuck to my raisins and figs, 
 
 I ne'er had stuck nunkey at Camberwell. 
 Rumply, nagetty, fidgetty, rumply, fiddle, diddle dum ; 
 Oh ! this is a doleful tragedy, helum, dodum, diddle dum. 
 
 IX. 
 
 The case to the jury was plain. 
 
 The news spread through every alehouse ; 
 At the sessions at Horsemonger-lane, 
 
 They both were condemned to the gallows. 
 With Milwood George opened the ball, 
 
 Oh dear ! how we cried, Mrs. Crump and I, 
 When he danced upon nothing at all. 
 
 And lolled his tongue out to the company. 
 Rumply, nagetty, fidgetty, rumply, fiddle, diddle dum ; 
 Oh ! this is a doleful tragedy, helum, dodum, diddle dum. 
 
 X. 
 
 His finale to know, if you wish, 
 
 A sorrowful end I must tell. Sir ; 
 He looked but a queer kind of fish. 
 
 When they carried him off in a shell. Sir. 
 The surgeons they picked every bone ; 
 
 His flesh the anatomist tore off*; 
 Now since he's a skeleton grown. 
 
 You never will hear any more of 
 His rumply, nagetty , fidgetty, rumply, fiddle, diddle dum. 
 Oh ! this is a doleful tragedy, helum, dodum, diddle dum. 
 
214 
 
 GIFTS. 
 
 I have already written songs, which were 
 considered the best, yet I cannot refrain adding 
 more particularly two by such high literary 
 characters of the present day, their humour 
 cannot be disputed, and must be acceptable to 
 the reader. 
 
 MISS WABBLE. 
 I. 
 
 Miss Wabble, who oft at the wash tub had plied, 
 
 Her powers on the stage, in deep tragedy tried ; 
 
 For genius is easy, when nature expands. 
 
 From the wringing of clothes, to the wringing of hands. 
 
 II. 
 
 Desdemona was offered her first ; but said she, 
 
 '' Desdemona's a fool ! had Othello asked me 
 
 " Where his handkerchief was, I'd told him, by gosh, 
 
 " As how it was gone with the things to the wash.^ 
 
 III. 
 
 She came out in Juliet, when waking at last, 
 
 A nail in the vault by her shroud caught her fast ; 
 
 So she popped out her head, while the audience were 
 
 grinning, 
 And cried out, " I shan't be able to get up my linen .'^ 
 
MRS. PREVOT. 215 
 
 IV. 
 
 Says the manager : " Madam, it shan't be my fault, 
 
 " If I catch you again in the Capulefs vault. 
 
 " For in casting your part, common sense you have 
 
 strangled ; 
 " Tho' 'tis not the first time, that things you have 
 
 mangledy 
 
 V. 
 
 " You Monster !" Miss Wabble cried- out, in a rage ; 
 " Do you think I depend on your pitiful stage ? 
 " I can live, though if forced from your boards to retire, 
 " For, thank heaven ! I've irons enough in the fire." 
 
 GEORGE COLMAN. 
 
 MRS. PREVOT, 
 I. 
 
 When first we were man and wife, 
 
 Ann, you vowed to love for life ; 
 
 We were quoted as a pattern, we were quite a show. 
 
 Like King William and his Queen, 
 
 We were ever to be seen. 
 
 Such a jewel of a wife was Mrs. John Prevot. 
 
 II. 
 
 Oh then I clung unto the man, 
 Like Baucis to Philemon, 
 
^16 MRS. PREVOT- 
 
 Now when I am at Brighton, youVe at Bath I know. 
 
 Like the pair that tell the weather, 
 
 We are never seen together ; 
 
 One at home, and t'other gadding, Mr. John Prevot. 
 
 III. 
 
 When a lion's to be seen, — old Blucher, — Mr. Kean, 
 You order then the carriage and away you go ; 
 With that gossip, Mrs. Jones, you rattle o'er the stones. 
 You have no mercy on the horses, Mrs. John Prevot. 
 
 IV. 
 
 With madeira, port, and sherry, 
 
 When you make what you call merry. 
 
 And sit in sober sadness, are you sober ? No I 
 
 With that horrid Major Rock, 
 
 You make it twelve o'clock 
 
 Ere you tumble up to coffee, Mr. John Prevot. 
 
 V. 
 
 Our vicar. Parson Tether, united us together, 
 
 'Twas for better and for worse, you know.^ 
 
 To make the worse the better. 
 
 Since we cannot break our fetter. 
 
 We'll say no more about it, Mrs. John Prevot, 
 
 We'll say no more about it, Mr. John Prevot. 
 
 HORACE SMITH. 
 
m 
 
 COUNTERBLxiST TO LORD BYRON S CELEBRATED LINES, 
 COMMENCING " SPREAD, SPREAD FOR VITELLIUS."" 
 
 " Spread, spread for Vespasian, the banquet sublime," 
 Whilst of Britain the prop, and the jacobin's scourge 
 
 Of heroes a band in full eulogy chime. 
 
 Pledging deep to the health of their Monarch, great 
 George. 
 
 Let the tables be chafed o''er with feats of emprize, 
 Emprize well remembered in Flanders and Spain ; 
 
 With the tests of imperial and royal allies, 
 
 To his Regency's laurels, the fruits of his reign. 
 
 " Ay, build him a dwelling,'' and mark out its site, 
 Be its rock of foundation each Englishman's breast ; 
 
 Let his vassal and Poet contribute his mite. 
 To record its phylactory, proudly express'd. 
 
 Here George the victorious, the fourth of a line. 
 
 In whose veins honour's current transcendently flows , 
 
 Friends and countrymen we with devotion enshrine. 
 Breathing scorn to his libellers — death to his foes. 
 
 WILLIAM PENN. 
 
218 
 
 WEATHER DRIVEN, 
 
 About nineteen years ago, when a very heavy 
 snow had fallen, making the roads impassable, and 
 preventing the mail coaches proceeding, anxious 
 to leave Oxford (where my professional attendance 
 had been required), I mounted on the roof of a 
 stage-coach, and took my departure in the morn- 
 ing for town. Such a dreary journey ! the high 
 wind and drifting snow making the roads impassable. 
 Waggons and carriages standing about, and unable 
 to proceed, I perceived we should not complete the 
 first stage. With the utmost difficulty we amved 
 at Benson. Mills had been the coachman for 
 many years ; but we fell into a deep rut, 
 no longer able to proceed; the coach became 
 immovable, while the snow was up to the horses' 
 breasts. Here we remained above an hour, in ex- 
 pectation that some one, seeing our situation, would 
 send horses to extricate us — shivering with cold — 
 no appearance of relief — only one person outside 
 but myself, I proposed to him to cross those fields 
 where the snow had drifted, to give us an oppor- 
 tunity to find our way to procure horses to remove 
 
WEATHER DRIVEN. 219 
 
 the carriage, and conduct us the remaining mile, 
 when the wife of my frozen companion, seated 
 inside, objected to his leaving, terrified at the 
 danger. The other three who filled the coach 
 were very quiet, not offering the least assistance, 
 or venturing to quit their places. On my attempt- 
 ing to pass a ditch, I had a narrow escape, being 
 up to my chin in snow. However, short as the 
 distance was, I endeavoured to find the path, and 
 with difficulty and perseverance reached the inn 
 some time after the coachman. Though only 
 twelve o'clock, three horses were all that could be 
 obtained. The house was full, many not able to 
 proceed ; but, being an old traveller, forward was 
 my motto. Looking to myself, I did not delay, 
 and therefore secured the waiter's bed. Lucky was 
 this precaution ; for in the course of the day several 
 carriages arrived, few venturing farther; every 
 bed bespoke, and chairs and sofas only were left for 
 their night's repose. In the largest room we were 
 all huddled together at a species of table d'hote, 
 left entirely at the landlord's discretion. For the 
 first time situated as I was, the melange was pre- 
 ferable to sitting alone a long winter's evening at 
 an inn. Like on board a ship (Hobson's choice)y 
 
220 WEATHER DRIVEN. 
 
 we all roughed it together. Those who came in 
 their carriages were not over nice to put up with 
 the fortune du pot, or afterwards to partake of the 
 punch, when the order of the night was to have 
 the largest bowl in the house, which I believe had 
 not been filled since the middle of the last century. 
 The next morning all assembled at breakfast, the 
 road still continuing impassable, the weather not 
 altering. When I proposed to my companions 
 walking the next stage, a dead silence ensued. 
 Disappointed at their fear, I ventured alone, and 
 a dangerous trudge I had. After some hours 
 perseverance, occasionally merged in snow, and 
 walking over the fields, where, in many places, the 
 wind had drifted it away, with difficulty I got to 
 Nettlebed. Thankful for my safety, seated before 
 a blazing fire, never before or since has coffee or 
 toast been such a luxury to me. An hour after 
 the Abingdon coach passed, and, there being a 
 place, four hours after the usual time I got safe 
 to town, having thus left the weather-bound as- 
 semblage to rusticate themselves at Benson. 
 
221 
 
 TOM SHERIDAN AND MUNDEN. 
 
 At a dinner of the Theatrical Fund, Sheridan 
 presiding in the chair, the wine going round in 
 copious libations, that celebrated orator became 
 Bacchi plenus, and was expatiating on the anti- 
 quity of Irish families, at the same time informing 
 his audience that no man had less family pride 
 than himself, and quoting Ovid, by saying, 
 
 " Sed genus, et proavos, et quod non fecimus ipsi, 
 " Vix ea nostra voco." 
 
 " As a proof of this," said he, " our family have 
 dropped the O, our real name being O'Sheridan, 
 and we being descended from the ancient princes 
 of Ireland." Munden, tired with this long digres- 
 sion, and caring very little for Ireland or its 
 princes, filled his glass, and said, — " Mr. Sheridan, 
 I have not the least doubt of what you say ; I dare 
 say you are descended from princes, for the last 
 time I saw your father he was Prince of Den- 
 mark." Here the laugh for the first time, and we 
 believe the only one, turned against Sheridan. 
 
TOM SHERIDAN AND HIS FATHER. 
 
 On another occasion, when old Sheridan was 
 broaching the subject of the family name, and 
 telling his son that they were, properly speaking, 
 O'Sheridans. — " To be sure, father," said Tom, 
 " and who has a greater right to the O than we 
 have ? for we owe to every body." — " Thou art an 
 impudent and witty dog," replied Brinsley, pledg- 
 ing him a bumper of wine, and not at all offended 
 at his observation. 
 
 HUMANE SOCIETY, AND MAKING THE MOST OF THINGS. 
 
 The following anecdote was given me by the 
 late Count de Cogni, brother to the duke of that 
 name:— 'Having parted with a number of his 
 servants at the time of the emigration, he was 
 astonished on returning, with Louis XVIII., to find 
 one of them very decently dressed about the streets 
 of Paris. As the man had been a sort of favour- 
 ite with the count, he was anxious to know how 
 he had fared during the disasters of the Revolu- 
 tion. — " O ! Monsieur le Comte," said the man, " it 
 would be rudeness to tell you what I have been ; 
 
TNE MERRY COMPAl^ION. 223 
 
 I have been Jack of all trades, and have been put 
 to a vast variety of shifts." — " But what are you 
 now ?" said the Count. — " I am one of the society 
 of plongeurs. I and my comrades ply about the river 
 to save people from drowning, or to pull up those 
 who are drowned ; and we are frequently liberally 
 rewarded for our trouble." — " Very well," said the 
 Count, " but your business must be very uncer- 
 tain; pray what do you do when there are no 
 people drowned, or drowning ?" — " Oh !" said he, 
 " that makes very little difference ; then we drown 
 one another." 
 
 THE MERRY COMPANION. 
 
 My friend Stratton invited me to his cassino at 
 Kingston ; and as my own horse was lame, he 
 introduced me to a friend, who would bring me 
 in his gig. The time fixed was two o'clock ; and 
 from my new acquaintance's reception and appear- 
 ance, I had every reason to expect a pleasant 
 journey. On our leaving London, I considered his 
 silence arose from his care in driving, and I did not 
 interfere. However, at Battersea Bridge, I de- 
 termined on making an effort to awaken his drowsy 
 
THE MERRY COMPANIOX. 
 
 faculties, expecting I should find it worth my 
 labour to do so. Thinking this, I tried — in vain. — 
 " O dear." — A nod of the head. T thought I had 
 got into company with Orator Mum, instead of a 
 " fellow of infinite jest." It seemed they had 
 made a sport of me. " Fine day this !" No answer. 
 *' Look at those boats sailing !" No answer. 
 " Never felt so well in my life." — Answer, " Oh !" 
 " I wish we could travel rather faster." — Answer, 
 " Oh !" " We shall be too late."—" Oh !" " When 
 shall you be there again ?" — " Oh ! oh ! oh ! oh !" 
 " Shall I drive for an hour?" Answer — " No." 
 
 " Do you think we shall meet there ?" — 
 
 " Yes." " Is he fallen in the world, as they say ?" 
 — " No." " I thought him rich."—" No." " Some 
 say so." — " Yes." And thus, to my annoyance, we 
 continued to our journey's end, when, on inquiry, 
 I found that he had been afflicted with tooth 
 ache, and that it had caused him much pain. 
 Many meetings after this silent journey was a 
 subject of merriment to ourselves, and jest for 
 others. 
 
225 
 
 ANECDOTE OF THE LATE COLONEL ARTHUR OWEN, BART. 
 
 Formerly Aide -de -Camp to the renowned Officer 
 General Sir Eyre Coote, K.B. 
 
 The Colonel riding his charger in front of the 
 race stand, at Madras, filled with gentlemen and 
 ladies, near a rope, placed to prevent intruders on 
 the ground allotted for the racers, became so un- 
 manageable that he could not force him from the 
 rope, and in the struggle threw him upon it. 
 Rising from the earth, he walked to the stand, 
 where, having been greeted with loud shouts of 
 laughter and congratulations, gracefully bowing 
 to the company, he expressed a hope they were 
 diverted with his feats of dancing on a slacJe rope, 
 and tumhling. 
 
 BY AN EYE-WITNESS. 
 
 CITY ADDRESSES. 
 
 Some ten or twelve years since, two sheriffs of 
 London received the honour of knighthood, who, 
 from their stature, were called the two shortest 
 
 Q 
 
226 CITY ADDRESSES. 
 
 knights in the year. On a certain occasion, the 
 corporation voted addresses to the Dukes of Cla- 
 rence and Kent, and the sheriffs had to present 
 them in full official state. The begilt carriages, 
 and state liveries, and court dresses of the civic 
 functionaries were accordingly produced for the 
 best display. Their Royal Highnesses had fixed 
 the times to receive the addresses at their re- 
 spective palaces at Bushey Park and at Kensington 
 in such manner that the presentation of both the 
 addresses might be included in the journeys of 
 one day. The Duke of Clarence (our present 
 beloved king) received his guests. Sir George and 
 Sir Francis, with his accustomed cordiality ; and 
 after the formal reading of the address, and the 
 answers thereunto, he invited them to partake of 
 a collation which he had provided. Orders had 
 previously been given that there should be no 
 want of good cheer for the servants. His Royal 
 Highness recommended various sorts of wine for 
 the judgment of his visitors, to which they were 
 too polite not to do due honour. The time passed 
 delightfully ; when Sir George, who was always 
 alive to punctuality in his engagements, apologised, 
 in the best way he was able, for the necessity he 
 
CITY ADDRESSES. 2^7 
 
 felt of abruptly quitting the banquet, as the time 
 approached when he had to wait on the royal 
 brother at Kensington. One bottle more, pressed 
 by royal condescension, could not however be re- 
 fused ; but as our man of business, with good rea- 
 son, considered punctuality as one of the first of 
 virtues, not even the allurements of the Duke of 
 Clarence could divert him from ordering his car- 
 riage to be got ready, in which he regained his 
 seat about the time he was to have been at Ken- 
 sington Palace. The sequel perhaps had better 
 be told in the words of his own pathetic narrative, 
 as he was wont to deliver it among his friends : — 
 " I had no sooner got into my carriage than I 
 found, from the serpentine driving of the coach- 
 man, and the hallooing and hooting of the footmen, 
 that they were all drunk. I was, as you may 
 suppose, in a dreadful state of agitation, for I felt 
 my own head going round like a whirligig, and 
 every moment I expected some accident. As I 
 went along, the people shouted and laughed in 
 the most disrespectful manner. Wondering what 
 could be the cause of this, I looked out of the 
 carriage window, when, lo and behold ! there were 
 my two footmen in their state liveries, but with 
 
228 CITY ADDRESSES. 
 
 their coats over their arms, and their cocked hats 
 in their hands, running behind the carriage, with 
 a troop of dirty boys after them. I naturally 
 ordered the coachman to stop, and, as you may 
 suppose, lectured the men severely on their disre- 
 spectful conduct. They said the coats were so 
 heavy, that it was much better to have them off 
 than on, and that they would rather run than ride ; 
 but I insisted upon their putting their coats and 
 their hats on, and on their getting up behind the 
 carriage, which, after some disrespectful observa- 
 tions, they agreed to do. But now I had another 
 difficulty. While I was talking to the footmen, 
 the coachman had lain himself along the box, and 
 gone to sleep. I pulled his legs with all my might, 
 but could not wake him. One of the footmen, 
 however, brought him round by a tweak of the 
 nose. I then insisted upon his getting down, and 
 letting one of the footmen drive, for that he was a 
 drunken brute, and a disgrace to the state livery. 
 But nothing would stir him. — ' No, Sir George,' 
 says he, ' I've a great respect for you. Sir George, 
 but I love my horses, and no one shall drive them 
 but myself.' I threatened, and said all I could, 
 but it was all in vain ; so I got into the carriage. 
 
CtTY ADDRESSES. 2^9 
 
 fully expecting every minute to be upset ; nor was 
 I mistaken. He had gone on swinging from one 
 side of the road to the other, when, as we came 
 near to Brentford, he drove into a ditch, and bang 
 over we went. Very luckily the bank prevented 
 the coach going quite over. I was dreadfully 
 agitated, as you may suppose. It was a mercy I 
 was not killed, but I was not even hurt ; and some 
 people coming up, assisted me out of the carriage. 
 The first thing I saw was the coachman, laying 
 senseless on the ground. At first I thought he 
 was killed ; but I afterwards found he was only 
 dead drunk, and fast asleep. But vi^hat had be^ 
 come of my footmen ? They were no where to 
 be seen. I had no one to do any thing for me ; 
 and when I told the people about the engagement 
 I was under with the Duke of Kent, instead of 
 doing any thing to help me^ they absolutely 
 laughed at me. A man at last came up, and said, 
 that as to my footmen, he had seen them about a 
 mile behind, sitting by the road-side, under the 
 shade of a wall, cracking nuts. Could you imagine 
 a case more distressing than mine ? What was 
 I to do with my state carriage and four horses, and 
 nobody to drive them ? I offered a guinea for any 
 
230 CITY ADDRESSEES. 
 
 man who could drive four horses, to take me safely 
 back again to London. Upon which one of the 
 fellows shouted out, that dirty Dick, who was a 
 helper at the stables close by, could drive four 
 horses, for that he used to drive the Brentford 
 stage. Well, after all I had suffered from these 
 drunken fellows, you may judge what my feelings 
 must have been, to be put in the hands of such a 
 fellow. But what was to be done? I was de- 
 termined to risk every thing rather than not pre- 
 sent the address to the Duke of Kent. So I made 
 this fellow, who had no coat on his back, and was 
 the dirtiest fellow you ever saw, and with a fright- 
 ful red face, covered with carbuncles, get on the 
 box, just as he was ; and as my footmen had by 
 this time come up, off we w-ent, with nearly a 
 hundred ragamuffins after us, hallooing and hoot- 
 ing all the way. Nobody can conceive what I 
 suffered. Only think of my being hooted and 
 laughed at in my state carriage all the way from 
 Bushey to Kensington. I had not a dry thread 
 about me. I had a neat starched stock on in the 
 morning, which now hung round my neck like 
 a bit of wet string. In this plight, attended by 
 at least a hundred blackguards, I arrived at Ken- 
 
DIFFUSION OF KNOWLEDGE. 231 
 
 sington Palace, and was introduced to His Royal 
 Highness the Duke of Kent. I never was so 
 ashamed in my life; I was in such a perspira- 
 tion, and so agitated. Indeed I had scarcely 
 strength left to explain to His Royal Highness 
 the accidents that had happened to me, and my 
 fears that I had kept His Royal Highness waiting 
 at home ; when he stopped me short, by saying 
 that he had not expected either me or my colleague, 
 for that he had had a message from his brother an 
 hour before, advising him that he need not remain 
 at home, for that both us, and our servants, were 
 so completely done up, that we should not be 
 able to keep our engagement. This," added Sir 
 George, " used to be called royal condescension 
 and familiarity ; but I cannot help thinking there 
 was something in it which was extremely dis- 
 respectful." 
 
 B. B. 
 
 DIFFUSION OF KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 Sir George 's hospitable table was sometimes 
 
 graced by certain members of the aristocracy, and 
 he took no little pleasure in recounting among his 
 
S32 DIFFUSION OF KNOWLEDGK. 
 
 friends the good things which his noble guests 
 gave out on these occasions, in return for the good 
 fare which they took in. The advantages of the 
 diffusion of knowledge was at that time a de- 
 bateable subject ; and the way in which the late 
 
 Earl of P was made a convert, in favour of 
 
 the question, was somewhat amusing. " For my 
 part," said the Earl, raising his eyelids from the 
 somnolency which usually kept them down, '* I 
 think reading a very good thing. I have lately 
 taken to it myself; and I have learnt several things 
 by it which I did not know before. I always used 
 to think that the Thames was the largest river in 
 the world ; but I find I have been mistaken, for 
 there are no less than three rivers that are larger, 
 and all in America. The first of these is called 
 the Oronoko. I remember that w^ell, because 
 there's a play of that name. The second is 
 called," here a long pause ensued. — The peer 
 threw his portly person back in the chair, and 
 fixed his eyes on the ceiling. The pause becoming 
 
 tedious. Col. P broke the silence, by saying, 
 
 " You mean the Poronoko, my lord." — " Why — 
 y — e — s," drawled out the peer, " I think that 
 is the name. The third river is called — bless me, 
 
IMPROMPTir. 233 
 
 I've such a head at recollecting names." The 
 colonel kindly assisted him again. — " The Smoco- 
 noko, my lord." — " Y — e — s, I remember, it is the 
 Smoconoko." A noble, and in consequence an 
 influential patron of the diffusion of knowledge, 
 had therefore been won, by being taught that the 
 three greatest rivers in America were the Oro- 
 noJco, the Poroiioko, and the Smoconoko ! 
 
 The following impromptu was written by Mr. 
 B. B. on a young lady who was remarkably the 
 reverse of handsome, but who always wore a veil, 
 because she said " the men were such staring 
 creatures, that they put her out of countenance." 
 
 By veiling thus those matchless features, 
 ^Gainst, as you say, " the staring creatures,"" 
 
 Your modesty's discovered ; 
 But if you'd make the men stare less, 
 Their amVous thoughts at once repress, 
 
 Show them your face uncover d. 
 
 Another, by the same hand, on the feud which 
 took place a few years since between the rival 
 
234 HORRORS. 
 
 queens at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, Mrs. 
 Bunn and Mrs. West : — 
 
 Oh ! do not so severely scold 
 
 The pretty Mrs. West, 
 Dear Mrs. Bunn, her gentle mould 
 
 Was formed for praise and rest. 
 So cool thine ire, impassioned dame. 
 
 And further notice shun ; 
 Lest folks Hermione proclaim, 
 
 To be a " Hot Cross Bunn.'' 
 
 HORRORS. 
 
 Travelling in a gig occasionally, I used to 
 carry pistols ; at a very rainy period, I made my 
 way from Maidstone in Kent towards Broadstairs, 
 mostly by cross roads, and very wretched ones 
 too; so heavy that my (although game) little 
 horse was nearly, what is called, " beat to a 
 stand still." Wet through, box coat and all (for 
 it had never ceased to rain all day), I got out, 
 to ease my horse as much as I could, and Colonel 
 Hawker's mud boards might have helped me on 
 
HORRORS. 2S5 
 
 better than my no longer water proof boots. I 
 lost my road ; and as misfortunes seldom come 
 one at a time, the darkness of night, from the 
 heavy clouds, came more suddenly upon me 
 than I expected. Delightfully situated, I urged 
 my steed, with no more success than if a dumb 
 man had been called upon for a song; nay, I 
 pushed behind — pleasant amusement at any time, 
 but in a rutty cross road, deluged with rain, and 
 studded with flexible mud, particularly so ! At 
 last I grew so sick of that sort of trial of skill, 
 that I began coolly to calculate how we (horse 
 and I, for these alone formed the we) should 
 bivouac through the night, when, near to some 
 woodland, I could just discern two men ; there 
 was no fear of my horse's running away, nor of 
 others driving him off, for I had not seen any 
 one for hours ; so I went to them, a little way 
 out of the road, to ask my way to any roof 
 that could take us in for the night ; only to learn, 
 that I was many miles from any such chance. 
 I could only lament my fate, since my horse, I 
 knew, could not go more than four miles farther, 
 if that, when one of the men, wishing the other 
 good night, joined me, to see what could be 
 
236 
 
 HORRORS. 
 
 done. Fear of being robbed in such a situation 
 was the lesser dread ; he walked on with me, 
 asking me, amongst other curious questions, if 
 I could be so prudent as not to ask any questions, 
 but carry on the appearance, not only of indif- 
 ference to what I might see, but of being also 
 an old acquaintance of his ; " if you can do that," 
 said he, " and will call me plain Sam, familiarly, 
 I think I can manage to house you and your 
 nag in a homely way, but you must do as I 
 tell you," On we drudged, coaxing the Rosinante 
 along tracts which to my guide appeared familiar, 
 but which to me had not even the appearance 
 of cross roads; we came to a lonely farm-like 
 building. My new ally, Sam, made some signal ; 
 a stout fellow came to the door with a light, 
 who suspiciously scrutinized me and my equipage. 
 Sam assured him that his London friend's horse had 
 knocked up, and that if he could have shelter, he 
 should be obliged, " For," said he, adding an oath, 
 " he is a hearty fellow, so you 7nust make room, some 
 how." After a little demur, " Well, I will then," 
 said this strange looking host, " but I have no 
 hay." — " I'll manage that," said Sam, who nimbly 
 turned ostler, with all the good humour of a fee 
 
HORRORS. 237 
 
 in hand. I helped, the horse housed after a fashion, 
 the gig in a shed, my luggage carried off by the 
 landlord; I took my pistols out of my water- 
 proof holsters inside, when Sam, staring, said, 
 " Hallo ! pistols ! you had better fire them off 
 before you go in, or better still draw the charge, 
 for that must be wet !" I did not much relish this 
 advice, and declined it as firmly as he pressed it 
 repeatedly. The landlord on my entry stared at 
 them, and, observing that they were silver mounted, 
 said, he could better take care of them than I, as 
 the house was full ; and so it was, and of such a 
 ruffian set, that I began to think myself in no 
 better safety than a bagged fox ! The eyeing 
 with much thought seemed to be reciprocal ; Sam 
 too eyed me, and I him ; yet he appeared a frank, 
 open hearted, young, and rather handsome fellow. 
 I was called obstinate, for not drawing my pistols ; 
 and it made me more so. I offering friend Sam 
 some drink, the landlord said, that he was wanted 
 at home, looking archly. Sam said he should see 
 me again in a little while, and he left me. Not 
 best pleased with appearances, I ordered some 
 fried eggs, Hobson's choice, bacon excepted, for 
 supper; it was nearly nine o'clock, and I was 
 
^38 HOIUIORS. 
 
 honoured with a seat in the bar, where I amused 
 myself with wiping, &c., my pistols, in truth to 
 have them ready. About ten o'clock, Sam re- 
 turned with a truss of hay on his back for 
 my horse, which he had fetched, on foot, and 
 during rain, from his house (some miles distant, 
 as I afterwards found out). I thanked him 
 cordially, and said to myself, this act convinces 
 me that I must be safe ; no thief would have 
 taJeen that trouble. Supper (such as it was) 
 had been kept back for his partaking of it; I 
 pressed him, he declined. The landlord again 
 archly said, " Why, how can he be spared at 
 home ?" He partook of a glass of very superior 
 brandy and water, shook hands familiarly, and 
 whispered in my ears, " Mind, do not take any 
 notice, and seem more careless : Good night, 
 I shall be with you early to-morrow morning." 
 I was reconciled to my very hearty, cleanly served, 
 although homely, supper, and was conducted to 
 my bed-room by my landlord, who again wished 
 my pistols in his care, to be refused. We ascended 
 into a room like a loft; it had two beds, one 
 better than the other, to the first he conducted 
 me. I told him I should take care of the candle. 
 
HORRORS. 239 
 
 and he left me. I then searched the room, to 
 find behind my bed head, a large aperture about 
 four feet square, and holding my light into it, 
 it seemed a large black cavern-like place, deep, 
 and without any apparent object. My inter- 
 pretation of its use is easily to be guessed ; what 
 was to be done ? IN the trap I was, tired, sleepy, 
 yet uneasy; yet the landlord had brought up 
 my baggage ! — and Sam had gone miles to pro- 
 cure hay for my horse ! I was again reconciled ; 
 to bed I went, with my loaded pistols inside, 
 soon to be soundly asleep. An hour or so may 
 have passed, when a noise at the door awoke 
 me ; there was whispering, pushing, and delibera- 
 tions. The door had no other fastenings than 
 a latch, and I had placed a chair diagonally 
 against it, so as to resist its being opened. The 
 
 landlord said, " Hush ! you'll wake him, d 
 
 the fellow, what has he done to the door ?" More 
 whispering, more pushing. I snatched at, and 
 cocked my pistols, laid myself on my back, my 
 hands crossed over my chest, one pistol pointing, 
 although under the bed clothes, to each side of 
 the bed, and thus, shamming sleep, I heard my 
 door forced open^ and through my eyelashes, I 
 
S40 HORRORS. 
 
 saw the landlord, and two very ill-looking fellows, 
 make directly for the bed in which I laid, but 
 which was not the one I had been directed to, 
 which, although the best, I had changed for the 
 worst, on account of the aperture behind the 
 head : " Hush, hush, you'll wake him," repeated 
 as they came towards my bed, seemed to sound 
 to me very much like my death warrant; yet, 
 peeping, I could not see either to have any 
 weapon. Passing the best bed, the landlord said, 
 *' Why where is he gone to ? he is not there." 
 Then approaching my bed they paused, and 
 thoughtfully looked at me, myself balancing all 
 the while, whether or not I should fire at them, 
 when the landlord suddenly said, " Then you 
 must pay something mo7'e for lying in the best 
 bed, for he has taken this, and I have no other." 
 This again eased a feeling wound up to the worst 
 anticipations, and I thank Providence that the 
 same self-possession spared me the pain I now 
 should suffer had I taken life, and which I hardly 
 know how I refrained from destroying. The 
 landlord left these fellows, strangers to each 
 other ; they conversed about their distresses and 
 cares, one having deserted, and although they 
 
HORRORS. 241 
 
 went to sleep soundly, I slept hare-like, with one 
 eye open, lest the morning sun should announce 
 to me, not only the departure of these two 
 vagabonds, but also of my clothes, &c.; for they 
 had met each other by chance, and found out 
 this rural hotel, in great distress, to plead their 
 cause for admission more effectually than I should 
 have done, but for the influence of my friendly 
 Sam. Up first in the house, I dressed and 
 descended. Some time after I was accosted by 
 the landlord, about to perform in the character 
 of a would-be ostler ; my horse, however, was 
 refreshed, and myself too. Coffee for breakfast, 
 with smoked fish, eggs, plenty of toast, and a bottle 
 of superior Cognac, was served up for two ; for 
 
 the landlord said, " Samuel C was sure to 
 
 come, although married only three days, for he 
 was a man who never broke his word." Some 
 excellent-flavoured tea, such has no hotel need 
 be ashamed of, was there for choice : when 
 
 behold ! in cantered Samuel C , a Kentish 
 
 yeoman, worth, I was told, about £.15,000, on 
 a beautiful chesnut horse, himself smartly 
 dressed, to share my breakfast, and to guide 
 me into a certain road. My statement of him 
 
HORRORS. 
 
 was equal to his deserts. After a hearty break- 
 fast, followed a truly moderate bill. The day 
 was fair, and we started, after friendly wishes ; 
 my mind full of surmises, soon after confirmed 
 by my guide, namely, that all the kindness from 
 Sam, and the fair treatment from my rough 
 host, I owed to Smugglers ! — avowed Smugglers ! 
 — Men called by every vile epithet ; yet men 
 who did that, disinterestedly^ for persons in 
 distress, which persons equally wealthy would 
 not have done for money, much less for love ! 
 
 Samuel C 's father had made a fortune by 
 
 smuggling ; the son followed farming in pre- 
 ference, yet could not separate himself wholly 
 from the party, which made this house a harbour 
 for various purposes ; one for depositing goods 
 in a place without any other entrance than from 
 behind the bed head. The reason why Sam 
 would not take me to his house, was explained 
 by his recent marriage ; and his father's dislike 
 to, and suspicion of, strangers ; and he thought 
 that his telling me the real character of my 
 hotel, might cause me to act in a way to draw 
 the men's suspicion, &c., on myself. This same 
 young man has since acquired distinctions in 
 
EPIGRAMS. 243 
 
 his county, richly merited hy his conduct; but 
 which, by being explained, would point him out 
 too plainly; and which, from one so kindly 
 treated, would be an ungrateful return. 
 
 EPIGRAMS, 
 
 (Never before in Print.) 
 
 Newmarket Course. 
 " Lost by half a neck.' 
 
 EPIGRAM I. 
 
 Nor land, nor treasure, now has Heedless left, ' 
 Bending and pale, he seems of sense bereft ! 
 Close by stands Shark, with disappointed air ; 
 For Shark has barely half to his own share ! 
 
 EPIGRAM II. 
 
 All was not loss which Frank at college spent ; 
 
 Cambridge had much, the Cambridge coachman more. 
 High tutors ! how he drove the rattling four ! 
 
 Frank now rubs down the cattle, quite content, 
 And may again, as coachee, some day soar i 
 
S44 LOSS OF MR. Nicholson's flutes. 
 
 EPIGRAM III. 
 
 With just three hundred pounds a year, 
 Magro dined well, and drank stout beer : 
 Increased to thousands, two at least ; 
 Dwindled full half appeared the feast : 
 That sum, should fortune double quite, 
 Poor Magro would be starved outright ! 
 
 ON MR. CHARLES NICHOLSON S RECENT LOSS OF 
 THREE OF HIS BEST FLUTES. 
 
 Some Cerberus, with felon paw. 
 
 And three-fold furtive jowls, 
 Has stolen Charley's Flutes, to draw 
 
 Across dim Styx more souls. 
 
 Should Nicholson pursue the brute, 
 
 Like Orpheus, daring death, 
 Pluto would haste to stop his Flute, 
 
 And Proserpine his breath. 
 
 But though the Flutes the mongrel's trick 
 
 To realms below convey 'em. 
 His " devilish clever" friend. Old Nick, 
 
 Can ne'er, like our Nic, play 'em. 
 
 CHARLES CUMMINS. 
 
245 
 
 ADMIRAL SIR JOHN BORLASE WARREN. 
 
 Soon after the termination of the late war with 
 PVance, Sir John Warren, and his excellent lady, 
 were in the habit of visiting, in the season, Chel- 
 tenham, Malvern, Leamington-Priory, and other 
 places in that direction, of summer resort. 
 
 On one of these occasions Sir John reached the 
 inn at Henley, where he had designed to take a 
 late dinner, and then proceed on to the Star Inn 
 at Oxford for the night. The waiter, while bustling 
 round the table at dinner, having occasionally 
 thrown out a hint on " the dangers to which 
 travellers were liable after sun-set." Sir John 
 eagerly inquired — " from what cause, pray ?"— - 
 " Why, your honour," replied the waiter, '*' we 
 have a desperate sort of fellow on our roads, — rit's 
 always the case after a war, you know, — and it 
 
 was but ." ^* What," resumed Sir John, " do 
 
 you mean a highwayman^ mounted upon a dark 
 chesnut gelding, about fifteen hands high?" — 
 " That is the rider and horse, please your honour," 
 answered the waiter. — " If so," continued Sir John, 
 " you may dismiss your alarms, and so may all 
 your master's guests ; tell him so : that same 
 
246 ADMIRAL SIR JOHN BORLASE WaRREN. 
 
 fellow this evening attempted to stop me, but I 
 fired, and hit him." — " Hit him !" exclaimed the 
 waiter. — " Yes, poor devil ! my aim is usually 
 fatal, I saw him instantly lean over the left 
 shoulder of the horse, and he dropped to the ground 
 half a minute after, as he was shaping his course 
 down the lane which turns off near the windmill : 
 there the body no doubt will be found, with the 
 horse grazing near it." 
 
 With this intelligence the waiter instantly 
 darted out of the room to the bar, and to the 
 stable fraternity, leaving Sir John and his lady to 
 proceed at their dinner with less interruption. 
 He shortly returned, bearing in his tray a creamed- 
 tart, and a plate or two of fruit ; whereupon Sir 
 John, with a warning voice, called for " dispatch 
 in the change of the dishes, and for fresh horses." — 
 " Horses, Sir John, there is not one in the yard ; 
 every boy is mounted, and gone off in search of 
 the dead highwayman." Here Lady Warren 
 interposed, ordered " a good chamber to be pre- 
 pared," and made up her mind to remain there 
 that night. To this Sir John consented, and 
 ordered his travelling carriage to be ready at an 
 early hour. 
 
AN IJilSH BEGGAR. 247 
 
 The moment of departure having been fixed 
 soon after day-break. Sir John, with his lady, set 
 forward ; and having advanced about three miles 
 on their way, were suddenly awakened from an 
 imperfect slumber by the rattling of a pistol 
 against the panels. Sir John, letting down the 
 glasses, exclaimed, — " Who the devil are you ?" — 
 " The highwayman," was the reply, " whom you. 
 Sir John, killed last night ; and were I not hard 
 driven I should not. Sir, after having received 
 your fire, have renewed my demand for your 
 moneys Sir John gave his purse without a 
 moment's delay, but evidently with a feeling of 
 pity toward a man whose distresses appeared so 
 imperative. 
 
 AN IRISH BEGGAR. 
 
 I was in Ireland in the summer of 1829, and 
 while in Dublin I went to the theatre almost 
 every night. Of course swarms of beggars were 
 in attendance, and very persevering and annoying. 
 One evening, a meagre looking youth begged 
 earnestly for charity, saying he had not had a bit 
 
248 COMMOX JJEGGAKS. 
 
 of bread in his mouth these two days, at the same 
 time his cheeks were so crammed and swollen out, 
 like a famous picture of Murillo's, he could scarce 
 utter his wants. " What do you mean ?" said I ; 
 "your mouth is so full of it you can hardly speak." 
 He turned sharply, and said, " Axing your 
 honour's pardon, it is beef, Sur'' 
 
 COMMON BEGGARS. 
 
 When stage coaches set off, they are always 
 surrounded with beggars. — " Would your honour 
 just give me a little sixpence — a pleasant journey 
 to your honour, and the Virgin protect you." — " I 
 never give to beggars who beset the coaches every 
 day at their departure." An old man said — " I am 
 not a common beggar." — " Well, then, here's a 
 halfpenny for you." After twirling it in his 
 fingers some time, he said, — " Sir, you should 
 never do things by halves. I dare say this has 
 got a brother in your pocket, that would like to 
 follow, and ring together so swutely in my pocket." 
 
249 
 
 RISH BLACKGUARD. 
 
 A gentleman met a countryman. — " Where are 
 you going, Paddy?" Paddy did not answer. 
 ** I say, where are you going, you blackguard ?" — 
 " Blackguard !" feeling his pockets, " I have not a 
 bit ; now I dare say your honour has plenty about 
 you." 
 
 MACKLIN. 
 
 The coffin of the veteran Macklin bears the 
 following inscription : — "Mr. Charles Macklin, 
 Comedian, died 11th July, 1797, aged 97 years." 
 
 He must, however, have been above the age of 
 97, as the late Mr. Brawn, many years the 
 favourite page of the revered George III., was 
 present when Macklin had the honour of waiting 
 upon His Majesty, soon after the Comedy of The 
 Man of the World had been brought before the 
 public. The King, after honouring the veteran 
 actor with very gracious commendation on his 
 comedy, and the well-drawn and new characters 
 it exhibited, inquired his age ; whereupon Macklin 
 
250 HENRY HUNT, ESQ. 
 
 replied, — " I was not, please your Majesty, born 
 in the present century, nor do I covet to die in it : 
 I was, Sire, rather more than a year old before 
 1 700 appeared at the head of the almanack." 
 
 The writer of this anecdote dined with Mr. 
 Brawn at Mr. Harris's house at Knight sbridge, 
 two days after, when he heard, from the lips of 
 that respectable gentleman, the particulars of the 
 interview as narrated. 
 
 And some years after, Mr. Brawn informed 
 him, at his own table at St. James's Palace, that 
 His Majesty, upon hearing of Mr. Harris's generous 
 plan for the support of the worn-out Macklin, 
 expressed himself towards Mr. Harris in most 
 approving language, for his liberality, considera- 
 tion, and benevolence. 
 
 HENRY HUNT, ESQ. 
 
 Dining with a friend at the Cafe Colosseum, on 
 the day that Hunt, the corn roaster and blacking 
 maker, made his absurd and ridiculous entry into 
 London, on being returned member for Preston, 
 one of the company observed, " that if Hunt could 
 
PHRENOLOGY. 25l 
 
 do nothing better, he could supply the House of 
 Commons with blacking'' My friend spon- 
 taneously and immediately replied, — "O yes, he 
 could do much better, by furnishing the members 
 of the House of Commons with a liberal supply of 
 ivhiteningj" 
 
 PHRENOLOGY. 
 
 When Phrenology was first broached to the 
 public by Dr. Gall as a new system, a friend of 
 mine sent me a chest full of skulls from Germany 
 (I think there were 200), cast in plaster, illustra- 
 tive of the system, from nature, and coloured so 
 natural, that they would have passed for real 
 skulls. He wished me to find some person wha 
 would undertake to receive such supplies, &c. from 
 time to time. I made some inquiries, and the 
 thing went on slowly, as you may imagine, on 
 every ground. One morning my housekeeper 
 entered my room very formally, and looking very 
 strangely, she gave me notice to provide another 
 person. The following dialogue ensued : — " How 
 is this, Mrs. S., you are a good and faithful servant. 
 
252 phre:nologv. 
 
 and you seemed so satisfied with your place, all at 
 once to wish to quit ? there must be some parti- 
 cular reason for it." — Answer, " I would not stay 
 on any account now, Sir, although I liked you as 
 a very good master before^ — " Now — liked me 
 before — what do you mean ? — what has hap- 
 pened ?" — " Oh ! nothing, Sir, I'd rather go, and 
 say no more about it'' I pressed to know — she 
 evaded, until at last she looked all terror, and said, 
 " Why, Sir, if I must speak, I would sooner beg 
 my bread in the streets, than live with so cruel a 
 gentleman, one who — oh ! I'd rather not say, 
 you'll be so angry, and perhaps — oh dear me !" — 
 " Well, pray out with it, Mrs. S. , I will not be 
 angry in the least, only tell me." — "Why, Sir, 
 one who can keep in the house the heads of all the 
 people he killed; and, oh dear ! oh dear ! so many 
 too ! ! " I burst out into laughter, adding, " then 
 one or two would not drive you away." With 
 much trouble I convinced the poor woman that 
 they were plaster of Paris ; and it was owing to a 
 young man in my service who had passed this 
 joke upon her, for she had teazed him constantly 
 to know what that large chest contained, when, 
 
THE SCARE-CROW. 
 
 253 
 
 showing the skulls, he told her that it was my 
 way to cut off the head of every man I killed in 
 battle, and to take it home with me, tied by its 
 hair to my horse's mane. 
 
 THE SCARE-CROW. 
 
 I will tell you how I really and wilfully frightened 
 some fellows, who robbed the garden of my cottage 
 at Kentish Town of its fruit so frequently, that I 
 fell upon the following expedient : — I took an old 
 dressing gown, &c., and stuffed them into a scare- 
 crow, as large as life, with worsted gloves, old 
 slippers, and a mask, all ** in good keeping,'' with 
 some straw peeping out here and there. The lay 
 figure finished, I sat it up in a tree, with a stick 
 awkwardly placed, as if he was shooting. It 
 frightened the birds for about a week, but 7iot the 
 thieves, for they came several times after at day- 
 break to fetch, or rather to examine my pears, if 
 fit for sale. My family jeered me about such a 
 mode of scaring thieves, when one Saturday I 
 persuaded them to rise, and watch the results at 
 day-break on the Sunday following, a favourite 
 
254 THE SCARE-CROW. 
 
 day with my visitors. My family watching the 
 scare-crow, wondering what it could do, were all at 
 once struck with surprise when they saw the 
 fellows run away screaming, and the scare-crow, 
 flourishing the stick in the tree, jump out of 
 it, and chase them, perfectly terrorstruch as 
 they were. Need I tell you that I had decorated 
 MYSELF with the scare-crow's attire, placed myself 
 in the tree, exactly and as awkwardly as sat the 
 figure, mask on, straw sticking out of holes, &c. 
 When the thieves were gathering round me, I 
 shouted and flourished ; and never were fellows 
 more panic-struck, and my real but full-sized 
 scare-crows afterwards, varied as they were, always 
 caused decided mistrust, and answered the purpose 
 of. 
 
 Dear Sir, 
 
 Your poor narrator, but 
 Sincere well-wisher. 
 
 P.S. — When I resumed my seat in the tree, my 
 family complimented my tournure iUgante ; for 
 they assured me that they could not persuade 
 themselves but that it was the scare-crow. 
 
ms 
 
 MRS. TICKELL. 
 
 Chambers^ June llth. 
 
 My dear Mr. Angelo, 
 Sheridan once told me an anecdote of my sister, 
 Mrs. Tickell, which you are welcome to. The 
 greater part of our family was assembled in 
 Bruton-street, to a jollification on New Year's Day. 
 After supper, old Sherry proposed that every body 
 should epigramatise, or say something funny upon 
 some given subject, or upon the newest publica- 
 tion, dramatical or poetical. Hmjley's Trium'ph 
 of Temper had just made its appearance — rather 
 a dullish affair, by all accounts. However, the 
 heroine of the tale, Serena b)^ name, has to en- 
 counter three trials, which it had been previously 
 calculated no woman could possibly stand. Never- 
 theless, this lady conquers, and immortalises her- 
 self. Well, this said new poem was Mrs. Tickell's 
 theme, and after a minute or two's consideration, 
 out came the following epigram, than which 
 Martial never scribbled a better : — 
 
 " With female patience here's to do, 
 Serena, and her trials three ! 
 Now / have read the poem through, 
 What d'ye think of me ?" 
 
256 THE MARCHIONESS DE FORGES. 
 
 This anecdote, I think I may safely say, was 
 never in print, and is very much at your service. 
 Believe me, my dear Sir, 
 
 Your's very faithfully, 
 
 W. LiNLEY. 
 
 THE MARCHIONESS DE FORGES, 
 
 Whose husband was grand falconer, resided at 
 Versailles in the year 1775. The marchioness 
 was pregnant, and during child-birth, some un- 
 pleasant intelligence was communicated to her. 
 If I recollect rightly, she was informed that one of 
 her houses had been burnt down. The pains of 
 child-birth immediately ceased, and the mar- 
 chioness continued pregnant for the space of 
 twenty-five years. At the expiration of that 
 period she died, and on her body being opened, 
 the child was found petrified. A few years pre- 
 vious to her death, the Marquis de Crequi said 
 to her, in a drawing room, — " Madam, I think 
 you would do well to swallow a tutor for your son, 
 his beard must be beginning to grow by this 
 time." 
 
257 
 
 UPON THE DEATH OF VICE-ADMIRAL LORD NELSON;, 
 
 On the 21st of October, 1805. 
 
 Written hy his Grace the late William Cavendish, Duke of Devon- 
 shire, immediately after. 
 
 Oft has Britannia sought, 'midst dire alarms. 
 Divine protection for her sons in arms : 
 Generous and brave, though not from vices free, 
 Britons from Heaven received a mixed decree ; 
 To crown their merits, and to low'r their pride, 
 God gave them Victory — ^but Nelson died ! 
 
 MARRIAGE ADRESSES. 
 
 I once used to amuse myself by advertising for 
 a wife, when a friend of mine who had the same 
 mechante plaisanterie as myself, finding his 
 humour so superior to my love proposals, induced 
 me to discontinue connubial appeals in a news- 
 paper. His plan was different to having recourse 
 to the public press, preferring Sir Benjamin 
 Backbite's, in the School for Scandal — "If you 
 want any thing to be circulated freely, you should 
 not advertise, but give copies in strict secrecy to 
 their particular friends." Having an extra copy 
 
258 A CARD. 
 
 by me of his professions to become a Benedict, 
 comparing it with the many that daily crowd the 
 papers, the drollery of the following may be 
 acceptable to the reader. 
 
 WADE. 
 A CARD. 
 
 Genteel families in Bath, and its vicinities 
 (supposed to be the very mart of matrimony), 
 having either sisters or daughters, become full- 
 blown roses, whom they wish to provide for ad- 
 vantageously, are earnestly requested to pay due 
 attention to the subjoined hand-bill, which offers 
 to maidens or widowed ladies, somewhat out of 
 their teens^ an immediate change of situation, 
 permanent protection, and, it is humbly hoped, the 
 very height of connubial bliss. No objection to 
 Dissenting, Roman Catholic, Jewish, or Mahometan 
 ladies, the advertiser being on this subject a 
 complete cosmopolite, thinking that a good wife 
 cannot be of a had persuasion ; ladies of colour 
 also will be treated with on liberal terms, though 
 at an advanced premium ; but coloured ladies will 
 meet with no encouragement, and consequently 
 cannot come off with flying colours. 
 
 WADE. 
 
259 
 
 HAND-BILL. 
 
 A moral middle-aged gentleman without 
 incumbrance, either of ci-devant chhre amie, or 
 spurious progeny, of small fortune, and fair fame, 
 who is what is vulgarly called an old bachelor, 
 wishes to meet with a personable, agreeable lady, 
 of good character, affable disposition, and possessed 
 of a small independent fortune, say about one- 
 third of his own. Although the writer of this 
 is heartily sick of celibacy, and sighs to become a 
 Benedict, yet he is too fond of a good dinner, 
 not to be well aware of the vile cookery of pitiful 
 poverty ; however, as the advertiser has no sort of 
 wish to shine conspicuous in Doctors' Commons 
 (though he has a near relation a proctor, who 
 might possibly transact the affair nearly gratis, 
 and thus render the crim con damages * ^ * 
 * ^ * ), no lady under the age of forty 
 will be attended to ; but nevertheless, should the 
 fair one's age exceed forty-eight years, it must, 
 like the extra baggage of a stage coach passenger, 
 be entered as such, and paid for accordingly. 
 
 Letters, post paid, directed to Hercules Honey- 
 
260 
 
 CHANCE. 
 
 moon Helpmate, Esq., at the Union Hotel, will 
 be attended to with dispatch, secrecy, and honour. 
 N.B. — Some years having elapsed since this 
 card and hand-bill were first circulated, together 
 with its not having had the desired effect, the 
 advertiser, finding that he every day becomes less 
 marketable, informs the fair sex he may now be 
 had upon much easier terms than formerly, though 
 still perfectly sound and gentle. 
 
 — — — WADE. 
 
 CHANCE. 
 
 It is said, we only learn from application ; now 
 my idea is, we frequently learn something through 
 the medium of chance, which once occurred to me, 
 in relation to a poor deserter. Whether he is 
 marched from John O'Groat's house to the Land's 
 End, he can only be supplied with a pair of shoes 
 and a shirt ; and if, perchance, he is despoiled of 
 his hat, coat, waistcoat, or breeches, he must 
 nevertheless, in a state of nudity, pursue his 
 journey. This I have learnt from a pocket book, 
 I have by accident picked up ; and by the papers 
 it contained, plainly evinced it must have belonged 
 to a regimental pay-master, which the annexed 
 will explain. 
 
261 
 
 THE PAYMASTERS ANSWER 
 
 To a War Office disallowance of One Shillings which had 
 been charged in his accounts for the purchase of a pair 
 of breeches, for an almost naked deserter. 
 
 As far as the Pay-master can recollect, at the 
 distance of eleven years, this deserter was brought 
 up in so very bare-breeched a condition, that he 
 could not proceed with common decency ; in 
 which dilemma the purchase of a cheap pair of 
 small clothes was unguardedly resolved upon, 
 although the P. M. was perfectly aware buying 
 breeches (under any circumstances), was in open 
 defiance to all existing regulations ; the fact of 
 this almost more than primeval nakedness for a 
 moment admitted, it must be confessed that all 
 possible economy was observed in the bargain of 
 the galligaskins ; and when complete decorum can 
 be purchased at so low a rate, it may, perhaps, be 
 considered as a better bargain than the reverse, 
 gratis ; and thus, the regulations (in this solitary 
 instance) be more honoured in the breach than the 
 observance. So situated, the P. M. most humbly 
 hopes, nay, most fully trusts, the Superintendants, 
 whose decisions he always has, and ever must bow 
 
THE TWO PRINCES. 
 
 to most implicitly, and whose candour and 
 liberality he must ever gratefully remember, will 
 not so severely punish him, by cutting him off 
 witJiout a shilling, for having, during a period of 
 disloyalty and jacobinism, done all in his power 
 to hinder any of His Majesty's subjects from 
 appearing as a sans culotte. 
 
 ANSWER. 
 
 Admitted. — The extreme ingenuity of the 
 defence, more than warranting a sanction of the 
 irregularity. 
 
 THE TWO PRINCES. 
 
 When my father instructed in fencing the two 
 Princes, William and Henry, afterwards Dukes of 
 Gloucester and Cumberland, he paid particular 
 attention to the graces, in addition to the executive 
 part of the business. At their desire, the better 
 to acquire them, my father employed John Guyn, 
 a famous delineator, at the time, to make drawings 
 of the salute, which are considered the most 
 graceful positions of the exercise. Encouraged 
 
THE WOUNDED COACHMAN. 26S 
 
 from the specimens, which so pleased the Princes, 
 he published a treatise on the science, and in 
 addition, at a considerable expense (some hun- 
 dreds), the different positions — the salute attack 
 and defence, in forty-seven plates. He employed 
 the first artists to engrave them, in the best style 
 of line engraving ; two in particular by Hall, who 
 finished Woolett's plate of General Wolfe ; the 
 others by poor Ryland, who suffered. 
 
 The original drawings, which my father stood 
 for, he presented to His Majesty George III., 
 who graciously received him at Buckingham 
 House, where he was honoured, and kept in 
 conversation above an hour ; when, to his surprise, 
 being questioned about his coming to England, 
 the King had been previously acquainted with 
 his attachment to Mrs. Woffington, and his 
 marriage after with my mother. 
 
 THE WOUNDED COACHMAN. 
 
 What the law is now in France, since the 
 Revolution, I am utterly unacquainted with ; but 
 previous, during my sojourn there, I have known 
 those who from a rencontre, and dangerously 
 
S64 THE WOUNDED COACHMAK. 
 
 wounding their adversary have absconded, and no 
 further notice taken. Indeed, speaking of a duel, 
 an Englishman who had killed his antagonist at 
 Paris, secured a commission after, in the Irish 
 Brigades, and absented himself for a year ; when 
 he returned, not the least notice was taken (and 
 to this very man I was indebted for those scrapes 
 which might have been of serious consequence to me, 
 particularly that I mentioned in my second volume 
 of Reminiscences, page 255) ; his commission 
 silenced all future inquiries. 
 
 As an instance, how tenacious a French officer 
 is of his honour, the following, at which I was 
 present myself, will establish the fact. 
 
 Walking on the Boulevards, and the string of 
 carriages preventing the passengers from crossing 
 over to the other side, some French officers called 
 to a coachman to let them pass, but he refused ; 
 on which, one of them stood at the horses' heads, 
 to stop them, when, on receiving a blow in his 
 face from the whip, he ran up to the man, 
 instantly drew his sword, and plunged it into his 
 body : whether the wound proved mortal or not, 
 I never heard after, or that the officer had received 
 a blow. There was but one opinion — that he was 
 
DUELS. 2165 
 
 justified in what he had done, was the sentence of 
 every one present. 
 
 DUELS. 
 
 Speaking of duels, it reminds me of a boy on his 
 first going to Eton making his fistic debut in the 
 playing fields ; for those younger than himself will 
 be sure to bully him, unless convinced that he 
 will not put up with an affront. So it is in 
 France, with a youth on joining his regiment; 
 seeking the " bubble reputation," he soon draws 
 his sword, when a scratch on the wrist (for the 
 parties on trifling occasions seldom approach near 
 enough for a " palpable hit,") if blood is drawn, 
 hlesse is sufficient to establish his courage ; and if 
 a good swordsman, he has to thank his fencing 
 master for keeping those at a distance, who might 
 have taken advantage of his want of skill. 
 
 MASONRY. 
 
 My father had been a very old mason, belong- 
 ing to the Somerset House Lodge, No. 2, Free 
 Masons' Tavern. Through his proposing me, I 
 
^66 
 
 MASONRY. 
 
 was unanimously elected a member ; for either 
 from pique (some few having had their friends 
 black balled), or the determination that their 
 fraternity should be as select as possible, it 
 generally happened at the time that few were 
 admitted without one or two black balls, three 
 being an entire exclusion. This arose not from 
 any personal objection, but the disappointment 
 of those who had experienced an opposition to 
 those friends they had previously proposed. The 
 fee of admission was eleven guineas, which, with 
 the many new candidates for masonry preferring 
 our lodge, would have been a considerable emolu- 
 ment to the fund. Even two gentlemen v/ho 
 were going to the West Indies the same month, 
 and could have been made at any other, consi- 
 dering our's superior and respectable, were black- 
 balled. Such was the animosity of some, that, 
 one season, they prevented many worthy candi- 
 dates being admitted, who would not only have 
 been a convivial acquisition, but their names an 
 honour to any society. May 12th, 1787, our 
 late Majesty honoured us with his presence at 
 our annual festival as a brother mason. His 
 Royal Highness the late Duke of Cumberland 
 
MASONRY. 26*7 
 
 sat as grand master; there were no less than 
 four hundred masons in the hall ; tickets had 
 been delivered out at half a guinea each ; but 
 such was the liberal spirit of the stewards on 
 this occasion, that the dinner consisted of two 
 courses, and a dessert of all that was high in 
 perfection at that time of the year ; no expense 
 was spared ; the company were entitled to as 
 much Burgundy, Champagne, Claret, Madeira, and 
 other wines, as they thought proper to consume. 
 The affability of His Royal Highness to every 
 person, the joy that appeared in the countenances 
 of the whole company, and their repeated marks 
 of veneration, love, and attachment, formed a 
 scene that must have been highly flattering to 
 the heir-apparent of the House of Hanover. 
 They drank his health with a kind of generous 
 fervour, that glowed with loyalty ; and when it is 
 considered that the Grand Lodge at its festival 
 includes all political descriptions, the sense of 
 the public in their attachment to this amiable 
 prince is pretty clear. His Grace the Duke of 
 Manchester, with a considerable number of the 
 nobility, attended, and several masons, foreigners 
 of distinction. As the above was before I was 
 
S68 MASONRY. 
 
 made a mason, what I have related was an 
 extract from the relation of that day's festival. 
 The first time I attended the lodge, Sir Lionel 
 Barrel was our R. W. M., and latterly in the 
 chair Lord Mountnorris. Lord Moira often 
 presided, whom we all considered next to the 
 Prince, as the head of the craft. His elegant 
 mildness of manners, and superior knowledge, 
 made him to be regarded as the prominent jewel 
 of masonry. The Duke of Sussex also sometimes 
 honoured us. Speaking of his affability, good 
 humour, and general condescension to all around 
 him, his presence was sure to bring us a day of 
 festivity, the song and the glass keeping pace 
 with his convivial example. Indeed, the song 
 was not confined only to those he called on to 
 sing; for he not only honoured us with his 
 presence, but sang his song with an excellent 
 voice, con gusto, uniting with the Prince, the 
 brother, and free-accepted mason. It was at one 
 of these meetings I made my debut, singing the 
 friar's song, which His Highness always called 
 upon me for, and afterwards reminded me of, 
 when invited to dine with him, the day his 
 brother, the Prince of Wales, was present. 
 
MASONRY. 269 
 
 Having visited two others besides the one I 
 belong to, for convivial songs, particularly glees, 
 they appeared very inferior to our's, at which 
 the melodists, Incledon and Dignum, were con- 
 stant visitors ; also Barthelemon, Vaughan, Neal, 
 Sale, Serle, and Webb ; and vocalists from 
 both theatres, including Viganoni, from the 
 Italian Opera; with such auxiliaries we most 
 certainly took the lead. Though I could not 
 boast of being a good mason with a trowel, 
 scientifically speaking, working my way in the 
 lodge, I was not an idle brother with my knife 
 and fork, and with some chosen songs that I 
 was usually called upon for, by our R. W. M., 
 initiated since the year 1790, I flatter myself 
 not an unwelcome guest. Many years after, on 
 my intention of leaving the lodge, I received the 
 following letter from their secretary, which, I 
 trust, will prove that my presence would be 
 missed. 
 
 Warwick Street, Golden Square, 
 7th February, 1803. 
 Sir, 
 
 It was with extreme regret that the 
 
 brethren of the Somerset Lodge were informed 
 
270 MASONRY. 
 
 that you declined continuing a member of their 
 society. The cause assigned for your so doing, 
 was the only consolation they could receive for 
 being deprived of so convivial a friend and com- 
 panion ; and, that they might have an opportunity 
 of enjoying your good company when professional 
 avocations would permit, they did themselves 
 the pleasure of unanimously voting you an 
 honorary member. 
 
 I have the honour to be, 
 
 Sir, your most obedient, 
 and very humble servant and brother, 
 C. CUPPAGE, 
 
 Secretary. 
 
 Henry Angelo, Esq. 
 
 However I considered myself highly honoured 
 by such a flattering letter, and although, at my 
 father's decease (which was a few months before)? 
 my professional attendance at Eton College, 
 absented me often from the lodge, which met 
 on those days, I could not reconcile myself, after 
 being of long standing so near the top of the 
 list of brothers, to become an honorary member. 
 
MASONRY. 271 
 
 when receiving such an unanimous and pressing 
 invitation from the brethren to remain, I felt 
 additional gratification in continuing of it, but 
 not as an honorary member. 
 
 Previous to our grand festival of St. John the 
 Evangelist, twelve red aprons are distributed 
 amongst the superior lodges. Our's had the 
 privilege of bestowing two ; the others only one. 
 These were only given to those who were con- 
 sidered to act as stewards on our annual festival. 
 Though never aspiring to be elevated in masonry, 
 yet the red apron being offered to me by Lord 
 Moira, I could not refuse it, accompanied with one 
 to the Rev. Samuel Coleman. With the remainder 
 of the brethren of the board of stewards, they 
 appointed me their president. 
 
 This office was a great encroachment on those 
 professional engagements that occupied my time at 
 Eton, Harrow, &c. &c., as the many meetings 
 previous to the masonic day, dinners at the 
 Thatched House Tavern, were to make arrange- 
 ments preparatory to the general meeting ; and 
 having taken the chair, my presence, as an 
 example to all the other stewards, was absolutely 
 necessary. Indeed, those who absented them- 
 
272 MASONRY. 
 
 selves, were to forfeit two guineas ; and however 
 trifling the cause of our meetings, half the number 
 could not have settled our motives for assembling ; 
 besides, our dinners were very expensive. At this 
 time Free Masons' Hall was under repair, that 
 was the reason we had our dinners at. Willis's; 
 after at his great room in King Street Invested 
 with the red apron by Lord Moira, I did not 
 know at the time, the trouble and attendance 
 that followed, after being proposed president of 
 the board of stewards. Before I speak of the 
 dinner, I must mention, that previously a supper 
 takes place, to which an invitation from the 
 president of the stewards is always requested 
 of Lord Moira, though seldom attended. On this 
 occasion, I waited on him at his residence, then 
 in St. James's Place, and was honoured with his 
 acceptance ; at the same time he said he would 
 let me know if the Prince of Wales might be 
 expected on that day. I accordingly received the 
 following ; 
 
 St. James's Place, May Srdy 1802, 
 Sir, 
 
 The Prince of Wales has commanded 
 me to express his regret at finding, that it will 
 
MASONIC SUPPER. 273 
 
 not be in his power to preside at the grand feast 
 on the 12th instant. Feeling deeply how little 
 the brethren can be consoled by so inadequate 
 a substitute for His Royal Highness as I shall 
 be, I still shall not fail to pay my attentions by 
 taking the chair on the occasion. 
 
 I have the honour, 
 Sir, to be 
 Your very obedient servant and brother, 
 
 MOIRA, 
 
 P. G. M, 
 
 MASONIC SUPPER. 
 
 The supper night, I took the chair. On 
 ushering his Lordship to the room, I requested 
 him to take it, which he refused. In such an 
 assemblage, I was seated at the head of the table, 
 on each side of me a nobleman ; Lord Moira on 
 my right. Lord Granard on my left. Though 
 unaccustomed to those masonic duties expected 
 from the chair, I neither failed in my attention 
 as a mason, nor in promoting the conviviality 
 of the evening, which continued till past six in 
 
 T 
 
274 MASONIC SUPPER. 
 
 the morning — toasts, songs, &;c. I owed all to 
 my prime minister on my right, whose affability 
 and masonic information occasionally assisted me. 
 It was one o'clock, when he informed me that he 
 had exceeded by an hour the usual stay (which was 
 twelve o'clock), and only waited to hear me sing my 
 solo duet, " The Two Ballad Singers in Cranbourn 
 Alley." Proud to keep him longer with us, I eased 
 his impatience, by requesting him to permit me 
 to call on one of the company (then a famous 
 comic singer, remarkable for his humour), whose 
 voice and taste would please. This succeeded 
 till past two o'clock, when, reminding me of my 
 song, I sang ; and he, making a graceful bow (of 
 the old school, now exploded), amidst the applause 
 of us all, with Lord Granard, retired. Now began, 
 not the " tug of war," but that noise, the usual 
 accompaniment of Pleni Bacchus, and the crowing 
 of the cock ; nor did Chanticleer hasten our 
 departure. Armed (primed) for the field, and 
 many ready for the fray, on my giving, a second 
 time, for a toast, " His Lordship," and calling on 
 them to fill, " till the wine o'erswell the cup," 
 his health was drank with three times three, 
 accompanied with huzzas loud enough for him 
 
MASONIC SUPPER. ^5 
 
 to hear us before he got to his carriage. The 
 merriment and masonic cordiality continued till 
 past six, still seated between two Lords. Honoured 
 with such an exaltation, I was determined not 
 to quit my night's throne, though several had an 
 eye upon it, remaining in expectation of my 
 retiring. Here they were mistaken, for accus- 
 tomed, as I had always been, to be the last in 
 the room, and to follow the jovial morning crew, 
 to their disappointment, they found me immove- 
 able. Having promised my friend Stretton 
 (whom I have already spoken so much of in 
 my JReminiscences), who was to give a dance 
 that night, that however late my new honours 
 detained me, nothing should prevent my being 
 in time to partake of the " fantastic toe ;" when, 
 fortunately, then near seven, I arrived in time 
 to join with those that remained, dancing the 
 usual finale, the houlanghre. What a change ! 
 Now no longer at the head of a table, calling-out 
 — Order ! — order ! — but seated to tea and coffee, 
 where fatigue had silenced some, and others more 
 inclined to sleep than continue those attentions 
 the partners in the dance had previously expe- 
 rienced. This soiree, I should say matin visit. 
 
276 MASONIC DINNER. 
 
 the first I ever made at such an early hour, was 
 the last, never to begin such a nocturnal, to finish 
 at nine in the morning. 
 
 MASONIC DINNER. 
 
 On the day of our Masonic Festival (May 12th), 
 at Willis's Great Room, King Street, Lord Moira 
 presided. The meeting assembled about four 
 hundred. The dinner consisted of all the luxuries 
 of the season, Champagne, Burgundy, Claret, 
 Madeira, iS^c, in abundance. During my con- 
 tinuance, years after, in the lodge, this was 
 the last meeting at which the stewards gave 
 French wines ; if any alteration has taken place 
 since, I am unacquainted with it, I can only say 
 my red-apron honours cost me dear. Of the 
 numerous visitors, the Lord Mayor elect was 
 Sir John Eamer, attended by Sir W. Rawlins 
 (that day knighted) and Alderman Cox, his two 
 sheriffs. In the course of the toasts given, the 
 health of the stewards being drank, for their 
 attentions in providing the entertainment, the 
 honour conferred on us by his Lordship, the 
 
MY TWO FIRST LOVES. 277 
 
 president of the board of stewards is expected 
 to make a speech Having been at many of these 
 annual meetings before, I took care to have mine 
 expres for that day, ready cut and dried for me ; 
 but by a much better sconce than my own. I 
 took care to " suit the action to the word ;" and 
 though my expected oratorical display had its 
 previous rehearsals, I had felt myself more a mon 
 aise, the caracato on the hoard of the lamp, than 
 spokesman for the board of stewards. However, 
 if I may guess, it was good-nature that some few 
 encouraged the others to plaudite, and noise with 
 the glasses, and tapping the tables, not a little 
 flattering to me, like the theatrical puffs. I came 
 off with unbounded applause. The fatigue of 
 the bustling day being at length over, pleased 
 I was when day-light closed the honours of 
 masonry. 
 
 MY TWO FIRST LOVES. 
 
 Resuming my pen again, I may say I have 
 already written above seven hundred recollections 
 of these last sixty years, and not one anecdote of 
 m^ own family, though I have spoken much of 
 
^78 MY TWO FIRST LOVES. 
 
 my father ; yet, relating to mij situation as 
 Benedict, during the space of forty-nine years, 
 matter enough to fill a volume. If, having spoken 
 so much of myself, I may have sounded my 
 trumpet too often, still, however my tones may 
 get discordant, I cannot refrain from recounting 
 (when not nineteen) my two first loves. They 
 were both subjects for the fashionable Colburn 
 novelists of the present day, especially the first, 
 where scandal has its attractions most. Many 
 years now past by, out of regard, should any of 
 the family remain, I forbear mentioning names. 
 Speaking of the first dart that wounded so young 
 a heart, I may venture to say, that, of the different 
 public characters I have already spoken of at one 
 time, as an elegante and beauty of the day, for 
 notoriety, none had more attractions. 
 
 Mr. D and his wife were constant visitors 
 
 at my father's house, and with them their daughter, 
 a tall, handsome girl, about eighteen, who had 
 been at the same convent with my sisters, at 
 Lisle; though I was too young then to attract 
 her notice, yet at all times she was glad to have 
 me near her. Soon after, she was married to 
 Dr. E , M.D., her parents leaving this 
 
MY TWO FIRST LOVES. 279 
 
 country for Barbadoes, where her father had a 
 place under Government. 
 
 How long the Doctor's honey-moon lasted I 
 
 know not, but that Lord V supplanted 
 
 him ; after that the Duke de Chartres (6galite) ; 
 
 then Lord C -. Some years after, I was invited 
 
 by my friend B (called by his acquaintance 
 
 the gallant Lothario) to dine with him, and meet 
 
 Lady W , and Dally the tall, the name 
 
 Mrs. E had long gone by. Illness only 
 
 prevented me from seeing my old inamorata with 
 a new face, which, after such a lapse of time, 
 mine must have kept her's in countenance ; how- 
 ever, her notoriety excited the gaze of every one. 
 My second was doomed to a far different lot. 
 Her father, from the many years he had been a 
 Member of Parliament, was considered the father 
 of the House of Commons, had two daughters ; 
 the elder was named Dolly ; the other, my flame. 
 Amy — both were considered handsome ; the latter, 
 for her person, preferable to the elder, who was 
 very lusty. He had two sons, the youngest was my 
 most intimate crony at the time ; and from being 
 continually at the house. Amy made such im- 
 pression on my mind, encouraged by her brother's 
 
S80 MY TWO FIllST LOVES. 
 
 assurance, her saying how happy she was when- 
 ever I came to the house, I was miserable when 
 absent ; so much so, that at home, the alterations 
 from being cheerful, I was called the knight of 
 the woeful countenance. This did not last long, it 
 was only a change of scene, which soon followed, 
 that relieved a load that was increasing. My 
 father sent me to the continent, where I remained 
 two years. At my return home, during the interval 
 I was abroad, whatever were my previous feelings 
 of her, they were now past recovery. Her parents, 
 both remarkable for their family pride, particularly 
 the mother, being dissatisfied with her female 
 domestics, accused them of being famihar with 
 the footman, " that they were no better than 
 strumpets ;" when one of them rephed, " Ma'am, 
 you had better look to your youngest daughter." 
 Soon a discovery made its appearance, to the 
 consternation of the family — Amy had some time 
 been married to the footman. Here the pride 
 of ancestry became outrageous ; both were directly 
 turned out of the house, pennyless. The husband, 
 who from a boy had been brought up at their 
 country mansion, taken from the plough, then 
 cleaning knives, became footman behind the 
 
MY TWO FIRST LOVES. 281 
 
 carriage, now discarded, and turned adrift (through 
 the interest of the father, who procured him the 
 place of exciseman) with his wife, was banished 
 to Sunderland, in Yorkshire. In addition to his 
 situation, the youngest of her two brothers (who 
 had a place under government, though the income 
 was small), the whole family being inexorable, ge- 
 nerously allotted a portion of it to his sister. Among 
 her many accomplishments, music was the most 
 prominent ; excelling on the piano-forte and harp, 
 many of the ladies in the neighbourhood re- 
 ceived her as an instructress for both, and, with 
 singing included, it was a considerable increase, to 
 support a family of six children, which were the 
 fruits of their stolen marriage. Her brother made 
 her a present of a piano-forte, which was the only 
 consolation left to alleviate those reflections of the 
 past. During the space of eight years, a delicate 
 frame, and sorrow, had so far wasted her con- 
 stitution, as to cause a decline ; and the once 
 beautiful Amy died of a broken heart. The 
 relation of the above I received from the brother, 
 who, occasionally going to see her, informed me 
 such was the change, that two years after her 
 marriage, affliction had so altered her appearance. 
 
MASQUERADE. 
 
 that at first I should not have known her. Not 
 long after her decease, as if fatality attended an 
 unrelenting father, " Parents have flinty hearts," 
 I lost my old friend, her affectionate brother, 
 who, through a fit of jealousy for a woman far 
 beneath his notice, in a moment of despair threw 
 himself out of window, and was killed on the 
 spot. 
 
 MASQUERADE. 
 
 At the masquerade, at the Pantheon, in its 
 better days (nights I should say), of the various 
 black dominos, a little man, masked, whom, from 
 his conversation, I must have been well known to, 
 kept following me, talking about my profession. 
 Though never ashamed of my shop, yet, as I then 
 considered that it was shut, and my troublesome 
 follower kept reminding me of it, I could have 
 almost been out of humour, bored as I was 
 with his continually questioning me about fencing. 
 After several times putting the question to me, 
 " Can't you find me out ?" I replied, " No."— 
 ** Come, I'll give you a chance ; I was a pupil of 
 y cur's eight years ago, at Harrow, and was one 
 
MASQUERADE. 
 
 of your idlest scholars." — " Then your name must 
 be Drummond." Pulling off his mask, and laugh- 
 ing, he said, " You'll not find me so now, I have 
 practised a great deal at Geneva, and could beat 
 my master ; if you come to me every day, at four 
 o'clock, in St. James's Square, it shall be your 
 turn next ; so look sharp to the ' palpable hits,' 
 I'll not spare you." This was Mr. Henry Drum- 
 mond, the banker's son. When at Harrow, there 
 were two of the same name, and, to distinguish 
 them, this was called stumpy, from his height ; 
 the other, a puny boy, wea%el. Accordingly, by 
 appointment, at four o'clock, as often as I could 
 attend at that hour, I was at his house, the usual 
 time he returned home from the banking-house, 
 Charing-cross. I most certainly found he had 
 profited by his Swiss fencing master ; but as to 
 having beaten him, I might as well believe Tom 
 Thumb had beaten the giants. No matter, my 
 attendance was every time on the book half-a- 
 guinea — " palpable hits" to me. Though there 
 was no occasion for him to recollect his masque- 
 rade threat, " I'll not spare you," yet, when fleuret 
 a la main, I humoured him hits enough for his 
 amusement, and mine; for during some months 
 
284 MASQUERADE. 
 
 he was my most lucrative scholar. Expected 
 every day, often at the same hour, Slingsby, the 
 favourite English dancer (in Duberval's style), 
 at the Opera, as well as myself, was in waiting. 
 Just as our scholar found himself in the humour 
 for the foil, or the toe, one of us was to remain, 
 though we did not neglect inserting a lesson. 
 This was a sunshine to us one whole season. 
 The year following, after having received me a 
 
 few times, desired to attend as usual, Mr. D 
 
 purchased a horse from a Mrs. Lovelace, which 
 proved, a few days after, unsound ; some difference 
 occurring about taking it back, a Captain Bat- 
 tersby, who was her champion, so far interesting 
 himself, on his refusing to keep the horse, called 
 him out, which was accepted. When General 
 
 D , who was his second, advised him to rest his 
 
 elbow on his right rib, whilst holding his pistol 
 facing his head. Though it saved a bullet near his 
 abdomen, it took place near the elbow, and rested 
 half-way, approaching to the wrist. What was 
 the result about returning the horse I never heard ; 
 but having been wounded in the right arm, the 
 remedy was an arma cedunf plaister to me ; and 
 though the ball was soon extracted, not so the 
 
KEAN. 
 
 ^85 
 
 cloth, which had so far penetrated, that for many- 
 weeks after he was suffering torture from the 
 wound being probed ; and, from the number of 
 small pieces I have seen, proves the necessity of 
 divesting oneself of clothes, previous to standing 
 a shot. Though no loss of life here, it was a dead 
 shot to me — the loss of a scholar. 
 
 KEAN, 
 
 Two years before he made his first appearance 
 at Drury Lane, walked upwards of thirty miles, 
 with his wife and son, in expectation of an engage- 
 ment at York : on his arrival, however, at that 
 theatre, he was informed the company was quite 
 full, and that the manager would not avail him- 
 self of his services. What refreshing intelligence 
 to three weary travellers, with only eighteen pence 
 in their pockets ! In this emergency, what was 
 to be done ? It immediately struck Kean, if he 
 could prevail on the landlord of the York Hotel 
 to let him have the use of the assembly room for 
 a night, that he might make out a bill, consisting 
 of recitations and songs, which would probably 
 prove attractive ; and being known to many of the 
 
286 KEAN. 
 
 inhabitants of this populous city, he felt sanguine 
 and confident of success. He lost no time in sub- 
 mitting his plan to the landlord, who, although 
 he hesitated at first, saying, " that he could not 
 possibly light up the assembly room under ten 
 pounds, and questioned whether it would answer 
 his purpose," was at last induced to comply. The 
 bill of fare was speedily arranged, and the utmost 
 publicity given to the intended entertainment. 
 On the night specified, every thing was received 
 with the greatest applause, the room crowded to 
 excess, and the York Theatre totally neglected. 
 
 Kean, on receiving the amount of the evening's 
 entertainment, took ten pounds to the landlord, 
 who generously said, " Mr. Kean, I have wit- 
 nessed your extraordinary efforts this evening, 
 and am convinced that I shall, at no distant 
 period, see you at the top of your profession in 
 London ; so keep the money (which will be useful 
 to yourself and family) until you can better afford 
 to part with it." 
 
 Kean's unrivalled efforts at Drury Lane are 
 too well known and acknowledged to require re- 
 petition ; but it is necessary to mention, that he 
 did not, during the career of his success^ forget 
 
DICKY SUET. S87 
 
 the York Hotel; and on hearing that his pro- 
 phetic and kind-hearted friend, the landlord, was 
 labouring under temporary embarrassment, he 
 immediately, in an impulse of gratitude, sent him 
 a bank note of a hundred pounds ! 
 
 B -r. 
 
 DICKY SUET, 
 
 A favourite comic actor, was Parsons's double, 
 and always performed the part of the last-men- 
 tioned comedian when he was indisposed. Parsons, 
 before he came on the stage, was a fruit painter, 
 and an excellent copyist of Wilson's pictures. 
 Some of his copies have been sold for originals. 
 Parsons cherished the love of this art to the end 
 of his life. Suet was remarkably fond of this 
 excellent actor's company, and not only copied 
 him on the stage, but naturally fell into his habits 
 in private life. Parsons, on passing a broker's 
 shop, neglected no opportunity of looking at any 
 picture he might find there, and was accustomed 
 to wet his finger, rub the painting, and exclaim, 
 " A pretty bit, faith I" In imitation of his friend. 
 Suet did the same; but one day, mistaking a 
 
WEWITZER. 
 
 drawing in crayons for an oil picture, he wetted 
 his finger, and before he had time to exclaim " a 
 pretty bit, faith!" rubbed out a young lady's eye. 
 
 WEWITZER 
 
 Was generally allowed to be the best performer 
 of Frenchmen, Jews, and Germans, that ever trod 
 the stage, and was likewise very quick and plea- 
 sant in repartee. Some years since. His Majesty 
 George the Third commanded a play at Covent 
 Garden Theatre. On the same evening, one of 
 the Drury Lane performers came into the green 
 room, and said, " I am just come from Covent 
 Garden, and, strange to relate, they have a bad 
 house there." Wewitzer replied, — " I do not 
 believe any such thing ; I am sure His Majesty 
 would never take the Queen, or any of the 
 Royal Family, to a bad house in Covent Garden.'' 
 Wewitzer was remarkably fond of children, and 
 had various kind methods of pleasing them. He 
 gave a fiddle to a pretty little boy he was very 
 partial to ; the child, delighted with such a gift, 
 asked him if he made the fiddle himself — " Yes, 
 
ixcledo:n\ 289 
 
 my sweet fellow," said Wewitzer, " I made it out 
 of my own head, and I've wood enough left for 
 two more." A friend once saying to him that " he 
 had made a hearty breakfast, and ate a great 
 deal;' Wewitzer added, — " I suppose, then, you 
 breakfasted in a timber yard'' 
 
 TNCLEDON, 
 
 The late celebrated singer, was early in Hfe one 
 of the choir in the Exeter Cathedral. He left 
 this situation for the navy, and the sea soon after 
 for the stage, where he delighted many an audience 
 in Covent Garden Theatre with one of the finest 
 voices any vocalist ever possessed. During his 
 country excursion^, he scarcely ever could be pre- 
 vailed on to travel as an inside passenger, but, 
 sailor like, went up aloft, and generally took an 
 outside place. On his road to Birmingham, the 
 stage being overloaded, the coachman unluckily 
 overturned it, and all the outside passengers were 
 thrown down. One man broke an arm, another 
 a leg, and scarcely any escaped without some 
 accident. Incledon, on coming to the ground, 
 immediately tried his voice, and sounding several 
 
 u 
 
290 
 
 JACK BURTON. 
 
 notes 'powerfully, put his hand on Ms chest, and 
 cried out, " Thank God ! there's nothing broke 
 there." 
 
 B r. 
 
 JEKYLL AND BANNISTER. 
 
 The facetious Jekyll, and our old favourite actor 
 Jack Bannister, dined some time since with the 
 Honourable General Phipps, in Park Lane, where 
 men of wit and talent oft do congregate, and are 
 most hospitably received by the gallant general. 
 In the evening, on the company retiring to take 
 coffee, they soon descended a spacious staircase, 
 and left Jekyll and Bannister behind, who, being 
 two gouty subjects, paused, and rested by mutual 
 consent on the stairs ; when the counsellor, first 
 looking at his oimi legs, and after at Bannister's 
 legs, said, " Jack, our friends are all departed, and 
 we are two residuary Z^^-a-tees." 
 
 JACK BURTON, 
 
 A third or fourth rate actor of old Drury, was 
 five years under Wright, the ship painter, who 
 
TALL SHAW. S91 
 
 painted " \\\^ fishery ^' from which the wonderful 
 Woollett engraved a plate, not only admired by 
 every artist in this country, but likewise held in 
 the highest estimation by all foreigners. Jack 
 Burton, however, did not imitate his master, but 
 relinquished ship painting altogether for moon^ 
 light pieces, for which he was highly appreciated 
 by the Drury Lane Company. When he had 
 finished a moon-light picture he wished to part 
 with, he generally addressed any performer in the 
 following manner : — " If you are inclined to have 
 this moon-light, I do not expect you to pay down 
 ready money, but will give you as long credit as 
 you desire." Many of the performers consented 
 to take moon-light pieces on the above conditions, 
 and fully availed themselved of the proposed in- 
 dulgence, by taking very long credit ; and the 
 Drury Lane Company called him the luna-tic 
 
 painter. 
 
 B r. 
 
 TALL SHAW. 
 
 In a country play-house, two theatrical heroes, 
 George Parker, and a man called tall Shaw, had a 
 
MY COUSINS LETTERS. 
 
 sharp set-to (as far as words went) behind the 
 scenes, on which occasion they plentifully bespat- 
 tered one another. George Parker was a little 
 chubby, pot-bellied fellow, with a fat face, stuck 
 between two round shoulders, and tall Shaw a 
 lankey figure, six feet three, with long lantern 
 jaws, heavy eyes, and a wide mouth. During 
 this war of words, few expressions of abuse escaped 
 either party. As a close?', however, George Parker 
 approached his antagonist, and looking up at his 
 ugly countenance with indignation, said, " Damme, 
 Sir, your face is longer than a man's life." — " How 
 so ?" said Shaw. — " Why," replied Parker, " man's 
 life is but a span, and your face is a span and a 
 hal/r 
 
 MY COUSINS LETTERS, 
 
 Corifidentially communicated by their suffering relative, 
 
 Joseph Allbored. 
 
 I both envy and honour the man who can look 
 abroad upon the face of the wide earth, and upon 
 the numerous Jaces which count as heads in the 
 
MY cousins' letters. 293 
 
 population, and say, without telling a tale, " I have 
 neither kith nor kin in all this multitude." 
 
 My dear mother was a native of that sweet 
 little island, whose " sons (as the poet sings), un- 
 accustomed to rebel, commotion, &;c. &:c." 
 
 Now it is pretty generally known that Ireland 
 is famous for three, nay, four things — pigs, pota- 
 toes, whiskey, and cousins. Every one there has a 
 long-tailed family ; and the tail, like that of the 
 schoolboy's kite, is ever the principal part of the 
 kite itself, an endless attache of all colours and 
 all things, sailing majestically hehind its prin- 
 cipal, yet clinging to it with most astonishing 
 vigour and perseverance : blow high, blow low, 
 there is the everlasting tail ! After all, I'd match 
 an Irish tail against the tails of all the kites and 
 bashaws in the universe. Only listen, and judge 
 of mine. 
 
 I never was in the country in my life, until after 
 I received the following epistles ; but my appoint- 
 ment to a small situation in the Treasury had not 
 been ten days officially announced, when I received 
 the following extraordinary communications, one 
 after the other, from my relatives. You must 
 
^94 MY COUSINS^ LETTEllS. 
 
 take the letters with a running commentary of my 
 own, which will serve my purpose, as the prologue 
 does that of a play. First, or rather among the 
 first, was this : — 
 
 *' Castle Ballyrawnshally , 
 *' May 25, . 
 
 " My dear friend, 
 '' And sure in the wide world who has a right 
 to call you friend, if not myself? for though your 
 mother and my mother (God be good to them 
 both) never spoke in their lives, on account of the 
 differ betwixt their two grandfathers, one, who 
 was cousin german to Byrne, of Byrnsforth, and 
 the other a rale Blaney, of Castle Mount Blaney, 
 'tother side of Tallagh (they could never agree, 
 because of the land, as far back as the reign of the 
 great Queen Elizabeth), though it was little matter 
 to them about the land, for sorra an acre of it in 
 the family these hundred and fifty years, — only to 
 be sure I would'nt say against the right of a little 
 disputation for honour's sake. Well, that's neither 
 here nor there, — only, as I have already come over, 
 your mother and my mother were full second 
 cousins ; and I have heard Judith Macguffin (vul- 
 
MY cousins' letters. 295 
 
 garly called Judy Maggs) say that they were as 
 like as two peas, particularly about the mouth, 
 (both Byrnes and Blaneys had remarkable hand- 
 some mouths, though small advantage that is to 
 some of their descendants, any how) ; for where's 
 the good of a handsome mouth, and nothing to 
 put in it ? — Whisht, says I, for that's a secret 
 amougjriejids ; and my present intention in writing 
 to you was only that as you have had the height 
 o'good luck yourself, and got so fine a situation, 
 that with my own two bad looking eyes I saw it 
 on the paper, why think of your poor relations, 
 and God bless you. I wouldn't be above taking 
 any thing that a gentleman might take. A bit 
 of a sinecure, or even a little place in the Trea- 
 sury, provided it wasn't exactly under yourself, 
 for one cousin's as good as another ; and I would 
 not bring the blush of shame to my mother's 
 cheeks (and she's dead these twenty years), by 
 taking office beneath a Blaney, though your cog- 
 nomen is, I understand, AUbored — 'tis a pity you 
 have such a mean-sounding English name; only 
 as it was your father's, I suppose you must put 
 up with it. What do you think of the title of my 
 
296 MY cousins' letters. 
 
 place at the top of the letter ? Won't it sound 
 grand in your Morning Post, or The Dublin 
 Freeman's Journal ? In a nate little bit of an 
 announcement, 'Byrne O'Byrne, Esq., of Castle 
 Ballyrawnshally, has, we are happy to hear, just 
 
 condescended to accept of the , &c., &c.' Do, 
 
 like a good fellow, get me the penning of the 
 notice. What a dash it will cut among the 
 natives ! Betwixt you and me, the castle is all 
 in my eye ; * but it was a castle onc't,' as the song 
 says, only the stones were all carried away, 
 (barring a couple of rooms, that did'nt exactly 
 belong to it), to make a — (Fm almost ashamed 
 to tell it) — a manufactory. 
 
 " ' To what base uses,' as the play says. You 
 see, my dear friend, I have been educated (not as 
 a gentleman, for Nature did that for me), but as 
 a scholar ! I make no apologies for this intrusion, 
 because in serving one's own flesh and blood, one 
 serves oneself; and I am sure you will be happy 
 of an opportunity to make it all up between the 
 Byrnes of Byrne's Fort, and the Blaneys of Castle 
 Mount Blaney, though they're dead and gone ages 
 ago ; yet, like the Greeks or Romans (I ain't quite 
 
MY cousins' letters. 297 
 
 sure which), 'tis good to pour sacrifices on their 
 
 graves. 
 
 " My dear friend, 
 
 " Your faithful and true 
 Kinsman (though I suppose as the relationship 
 came by the mothefs side, I ought to say kins- 
 woman), till death, 
 
 "James Byrne O'Byrne." 
 
 What think ye, gentle Reader, of that as a 
 specimen of Irish modesty ? Byrne O'Byrne, Esq. 
 the de'il take such cozening ; but your patience 
 for the next demands it more. 
 
 Of all politicians, your Irish one is the most 
 red hot ; he is like a blinded bull, whose strength 
 outlives his infirmity, and he is everlastingly tilting 
 without sense or discretion ; his one faculty seems 
 violence, and that he exercises upon everything 
 that comes in his way. Foaming — bellowing — 
 brawling ! Did I say everything that comes in 
 his way — aye, and everything that keeps out of 
 it as well — for Heaven help me ! The Channel 
 was between us. Yet lo ! he comes ! 
 
298 MY cousins'' LETTEllS. 
 
 " Liberty Hall. 
 " Sir," 
 
 Your persons of " muscular minds" always 
 
 commence their epistles with this uncourteous 
 
 monosyllable. 
 
 " Sir, 
 " In days of yore, before aristocracy and 
 corruption held the reins of this devoted land, 
 and drove tandem through the country, as they 
 do now, your family, or at least (you will excuse 
 me if I speak unadvisedly)," he might have spared 
 that apology ; for what Irishman ever spoke ad- 
 visedly ? " some portions of your family, as far 
 back as the time of Henry IV., occupied places 
 of high trust in their native land, they little 
 dreamed that a descendant of their's would ever 
 sit upon the treasury bench." Gramercy ! this 
 Irish patriot knew not the difference between 
 the treasury bench and a bench in the treasury — 
 I did however. 
 
 " But, Sir, since you have accepted office, let 
 it be at once your pride and your privilege to set 
 a glorious example to your brothers in corruption," 
 (complimentory.) " Stand forth from among them 
 —plant the standard of liberty on the highest 
 
MY COUSINS^ LETTEllS. S99 
 
 pinnacle of the parliament house — talk to them 
 as becomes a free man. If you are at a loss for 
 words — read my speeches in the Dublin Free- 
 man's Journal — if you are at fault for metaphor, 
 study D. O'C, and make, as he has done, your 
 name the watch- word of liberty throughout the 
 land ! A glorious scene opens before you — England 
 will echo the fame showered upon you by the 
 people of Ireland — Beranger will chaunt in your 
 praise !— it will reverberate along the shores of 
 the Ohio ! — and dance down the cataract of the 
 Ganges ! I will be proud of the relationship 
 which I can 2jrove exists between us ! and then 
 sign myself, as I do now, * strong in hope,' 
 (for I am obliged to abbreviate my letter, as the 
 post is departing), 
 
 " Sir, your friend and cousin, 
 
 " Hamilton Graspall Driscoll. 
 
 " P.S. — I will forward you, by nea^t post, the 
 rough draught of a bill, which you must get 
 through the House for me this session. You must 
 have seen my name at all liberal meetings — I 
 never miss one ; and my signature, * Caio,' you 
 could not be mistaken in." 
 
300 MY COUSINS^ LETTEKS. 
 
 No, faith, no mistaking it, or you either, nor the 
 ll. 10s. postage for " the bill." Noble, generous 
 
 land ! torn by party, and misled by ; but I 
 
 hate personality. 
 
 I received another epistle at the same time — 
 my friends may judge how different were my 
 feelings on perusing it. It was written on the 
 back of an old letter; and, just at the edge, I 
 recognised a few words in my mother's hand- 
 writing ! 
 
 " Dingle Dell, County of Wicklom. 
 
 " Honoured Sir, 
 
 " It is not on account of seeing your name in 
 
 a paper, which my daughter Anty borrowed of 
 
 the governess, at Granby Hall, that I write; 
 
 for, praised be to God, though times are bad, and 
 
 I am what in grand England would be called 
 poor, yet I want nothing. My only reason for 
 addressing you, is to show that I am alive, which 
 
 you must have doubted, seeing I was drowned, 
 
 or, all as one as drowned, going to America, years 
 
 back, which your darling mother heard of, doubtless. 
 
 You must remember, that though I was only her 
 
MY cousins' letters. 301 
 
 foster-sister, I was brought up with herself, and 
 she loved me as if we had both come of the 
 same blood, as well as drank of the same milk ; 
 and salt and scalding are the tears I shed, even 
 now, to her memory. 
 
 " Ah ! Master Joseph ! it is sad to lose the 
 friends of one's youth — the fields may be green, 
 and the flowers may bloom, but the flowers of 
 memory are the only ones that are sweet to 
 old age. I wish you could think of me, and 
 see ould Ireland, for it is a stricken but a beautiful 
 country, and much put upon — if I was poor and 
 helpless, may be, I'd be put upon too, for the 
 desolate have few friends — the rose won't claim 
 kin with the briar. I thought that you'd look 
 on this paper, if not for my sake, for the sake 
 of the dear hand that rested on it once. I was 
 glad to see that you were provided for, Master 
 Joseph dear! Sure, I mind ye in short coates, 
 and red shoes, with a beautiful green sash, and 
 eyes as blue as violets ; and I could get neither 
 tale nor tidings of you, until Anty pickt up with 
 the newspaper, by the meerest chance and good 
 luck ; and God give ye'r heart the good of the 
 situation, and prosper that, and every thing else 
 
302 MY cousins' letters. 
 
 to your good. And if ever you come this way, 
 there's a humble quiet home for you in Dingle 
 Dell, with the Vale of Avoca under your eye, 
 and the waters rushing into each other's arms 
 close by, and lots of sweet milk, and new eggs, 
 and caith mille a Jciulta, a thousand times over. 
 Come to me, Master Joseph, honey~if ever the 
 world should look could on ye', if ever ye'r sick, 
 sad, or sorry, there's a welcome, and a heart-lifting 
 for ye' in Dingle Dell." 
 
 Well, gentle reader, and I suppose you think 
 there is nothing objectionable in that letter ; you 
 think that it contains the simple, but warm out- 
 pouring of an affectionate Irish heart — -an Irish 
 wommi's heart, par excellence ; granted, yet of 
 all the letters it was my fortune to receive, that 
 letter has subjected me to the greatest misfortune, 
 the very greatest misfortune that could befall a 
 single man. I had a month's holyday, and the 
 devil, or Cupid, tempted me to go to Dublin, 
 ^nd I could not do less than visit Dingle Dell. 
 Putting feelings (as all fashionable men endeavour 
 to do) out of the question, it was no way incorrect 
 to visit Mrs. D , who was the widow of an 
 
A FRAGMENT ON SCULPTURE. 303 
 
 American trading captain : the tale is soon told, I 
 fell in love with Anty — graceful, young, well edu- 
 cated — what could I do less? what could I do more?" 
 
 What did you say, Sir Editor ? " That you 
 had no more room for such trumpery letters." 
 I acknowledge they were troublesome, but as to 
 their being trumpery ! — Editors are naturally a 
 very uncivil sect ; you might have waited for the 
 termination of my love adventure — matrimony ; 
 though I could, if you had given me room, have 
 proved, to the satisfaction of every unmarried 
 spinster, and old batchelor over thirty, that it has 
 been only the beginning of love. 
 
 To speak seriously. " What ! do you say 
 
 that I must not be serious ?" Adieu, Sir, I must 
 
 therefore remain silent, and respectfully offer my 
 
 adieus to the Olio. 
 
 J. A. 
 
 Mrs. Hall. 
 
 A FRAGMENT ON SCULPTURE, 
 
 By THE Author of Thaddeus of Warsaw. — Including a 
 Poem on British Sculptors, by Whitelow Ainslie, M.D., 
 M.A.S., P. A., Author of the Drama of Clemenza, &c. &c. 
 
 Benjamin West, the late venerable President 
 of our Royal Academy, though so eminent an 
 
304 
 
 A FRAGMENT ON SCULPTURE. 
 
 historical painter, has been observed to express 
 himself in such glowingly animated terms on the 
 excellencies of certain fine specimens of sculpture, 
 that we can hardly doubt he considered it the 
 superior art. When he visited Rome as a student, 
 on his first sight of the Apollo Belvidere, in the 
 Vatican, he stood before the statue in such a 
 trance of admiration that he was speechless for 
 many minutes. At last, when the questions of 
 those who brought him, forced his utterance, he 
 exclaimed — 
 
 " It is a noble Moliawk warrior ! " 
 
 In his native country of the United States, he had 
 seen the finest forms of that noble race of native 
 Americans, and his own just taste, true to nature, 
 now owned this noblest copy of her noblest out- 
 line. Mr. West, in his after-life, maintained the 
 same vivid enjoyment when contemplating 'the 
 best works of the chisel ; and he often mentioned 
 the high gratification he had received when walking 
 through the hall of sculpture in the Louvre with 
 the Emperor Napoleon, who himself pointed out 
 to the British President of Painting, the statues 
 he considered the finest there ; dwelling on the 
 
A FRAGMENT ON SCULPTURE. 305 
 
 particular excellencies of each with all the judgment 
 and enthusiasm of a mind that thoroughly under- 
 stood the powers which had achieved them. He 
 declared to Mr. West that pictures were but 
 secondary treasures to him, when compared with 
 the value he set on " the breathing marble" of an 
 excellent statuary. But he did not say this 
 without adding a compliment to the liberality and 
 comprehensive genius of the great historical painter 
 he addressed, for having granted the same to be 
 his own opinion. 
 
 There is, certainly, something of an heroic 
 impression on the mind when entering a gallery 
 of illustrious portrait statues ! An emotion that 
 reminds one of the forum of Rome in the best 
 days of national virtue ! And when these busts, 
 or figures of our statesmen, warriors, philosophers, 
 and other worthies, are mixed with specimens of 
 the likewise moral grand, in classical and histo- 
 rical design, cut also in " the living stone," the 
 absorption of our faculties, under the sublime 
 contemplation, is complete. 
 
 This we can now find in several of our own sculp- 
 tors' studios, where British chisels have drawn forth 
 as glorious forms of beauty, grace, and magnificent 
 
 X 
 
306 
 
 THE PROGRESS OF SCULPTURE. 
 
 contours of strength or dignity as ever sprang from 
 Greek or Roman quarries. We had the galleries 
 of Roubilliac ; and in later years, those of Bacon, 
 and our classic Flaxman ; we have now those of 
 Chantrey, Westmacott, Wyatt, Lough, and other 
 names dear to the fame of our sculptor muse. 
 
 I would dilate on the peculiar merits of some of 
 these, had I not an elegant and playful little poem, 
 of my friend. Dr. Ainslie, lying before me, which, 
 singing the subject better than any say I could 
 make on it, I shall rather copy that poetical 
 tribute to the general talents in an art I myself 
 almost unspeakably admire. 
 
 JANE PORTER. 
 THE PROGRESS OF SCULPTURE, 
 
 Supposed to be sung by one of the three Graces, forming a 
 group at the head of a Lady's drawing-room in Edinburgh, 
 
 We, the daughters of Jove, and the children of Greece, 
 Hither came at the call of the wise and the brave ; 
 
 Now hail in these heydays of pastime and peace. 
 The dawn of that freedom which hastens to save. 
 
 Erst banish'd from Athens, soon after from Rome, 
 Thro' the Saracen wrath, or the Gothic intrusion. 
 
 We traveird, for such was our way-faring doom, 
 
 Poor emigrees ! driven from our homes in confusion. 
 
THE PROGRESS OF SCULPTURE. 307 
 
 Bear Italy sheltered us kindly, and sought. 
 
 With the aid of Lorenzo, to guard us from harm ; 
 
 But monkish exclusion, most barbarously brought. 
 On all they deem'd heathen, fell dread and alarm ! 
 
 But, thanks to Apollo ! that some, from conviction. 
 Denied not the powers which the ancient possessed ; , 
 
 Nor hurl'd on their works an unjust malediction. 
 
 Nor strove to withhold what had long been confessed. 
 
 What talents ! No, rather what stars do we find, 
 When Angelo, aye, and Bernini too shone ! 
 
 The first, yet unrivaFd for majesty — ^mind ! 
 
 The second, for beauty, has ne'er been outdone. 
 
 So France, 'neath the rule of great Louis, received us ! 
 
 Then Girardon made that proud nation more proud. 
 Nor e'er has Germania debased or deceived us. 
 
 Her sculptors are scarce, but their merits are loud ! 
 
 At length came Canova (alas, he is gone) ! 
 
 Who with rapt inspiration, and Phidias' skill. 
 By his talisman touch gave e'en feeling to stone ; 
 
 How vast the decrees he was born to fulfil ! 
 
 Brave England, advancing in greatness and glory, 
 Already drinks deep of antiquity's stream ; 
 
 The annals of art are replete with her story. 
 
 And science and arms, in their turn prove the theme. 
 
308 THE PROGRESS OF SCULPTURE. 
 
 Her time-honour'd Flaxman ! Did he not display 
 A lofty conception, a boon from on high ? 
 
 His group* has proclaimed it ; the bards of the day 
 Have sung it in poems which never shall die. 
 
 How fresh, and how fragrant, the bays which are wove 
 Round the brow of her Chantrey ! Deny it who can ; 
 
 That fragrance shall flow thro"* the fiat of Jove, 
 When gone to the shades, generations of men. 
 
 Could Westmacott want our poor meed of applause ? 
 
 Could he want vain orations, which oft but beguile ! 
 
 Far, far other eulogists clarion his course ! 
 
 His Zephyr has breathed f, and his Nymph sweetly 
 smiled ! 
 
 Where sought he a model for feminine beauty ? 
 
 From its own native Isle, it seem'd strange he should 
 flee! 
 Tho' a christian in faith, yet he felt it his duty. 
 
 All conscious, to choose blooming Psyche and me j ! 
 
 If Gibson still lives, 'midst the ruins of Rome, 
 'Tis not that he loves not his bold British shore ; 
 
 Ambitious, and ardent, he ne'er shall see home, 
 'Till rival'd that Roman §, he ran to adore. 
 
 * Michael and Satan. 
 
 t A Nymph sporting with Zephyr. 
 
 X Psyche and Euphrosine. This Muse sings the poem. 
 
 § Canova. 
 
THE PROGRESS OF SCULPTURE. 309 
 
 So shall the acclaim which thy Lough too has won, 
 Still reign in the record of all that is chaste ; 
 
 V/hat have not his Centaurs and Lapithae done^'i* 
 For the triumph of art in these regions of taste ! 
 
 What love-bewitched lass, for her paramour's sake, 
 Ever lifted a latch at the dead hour of night. 
 
 With love the sly grace with which Iris doth wake-f-, 
 The sound-sleeping god, to bright day and delight ! 
 
 Could the Lord of the Seasons, have lived to behold 
 His own Musidora J, more lovely, more fair. 
 
 The poet enamoured, the tale would have told, 
 And hallowed the chisel so powerful, so rare i 
 
 What rises and glares o'er yon far distant plane ? 
 
 'Tis Aurora's faint blush as she brings on the day ! 
 Sweet herald of fame, to the soul-wakening Dane§, 
 
 A fame which requires not my impotent lay. 
 
 Ah, weep not, Teresa, thy Shaddoe's but gone || 
 To reap the reward of his virtues and truth ! 
 
 Let Prussia rejoice to have calFd him her own, 
 And treasured, and trophied that excellent youth ♦ 
 
 * A group of seventeen Figures ; a work of most extraordinary excel- 
 lence in all the branches of the art. 
 f Iris awakening Morpheus. 
 X Thomson's Musidora, in his Summer. 
 § Thorwolsden's Basso-relievo of Night and Morning. 
 :J: Shaddoc, a distinguished Prussian artiste 
 
310 THE PROGRESS OF SCULPTURE. 
 
 Yes, yes ! Filatrice, there's glory for thee, 
 
 While woman can captivate, nature command * ! 
 
 E'en grace as I am, could I e'er jealous be, 
 By Juno, I'd covet thy beautiful hand ! 
 
 As for thee, lovely land of the mountain and mist ! 
 
 (It wakes me to rapture, the sound of that name !) 
 Thy artists are attic — say, who are more blest, 
 
 In the niche they have gain'd in the temple of fame ! 
 
 Who knows, and reveres not, thy Campbell's creations ? 
 
 His Hebe, engraved on each true Scottish heart ! 
 The goddess herself, on receiving oblations, 
 
 Ne'er glow'd with more joy, nor more joy could 
 impart ! 
 
 Macdonald, thy virgin implores with a sigh-|", 
 
 So profound, that if e'er in the long lapse of time, 
 
 She were lost, and restored after ages gone by, 
 Who would not exclaim — O, Lysippus sublime ! 
 
 And last, but not least, of the sons of the north. 
 
 The graces would greet, where the muses have smiled ! 
 
 Would laud the bold boy, who has nobly brought forth 
 A work so supreme, that cold envy reviled I ! 
 
 * A Spinning Girl by him. 
 
 f The Supplicating Virgin, by Macdonald. 
 
 J Alexander and Bucephalus, by Steel. 
 
ANECDOTES. 311 
 
 Who, warm'd by the visions of classical fire, 
 Gave life to the steed, and a soul to the man ! 
 
 Laud, laud, be to those who would haste to admire, 
 Nor pause to complete what their Steel had began ! 
 
 The same plastic hand which moulded the clay. 
 Shall waken cold marble, shall give it a tongue ! 
 
 You hear how I speak, ever jocund and gay ; 
 
 And, thanks to Canova, still handsome and young ! 
 
 EUPHROSINE. 
 
 B., auparavant Colonel on the Bengal Establish- 
 ment, sitting at dinner, being astounded with 
 a noise, resembling the smashing of empty bottles 
 in the cellar, went below, to ascertain from what 
 it arose, and having satisfied himself, returned 
 to his seat ; on being asked the cause, he replied, 
 " Oh, nothing, but two dogs fighting over a 
 bottle." 
 
 The same officer, accompanied by his aide-de- 
 camp, happening to pass when the church-bell 
 
312 
 
 A DREAM. 
 
 was tolling for a departed spirit, asked the former 
 if it did not put him in mind of his latter end ? — 
 " Oh, no ; but the rope reminds me of your's." 
 
 L D. 
 
 THE DUCHESS OF G. 
 
 Taking an airing in an open carriage, accom- 
 panied by a married lady who had not blessed 
 her lord with an heir, stopped at a cottage, where 
 several rosy-cheeked urchins were playing about, 
 and inquired of their mother (standing at the door) 
 what the family fed upon ? — " Only pratees." This 
 information was so satisfactory, that her grace 
 desired she would tell her husband to send a sack 
 of them on trial to the castle. She promised he 
 should obey her ladyship's commands, — begging 
 to remind her of forgetting to take Pat alongai 
 with her. 
 
 A DREAM. 
 
 A lord lieutenant and his lady stopping on 
 their way to pay a visit to a titled family, an 
 elderly woman came to the carriage door, and 
 
WARREN HASTINGS. 313 
 
 wishing them (who had frequently relieved her 
 with money) all happiness, told them of having 
 had an extraordinary dream, the preceding night, 
 " Pray what was it ?" — " Och, your honour, I 
 dreamt that you would have the goodness to give 
 me a pound of sugar, and her ladyship a pound of 
 tea." He observed, that dreams often produced 
 different results from what were portended. " Och 
 then, it may be, that you are to give the tea, and 
 her ladyship the sugar !" 
 
 REPORTED SAYINGS OF WARREN HASTINGS. 
 
 Two Bengal civilians, the one having a long 
 neck, and the other no property, paid their 
 addresses to a young lady, the which being 
 reported to him, he gravely remarked that her 
 case was irregularly hard, to fix her choice on 
 neck or nothing. 
 
 . L D. 
 
 It is usual in India to administer oil on being 
 attacked with a liver complaint, also to burn it 
 in lamps. — He remarked that our livers were 
 cured at the expense of our lights, 
 
 L D. 
 
314 JAMES LIND, M.D. 
 
 The accomplished hlacky, Soubise (whom I 
 have so much spoken of), having fallen from 
 a vicious and unruly horse, upon the Madras 
 racing ground, a gentleman went to afford assist- 
 ance, if necessary, and accosted him in these 
 words : — " Mr. S., I am glad you have shown 
 a disposition for the turf." 
 
 AN EYE-WITNESS. 
 
 JAMES LIND, M.D. 
 
 While talking with a relation upon the terrace, 
 at Windsor, His Majesty stopped close to them, 
 and asked him if he had any particular news. — He 
 replied, that Mr. Burke died the preceding day. 
 The King said he knew it. " Of what did he 
 die ? Of what did he die V The doctor said 
 he believed his death was caused by cancer in 
 the kidneys. " You believe — ^you believe it to be 
 so ? — All guess-work — all working in the dark." 
 He then smilingly continued his walk. 
 
 BELLA VIRA. 
 
315 
 
 DUCKS AND DRAKES. 
 
 Residing in a house nearly encompassed with 
 ponds, or tanks, adjoining that of my acquaintance, 
 Mr. Drake, I was asked by a gentleman, the 
 reason I did not (with such an advantage) keep 
 duchs, I told him I did. " Gad then, how do you 
 distinguish your's from his waddlers ?" — " Most 
 easily, as the rest are all drakes'' This attempt at 
 wit will not, I am afraid, pass muster, as it is as 
 lame as a broken-legged duck. 
 
 A BISHOP OF EXETER 
 
 Having established a poor-house, for twenty-five 
 old women, one day, being in conversation with 
 Lord Mansfield, asked his Lordship for an in- 
 scription to place in front of the building; upon 
 which, his Lordship took out his pencil, and wrote 
 on a slip of paper as follows : — 
 
 " UNDER THIS ROOF 
 
 THE LORD BISHOP OF EXETER 
 
 KEEPS 
 
 TWENTY-FIVE WOMEN.'' 
 
316 
 
 DOCTOR FULLER 
 
 Having requested one of his companions, who was 
 a bon-vivant, to make an epitaph for him, received 
 the following, with the conceit of which he always 
 expressed himself much pleased : — 
 
 " HERE LIES fuller's EARTH.'' 
 
 A FRENCH NOBLEMAN 
 
 Once showing Matthew Prior the palace of his 
 master at Versailles^ and desiring him to observe 
 the many trophies of Louis the Fourteenth's vic- 
 tories, asked Prior if King William, his master, 
 had many such trophies in his palace. " No," said 
 Prior, " the monuments of my master's victories 
 are to be seen every where hut in his own house,'' 
 
 I DIDN T GET IT. 
 
 A certain Doctor, head of a college, stood for a 
 professorship, which happened to be vacant at the 
 same time his lady was delivered of a fine boy. 
 A friend called on the Doctor about the same 
 
THE DEVIL. 317 
 
 time the professorship was decided, and for which 
 he was one of the unsuccessful candidates, to 
 congratulate him on the birth of his son ; and 
 accordingly, in the usual phrase, " wished him 
 joy." The Doctor being rather deaf, and mis- 
 taking his meaning, replied rather smartly, " I 
 didn't get it ; I didn't get it." 
 
 B R. 
 
 THE DEVIL, 
 
 An anecdote that a theatrical friend related to 
 me, who was one of the party at a reconciliation 
 dinner, and alludes to characters, at that time 
 well known for their superior abilities. One, the 
 first dramatic author of the day ; the other, the 
 succeeding Roscius of the day, John Philip 
 Kemble. The former, displeased that he did not 
 do justice to the hero of his piece, had written 
 ^ severe pointed preface, attributing to him the 
 failure of the play ; this produced a rancorous 
 quarrel, they being previously on the most friendly 
 terms. This animosity continued for a con- 
 siderable time ; at last Frank North (the late Lord 
 
318 THE DEVIL. 
 
 Guilford), their particular friend, and interested for 
 both parties, through his mediation, caused that 
 mutual meeting, without which, the determined 
 inveteracy of the author and actor might have 
 lasted as long as the Siege of Troy. But if greater 
 the quarrel, " Why then we'll drain the barrel*." 
 Of course a dinner was proposed, " mine host," 
 Kemble, making a party at his own house, when 
 oblivion of the past, not in the waters of Lethe, 
 but their avant courier's, as Theodore Hook calls 
 them, Madeira, &;c., at dinner, and the ruby 
 Port that followed after, kept all on the qui 
 vive till a late hour. The two ci-devant oppo- 
 nents being left alone, the snufF box and the 
 wine continually passing to each other, cementing 
 those mutual professions of the renewed friendship, 
 the time passed so pleasant, that at eight o'clock, 
 the candles being almost exhausted, the servant 
 opened the shutters, when the sun shining on 
 Kemble's face, the other frightened, not having 
 seen him (by this time " how came you so "), 
 exclaimed aloud, " Angels and ministers of grace, 
 defend us, the devil ! the devil ! " Kemble's face 
 
 From Sheridan's Duenna^ 
 
THE BRUSH. 319 
 
 SO white, the increased growth of his beard during 
 the night, and so frightful his altered countenance, 
 that, terrified, and suddenly leaving the room, 
 he exclaimed, " O day and night, but this is 
 wondrous strange." 
 
 THE BRUSH. 
 
 At a house in Long Acre, a number of herald 
 coach painters, who resided there, met, and from 
 this circumstance its name originated. There 
 was also a club established by Hogarth, which 
 was frequented by artists Wilson, Barrett, and 
 Hayman, as well as by literary characters — Smol- 
 lett, Fielding, and others. It dwindled to " Hail, 
 fellow, well met." Forty years back, it was a 
 lounge after the performances at the theatres; 
 and its convivial company (there was no black 
 ball to exclude) has often induced me, on my 
 return, to take my glass there, where assembled 
 some of the choice spirits of the town-playing 
 gentry, &c. All were welcome who could con- 
 tribute to the mirth and amusement of the com- 
 pany. The entrance was the kitchen, where a 
 chop or steak, cooked at a huge fire and gridiron, 
 
320 THE BRUSH. 
 
 was always in readiness. In the room above, wit 
 and humour were abundant ; and to promote these 
 sentiments, Whitfield, a Covent Garden performer, 
 was chosen (on account of his excellent reading 
 of lines, written by George Alexander Stevens, 
 entitled "The Brush") to the chair. The com- 
 position alluded to the house, the society, and its 
 origin ; and, from the style of it, the composer 
 was not over chaste ; every line had a well-turned 
 point, which was so well executed, that it was 
 sure to set the table on a roar. This the author 
 gave to a rich old citizen, who had retired from 
 business, and, from age, appeared the father of 
 the Brush. This penurious old codger could not 
 be prevailed on to leave it for the amusement 
 of the room ; crabbed with years, and a near dumb 
 brandy and water boozer, knowing its great 
 value in attracting many to the room, he carefully 
 preserved it, and was allowed by the landlord 
 two glasses of brandy and water for the company 
 it drew. One of those days, having drank very 
 freely after dinner. Old Gripe (thus nicknamed, 
 for his mean conduct in refusing to yield his 
 manuscript for the benefit of the room), on leav- 
 ing, was greeted with no friendly epithets for his 
 
THE BRUSH. 3^1 
 
 meanness, for thus receiving the payment of his 
 liquor ; when, armed cap-a-pie, I vociferated, " I'll 
 pick his pocket, I'll bring it back." Bravo ! 
 bravo ! and a general shout followed. Rushing 
 after my man, I followed him to Long Acre, 
 and made my debut as a novitiate diver — picked 
 his pocket — secured the manuscript — and returned 
 triumphant to the expectant assembly. — A general 
 huzza followed. Bernard, then a performer at 
 Covent Garden, requested the loan, promising 
 he would return it to me the following day, which 
 he never performed. The next day I received 
 an anonymous letter from a good-natured friend^ 
 vi%. : — 
 
 " Dear Angelo, 
 " Beware, you are discovered ; your last night's 
 
 imprudence, clever as you thought yourself, may 
 
 be of serious consequence ; Old Gripe has been to 
 
 Bow Street with Sharp, anti Gallows — ' A thing 
 
 devised by the enemy,' " 
 
 It was now my turn to improve the joke. Being 
 invited the following day in the country, and to 
 make the effect of the letter alarming, I remained 
 concealed for a week. Having succeeded, here was 
 ** Diamond cut Diamond." 
 
 1 
 
322 LOUD NELSON. 
 
 At my next appearance, I was cheered, and 
 greeted in a humorous speech from the president, 
 on my narrow escape from the gallows. The 
 room is indebted to me for my literary theft of 
 such an excellent composition as George Alexander 
 Stevens's " Brush." Bernard soon after quitted 
 England for America, to amuse the Yankies, and 
 add to their glee and good humour. 
 
 LORD NELSON. 
 
 At the time I belonged to a club which used to 
 assemble at the British Coffee House, Cockspur 
 Street, called " The Keep the Line," the greater 
 part were literary characters. W. T. Fitzgerald, 
 well known for his poetical effusions, was one 
 of the members, and was always introduced 
 here after dinner. The latter part of the 
 evening we had sat down to vingt et un, and con- 
 tinued playing till a very late hour. At parting, 
 like Kemble, who ever made it a constant practice 
 to insist upon any one who saw him home at 
 a late hour to come in and drink Claret with him ; 
 my friend having wine, excellent Claret, in the 
 house, was determined to follow the great actor's 
 example. This decided me to pursue the same 
 
LORD NELSON. 
 
 2m 
 
 practice, and when my friend attended me to my 
 door, I insisted upon his taking a social glass with 
 me. Handing him a book, the Ijife of Nelson, 
 with beautiful proof plates, I requested him to 
 accept it ; the next day I received the following 
 letter from him, indulged with the manuscript 
 in preference to the printed copy, for the notice 
 conferred on me. • 
 
 1 9, Upper Seymour Street^ Portman Square, 
 November 27, 1809. 
 
 Dear Sir, 
 My best thanks are due to you for the valuable 
 present you made me, last night, of the great 
 Nelson's life ; and I request you will accept, in 
 return, the poems I have written upon that 
 glorious hero ! They consist of " Nelson's Tomb," 
 " an Address to England, upon her Nelson's death," 
 (from the latter, Orme has made the quotation 
 under the print of Lord Nelson,) and " The Battle 
 of the Nile :" tlie last is out of print ; I have 
 therefore transcribed it, which I recollect you 
 flattered me by saying you should prefer, as the 
 manuscript of the author. 
 
 I remain, dear Sir, 
 
 Very truly your's, 
 
 W. T. Fitzgerald. 
 
S24 
 
 THE RACE BALL. 
 
 Lord Barrymore and Lord Craven were^ 
 many years ago, stewards at the Reading races. 
 Being at the time on a visit to the former, at 
 his cottage, at Wargrave, his Lordship offered 
 to take me with him the following day ; but I 
 am ashamed to say, instead of being in time to 
 accompany him, the effects of drinking and 
 gaming till a late hour the previous night pre- 
 vented me. The cottage was small, and the 
 room I lay in was called the Barrack Room, from 
 the number of beds in it, which amounted to 
 eight. These he reserved for his select friends ; 
 he considered me one of them, and what he 
 called a star at his theatre. The other visitors 
 were left to scramble sometimes in the cottage 
 for what they could get. This room, instead of 
 being a dormitory, might better have been com- 
 pared to one of the hells in St. James's Street, 
 from the gaming, rioting, drinking, and swearing, 
 which filled up the whole night, with few intervals 
 of sleep, and those few only from the effects of 
 wine. Instead of going to the races, I sat upon 
 my bed that day, eating my breakfast, my next 
 
THE RACE BALL. 325 
 
 neighbour doing the same, and addressing me 
 by " D — n the races, old one, let us have the 
 bones." From previous experience, I negatived this 
 motion. "Well then," cried he, " what do you say to 
 cards ?" Our beds being drawn close to each other, 
 at it we went, at vingt et un, and played till 
 six o'clock. Lord Barrymore returned; and by 
 the time we had dressed ourselves, dinner was 
 announced. Claret kept us on the qui vive till 
 ten o'clock, the greater part being " how came 
 you so." As there was a supper after the ball, 
 to be given by the two Lords, and those invited 
 by them, the Wargrave crew of course were 
 included, and off we sallied in carriages that 
 had been waiting for us, and indulged in a siesta 
 for eight miles, preparatory to entering the ball 
 room. Emerging from the dark, and after the 
 effects of the wine — the sudden lights — the dancing 
 — and the noise of the music, having roused me 
 from my nap, did not prevent me from seeing 
 double ; when all of a sudden, I heard the scream 
 of a female, the dancers all crowding together, 
 and the music stopping in an instant, they 
 made room for a supported female, carried out 
 by four gentlemen. It appeared that she had 
 
ADMIRAL KEMPENFELDT. 
 
 sprained her ancle ; when instantly, the fiddler 
 (whom she had scarcely passed) struck up 
 ** Shepherds, I have lost my love ;" this was by Lord 
 Barrymore's order, and caused a good laugh 
 through the whole room, while we amused ourselves 
 by quizzing the partner, a little, fat, ugly Cory don, 
 as we all called him, as he sat in a corner of the 
 room, neglecting that attention which he ought 
 to have shown to his lost Phillis. Of those 
 invited by the stewards, about forty of them sat 
 down to supper. Lord Barrymore in the chaii*. 
 The party consisted of the most select in the 
 neighbourhood (I say nothing of the Wargrave 
 motley). As ladies Avere not invited, drinking and 
 singing went on till nine o'clock in the morning, 
 when I was glad to find myself safe moored 
 in my barouche again. 
 
 ADMIRAL KEMPENFELDT. 
 
 Some time after the disaster of the Royal 
 George, man-of-war, having foundered at Ports- 
 mouth, many things were weighed up, and, 
 amongst others, a quantity of the admiral's wine. 
 Having received a present of two dozen bottles, I 
 
RUSE POUR DINER. 327 
 
 was very choice of this curious article, and brought 
 it out only to my particular friends, amongst the 
 first of which was my theatrical crony, who, on 
 tasting it, admired its full body and rich flavour, 
 and no one was a better judge, nor kept better 
 wines ; so pleased was he with it, that whenever 
 he dined with me, I boasted of my good fortune 
 in having such a prize as this nectar saved from 
 the vasty deep, and assured him that what 
 remained, was kept solely for him ; so that when 
 he was inclined to enjoy a friend and a bottle, he 
 used to call for a Kempenfeldt, it had such a body 
 in it. [This must have been intended as a pun.'\ 
 My stock, had it sufficed for all these calls, must 
 have been like the widow's cruise, but crede 
 quod hahes; thus was it always the same to 
 my friend : and I doubt not that this trick has 
 been equally successfully practised by others. 
 
 RUSE POUR DINER. 
 
 Of the many strange characters I have been 
 acquainted with ( not a few ) ; of those two 
 favourites, Jemmy Diddler and Paul Pry, the 
 following, for novelty, I think may be included. 
 
3S8 
 
 IIUSE POUR DINER. 
 
 At a friend's house I was often in the habit 
 of meeting the following, who had been an 
 architect — had some time retired from business, 
 and was supposed to have made an ample 
 fortune. Having no relations to leave his 
 money to, he was not a little noticed amongst 
 his acquaintances, who, expecting to come in for 
 a slice, keeping them in hopes, his ruse de 
 DiNER was a passe partout, especially in those 
 families where there were children. Sponging on 
 those who gave the best dinners, so that, about 
 five o'clock, his knock was very well known. Sure 
 of seeing one of the fry he had been god-father 
 to, it was, " Oh ! that's my dear god-papa." This 
 dinner hunter had so far ingratiated himself with 
 parents, their expectations, and the former, sugar 
 plums, cakes, &c., which he usually brought in 
 his pocket (a few pence his dinner cost), had 
 taken care to be god-father where the kitchen 
 and cellar were the most inducement, taking 
 the child on his knee. — " Ah, my sweet little 
 darling," kissing it, " you shall remember your 
 god-papa." When, a few years after his diner 
 expedient, to the utter disappointment of the 
 parents, and his " little darlings," their sweets. 
 
JACK FULLER. 
 
 329 
 
 which had cost him his hungry visits, he died sud- 
 denly, every one, remembering his inise de diner, 
 soon discovered his imposition, and their credulity. 
 
 JACK FULLER, 
 
 My old schoolfellow at Eton, boarded in the 
 same house, at Dame Manby's : we were then 
 little boys, not only cronies, but bedfellows. 
 Speaking of those who were my superiors since, 
 but when at school a good thrashing made no 
 distinction, none have taken more notice of me 
 than my old camarade d'ecole; that bluntness with 
 good nature (so well known), and friendship at 
 all times, which, for years, I had experienced. Of 
 his hospitality in town, and at Rose Hill, par- 
 ticularly my welcome there when I resided at 
 Hastings latterly. Enjoying his invitation, he 
 kindly let me have his carriage for my conveyance, 
 when our meeting reminded us of stories of our 
 " noontide days," the many scrapes and floggings 
 we had shared together. At the time, of two traits 
 we recollected ; one was, such as had caused the 
 laugh as well as disappointment ; — the other. 
 
330 JACK FULLEK. 
 
 where his motive was an effort of his good nature. 
 A barrel of oysters being sent to him from town, 
 impatient, as M^e all were, to see the contents, at 
 the same time his telUng us, " What a glorious 
 supper we should have," every one was for opening 
 the barrel. No ! he must do it himself, when, first 
 putting his nose to it, and smelUng, exclaimed, 
 
 "As fresh as a rose, d me ! All haste, give 
 
 me the hammer ?" When opened, to his surprise, 
 and the laugh of the hopeless expectants, some 
 good-natured friend had only sent him the oyster- 
 shells, with a note enclosed, " Dear Jack, accept 
 a lawyer's gift ; may it be the first and the last. 
 Your's, Cave." The other, his contrivance at the 
 time, was not a little eccentric. I should first 
 explain Cons, which was the Etonian term for 
 their associations, where boys were more intimately 
 acquainted ; and to render it more binding, each 
 in his turn had his tea party. Having procured 
 a fowl, and puzzled for want of materials to dress 
 it, that evening he expected a party to tea, and con- 
 sidering the preference of the fowl better than the 
 usual sipping assemblage, had recourse to no other 
 means than to boil it in the tea kettle, when the 
 broth (not unacceptable), poured into the cups, 
 
THE MINSTREL. 
 
 331 
 
 made up for the former. But as to the fowl ; in 
 boiling, it got so enlarged, that there it remained, 
 and each at first had his pull at what he could 
 get. My worthy old friend is no more ! — Peace to 
 thy ashes ! Your munificent donation to an insti- 
 tution will ever be remembered, and the many 
 who have partaken of your liberality must long 
 regret the loss of honest Jack Fuller. 
 
 THE MINSTREL. 
 
 Of the many instances that have occurred to 
 me, noticed in my second volume oi Reminiscences ^ 
 I cannot omit a strange scene which occurred, 
 during the summer, at Hastings. In the month 
 of August, a gentleman, to all appearance, took 
 up his abode at Dewdney's Hotel. To the sur- 
 prise of the company, during their evening pro- 
 menade on the parade, enjoying the sea breezes, 
 they beheld him playing the guitar, at the same 
 time accompanying it with his voice, and occa- 
 sionally receiving silver and half-pence, then 
 making a graceful bow. His dress, which must 
 have been purposely suited to attract notice, was 
 not a little conspicuous : a high-crowned hat, of 
 
332 THE MINSTREL. 
 
 two centuries back, with a long pheasant's feather, 
 horizontally projecting; false black whiskers; a 
 Tartan sash, and ornamented brown leather 
 spatterdashes. His Spanish guitar, supported by 
 a ribbon, and his strange appearance, creating 
 curiosity, he was soon surrounded by a numerous 
 assemblage ; and a large ring being made for him, 
 at the end of the parade, standing erect, exhibit- 
 ing his guitar and voice, which, for taste only, 
 might do as a voice da camera^ but too feeble 
 for the open air, to have effect, nor was the 
 instrument sufficiently audible. His selection, 
 " Sweet Home," he sang with much gusto. The 
 on dit here was, that his motive for publicity 
 was a wager. Judging from his gentlemanlike 
 deportment, some are credulous enough to believe 
 that he is a nobleman, and even assert him to be 
 the Hon. Mr. F . However, he calls him- 
 self " Blondell." After the third night he 
 disappeared. To say more would only be repeat- 
 ing what the daily papers stated respecting his 
 visit to Tunbridge and Brighton, after the 
 novelty of the musical troubadour, the attractions 
 he produced. Having been myself a strummer 
 on the guitar from a boy, and feeling myself also 
 
THE MINSTREL. SSS 
 
 bold to venture now, not as a minstrel, but 
 amateur. When dark, and no discovery being 
 likely, confident that neither my voice or strum- 
 ming would keep pace with the (on dit) noble 
 performer, yet determined to have my fun out, 
 I made the attempt to please. Having paid a 
 visit that morning to some ladies, and mentioning 
 my intended evening pleasantry, they ridiculed, 
 and threatened to hiss me. I assured them that 
 nothing less than rain should prevent my grand 
 musical display. On a hot summer's eve, at nine, 
 wrapped in a camlet pelisse ; a slouched hat, and 
 feather projecting out, and a frightful mask, 
 I sallied out, and placing myself on a bench 
 quite a mon aise, made my musical debut; and 
 if variety is charming, began with English, Irish, 
 and Scotch airs. None, at first, listened. Soon 
 the company surrounded me ; during a time 
 silence prevailed. I told them the best was to come, 
 that I sung like a nightingale, and how delighted 
 they would be to hear me. As yet, no bursts of 
 applause — a dead silence. Trusting to my dis- 
 guise, I had the boldness to make a vocal debut, 
 at the same time playing the accompaniment to 
 " Oh where, and oh where, is my highland laddie 
 
S34 THE MIXSTIIEL. 
 
 gone ?" and when I came to that part where 
 ** I shall ne'er see him more," affecting the 
 pathetic, and sighing and whining, a loud laugh 
 ensued. Emboldened now, and feeling quite at home, 
 I sung sotto voce. After which, there was a general 
 bravo ! bravo ! As yet, all went on well. Satis- 
 fied with the fun myself, I began to find myself 
 so crowded up, the numbers increasing every 
 moment, whilst the company were calling out, 
 " Give him more air." I was no longer able to 
 continue, my elbows being so confined that I 
 could not play. I hurried away, little expecting 
 what was to follow ; and if bruises be the food for 
 love, I did not find it on this occasion, for I 
 was followed by the canaille, fishermen, little 
 boys and girls hooting, and endeavouring to 
 snatch my guitar from me. With difficulty I 
 found a refuge in the shop of a haberdasher, 
 named Standfield, having been first refused 
 admittance into the shop of a baker, in George 
 Street, named Russell ; at length, fastening my 
 pelisse round me, they having dispersed, I made 
 my escape. 
 
335 
 
 MY OWN TRUMPETER. 
 
 Having instructed above two hundred of the 
 nobility, several of whom have distinguished them- 
 selves as statesmen; vk. — Lords Sidmouth and 
 Liverpool ; and of the present day, Lords Ellen- 
 borough, Rosslyn, Aberdeen, Grey, &c. &c. I do 
 not hesitate to say, patronised as I have been, 
 that many who have derived the exterior of the 
 gentleman from the exercise, and some quite 
 models for the chisel, are indebted to the foil 
 for it ; and while all professions have charlatans, 
 it is not a hair-dresser assuming mine, can put 
 my nose out of joint. I could mention many, 
 whose elevated situations far superior, have been 
 a disgrace to them ; instances that daily occur. 
 Judging of a frontispiece to a fencing book I 
 have seen, that was written above a hundred 
 years ago, by a Neapolitan fencing master, Salvator 
 Fabris, who was patronised by his king. Describ- 
 ing the two portraits, in them both, to it — Both 
 the dress and appearance of each kept pace ; 
 leaving the crown out, it would be difficult to 
 discriminate which of the two was the fencing 
 master. In the British Encyclopaedia (no peru- 
 
336 MY OWN TRUMPETER. 
 
 quier here), " Pyrard assures us that the art of 
 fencing is so highly esteemed in the East Indies, 
 that none but Princes (Bravo !) are allowed to 
 teach it ; they wear a badge of cognisance on their 
 right arms, called, in their language, ' Essam,' 
 which is put on with great ceremony, like the 
 badges of an order of knighthood by the kings 
 themselves." Hence we may suppose, this noble 
 art was protected by kings ; it was considered as 
 one of the principal branches of education, and, 
 accordingly, we find that the nobility remained 
 longer under the fencing master than under their 
 teacher. And Locke, in his Treatise on Educa- 
 tion, says : " Fencing is considered to be so neces- 
 sary a qualification in the breeding of a gentleman, 
 and has so many advantages, in regard to health 
 and personal appearance, that every gentleman of 
 rank and property ought to have so striking a 
 mark of distinction. I could mention Lord Ches- 
 terfield, and many more, who have, in their 
 writings, extolled the accomplishment. Having 
 grounded my arms, " Othello's occupation's gone," 
 and never before had occasion to puff my profes- 
 sion, I trust I shall not be accused, after such 
 names, who have spoken so well of it, of 
 
MY OWN TRUMPETER. 337 
 
 adulation. Now a word or two from me. — 
 Those youths who have narrow chests, dif- 
 ficulty in breathing ; others grown up, whose 
 vocations are sedentary, for want of exercise, 
 ill-health has been the consequence, whereas all 
 bodily labour, whether riding, walking, &c., I may 
 venture to say, none are compared to les armes: 
 of the longe only, there, every muscle is in action ; 
 the extension itself, for an artist to delineate from, 
 exceeding the Gladiator. Having so far spoken 
 in favour of fencing, I cannot conclude, without 
 mentioning an extract from my father's treatise 
 on the art, to which / added some remarks. 
 
 Sir John Sinclair, in his Code of Health and 
 Tjongevity ; or. Athletic Exercises, page 163, 
 No. 6, Vol. II., speaking of fencing, gives the 
 following extract of a letter from Mr. Angelo, of 
 Bolton Row, May Fair, dated London, Oct. 1 9, 
 1806. 
 
 " Flattered as I am, by the favour of your 
 letter, I can only regret the observations I have 
 to make have so small a claim to your attention. 
 I shall, however, be happy, if any thing I offer 
 does in the smallest degree contribute towards 
 the elucidation of any part of so important a 
 
MY OWN TRUMPETER. 
 
 subject as that of athletic exercises. It appears 
 to me, that the effect of the art of fencing, upon 
 the human frame, has not been considered in the 
 view which it deserves ; the result of the other 
 athletic exercises, respecting which you have made 
 such extensive inquiries, have their respective 
 advantages of adding strength to the body; but 
 the question is, how far will these, in their opera- 
 tions, tend to the promotion of health and 
 longevity. Let us examine this point, both by 
 analogy and induction : it is to be found, that 
 although all exercises strengthen the body, and 
 promote health, yet there are some more extensive 
 in their effects than others. On the one hand, 
 the large muscular arms of the blacksmith ; the 
 broad shoulders and thin legs of the drayman and 
 waterman ; the muscular legs of the chairman ; the 
 arms and shoulders of pugihsts, kc, &c., have 
 been remarked by every one. On the other hand, 
 the feeble state of the muscular powers of 
 mechanics ; the contracted state of their chests, 
 and, in the great manufacturing towns, the short 
 duration of their lives, have not escaped observa- 
 tion. Now all those who, from their several 
 occupations, have an increase of muscular strength. 
 
MY OWN TRUMPETER. S39 
 
 no doubt, will derive the increase in proportion 
 as those muscles have been exercised; let us, 
 therefore, consider the operation of the muscular 
 system in fencing, with respect to its position, and 
 motion on animal economy. 
 
 " F'irst— -The position of the body in fencing 
 have, for objects, erectness, firmness, and balance ; 
 therefore, the chest, neck, and shoulders, are 
 placed in positions the most beneficial to health. 
 
 " Second. — The various motions of the arms 
 and limbs, while the body still maintains its erect 
 position, not only confirms such positions, but by 
 continual exertion of the muscles, necessary to 
 their respective motions, and more especially that 
 of the thorax, they not only require vigorous 
 strength and tone, but in young people the bones 
 of the thorax become, in consequence, more 
 enlarged. As long, therefore, as the important 
 functions of the thorax, viscera, &;c. &c., can be 
 assisted by means of muscular exertion, so long 
 must fencing maintain its pre-eminence with re- 
 spect to its advantageous effects on the human 
 frame, and consequently on longevity. If it be 
 granted that large populous towns tend to decrease 
 longevity, in proportion to their increase there 
 
340 MY OWN TRUMPETER. 
 
 will be less opportunity of invigorating the body 
 by muscular exercise ; then the more the beneficial 
 effects of fencing are made known, the more it 
 will tend to counteract those pernicious effects of 
 decreasing longevity. 
 
 " I have only to add, in confirmation in part of 
 what I have advanced, that the professors of the 
 art on the continent are remarkable for long life ; 
 my father attained the age of eighty-six, and 
 continued erect, and practised the art till within 
 three weeks of his death. Monsieur Mollard, 
 who still teaches at Woolwich, I have every 
 reason to believe, is near eighty. Fencing has 
 been productive of the most salutary effects on 
 consumptive habits ; many instances of which 
 have fallen under my own observation. Among 
 others, the son of Mr. Heath, the celebrated 
 engraver, had a consumptive tendency, and occa- 
 sionally felt a pain in his chest, so as to prevent 
 free respiration. I advised his father to send him 
 to me, he tried the effect of fencing for three 
 months, and has ever since enjoyed his health. 
 I can also mention another instance of the advan- 
 tage derived from the exercise. The grandson 
 of a noble Duke (Grafton), who was last year 
 
MY OWN TRUMPETER. 341 
 
 a scholar of mine at Harrow School, had his right 
 arm very much contracted from an accident ; it 
 was, in a very few months, invigorated from 
 fencing, and became straight. I could bring for- 
 ward many other proofs, but to state them 
 minutely, would lead to the detail of particulars, 
 the result of which would unnecessarily trespass 
 on your time." 
 
 If I have been sounding my trumpet too long ; 
 the above quotations, I trust, will acquit me of 
 adulation — "Othello's occupation's gone." No 
 longer wielding the foil, leaving those who 
 supply my place, after what I have corroborated, 
 to keep Master Galen at a distance. Speaking 
 of myself, I never knew a week's illness during 
 the space of fifty years ; and now, at my ad- 
 vanced time of life, when greeted '' How well 
 you look ! " I shall therefore finish, when recom- 
 mending the science, instead of " What ! not learn 
 to dance Miss ?" (one of Bannister's favourite 
 characters, coupee), shall say — " What ! not 
 learn to fence, Sir ?" 
 
342 
 
 THE EUM DUKE. 
 
 One time I attended a Duke, who was very 
 fond of the exercise, and whom I constantly 
 instructed, when in town. His usual residence 
 being at an hotel, to avoid the noise his early 
 lessons might make there, they were always taken 
 at my fencing room. Sometimes in winter, an 
 appointment made, at an early hour (eight o'clock 
 in the morning), I received a message, I was to 
 expect him at nine. As it was not at my house, 
 the servant was despatched to have a fire in 
 readiness. One morning, having returned home 
 late, after boozing too much rum and water, I 
 was awakened, to hasten to the room ; I 
 observed to his Grace, how much I should prefer 
 lying in bed, of a cold dark morning, to leaving 
 my home to fence. He asked me why ? Having 
 long attended him, and knowing well his good 
 nature, having once been a visitor to his 
 house in the country, I did not hesitate to say, 
 " Last night I put too much rum into the 
 water, so that now, instead of being a fencing 
 master, I am a Rum Duke." 
 
FENCING. 
 
 During the year 1783, I lived in Manchester 
 Buildings. Mr. Hankey, the banker, was my 
 neighbour, in George-street. His fondness for 
 fencing was such, that, not content with one 
 master to keep him in practice, I have often met 
 at his house six; when usually beginning with 
 the weakest (he took them all in their turn), 
 finishing with the strongest, the one who taught 
 him. Monsieur Le Pierre. This generally was the 
 first hour. When seated, he amused himself by 
 pitting us against each other ; and our professions 
 being the same, we did not always agree ; and, 
 like a tall school-boy that encourages the little 
 ones to fight, so was Hankey amused when we 
 disputed the hits ; and often, our anger getting the 
 better of science, we rushed on each other ; when, 
 had we had a sword instead of a foil, caution 
 would have made us keep our distance. Judging 
 of what I have seen, for science, the field is pre- 
 ferable to the fencing-room — the latter too often 
 the case, exercise for ferailleurs, not fencers. At 
 one of our meetings the consequences might have 
 been serious. Two who had exhibited before him. 
 
344 FEXCIJ^G. 
 
 and he^ by his laughing, had incensed them ; toge- 
 ther the next day they went to Paddington, where 
 they drew swords. The one who had received a 
 scratch on the sword arm, shy, I should suppose 
 of approaching, affected after that he could no 
 longer attend his scholars ; when Mr. Hankey, 
 having been the cause, sent him a ten pound note, 
 a salve that recovered him the next day. My 
 turn might have been the next, with a Monsieur 
 De Coursell, disputing our thrusts, a coup-jarret^ 
 whose tall lank appearance would have been a 
 scare-crow to me, and who had killed two men at 
 Paris, for which he fled here, when luckily we 
 were placed expres next to each other at table, 
 and the bonne chere and wine made us more 
 friends than ever. If ever I had pretensions to 
 excel in my profession, here meeting with the 
 strongest opponents, then young, and a debutant, 
 after the practice and lessons I had received, from 
 a boy, of my father ; this was a finishing school to 
 me, to accomplish myself in the practical part. 
 However, I was indebted to the instruction I had 
 followed. Many a day I have listened to the obser- 
 vations of the numerous foreigners who frequented 
 my room — some of the first fencers from Paris. 
 
FENCING. 345 
 
 Often, previous to closing it, the business of the 
 day finished, there would be a raisonne sur les 
 armes for half an hour. Different opinions of the 
 secundem artem of the attack and the defensive 
 part — elucidating those reasons that vv^ere improve- 
 ments to me, and, in my opinion, such convincing 
 proofs, that cannot be better derived than from the 
 French. So far I will do them justice, and bow 
 to their superiority as fencers. How can they 
 be otherwise — it is their national amusement, as 
 boxing is our's. Besides, from a boy, they follow 
 it up. Many aufait at seventeen, and at seventy, 
 thrusting carte and tierce. Whatever my opinions 
 are, they are not intended to detract from our 
 merit (this smells of the shop) ; and those instruc- 
 tions adopted here, are equally the same as abroad ; 
 but the truth is, no sooner has a master perfected 
 his pupil, his methods being as correct as those 
 in France ; the bad ones, who learn merely for 
 exercise, the very first month, fence loose — I 
 may well call it loose, poking away with a foil, no 
 matter how they hit ; to them it is good fun, and 
 a good sweat. The assailed, if he defend him- 
 self, must fence out of rule, to avoid the baroque 
 attacks of his inexperienced adversary. How then 
 
346 FENCING. 
 
 can a master expect to make a good scholar? 
 unless he follows the example of those abroad, 
 who, tout d'accordf never suffer their pupils to 
 fence loose till they are perfect in the lesson, and 
 then by degrees ; the first year they are, if com- 
 petent, permitted to assault To return to our 
 assemblage. We usually met at twelve o'clock, and 
 stripped, in flannel, continued till five, then the 
 dinner hour ; the two last hours, from the perspira- 
 tion issuing from the jackets, I might compare the 
 room (a small one) to a washing-house in a mist. 
 On the chimneypiece was always placed a bottle of 
 brandy. I have seen two the same day — a reviver 
 to those who took a sip occasionally. Recoverot, 
 a famous fencer, when he was of the party, though 
 one of the best at first, often finished the worst ; 
 his repeated draughts in his head, no longer could 
 his heels support him. Rowland, the father of 
 the present George Rowland, well known for his 
 abilities as an instructor, as well as his skill, was 
 the favourite antagonist of Hankey. Pleased ever 
 to get him in a corner, the other knowing his 
 customer, suffered himself to be the plastron for 
 the day, his antagonist not content with giving 
 one hit, but always repeating it. Dinner an- 
 
MUSIC AND SWOllDS. 347 
 
 nounced, we all assembled. After, Champagne, 
 Burgundy, &c. followed ; when the Frenchmen 
 (I was the only English tireur) with their com- 
 pliments followed. " Ah, Monsieur Hankey, you 
 be de great fencer ; you beat St. George ; he no so 
 good." The more they pleased his fancy for the 
 exercise, the more he pressed the bottle ; and if 
 Barthelemon, then the leader of the band at 
 Vauxhall, did not make his evening appearance 
 (for, like Monsieur St. George, our host excelled 
 in the fiddle as well as fencing), we might have 
 kept it up till morning, sometimes renewing 
 it after dinner ; and where the wine had operated 
 most, the more foils were broken. No choice 
 then. It was my profession, my attendance 
 required. Often I would have preferred my 
 own table to the dinner and better wines which 
 followed at the fencing, sometimes renewed till a 
 late hour. 
 
 MUSIC AND SWORDS. 
 
 D'Eon, when known only as Chevalier, had a 
 servant named Devine, who, from having been a 
 French soldier, was a fencer, whom he occasionally 
 
348 MUSIC AND SWOEDS. 
 
 had to keep him in practice. Whether he (Devine) 
 had served his time in the galleys, or had escaped 
 from a prison, nHmporte, he answered D'Eon's 
 purpose. Having often fenced with his master, 
 we have had him to relieve us, judging from 
 his violent method, beyond the amusement, 
 his appearance and countenance was enough to 
 keep him at a distance. His disposition pas- 
 sionate, and quarrelsome with his equals. La 
 Grenade (a soi-clisant term for a French soldier), 
 who had served abroad, and was employed at my 
 academy to practise my scholars, a quiet and civil 
 emigrant, having had a trifling dispute with 
 Devine, they both met at the end of Harley- 
 street, (then fields,) facing Marylebone-gardens. 
 The latter, a bully, conscious of his own skill, 
 insisted on having a man to play on the organ 
 while they drew swords, which was the result of 
 their meeting. When, not a little to the satisfac- 
 tion of those to whom the combatants were known, 
 Devine received a dangerous thrust, that deprived 
 his master of his services, the hospital supplying 
 his place, and such a tune that cooled his courage 
 ever after. 
 
349 
 
 SYNAGOGUE. 
 
 The latter end of last century, when patronised 
 by Colonel Herries, of the Light Horse Volun- 
 teers, to accommodate their attendance I had a 
 fencing-room at the Half-Moon Tavern, Grace- 
 church-street. My vocal friend, Samuel Maynard, 
 of Doctors' Commons, having spoken to me of two 
 Jews, who sang at the Synagogue, and whose 
 voices for loudness were extraordinary, their 
 powers being beyond conception. In the habit of 
 often inviting my friend to dine there, a Saturday 
 was fixed to dine with me preparatory to our 
 visit. With him he brought the Rev. Mr. 
 Holmes, whom I have not seen since, now above 
 thirty years, at this present time I believe one of 
 the prebends of St. Paul's, who was reckoned one of 
 the first vocal amateurs, and an excellent singer 
 himself After dinner, we sallied to Houndsditch, 
 taking our place on the men's side, the other for 
 the females only, we beheld these two famous 
 singers, at a desk in the middle aisle, approaching 
 to the altar, where stood the Rabbi. When 
 singing the service like our Litany, the two 
 
350 SYNAGOGUE. 
 
 brawlers (I can call them nothing else), each 
 holding the end of his ear, made such a noise that 
 I could only compare it to a man crying mackerel, 
 or a link-boy calling a coach ; such bellowing, so 
 loud, was stentorophonic beyond description. In- 
 deed, the responses of the congregation, such a 
 confused melange of voices, put me in mind of 
 the Christmas game, called the Jews' Synagogue, 
 where a pack of cards is distributed to the com- 
 pany, when each in a loud voice calls out his 
 card, ten of hearts ! knave of clubs ! ace of spades ! 
 &c. &:c., which I have been told much resembles 
 part of their devotion. However, the sight as 
 well as the divine accompaniments, were new to 
 me. I was the more amused the very instant the 
 congregation gabbling was over. You would sup- 
 pose they had not a thought beyond business — no 
 repeating words now that brought them there ; 
 those next to me, it was, " Did you get the monesh, 
 yesterday?" — *' No, my Lord vas — " At it they 
 went again, following the general noise ; then pro- 
 ceeding with what they had been talking about, 
 " Not at home. Did you get de bond ?" — " No ; 
 but — " another roaring. Not anxious to hear the 
 result of his lordship, or the Jews' money, we 
 
BEEFSTEAKS. 
 
 S51 
 
 hastened away. They may have considered us of 
 " Hagar" offspring if they please — never will they 
 catch me at their Synagogue again. 
 
 BEEFSTEAKS. 
 
 " Good wine needs no bush," so says our im- 
 mortal bard ; yet I should think a tender beefsteak, 
 well dressed, previous, is no bad zest to add to the 
 gusto. So it proved one day, on my inviting a 
 party of the Light Horse Volunteers to dine with 
 me at my fencing-room, in the city, which was a 
 Bourgeois gold mine to me, in addition to my 
 business at the West end of the town. The 
 distance being so far from my home, near to Hyde 
 Park, that after four o'clock, the day was too far 
 gone to return to dinner. Generally remaining 
 stationary, either the convivial receptions I could 
 give, or accepting those invitations my professional 
 introduction had procured me — not only the general 
 notice of that respectable corps to their table, but 
 to the city feasts and their halls, particularly the 
 Ironmongers, where I not only had my entre, but 
 the privilege of taking a friend with me ; my city 
 days I was usually absent, my family not expecting 
 
352 BEEFSTEAKS. 
 
 me. On the day the Light Horse Volunteers dined 
 at my room, Sandy Gordon, who was their adjutant, 
 a good officer, the social companion and the elite of 
 the corps, and no one from experience, a better judge 
 of good wine, in praising mine, the port wine was, 
 nem. con. supernaculum. The day following, Mrs. 
 Abbott, mistress of the Half-Moon tavern, received 
 several orders from the party to send the same to 
 their house. This she refused ; it was only for 
 those who frequented her's. 
 
 The consequence was, a Beefsteak Club was 
 proposed to dine there every Saturday ; when, the 
 jovial adjutant in the chair, he took ample care to 
 keep the ruby shining in the glasses till a late 
 hour. Not a little gratifying to me to have been 
 the means of promoting the interest of mine 
 hostess. The story, after told to my acquaintance, 
 invitations to them were the more acceptable. 
 " Fools make feasts, and wise men eat them." 
 Then the latter must be those that have not a 
 dinner at home (bachelors), but trust to procuring 
 one abroad. If the others are fools, then hospi- 
 tality is a stigma ; to be friendly to those who are 
 in want of a dinner. 
 
353 
 
 AT HOME. 
 
 A new name, when speaking of the great, and 
 the would he great, the haiit en has of life. JVIuch 
 could be said on the subject. / can only speak of 
 what I have personally seen. 
 
 Residing in the country since the year 1821, 
 my visits there since my last, when in town, were 
 far different to a lady **' At Home." Though 
 a perfect stranger to her, and the husband (her 
 good man as she called him), who had made an 
 ample fortune, formerly a Russian merchant, i. e, 
 a speculator in tallow. One night when I was her 
 partner at whist, talking of her intended large party, 
 and inviting me, she said, " Next month expect 
 
 a card," when I received Mrs. " At Home," 
 
 Finsbury-square. Such a long distance from mine, 
 then residing near Hyde Park, was little encou- 
 ragement to coach it above three miles, to show 
 myself amongst the genteel city melange. How- 
 ever, I did not expect to meet my old city con- 
 nections, with whom I once passed so many pleasant 
 evenings, then thirty years previous ; yet, curiosity 
 tempted me to make one. Accordingly, I ar- 
 rived there about nine o'clock, when, making 
 
 A A 
 
S54 AT HOME. 
 
 my obeisance to inadamc, who, bedizened and 
 beplumed, was seated on a sofa, her foot on a 
 stool, exhibiting a thick ancle, honouring me with 
 a slight motion of the head. " Why did not you 
 come sooner? tea's over," said she, retiring to 
 make room for the city dandies with their white 
 gloves and opera hats ; who, like myself, in paying 
 theu^ devoirs to her, were told " tea's over." I 
 soon found that, when viewing my company, I 
 was a fish out of water. Not one person did I 
 know, or was known to, nor did I speak to any 
 one during the whole evening, except mine host, 
 on making my eiiU^e — a little fat man, in snuff 
 colour, ditto black scratch, and good-natured 
 countenance, shaking me by the hand, as if we 
 had been old acquaintance, " There's plenty of ice 
 and cakes," quoth he ; " don't spare them — they 
 are all paid for." 
 
 Too late for tea, and no appearance of refresh- 
 ments, unless I walked down stairs to the parlour ; 
 preferring the supper, as I expected, I remained 
 above, my attention engaged in seeing the com- 
 pany, all strangers to me. In the first room, 
 where madame was in state, receiving the homage 
 of the assemhUe hourgeoise — some, for aught I 
 
AT HOME. S55 
 
 know, might have been counter gentlemen — were 
 two whist tables. In the back room (the folding 
 doors opened) was a piano-forte, the misses, in 
 their turn, displaying their musical accomplish- 
 ments; some thumping the instrument, playing 
 their show-off favourite lesson, it was all forte ; 
 others, what execution, to the gazers looking on, 
 their fingers could astonish, hearing hvofvo, Miss- 
 City Saint Cecilia's — beauty and music are the 
 food of love. Only one pleased me, that differed 
 from all the others, who, with feeling and pathos, 
 accompanying herself, sang that beautiful Scotch 
 air, " Rosslyn Castle." Had Rizzio been alive, he 
 would have been delighted. Suiting the expres- 
 sion to the company, I found myself so higgledy- 
 piggledy, we were so crowded and jammed 
 together, only by consent we moved. On the 
 servant bringing in, on a tray, glasses of ice cream, 
 having taken one but two sizes bigger than a 
 tailor's thimble, with a spoon stuck in it, I was 
 obliged to wait till it was my turn to move it to my 
 mouth. When finished, the glass cup being so very 
 small, and the spoon too heavy in it, down it fell 
 to the ground; nor was I able, so pressed on each 
 side, to pick it up. A waltz being proposed, and 
 
356 AT HOME. 
 
 several returning to the next room, a circle being 
 purposely made for dancing, the spoon was found. 
 To the accompaniment of a piano, a little 7iez 
 retrousse miss, about sixteen, with numerous 
 ringlets that flowed over her shoulders, reminding 
 me (except the face) of King Charles's beauties 
 at Hampton Court ; and, had she ever seen them, 
 might have fancied herself a resemblance. A 
 lank over-grown exquisite, but a few years older 
 than herself, was the happy beau to encircle his 
 arms round her waist. To the delight of the 
 papa and the mama of the latter, the faster they 
 twirled, the more the imhecille parents encouraged 
 them. Miss was at first all languishing, a mutual 
 leering at each other ; at last, affecting over 
 fatigue, her eyes shut all the time, as if ready to 
 faint, papa, being alarmed, put an end to this decent 
 exhibition, when master whirligig wheeled her to 
 a chair. Now past twelve, and hearing we were 
 to turn out ; alas ! no supper, tant mieux ! for I 
 wished myself away, taking French leave, I 
 hastened down stairs, pleased with the idea of a 
 ride home. Though no supper eater, some tea 
 and toast, with the description of the evening 
 visit, the more the finale would be acceptable. 
 
A BEGINNING. 357 
 
 Here I was mistaken ; not a coach to be had, in a 
 drizzly rain, I walked on till I got to the White 
 Hart, Holborn, facing Gray's Inn-lane. Wet, and 
 in no good humour, I entered the tavern ; some 
 cold roast beef and pickles, with a jorum of brandy 
 and water after, sustained me a little, whilst the 
 waiter, in the rain, was looking for a coach. I 
 now found myself something better, " though 
 rather faint still," and I considered myself a fool 
 for going so far, to be received " At Home." 
 Sooner than pass such another soiree, I would be 
 looked on as a dun — my presence best at a distance. 
 
 A BEGINNING. 
 
 When, fleuret a la main^ I began the world for 
 myself, soon after my entrt at Westminster 
 School, beginning with one scholar, in a short 
 time there was an increase, to the discomfiture 
 of ^\Q other masters, who taught fencing there 
 at the time. Parents chose their own instructors. 
 Previous to my attendance, the Rev. Doctor 
 Goodenough (afterwards Bishop of Carlisle), at 
 whose seminary, at Ealing, I attended the present 
 
358 A BEGINNI^^G. 
 
 Dukes of Rutland, Portland, &c., and who was 
 educated at Westminster, gave me a letter of 
 recommendation to his old dame, Mrs. Grant, at 
 whose house he then boarded ; when on a winter's 
 evening, about six, I waited on her, and was 
 assured of her influence to serve me. Pleased 
 with my reception, I had no sooner quitted the 
 house, than a shower of warm water and tea- 
 leaves, from one of the windows, drenched me. 
 At the time displeased, and not recollecting the 
 expectations of my future visits, I directly took 
 up a stone, and was going to break the windows 
 where I heard some boys laughing, when, checking 
 myself, having announced my name, and the 
 consequence that might attend the fencing-master's 
 debut after, as they would soon learn from Mrs. 
 Grant, my urging visit, and " chacitn doit penser 
 a soi,'^ trusting to my forbearance, I put down 
 the stone, with the intention never again to pay 
 a visit there after dark. Young as I was then, 
 opposed to so many foils, no Jbil to my nouvelle 
 situation. The repeated stories of the boys, to me, 
 of the superiority the other masters had vauntingly 
 boasted how they could instruct, all professing 
 their abilities. The mere chatter of boys made 
 
A BEGINNING. 359 
 
 no impression on me, except the vituperous tongue 
 of one of the five, a tall Irishman, named Red- 
 man, whom I have spoken of in my second volume 
 of Reminiscences, wherein I mentioned my 
 father's paying one hundred pounds for caning 
 him. Being told that he had boasted beating 
 my father, and both of us having fencing rooms 
 in Dean's Yard (the other masters only attending 
 at the boarding houses), out of patience with 
 the continual falsehoods related to me of his 
 abuse, with my scholars and other students, 
 I went to him. Exposing his base assertions, 
 provoked as I was, I told him, his age (then above 
 seventy) spared him that resentment he deserved. 
 On refuting his saying he had beat my father, I 
 called on him to take off his wig, and show the 
 scars where he had received the blows on his head, 
 that he laid his damages at a thousand pounds, 
 at times they produced such a giddiness, that it 
 often prevented him from following his business. 
 Here he refused, telling me, " You lie like a 
 dog." Convinced he was only laying a trap for 
 me, to take the law, I could have spit in his 
 face ; or, at the moment, resented such a reply. 
 It was only law, and his advanced years, prevented 
 
me. The boys satisfied, and Redman's assertions 
 refuted, the more rapidly I established my new 
 situation ; and, from a circumstance which turned 
 out in my favour, no longer had I to contend 
 against five. 
 
 Occasionally attending the boarding houses on 
 those who took private lessons, in the next room 
 to one of my scholars, named Maitland, who 
 boarded at Mrs. Ottie's, was another master, 
 named Pardone, an Irishman, who had served 
 abroad in the Irish Brigades. The boys, desirous 
 to see us contend together, contrived, after he 
 had finished teaching, which was previous to my 
 attendance (three o'clock), to keep him in the 
 room in which I was expected, and, favourite as 
 he was, I considered him the only one that stood 
 in my way — possessed of that inducement, which 
 I was not competent to, of amusing the scholars 
 with lies ; how many he had wounded and killed 
 in duels. I could only have told them, " I eat 
 all that / ever killed." However, it was good fun 
 for them to laugh at his bouncing. It was then, 
 " learn of Pardone, he's a queer fellow, he'll tell 
 you such damned lies." Besides, he had got a 
 strong footing there before me. At three o'clock, 
 
A BEGINNING. 361 
 
 I made my appearance there, and having pre- 
 viously fenced together, our meeting was nothing 
 new. Here I found the room full of boys, 
 when the question was soon put, " Mr. Angelo, 
 won't you fence with Mr. Pardone ?" and the 
 same to him ; of course, neither refused. Here our 
 separate abilities were at stake, to amuse school- 
 boys. However, to please tliem, we stripped, and 
 engaged. As I had but lately made my dthut 
 there, I exerted myself the more, to secure a 
 good footing; but I had not an easy customer 
 (pugilistic) to deal with ; for some time it was 
 what the fencers call par tie tgale. Nevertheless, 
 though each may have shown their skill, the 
 spectators were not sufficient judges ; merely 
 silent : when the foil falling from my adversary's 
 hand, a general applause and laughter ensued. 
 At the time, seizing their moment of being 
 pleased, neither my attack or defence occupying 
 my attention, I took every opportunity to disarm 
 him, which pleased them the more. This could 
 not have continued long, and, from his athletic 
 appearance surpassing mine, finding he was 
 enraged at the notice bestowed on me, though 
 I had turned up a trump in an encounter, the 
 
A BEGINNING 
 
 game might have taken a different turn. Having 
 already won, I was glad to ground my arms ; for- 
 tunately, my nose was bleeding at the time, from 
 the heat of the room, and the exercise ; it was 
 a finale to the exertions imposed upon us. Had I 
 engaged before those well acquainted with the 
 science, the foil falling would have been of no 
 consequence, nor attended to : it is the quickness 
 of the point, that depends more on a light hand, 
 than grasping the foil too strong. Indeed, many 
 have a loop to their glove, to prevent it falling ; 
 and what is a sword-knot ? but to fasten it to the 
 wrist. Here fortune stood my friend, for my 
 antagonist had his " capabilities," having been 
 one of the best fencers in the brigade. When we 
 left the place together, in our way he would have 
 quarrelled with me ; but asking him to dine with 
 me, soon cooled his courage, he was perfectly 
 agreeable to it ; and what with the effects of the 
 wine, assenting to his incredible stories, and 
 praising his abilities, though a would-be lion before 
 dinner, after, pleased with his reception, en ami, 
 no longer opposed, he went away a lamb. A short 
 time after, it was proposed by one of his former 
 scholars, who resided in Dublin, to establish him 
 
IMPATIENCE. 
 
 there, at the same time that he had procured 
 several to begin. To see his kingdom again, was 
 such a temptation he could not refuse, and he 
 resigned to me what scholars he had left. My old 
 foul-mouth antagonist being made one of the Poor 
 Knights of Windsor, and the three others finding 
 no encouragement, I had no longer to contend 
 against five, the champ de hataille was solely 
 left to me after, which continued from 1781 to 
 1821, when leaving my town business (a pro- 
 fession my father followed, and instructed till he 
 was in his eighty-sixth year), no longer a 
 fencing master, I may say, " Othello's occupation's 
 gone !" 
 
 IMPATIENCE. 
 
 Of the numerous foreigners that made their 
 appearance here, with their vanterie of having 
 beaten the first fencers at Paris, some adventurers, 
 to establish themselves as fencing masters : others, 
 who, like our gentry, the many, who have reasons^ 
 preferring Boulogne to their own country, to 
 London. A Monsieur De Pineaux, who had 
 
364 IMPATIENCE. 
 
 been a gendarme, and was obliged, for some 
 faux pas, to seek an asylum here. Flaving 
 trumpeted his skill (though no credit to my 
 foolish impatience), he might have been a scare- 
 crow to all those who followed my profession, 
 whilst he delayed proving his abilities, though 
 they were not to be frightened. Yet none were 
 impatient, like myself, to be the first to assault 
 with him. Hearing he frequented the Orange 
 Coffee House, in the Haymarket, and curious to 
 see this great fencer, in the evening (winter) 
 about seven o'clock, I took my chance of meeting 
 him there; when I found one corner crowded 
 with foreigners and fencing masters, listening to 
 the rhodomontade of a tall soi-disant parleiir, 
 boasting of his abilities. Soon known to them, 
 and joining the party, till near nine o'clock the 
 w^hole conversation was engrossed about fencing. 
 My room being facing this rende%vous de toutes 
 sortes d'etrangers, and having the key in my 
 pocket, I could not resist challenging this Vanteur 
 to accompany me there, and fence with me. 
 Here my impatience got the better of my pru- 
 dence ; established as I was, I had no business to 
 
 i 
 
IMPATIENCE. 365 
 
 risk my situation with a stranger, it must have 
 been the influence of the punch, which had flowed 
 for two hours, that made me so forget myself. 
 However, with some difficulty, he was prevailed 
 on. Accordingly, nem. con., all ready to follow 
 me (I first sent for two pounds of candles). 
 Nearly the whole coffee-house were present at 
 our exhibition. A ring being made, surrounded 
 by several holding the candles, stripped, Monsieur 
 le grand tireur, and myself; both not over-firm 
 on our legs, we did little better than tumble on 
 each other, and break foils, to the no little amuse- 
 ment and laughter of the spectators. However, I 
 was not so enivre^ but I soon found I had got 
 a gascon to deal with, a mere ferailleur^ a term 
 alluding to Wi^jeu de soldaf, all considering them- 
 selves fencers. Some few excel, but the greater 
 part are of the above description. However, my 
 antagonist, after such a dehut, never appeared in 
 any one of the fencing schools. It was related to 
 me after, that a pawnbroker's widow, at whose 
 house he lodged, captivated with his person, had 
 received those palpable hits on her heart she could 
 not parry, and they were married. Her shop being 
 disposed of, having received to himself all she 
 
LEG OF MUTTON. 
 
 possessed — such a foil to push himself forward — 
 Monsieur took French leave, nor did madame ever 
 hear of him after. Such were the 'pledges of his 
 love, that they were never redeemed. 
 
 LEG OF MUTTON. 
 
 Jack Bannister, soon after he made his first 
 appearance on the stage, was a constant visitor at 
 my father's fencing room ; and from that continual 
 attention to the lesson, was soon able to make the 
 assault, quelque que soit ; it was all the same to 
 him, ever " anxious for the fray," not considering 
 they were old scholars, and the strongest fencers ; 
 but at the same time, by receiving improvement, 
 at last they found him their equal, and I may 
 affirm, following Charles Kemble's example, who 
 was one of my best scholars, and who, like the 
 family, pursuing that perseverance to excel, so my 
 friend succeeded. Such a favourite was he with 
 the scholars, that all were anxious to have him for 
 their antagonist ; nor did it stop here ; for when my 
 father left the room, which was usually at three 
 o'clock, having then a country house at Acton, the 
 carriage at that hour was always waiting for him. 
 
LEG OF MUTTON. 367 
 
 No sooner was he absent, no longer the foil, 
 Bannister's drollery, tricks, and humour, were so 
 amusing, that often, when the evening attendance 
 at the theatre required him, with difficulty he 
 could get away. 
 
 My father, who was particularly attentive to 
 teach his scholars the bow, the salute of every one 
 at that time (now-a-days too vulgar, shame !), and 
 particularly to his theatrical elhve, the graces. 
 Though the continual repetition, and he was quite 
 perfect, yet, when my father met him, as if to 
 remind him, made such an obsequious low bow, 
 much as to say, see how / salute, must have oc- 
 casioned the result of a story he related to me 
 himself. Though not told by me with his hu- 
 mour, yet, enough of the parties — their politesse, 
 " Meeting your father one day in the Haymarket, 
 when making me such a low bow, keeping his hat 
 off, and looking at me in the face, as if reminding 
 me it was my turn next. Determined to beat 
 him at his polite game (at that time you know, we 
 wore cocked hats), at the moment I made such 
 a grand flourish with my arm, holding my hat, and 
 a butcher's boy being close to me with a Leg of 
 Mutton, plump went my chapeau in the tray, and 
 
368 LEG OF MUTtOX. 
 
 down fell the mutton into the mud." Here my 
 friend's disaster did not finish; the other I cannot 
 call one, I will only consider it 2i faux pas; my 
 friend's drollery, from what I have heard, was not 
 confined where he received instruction at my 
 father's, bat in the life room of the Royal 
 Academy, which he attended previous to his stage 
 debut, then a grown boy, intended to be an 
 artist. Moser, who was keeper of the Royal 
 Academy, and usually was present whilst the 
 students were engaged, had no sooner left 
 the room, than his fun, tricks, and drollery, no 
 pencil (like no foil), but loud shouts of laughter : 
 not only a little encouraged by brother students, 
 Rowlandson, but even Hoppner, never cheerful 
 himself, but all the others, many who were, after, 
 some of the first prominent artists of the day. 
 
 One evening in particular, Moser missed his 
 facetious visiter, whom he had left but a few 
 minutes before engaged at his drawing ; not 
 finding him in his place, what was his surprise, on 
 seeing him romping in the kitchen with the maids, 
 and so close to the handsomest, the parties so 
 pleased with each other, Moser exclaimed, " This 
 is indeed, young gentleman, copying after nature." 
 
S69 
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF KEAX. 
 
 However my pen may wander beyond mere 
 anecdotes, as contributions to my work, as public 
 characters are public property, and as I am 
 speaking not only from authentic information but 
 personal experience, trusting also to the general 
 encouragement of my Second Volume of Remi- 
 niscences, which I may say was my own writing, 
 I shall yet venture to trespass farther — anecdotes 
 of a favourite performer cannot but attract notice. 
 I may be acquitted of writing on the subject of 
 my lamented friend, Kean, what many of the 
 journals can only state from hearsay. The 
 following has been penned since his decease. 
 
 Having already spoken of him in my late 
 publication, and living near Richmond, at my 
 return from his house, a few days subsequent to 
 his death, and previous to his interment, I made 
 my inquiries ; and although the merit may be 
 trivial, yet the excellent information of an actor 
 who has excited so much public attention, how- 
 ever my wishes may exceed my endeavours in 
 curiosity, cannot be displeasing. 
 
 On the Wednesday previous to his death, it 
 B B 
 
370 RECOLLECTIOXS OF KEAN. 
 
 was reported at Twickenham, where I resided, 
 that he had died that evening ; the papers, 
 however, of the following day, mentioned he was 
 yet living. His funeral was fixed for Whitsun 
 Eve (Saturday, the 2l4th of May), which was 
 more suitable to the gentlemen of the theatres. 
 Previously I called at his house at Bichmond, where 
 I received information that three o'clock was the 
 hour fixed, and that it was to be a walking funeral. 
 I was much surprised there was nobody in the 
 room but a lad of nineteen to receive me. Kean 
 had been soldered down in a leaden coffin a week. 
 The servant informed me that he alone had 
 attended his master many hours during his last 
 illness — that the Tuesday previous to his decease, 
 on awaking from his sleep, and on giving him 
 two tea-spoon sfull of brandy and water, with some 
 jelly, he inquired, " who are those two men I 
 have been fighting with ? " this was about four 
 o'clock, and his last words, calling on his servant 
 William, were, " tell me." Wednesday morning, 
 Mr. Dukes sleeping on the sofa, Mr. Lee entered 
 his bed-room, and considered his last moments 
 approaching, and soon after heard a sigh, on life 
 departing. I was also informed that he had 
 
RECOLLECTIONS OF KEAX. 371 
 
 been attached to a girl he met in the streets, 
 whose name was Ophelia Benjamin, a Jewess, whom 
 he was obliged to dismiss, after living with him 
 seven years — that she was continually annoying 
 his relatives — had been a great expense — that 
 many things had been lost — he was much affected 
 at parting, which was done by his coachman leaving 
 her where she had been taken up. 
 
 Referring to the time he made his first appear- 
 ance at Drury Lane, as a fencing master, sans 
 ceremonie^ I was my own Sir Clement Cotterell, 
 presenting myself at the theatre while he was 
 rehearsing Hamlet ; when recommending him in 
 the fencing scene, that honour due to his Danish 
 Majesty, and devoir to the audience, the salute, 
 those graceful attitudes always preceding the 
 assault, ought not to be dispensed with. Much 
 obliged to me, Kean was dehghted to adopt, and 
 myself the more so to be acquainted with him, 
 teaching the two forthcoming antagonists. From 
 that time I was often at his house, when he 
 resided in Clarges Street (living but a few doors 
 from him), where I passed some pleasant days, 
 sometimes going out with him in his carriage. 
 I should think it must have been about sixteen. 
 
RECOLLECTIONS OF KEAX. 
 
 years ago. The second time I was invited to 
 dine with him, was on his birth-day, where I 
 met Messrs. Stephen Kemble, Pope, Harley, &c. 
 Leaving the dining parlour, and retiring above, with 
 spirits, the wine, and the glee, the time, till four in 
 the morning, with " rapid strides" passed quickly 
 away. When taking leave with the others, being 
 so very near a neighbour, he would not let me go, 
 and calling for another bottle, I continued there 
 near an hour. On descending the stairs, he 
 would follow me, as / conceived j}oliment, to the 
 street door, when, to my surprise, the servant 
 helped him on with his great coat. " We must 
 take a walk together," he holding my arm fast 
 till we got to Bond Street. Having but a short 
 time to sleep, preparatory to my daily pursuit, 
 whilst something attracted his attention, and 
 leaving me, I took French leave ; and, however 
 pleased I had been, was glad I returned home. 
 
 During the months of August and September, 
 then my summer vacation, after the daily fatigue 
 of those previous exertions, I usually retired some 
 distance from town, to rest myself. Returned, to 
 renew my labours, when the effects of that indo- 
 lence and indulgence not accustomed to, my 
 
RECOLLECTIONS OF KEAN. 37S 
 
 health so impaired, and no youth to add to its 
 recovery, the recourse of that exercise which was 
 a sudorific at all times ; that relief, the table and 
 glass, I enjoyed the day before, would have shor- 
 tened the lives of many. When, thank God 
 (no chicken now, during my many years, that 
 healthy constitution, stranger as I have been to 
 medicine), fencing has sent Master Galen and his 
 doses to Coventry. September, the theatres just 
 opened at the time, my friend Kean, who lived 
 only a few doors from mine, I called upon 
 him, observing, the summer months had altered 
 our shapes for genteel comedy, how lusty we had 
 grown, and that an hour's fencing every morning, 
 taken before breakfast, instead of pills, and two 
 rolls after, health and appetite would then keep 
 pace. Delighted at the proposal, the following 
 morning was fixed for our preparatory improve- 
 ment, at nine o'clock. Fleuret a la vnain, both 
 " eager for the fray" — stripped in flannel, like the 
 minuet before the Scotch reel — grace before agility, 
 and what the French call pour vous mettre en train^ 
 we began with carte and tierce. At first pro- 
 ceeding slowly, when telling him, " Now, take 
 care of yourself, I am going to unbutton your 
 
ST4 RECOLLECTIOJJS OF KEAN. 
 
 waistcoat." Here my quickness succeeded for 
 the last time, when at the moment I felt such a 
 shock, as if I had overstrained the back ligatures 
 of my left thigh. Alas! such was the result. This 
 fatal thrust to me was my last performance of 
 the foil, those numerous engagements during fifty 
 years previous. Now it was arma cedunt sj^rain. 
 No longer that daily extension of the limbs, that 
 during the whole time, and even past sixty years, 
 those who were my scholars can affirm, at my 
 room in Bond Street, seeing me stripped, receive 
 the attacks, not only of my strongest scholars, but 
 qtiel que ce soil, amateurs that visited me. Now 
 approaching to sixteen years I have felt the effects, 
 lame as I am to this day, through the mistaken, how- 
 ever friendly, endeavours of the faculty to relieve 
 me, prescribing cupping, blistering, ointments, &c. 
 all the time to no purpose. The gout, which I had 
 been subject to for years, though short temporary 
 twiches, which I had not told them, and must 
 have paid a visit to the afflicted part, was acting 
 contrary, where only patience and flannel might 
 have cured me, now a lasting and fixed pain to 
 my knee; and, considering my time of life, that 
 infirmity we all must expect, I bow to its decree. 
 
RECOLLECTIONS OF KEAN. 375 
 
 This is an addition youth might overcome ; now 
 le rideau tomhk^ no hopes are left ; and so painful 
 at times, after seated a little while, with difficulty 
 I can leave my chair to cross the room. Were 
 the effects of nature to add to my age, I should 
 not complain ; but so far from improving, as I 
 expected to keep pace with my excellent dramatic 
 antagonist. When walking abroad now, ashamed, 
 I fancy myself a hobbling old man ; and hear my 
 old acquaintance say, " Poor fellow, ils sontpassis 
 ces jours de fete" Could my left knee but keep 
 pace with the right, that nerf that still exists, 
 they would be a solace to me ; thankful to the 
 foil that opposed to those hits I once received, 
 returning them with that interest exceeding a 
 Jew's mercy ; now, " no longer pipe, no longer 
 dance." Why complain ? On n'est pas Mro par- 
 tout. The last time I saw my friend Kean, who 
 could " cleave the general ear with horrid speech," 
 was in July 1830 ; the day following I received 
 a letter from him, not only as a memento, but that 
 relic I keep by me, as well as one from Garrick to 
 my father ; — autographs I value. 
 
376 RECOLLECTIONS OF KEAK. 
 
 " My dear Sir, 
 ** I have read with great satisfaction your 
 Reminiscences t and consider them both inter- 
 esting and instructive. I have never ceased to 
 regret that I was the unfortunate cause of your 
 retirement from your profession, of which you have 
 ever been the brightest ornament. Wishing you 
 health and happiness, and much profit from your 
 literary pursuits, 
 
 " I am, dear Sir, 
 
 " Your's very truly, 
 
 ** EDMUND KEAN." 
 
 " July 7 til, 1830. 
 
 " To H. Angelo, Esq." 
 
 Calling on Mr. Kean, at his house, Bute Cot- 
 tage. Regent's Park, one morning, at ten o'clock, 
 the servant informed me his master was not 
 stirring. I replied, " Well, if you can give me 
 the paper, or a book, to read, though you say it 
 may be one o'clock before he is up, I will wait 
 till that time." Accordingly I was shown into 
 a room, and had not been seated there a quarter 
 of an hour, before he entered. Pleased to see 
 me, and a hearty shake by the hand, some years 
 
RECOLLECTIONS OF MR. W. C. MACREADY. 377 
 
 having elapsed since we last saw each other, 
 which was at Bath, where I then resided, he 
 asked me if I had breakfasted. Answering in the 
 negative ; then come along with me, it is in the 
 next room ; but first, without waiting or ringing 
 for, the servant entered with a bumper of brandy. 
 Following him, at the top of the table I beheld 
 a young lady, young enough to be his daughter ; 
 Miss Tidswell (late actress), whom I had known, 
 I should think, these last fifty years, seated on 
 her left. At the bottom of the table sat Kean, 
 when a large smoking beef-steak, which covered 
 the dish, was placed before him. After pressing 
 me to partake of it with him, which I refused, 
 such a dejeune a la JburcJiette, then in summer, 
 not over tempting, he helped himself to not a 
 little slice, and merely eating a very small morsel, 
 he sent his plate away. This was the last time 
 we met. 
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF MR. W. C. MACREADY. 
 
 Of the numerous eminent performers I have 
 had the honour of instructing in the science of 
 fencing, I believe the only on€ now on the boards 
 
378 RECOLLECTIONS OF MR. W. C. MACREADY. 
 
 is Mr. Macready. At the time I instructed him, 
 at my academy in Piccadilly, I think he could 
 not have been more than eighteen, just previous 
 to his appearing at Covent Garden. Having sent 
 him a prospectus of my Pic-Nic, I felt myself 
 highly gratified by receiving the following 
 reply : — 
 
 *' 61, Lincoln's Inn Fields f 
 " June 12, 1833. 
 
 " Dear Sir, 
 
 " I am most happy in the opportunity of 
 testifying my respect and my sense of obligation 
 to you, for your valuable instruction, which I am 
 proud to remember, in any way possible ; it will 
 give me great pleasure to be considered among 
 the early applicants for your forthcoming work, 
 which I shall beg you to send me on publication ; 
 and with my best wishes 
 
 *' I remain, dear Sir, 
 *' Your very faithful and obliged Servant, 
 " W. C. MACREADY." 
 " To H. Angelo, Esq." 
 
 Entire stranger as I have been since, I cannot 
 omit testifying my obligations to the great Roscius 
 
KECOLLECTIONS OF MR. W. C. MACllEADY. S79 
 
 of the present day, who, after so many years 
 gone by, could write me such a friendly and 
 flattering reply. 
 
 Alluding to the recollections of Mr. Macready, 
 his father (once a favourite performer at Coven t 
 Garden), considering it necessary his son should 
 acquire those accomplishments requisite for his 
 appearance on the London Stage, sent him to 
 town, under the surveillance of a prominent per- 
 former ; and for the preference conferred on me, 
 in being selected to add my efforts towards the 
 completion of his person, I feel myself peculiarly 
 indebted, both to the notice of the son and the 
 estimation of the father. 
 
 Having been known to the father many years 
 previous, and being informed that his son was 
 intended for the stage, I wished to include him 
 with the many others I had instructed, Si^Jriends; 
 this however was refused, for previous to his 
 return home, no remonstrance of mine could 
 prevail, or prevent my receiving the full amount 
 of his instructions ; and, from the numerous civili- 
 ties I have at all times received from the father 
 since, the recollections of Macready must ever 
 dwell on my mind with pleasure and gratitude. 
 
380 
 
 KEMBLE S EAR. 
 
 When Richard Coeur-de-Lion first made his 
 appearance at Drury Lane Theatre, Kemble, who 
 performed the King, sang a song; at the re- 
 hearsal, Shaw, the leader of the band, called out 
 to him, whilst he was singing, " Mr. Kemble, 
 Mr. Kemble, you murder the time, Sir." Kemble, 
 first taking a pinch of snuff, replied, " Well, if 
 I do, I had better do that, than, like you, be 
 always beating it." 
 
 KEMBLE AND KELLY. 
 
 My theatrical friend Kemble, speaking of whom 
 I am much indebted for his green-room anecdotes, 
 related to me the following one of Kelly : — At a 
 conversation about a new play, Sheridan had con- 
 sulted Kemble, who remained silent all the time. 
 Kelly being present, and out of patience at not 
 hearing the latter make any reply, not a little 
 laughable to the manager nor strictly offensive to 
 the great tragedian, called out, " Kemble, why 
 don't you * open your marble jaws?'" 
 
381 
 
 SIR WALTER SCOTT, AND JOHN KEMBLE. 
 
 Sir Walter Scott was a man of plain and unas- 
 suming language. His attempts at wit were few, 
 but successful ; nevertheless, he had a dry kind of 
 humour, that always amounted to pleasantry. 
 Telling a friend one day that he had a head-ache, 
 in consequence of sitting up with John Kemble a 
 great part of the previous night, drinking Madeira 
 and water with him, his friend appeared much 
 surprised at it, knowing the Baronet's sober habits, 
 when he remarked, " Just take this along with 
 you, that Kemble was drinking the Madeira, and 
 I the water." 
 
 DUKE OF CLARENCE. 
 
 Being present at a fight between Tom Belcher 
 and Dutch Sam (I think at Moulsey Hurst), an 
 immense ring was formed round the scene of action. 
 Numbers were seated on the ground, amongst 
 whom was His Royal Highness the then Duke 
 of Clarence, with his son, who, I should suppose, 
 was then about twelve years of age. The youth 
 having occasion to quit the ring during the fight. 
 
382 COUNTRY VISITOKS. 
 
 the Duke desired me, as I was seated next, to 
 attend him ; I could with difficulty prevail on the 
 crowd to let him pass. On our return, as he was 
 getting over the immovable mass, in lifting up his 
 foot, he accidentally grazed the head of one of the 
 canaille, who, at the moment, was about to make 
 a blow at him, when I called out, " It is the Duke 
 of Clarence's son," which prevented what might 
 have been very distressing to me, having the 
 youth confided to my care. 
 
 COUNTRY VISITORS. 
 
 Previous to the Christmas holidays, I invited a 
 country acquaintance to take his dinner with me 
 during the vacation. Having acquainted me, as 
 he lived some little distance from town, when he 
 should leave home, a day was fixed on, when I 
 was to expect him. My usual dinner time then 
 (winter) was at four. What was my surprise, not 
 only to see him, but his wife and three daughters, 
 at three o'clock ; the misses with their bundle, to 
 add to their finery before dinner. 
 
COUNTRY VISITORS. 38S 
 
 Now, as I only kept two servants employed, 
 as the cook was to prepare dinner, the other so 
 much engaged, she was continually called to wait 
 on them. This was an intrusion at the time, mal 
 a propos to my customary invitations. A visit 
 en famille so soon, unexpected, and dreading the 
 idea of their pleasant company the whole evening, 
 I hastened away to my friend, James Perry, of the 
 Morning Chronicle, who had a box of his own at 
 the Opera House; mentioning to him how very 
 unpleasantly I was situated, he kindly lent it 
 to me, saying if I was not engaged, I could 
 take my supper with him, where I should meet 
 his brother, Professor Porson, and others whom I 
 was well acquainted with ; also Doctor Raine, of 
 the Charter-House, at the time attending there. 
 That alone, to me, was a great inducement. So 
 far, so good. My visitors are provided for, and I 
 shall have my liberty. Hurra ! said I. 
 
 After dinner, pleased as I expected them to be, 
 at showing them my town civility, sure as I 
 thought of the riddance that was to follow, and 
 agreeably surprised as I hoped they would be 
 that I had got a private box for them at the 
 opera, to my utter disappointment, having been 
 
384 corNTRV visitoks. 
 
 there the preceding Saturday, they did not care to 
 see the same opera. Miss Clementina, the elder 
 sister, an over-grown girl in her teens, said, " La, 
 mama, nobody don't go there on the Tuesday 
 night, how vulgar ! I Hkes the fashionable one." 
 This was a contretems, country fixtures imposed 
 on me for the whole evening. No supper at 
 Perry's. Had I invited any one to meet them, I 
 then might have absented myself, at least for part 
 of the evening — that would have been a temporary 
 relief to me. No alternative, and a round game 
 proposed — commerce, to please the misses, who 
 said they were quite agreeahle to it. I took care 
 to order supper an hour sooner (ten o'clock). When 
 after, the father praising his eldest daughter, how 
 well she sung, proposed her singing ; a long pause 
 ensuing, preparatory to hemming her voice into 
 tune, I volunteered one of my caracatos, enough 
 to create their laugh, and put them all in good 
 humour — a mere sunshine of a day that is soon 
 gone ; so it was here. Miss Clementina refused ; 
 she had a bad cold, when her mama said, " 'Tis 
 all a hum ! " and papa insisted on her singing, 
 boasting what a deal of money he had paid Signor 
 Squall to teach her, and the great expense of 
 
COUNTRY VISITORS. 
 
 385 
 
 purchasing a piano-forte. All entreaties, for some 
 time, were in vain. This continued for a quarter 
 of an hour, when his perseverance succeeded. At 
 last she began, " Had I a heart." A dead pause, 
 bursting into tears ; it was. Oh, dear ! oh, dear ! A 
 duet followed, the parents at the same time angry. 
 " Clementina, you hussy, none of your airs, sing 
 directly." Again she began, when this time she 
 only got as far as " falsehood framed ;" ditto tears, 
 and " I can't, I can't," followed — that damped the 
 remainder of the time, which her commencement 
 had caused. A heavy snow having fallen during 
 the evening, I proposed to make sure of their 
 sending for a coach, being such a bad night. MaU 
 heureusement during the space of an hour, no 
 conveyance to be found. This did not prevent 
 their still harping on my daughter, her crying, and 
 they scolding ; when, pai^ force, no choice left. 
 Master Clod, with his rib muffled up in my ro- 
 quelaure, the daughters in great coats, a la maitre 
 de danse, they were obliged to foot it home in the 
 snow. This was their first visit to me, and was the 
 last, and pleased was I to say, when speaking of 
 my country visitors, " Us sont passes ces jours de 
 filer 
 
 c c 
 
386 
 
 LOKD LIVERPOOL. 
 
 Among the numerous distinguished characters 
 who were my scholars, were Lords Sidmouth and 
 Grey, Mr. Jenkinson (afterwards Lord Liverpool), 
 who at the time was a student at the Charter 
 House, and came purposely to take private lessons, 
 at my house in St. Alban's-street, where I then 
 resided. I should mention, that, during some time 
 I had been previously applied to, to teach at the 
 school, but was always refused by Doctor Beard- 
 more, who was the master. His objection was, 
 that some years before, an accident might have 
 happened. Two of the little boys having got 
 possession of the foils, fencing together, one had 
 received a hit near the eye ; since then the 
 science was never suffered to be taught there ; and 
 though his late Majesty, when Prince of Wales 
 (my father having mentioned to him my disappoint- 
 ment), sent Lord Southampton (then one of the 
 Lords in waiting) to speak in my favour to the 
 Doctor, he still refused, saying that he could not 
 alter a regulation which had been adopted ; however, 
 at his decease, I procured the appointment. Pre- 
 viously, Lord Hawkesbury (the physician, having 
 recommended fencing as an exercise of that utility 
 
LORD LIVERPOOL. 387 
 
 SO necessary for youth, as well for health as for 
 person) sent for me, then residing in Hertford- 
 street ; when mentioning how very much he 
 stooped, and complaining of his chest being so 
 contracted, he fixed the mornings I was to expect 
 him, saying, " Mr. Angelo, if he don't hold up his 
 head, give him a good thump on his back." This 
 was the winter 1787 (about that time the present 
 Dukes of Manchester and Rutland, Lords Edward 
 Somerset, Somerset, Talbot, Grantham, Leveson 
 Gower, Marquis of Queensberry, and Sir Francis 
 Burdett, were my scholars), when, at so early an 
 hour as nine o'clock, to be in time to return to the 
 morning school, he was ever punctual to take his 
 lesson, nor do I recollect, except merely the first 
 salutation, we ever exchanged a word. My 
 scholar, then approaching to sixteen, though assi- 
 duous and attentive to my instruction, however his 
 health might have benefited from the exercise, from 
 his long habit of stooping, it was too late then for 
 me to remove it. Some few years ago, when I pub- 
 lished my father's Treatise on Fencing, in a note 
 he honoured me with, to subscribe to the work, after 
 taking notice of having once been my scholar, he 
 said he was sorry he did not follow up the exercise. 
 
388 
 
 DUCHESS OF ST. ALBANS. 
 
 Of the Duchess of St. Albans, when Miss Mellon, 
 much has been said pro and con as to her Grace's 
 charity and generosity ; but the following anecdote 
 speaks for itself: — Visiting one day, a poor woman 
 in a garret, who, from having seen better days, 
 was in reduced circumstances, she found her 
 dreadfully afflicted with rheumatism. " You are 
 not sufficiently and warmly clad," said Miss 
 Mellon — " you ought to be all covered with 
 flannel." — " Alas ! " said the poor woman, " I can- 
 not afford to buy flannel." On which. Miss Mellon 
 actually took off her own flannel petticoat to put 
 on her, adding, at the same time, a small dona- 
 tion, probably as much as she then could afford. 
 Charity, thus applied, is indeed a rare virtue ! 
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF MRS. JORDAN. 
 
 After the many different characters that have 
 delighted me, seeing Mrs. Jordan, the recollection 
 of hearing her sing, " O where ! and O where, is 
 my Highland Laddie gone?" at my friend John 
 Bannister's benefit, the first time she played the 
 
RECOLLECTIONS OF MRS. JORDAN. 389 
 
 guitar on the stage. Though myself at the time 
 then not competent to sing to my favourite instru- 
 ment, the guitar, which I had strummed on from 
 a youth, without those accompaniments to the 
 voice, which is most essential to please. The day 
 after, hearing that Buckinger had been her music 
 master, and lived in the Strand, I hastened there, 
 when, taking a few lessons from him, several airs 
 that pleased me most, and those best suited to 
 my " hoarsen'd voice," particularly Mrs. Jordan's 
 " O where," and that made such an impression on 
 me. To this day, but when alone^ in my boudoir, 
 and my spirits failing, my guitar is my only sou- 
 lagement^ au Jhit, to accompany myself in two 
 airs, " Away with melancholy," and " O where ! 
 and O where ;" these two were always my debut ; 
 the first a reviver, that so pleased I was with my 
 own caterwauling, and no one at the time present, 
 applauding myself on finishing, I cried out. Bravo ! 
 Encore ! Encore ! when making a flowery speech, 
 and as if afflicted with a bad cold, " yet, to make 
 my ?>q\^ agreeable, I shall be happy to sing again." 
 Agreeable, reminds me of a Christmas night, when 
 one of the party, a raw bumpkin (and we were all 
 called upon for our song), begging to be excused. 
 
390 THE KITCHEN. 
 
 " he could not sing, but should be happy to make 
 himself agreeable^ he would give them the * Hare 
 and many Friends,' " from Gay. Speaking of the 
 other favourite air, when recollecting Sir Jonah 
 Barrington's description of Mrs. Jordan's unhappy 
 hours and reflections (her guitar was one of her 
 resources against consuming melancholy, at her 
 cottage, a quarter of a mile from JBoulogne sur 
 Mer), that the very instrument I was playing on, 
 which I bought of Buckinger, had once belonged 
 to Mrs, Jordan, and was the very one on which I 
 heard her first play the Scotch air ; the sound is 
 no longer allegro I it was all affettuoso. Oft 
 I could not proceed ; the blue devils discording 
 both voice and strings, that " if music be the 
 food of love, play on :" it was " Enough — no 
 more. It is not so sweet now as it was before." 
 
 THE KITCHEN. 
 
 When, every other week, my professional 
 attendance was expected at Cambridge, many 
 a winter's morning, before day-light, I have 
 walked to meet the coach, at the White Horse, 
 Fetter Lane (from my house in Bolton Row), to 
 
THE KITCHEN. 391 
 
 take me there ; and often, whether rain, or frost, 
 have been an outside passenger. Hoddesdon, 
 which is seventeen miles from town, was the 
 first stage to breakfast ; the coach usually arriving 
 there about ten ; sometimes shivering, and almost 
 frozen, when ushered into a cold room, where the 
 fire had only been lit but a few minutes before, 
 the ladies of course were a screen, crowding near 
 it, to the rest of the travellers ; sometimes, 
 including all the passengers, a dozen or more, all 
 impatient to begin their breakfast ; near ten 
 minutes have elapsed, when one plate only of 
 toast made its appearance ; the fair sex first 
 served, three or four pieces only left for the rest, 
 who soon their voracious appetites had engaged 
 them, a la fourchette, devouring the meat accom- 
 paniments of beef and ham. Others calling for 
 eggs and ale ; when near ten minutes more had 
 passed, enters another plate, ditto Master Jehu, 
 to announce the coach was waiting. The bill 
 called for, when nearly the usual stage charge 
 was double to what was paid for tea only. Now, 
 as I was not a knife and fork morning traveller, 
 I certainly did not consider myself called upon 
 to pay for the meat and eggs of the hungry 
 
THE KITCHEN. 
 
 gentlemen. Some not contented with their 
 morning meal, but enough to include their dinner. 
 I have seen them fill their pockets, preparatory 
 for their lunch, during the remainder of their 
 journey. Having already too often paid my 
 quota towards the breakfast, and not partaken of 
 the meat and eggs, although, myself, so long a 
 traveller, ought to have known better ; " if old 
 birds are not to be caught with chaff," at last, I 
 found out " I had been paying through the nose," 
 so that when the bill made its appearance, I called 
 out, " Waiter ! I have had tea oJihj, what's to 
 pay ?" — '* Eighteen-pence, Sir." Putting down the 
 money, I left the others to settle the bill. Not 
 pleased with my breakfast here, and preferring 
 the toast to the ladies (when the cup, not the 
 glass was before me, than the ladies' toast at 
 Hoddesdon) a new manoeuvre occurred to me. — 
 " As r argent fait tout,'' or more appropriate, it 
 was " Money will make the mare to go ;" having 
 made my advances to Betty the Cook, accom- 
 panied with half-a-crown, it was no bad begin- 
 ning to be admitted into the kitchen. When, 
 seated by a good fire, she always took especial care 
 to place the first toast before me. However ill- 
 
MRS. GARRICK. 393 
 
 mannered I might appear to the parlour gentry 
 company, what was I to do ? I could not refuse 
 the damsel of the dripping-pan. Such a kitchen 
 toast. 
 
 MRS. GARRICK. 
 
 Soon after the return of the late Queen Caroline 
 from the continent, Alderman Wood attended her 
 in one of the city barges down the River. I 
 was beholding the aquatic sight on the Adelphi 
 terrace. During this time Mrs. Garrick then lived 
 there. About three o'clock, standing in the bal- 
 cony, with an opera glass viewing the spectacle; 
 there was an eclipse at the same time. Having 
 often been at our Roscius's house, and so well 
 known to her, yet many years had elapsed since 
 she saw me. As her chariot was at the door, I 
 inquired of the coachman if he expected his 
 mistress soon ; when he replied. Directly. Though 
 I had not spoken to her for years, she might not 
 have remembered me after so long an absence, 
 when I remained before the door to hand her to 
 her carriage. On her approach towards the passage 
 I made my obeissance, mentioning my name. To 
 my surprise, I was directly known. Taking me by 
 
394 FRENCH CHARADE. 
 
 the hand, she exclaimed, " How like your father ! 
 How long has your dear mother been dead?" 
 When, assisting her to her carriage, supporting 
 her arm, it was the mere bone of a skeleton ; her 
 smile and countenance had all the remains of 
 having been a handsome woman. Retaining her 
 intellects, the affability with which she received 
 me, was beyond what I could possibly imagine. 
 I knew at the time, Garrick had been dead so 
 many years, January 20th, 1779, her age must 
 have been drawing near to a hundred. Referring 
 to the marriage, July 1749, our Roscius was 
 married to Mademoiselle Villetti, the most capital 
 dancer in Europe, and universally admired for her 
 beauty and accomplishments. At her demise, not 
 long after, the papers announced her age A 
 
 HUNDRED AND ONE. 
 
 FRENCH CHARADE. 
 
 Mon premier est un tyran, mon seconde est efFroyable, 
 Mon tout est, pour un garcon, pire que le diable. 
 
 Reader, do you give it up ? it is Mari — age. 
 
 FINIS. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 A WORD to the Reader, i. 
 
 Out of Date, by way of Introduction, iii. 
 
 A young Hunter, vi. 
 
 A. 
 
 A Beginning, 357. 
 
 A Card, 258. 
 
 A Dream, 312. 
 
 Alderman's Dream, the, 207. 
 
 Always finish your Sentences, 101. 
 
 Anecdotes, 311. 
 
 An Irish Beggar, 247. 
 
 An old Acquaintance, 44. 
 
 At Home, 353. 
 
 Attractions, 104. 
 
 B. 
 
 Bannister, Jack, anecdote of, 142. 
 Banquet Hall, the. By Mrs. Radcliffe, 9. 
 Barnwell, George. By Mr. Horace Smith, 209. 
 Barrymore, Lord, anecdote of, 182. 
 Beefsteaks, 351. 
 Boots, an incident, 123. 
 Burton, Jack, anecdote of, 290. 
 Byron, Lord, anecdote of, 16, 
 
396 INDEX. 
 
 c. 
 
 Cause of Death, 99. 
 
 Certainty of Medical Science, 100. 
 
 Chance, 260. 
 
 Citizen, the, 76. 
 
 City Addresses, 225, 
 
 Clarence, Duke of, anecdote of the, 381. 
 
 Cockloft, the, 116. 
 
 Coffins, 192. 
 
 Colnian, George, anecdote of, 41. 
 
 Common Beggars, 248. 
 
 Contrivance, 25. 
 
 Counterblast to Lord Byron, 217. 
 
 Country Visitors, 382. 
 
 D. 
 
 De Forges, the Marchioness, anecdote of, 256. 
 
 Dibdin, Charles, anecdote of, 54. 
 
 Diffusion of Knowledge, 231. 
 
 Ducks and Drakes, 315. 
 
 Duels, 265. 
 
 Dunning, 111. 
 
 E. 
 
 Edinburgh Boarding House, my first visit to an, 184. 
 
 Epigrams, 243. 
 
 Eton Montem, 70. 
 
 Eton and Westminster, 71. 
 
 Exeter, a Bishop of, 315. 
 
 Fat and Lean, 7S. 
 Fatality, 93. 
 Fencing, 62, 343. 
 Fetters, 184. 
 
INDEX. 397 
 
 Fitzgerald, W. T. anecdote of, 322. 
 
 Fleas, the, 84. 
 
 Fragment on Sculpture, communicated by Miss Jane 
 
 Porter, 303. 
 French Charade, 394>. 
 French Nobleman, anecdote of a, 316. 
 Fricassee, 94. 
 
 Fuller, Doctor, anecdote of, 316. 
 Fuller, Jack, anecdote of, 329. 
 Funeral Sermon, 112. 
 
 G. 
 
 Garrick, Mrs. anecdote of, 393. 
 
 Gibbs, Sir Vicary, anecdote of, 55. 
 
 G , the Duchess of, anecdote of, 312. 
 
 H. 
 
 Hand Bill, 259. 
 
 Hewardine, 53, 
 
 Holcroft, the late Mr., anecdote of, 39. 
 
 Honest Black Leg, 60. 
 
 Hopeful, the, 72. 
 
 Home Tooke, 103. 
 
 Horrors, 234. 
 
 Humane Society, 222. 
 
 Hunt, Henry, Esq. anecdote of, 250. 
 
 I. 
 
 I didn't get it, 316. 
 Impatience, 3Q3, 
 Impromptu, 233. 
 Incledon, anecdote of, 289. 
 Irish Blackguard, 249. 
 
398 INDEX. 
 
 J. 
 
 Jekyll and Bannister, 290. 
 
 Jenny's Whim, 106. 
 
 Jervis's Ghost, 198. 
 
 Jordan, Mrs. recollections of, 388. 
 
 K. 
 
 Kean — his success at the Assembly Rooms, York, previous to 
 his appearance at Drury Lane, 285. Recollections of, 369. 
 Keep-the-Line Club, the, 38. 
 Kemble's Ear, 380. 
 Kemble and Kelly, anecdote of, 380. 
 Kempenfeldt, Admiral, 326. 
 Kitchen, the, 390. 
 
 L. 
 Lamb, Charles, anecdote of, 39. 
 Lawrence, Sir Thomas, anecdotes of, 28. 
 Leg of Mutton, 366. 
 
 Letter to Mr. Angelo from W. Linley, Esq., 205. 
 Letter to Mr. Bannister from Mr. Colman, 194. 
 Lind, James, M.D., anecdote of, 314. 
 Liverpool, Lord, anecdotes of, 386. 
 Long Bills, 96. 
 Loss of Three Flutes, 244. 
 Lunatics, 103. 
 
 M. 
 Macklin, Charles, anecdotes of, 31, 249. 
 Macready, Mr. W. C, recollections of, 377. 
 Marriage Addresses, ^57 » 
 Masonry, 265. 
 Masonic Dinner, 276. 
 Masonic Supper, 273. 
 Masquerade, 282. 
 Merry Companion, the, 223. 
 Minstrel, the, 331. 
 Minuet, the, 42. 
 More Beefsteaks, 52. 
 
INDEX. 399 
 
 More Sail than Ballast, 144<. 
 
 Morland, anecdote of, 193. 
 
 Murder, 75. 
 
 Murphy, Arthur, anecdote of, 180. 
 
 Music and Swords, 347. 
 
 My Cousins' Letters, confidentially communicated by Joseph 
 
 Allbored, 29:2. 
 My Flute, 106. 
 My own Trumpeter, 335. 
 My two First Loves, 277. 
 My Watch, 67. 
 
 N. 
 Nelson, Lord, lines on the death of, 257. 
 No Grecian, 69. 
 
 O. 
 
 OiKOMANiA ; or, the Rage for Building, 195. 
 
 Olfactory Nerves, 110. 
 
 Owen, Colonel Arthur, Bart., anecdote of, 225. 
 
 P. 
 
 Paymaster's Answer, the, 261. 
 
 Pe>'e la Chaise, 9 1 . 
 
 Phrenology, 251. 
 
 Piety in Pattens, 66. 
 
 Pourquoi, 57. 
 
 Prejudice, 59. 
 
 Prevot, Mrs., a song, 215. 
 
 Puck's Tale; or, the Love of a Spirit, 147. 
 
 R. 
 
 Race Ball, the, 324. 
 
 Repartee, 42. 
 
 Rouelle's, Jean Jacques, 105. 
 
 R. S. and P. 95. 
 
 Rum Duke, the, 342. 
 
 Ruse pour Diner ^ 327, 
 
400 INDEX, 
 
 s. 
 
 Scare-crow, the, 253. 
 
 Scott, Sir Walter, and John Kemble, anecdote of, 381. 
 
 Selfish, 36. 
 
 Sheridan and Munden, anecdote of, 221. ' 
 
 Sheridan, Tom, and his Father, anecdote of, 222. 
 
 Speculation, 113. 
 
 St. Albans, Duchess of, anecdote of the, 388. 
 
 St. George, memoirs of M. de, 20. 
 
 , life of the Chevalier de, 21. 
 
 Strange Notices, 104. 
 
 Suet, Dicky, anecdote of, 2S7. 
 
 Synagogue, 349. 
 
 T. 
 Tall Shaw, anecdote of, 291. 
 The Brush, 319. 
 The Devil, 317. 
 Thrashing Machine, the, 91. 
 Tickell, Mrs., an Epigram, 255, 
 Too much Physic, 88. 
 Two Collegians, the, 108. 
 Two Princes, the, 262. 
 
 y. 
 
 Vanity, 63. 
 
 W. 
 Wabble, Miss, a song, 214, 
 
 Warren, Admiral Sir John Borlase, anecdotes of, 245. 
 Warren Hastings, reported sayings of, 313. 
 Weather Driven, 218. 
 Wewitzer, anecdotes of, 288. 
 William IV. — a striking instance of his skilful seamanship 
 
 when Duke of Clarence, 18. 
 Wounded Coachman, the, 263. 
 
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