F'FXTED ADDRESSES 
 
 %M_ 
 
 fJL\^rE
 
 //-

 
 REJECTED ADDRESSES
 
 THE BABY'S DEBUT 
 
 ■ / curtsey, like a fretty miss. 
 And if you'll blow to jne a kiss, 
 I'll blow a kiss to yon."
 
 REJ ECTED 
 ADDRESSES
 
 PREFACE.* 
 
 /^X the 14th of August 181 2, the following 
 advertisement appeared in most of the 
 daily papers : — 
 
 ^'- Rebuilding of Drury Lane llieatre. 
 
 " The Committee are desirous of promoting 
 a free and fair competition for an Address to 
 be spoken upon the opening of the Theatre, 
 which will take place on the loth of October 
 next. They have, therefore, thought fit to 
 announce to the public, that they \\\\\ be glad 
 to receive any such compositions, addressed 
 to their Secretary, at the Treasury-office in 
 Drury Lane, on or before the 10th of Sep- 
 
 * To the first Ediiioi^ joubliihed iaXiclober 1812. 
 
 lii^ii^ J^iiUli^^i,0-Pi^^^t)er \\
 
 tember, sealed up, with a distinguishing^ word, 
 number, or motto, on the cover, corresponding 
 with the inscription on a separate sealed paper, 
 containing the name of the author, which will 
 not be opened unless containing the name of 
 the successful candidate."' 
 
 Upon the propriety of this plan, men's minds 
 were, as they usually are upon matters of 
 moment, much divided Some thought it a 
 fair promise of the future intention of the Com- 
 mittee to abolish that phalanx of authors who 
 usurp the stage, to the exclusion of a large 
 assortment of dramatic talent blushing unseen 
 in the background ; while others contended 
 that the scheme would prevent men of real 
 eminence from descending into an amphitheatre 
 in which all Grub Street (that is to say, all 
 London and Westminster) would be arrayed 
 against them. The event has proved both 
 parties to be in a degree right, and in a degree 
 wrong. One hundred and twelve addresses 
 have been sent in. each sealed and signed and
 
 PREFACE. Vll 
 
 mottoed, "as per order," some written by men 
 of great, some by men of little, and some by 
 men of no talent. 
 
 Many^ of the public prints have censured the 
 taste of the Committee, in thus contracting for 
 addresses as they would for nails — by the 
 gross ; but it is surprising that none should 
 have censured their temerity. One hundred 
 and eleven of the addresses must, of course, be 
 unsuccessful : to each of the authors, thus 
 infallibly classed with the geims irritabile^ it 
 would be very hard to deny six staunch friends, 
 who consider his the best of all possible ad- 
 dresses, and whose tongues will be as ready to 
 laud him as to hiss his adversary. These, 
 with the potent aid of the Bard himself, make 
 seven foes per address ; and thus will be 
 created seven hundred and seventy-seven im- 
 placable auditors, prepared to condemn the 
 strains of Apollo himself — a band of adversaries 
 which no prudent manager would think of 
 exasperating.
 
 But, leaving the Committee to encounter the 
 lesponsibiHty they have incurred, the public 
 have at least to thank them for ascertaining 
 and estaljlishing one point, which might other- 
 wise have admitted of controversy. When it 
 is considered that many amateur writers have 
 been discouraged from becoming competitors, 
 and that few, if any, of the professional authors 
 can afford to write for nothing, and, of course, 
 have not been candidates for the honorary prize 
 at Drury Lane, we may confidently pronounce 
 that, as far as regards iminbcr^ the present is 
 undoubtedly the Augustan age of English 
 poetry. Whether or not this distinction will 
 be extended to the quality of its productions, 
 must be decided at the tribunal of posterity ; 
 though the natural anxiety of our authors on 
 this score ought to be considerably diminished 
 when they reflect how few will, in al; probability, 
 be had up for judgment. 
 
 It is not necessary for the Editor to mention 
 the manner in which he became possessed of
 
 PRLIACi;. IK 
 
 this " fair sample of the present state of poetry 
 in Great Britain." It was his first intention to 
 publish the whole ; but a little retiection con- 
 vinced him that, by so doing, he might depress 
 the good, without elevating the bad. He has 
 therefore culled what had the appearance of 
 flowers, from what possessed the reality of 
 weeds, and is extremely sorry that, in so doing, 
 he has diminished his collection to twenty-one. 
 Those which he has rejected may possibly 
 make their appearance in a separate volume, or 
 they may be admitted as volunteers in the files 
 of some of the newspapers : or, at all events, 
 they are sure of being received among the 
 awkward squad of the Magazines. In general, 
 they bear a close resemblance to each other — 
 thirty of them contain extravagant compliments 
 to the immortal Wellington and the indefatig- 
 able Whitbread ; and, as the last-mentioned 
 gentleman is said to dislike praise in the exact 
 proportion in which he deserves it, these 
 laudatory writers have probably been only
 
 building a wall against which they might run 
 their own heads. 
 
 The Editor here begs leave to ad\ance a 
 few words in behalf of that useful and much- 
 abused bird the Phcenix ; and in so doing, he 
 is biassed by no partiaUty, as he assures the 
 reader he not only never saw one, but {inirabile 
 diciu .') never caged one, m a simile, in the 
 whole course of his life. Xot less than sixty- 
 nine of the competitors have invoked the aid of 
 this native of Arabia ; but as, from their manner 
 of using him after they had caught him, he 
 does not by any means appear to have been a 
 native of Arabia Felix, the Editor has left the 
 proprietors to treat with Air. Polito, and refused 
 to receive this rara avis, or black swan, into 
 the present collection. One exception occurs, 
 in which the admirable treatment of this 
 feathered incombustible entitles the author to 
 great praise — that Address has been preserved, 
 and in the ensuing pai;es takes the lead, to 
 which its dignity entitl€S it.
 
 PREFACE. XI 
 
 Perhaps the reason why several of the sub- 
 joined productions of the Mus^E LONDINENSES 
 have failed of selection, may be discovered in 
 their being penned in a metre unusual upon 
 occasions of this son, and in their not being 
 written with that attention to stage efTect, the 
 want of which, lil^e want of manners in the 
 concerns of life, is more prejudicial than a 
 deficiency of talent There is an art of writ- 
 ing for the Theatre, technically called touch 
 and go, which is indispensable when we con- 
 sider the small quantum of patience which so 
 motley an assemblage as a London audience 
 can be expected to afford. All the contri- 
 butors have been very exact in sending their 
 initials and motioes. Those belonging to the 
 present collection have been carefully pre- 
 served, and each has been affixed to its re- 
 spective poem. The letters that accompanied 
 the Addresses having been honourably de- 
 stroyed unopened, it is impossible to state 
 the real authors with any certainty ; but the
 
 XU PREFACE. 
 
 ingenious reader, after comparing the initials 
 with the motto, and both with the poem, may 
 form his own conclusions. 
 
 The Editor does not anticipate any disap- 
 probation from thus giving publicity to a small 
 portion of the Rejected Addresses ; for 
 unless he is widely mistaken in assigning the 
 respective authors, the fame of each individual 
 is established on much too firm a basis to be 
 shaken by so trifling and evanescent a publica- 
 tion as the present : 
 
 "... neque ego illi detrahere ausim 
 Hserentem capiii multa cum laude coronani. 
 
 Of the numerous pieces already sent to 
 the Committee for performance, he has or.ly 
 availed himself of three vocal travesties, which 
 he has selected, not for their merit, but simply 
 for their brevity. Above one hundred spec- 
 tacles, melodramas, operas, and pantomimes, 
 have been transmitted, besides the two first 
 acts of one legitimate comedy. Some of 
 these evince considerable smartness of manual
 
 PREFACE. Xill 
 
 dialogue, and several brilliant repartees of 
 chairs, tables, and other inanimate wits ; but 
 the authors seem to have forgotten that in 
 ihe new Drury Lane the nudience can hear 
 as well as see. Of late our theatres have 
 been so constructed that John Bull has been 
 compelled to have very long ears, or none at 
 all : to keep them dangling about his skull 
 like discarded servants, while his eyes were 
 gazing at piebalds and elephants, or else to 
 stretch them out to an asinine length to catch 
 the congenial sound of braying trumpets. An 
 auricular revolution is, we trust, about to take 
 place ; and as many people have been much 
 puzzled to define the meaning of the new era. 
 of which we have heard so much, we venture to 
 pronounce that, as far as regards Drury Lai e 
 Theatre, the new era means the reign of ears. 
 If the past affords any pledge for the future. 
 we may confidently expect I'lom the Committee 
 of that House everything that can be accom- 
 plished by the union of taste and assiduity.
 
 THE REJECTED ADDRESSES. 
 
 nPHE rebuilding of the theatre at Drur>- 
 Lane, after its late destruction by fire, 
 was managed by a certain committee, to whom 
 also was confided, amongst othe?' minor and 
 mechanical arrangements, the care of procur- 
 ing an occasional prologue. The committee, 
 if it was wisely selected for its other duties, 
 could not, we may well suppose, be greatly 
 qualified for this ; and, accordingly, with due 
 modesty, and in the true spirit of tradesmen, 
 they advertised for the best poetical address, 
 to be sealed and delivered within a certain 
 number of days, folded and directed in a given 
 form ; in short, like the tender for a public 
 contract.
 
 THE REJECTED ADDRESSES. XV 
 
 " The result has been just what we should 
 have expected from so auspicious a beginning, 
 in even- respect but two : one is. that, to our 
 great astonishment, three - and - forty persons 
 were found to contend for this prize : and the 
 other, that amongst these are to be found two 
 or three perscns who appear to have some 
 share of taste and genius. 
 
 "The three -and- forty addresses, however, 
 properly folded, sealed, marked, and directed, 
 reached the committee. We can easily imagine 
 the modest dismay with which they viewed 
 their increasing hoards : they began to think 
 that it would have been easier and safer 
 to trust to the reputation and taste of Mr. 
 Scott or Mr. Southey, Mr. Campbell or Mr. 
 Rogers, than to have pledged themselves to the 
 task of making a choice and selection in a 
 matter of which, what little they knew, was 
 worse than nothing. The builders of the lofty 
 pile were totally at a loss to know how to dis- 
 pose of the builders of the lofty rhyme • the
 
 XVI I'REFACl-. 
 
 latter all spoke difterent languages, and all, to 
 the former, equally unintelligible. 'J"he com- 
 mittee were alike confounded with the number 
 of addresses and their own debates. No such 
 confusion of tongues had accompanied any 
 erection since the building of Babel : nor could 
 matters have been set to rights (unless by a 
 miracle), if the convenient, though not very 
 candid plan of rejecting all the addresses had 
 not occurred, as a ' mezzotermine,' in which the 
 whole committee might safely agree ; and the 
 addresses were rejected accordingly. We do 
 not think that they deserved, in true poetical 
 justice, a better fate : not one was excellent, 
 two or three only were tolerable, and the rest 
 so execrable, that we wonder this committee of 
 iaste did not agree upon one of them. But as 
 the several bards were induced to expend their 
 precious time and more precious paper, by the 
 implied engagement on the part of the com- 
 mittee that the best bidder should have the 
 contract, we think they have a right to protest
 
 KEJECTED ADDRESSES. XVll 
 
 against the injustice of this wholesale rejection. 
 It was about as fair as it would be in Messrs. 
 Bish and Carter, after they had disposed of all 
 the!:- lottery tickets, to acquaint the liolders 
 that there should be no drawing. Ijut that they 
 intended lo transfer the ^20.000 prize to an 
 acquaintance of their own. The committee, 
 we readily admit, made an absurd engagement ; 
 but surely tii\?y were bound to keep it. 
 
 *' In the dilemma to which that learned body 
 was reduced by the rejection of all the biddings, 
 the)- put themselves under the care of Lord 
 liyron. who prescribed in their case a composi- 
 tion which bears the honour of his name."' — 
 From ilie Ouartei-ly Review.
 
 PREFACE 
 
 TO 
 
 THE EIGHTEENTH EDITION.* 
 
 T N the present publishing era, when books 
 are like the multitudinous waves of the 
 advancing sea, some of which make no im- 
 pression whatever upon the sand, while the 
 superficial traces left by others are destined to 
 be perpetually obliterated by their successors, 
 almost as soon as they are found, the authors 
 of the " Rejected Addresses'" may well feel flat- 
 tered, after a lapse of twenty years, and the 
 sale of seventeen large editions, in receiving 
 
 * i2mo. , 1S33. Tlie first published by Mr. Murray. 
 Tlie "Preface"' was written by Horace Smith; the 
 " Notes " to the Poems by James Smith.
 
 an npplication to write a Preface to a new and 
 more handsome impression. In diminution, 
 liowever, of an}^ overweening vanity whicli tiiey 
 migiit be disposed to indulge on this occasion, 
 they cannot but admit the truth of the remark 
 made by a particularly candid and good-natured 
 friend, who kindly reminded them, that if their 
 little work has hitherto floated upon the stream 
 of time, while so many others of much greater 
 weight and value have sunk to rise no more, it 
 has been solely indebted for its buoyancy to- 
 that specific levity which enables feathers, 
 straws, and similar trifles, to defer their sub- 
 mersion, until they have become thoroughly 
 saturated with waters of oblivion, when they- 
 quickly meet the fate which they had long, 
 before merited. 
 
 Our ingenuous and ingenious friend further- 
 more observed, that the demolition of Drury 
 Lane Theatre by fire, its reconstruction under 
 the auspices of the celebrated Mr. Whitbread, 
 the reward offered by the committee for ant
 
 opening address, nnd the public recitation of a 
 poem composed expressly for the occasion by 
 Lord lUron. one of the most popular writers of 
 the age, formed an extraordinary concurrence 
 of circumstances which could not fail to insure 
 the success of the " Rejected Addresses," while 
 it has subsequently served to fix them in the 
 memory of the public, so far at least as a poor 
 immortality of twenty years can be said to 
 have effected tlial object. In fact, continued 
 our impartial and affectionate monitor, your 
 little work owes its present obscure existence 
 entirely to the accidents that have surrounded 
 and embalmed it, — even as flies, and other 
 worthless insects, may long survive their natural 
 date of extinction, if they chance to be preserved 
 in amber, or any similar substance. 
 
 " The tilings, we know, are neither rich nor rare — 
 But wonder how the devil they got there ! " 
 
 With the natural affection of parents for the 
 offspring of their own brains, we ventured to
 
 hint that some portion of our success might 
 perhaps be attributable to the manner in which 
 the different imitations were executed ; but 
 our wo:thy friend protested that his sincere 
 regard for us, as well as for the cause of truth, 
 compelled him to reject our claim, and to 
 pronounce that, when once the idea had been 
 conceived, all the rest followed as a matter 
 of course, and might have been executed by 
 any other hands not less felicitously than by 
 our own. 
 
 Willingly leaving this matter to the decision 
 of the public, since we cannot be umpires in 
 our own cause, we proceed to detail such 
 circumstances attending the writing and pub- 
 lication of our little work, as may literally 
 meet the wishes of the present proprietor o-f 
 the copyright, who has applied to us for a 
 gossiping Preface, Were we disposed to be 
 grave and didact'.c, which is as foreign to our 
 mood as it was twenty years ago, we might 
 draw the attention of the reader, in a fine
 
 XXI 1 PKEFACE. 
 
 sententious paragraph, to the trifles upon 
 which the fate of empires, as well as a four- 
 and-sixpenny volume of parodies, occasionally 
 hangs in trembling balance. No sooner was 
 the idea of our work conceived, than it was 
 -about to be abandoned in embryo, from the 
 -apprehension that we had no time to mature 
 and bring it forth, as it was indispensable 
 that it should be written, printed, and pub- 
 lished by the opening of Drury Lane Theatre, 
 which would only allow us an interval of six 
 weeks, and we had both of us other avocations 
 that precluded us from ihe full command of 
 even that limited period. 
 
 Encouraged, however, by the conviction that 
 the thought was a good one, and by the hope 
 of making a lucky hit, we set to work con 
 ■amore^ our very hurry not improbably enabling 
 us to strike out at a heat what we might have 
 failed to produce so well, had we possessed, 
 time enough to hammer it into more careful 
 <ind elaborate form.
 
 PREFACE. XXIU 
 
 Our first difficulty, that of selection, was by- 
 no means a light one. Some of our most 
 eminent poets, such, for instance, as Rogers 
 and Campbell, presented so much beauty, 
 harmony, and proportion in their writings, 
 both as to style and sentmient, that if we 
 had attempted to caricature them, nobody 
 would have recognised the hkene=s ; and if 
 we had endeavoured to give a servile copy 
 of their manner, it would only have amounted, 
 at best, to a tame and unamusing portrait, 
 which it was not our object to present. 
 
 Although fully aware that their names 
 would, in the theatrical phrase, have con- 
 ferred great strength upon oiur bill, we were 
 reluctantly compelled to forego them, and to 
 confine ourselves to writers whose style and 
 habit of thought, being more marked and pecu- 
 liar, was more capable of exaggeration and 
 distortion. To avoid politics and personality, 
 to imitate the turn of mind, as well as the 
 phraseology of our originals, and, at all e\ ent5,
 
 XXIV I'KI-.l Aci;, 
 
 to raise a harmless lau^h. were our main 
 objects : in the attainment of which united 
 aims, we were sometimes hurried into extra- 
 \agance. b\- attcchinj^- much n^jrc importance 
 to the hist than to the two hrst. In no 
 instance were we thus betrayed into a greater 
 injustice than in liie case of Mr. Wordsworth 
 — the touching;- sentiment, profound wisdon), 
 and copious liarmony of whose lo.^'tier writings 
 we left unnoticed, in the desire of burlesquin;4 
 them; while we pounced upon his popular 
 ballads, and exerted ourselves lo push their 
 simpHcit)' into puerility and silliness. With 
 pride and pleasure do we now claim to be 
 ranked among the most ardent admirers of 
 this true poet ; and if he himself could see 
 the state of his works, which are ever at our 
 right hand, he would, perhaps, receixe the 
 manifest evidences they exhibit of constant 
 reference, and delighted re-perusal, as some sort 
 of amende honorable for the unfairness of which 
 we were guilty, when we were less conversant
 
 PRHIACE. XXV 
 
 with the higher inspirations of his muse. To 
 ?klr. Coleridge, and others of our originals, we 
 must also do a tardy act of justice, by declar- 
 ing that our burlesque of their peculiarities 
 has never blinded us to those beauties and 
 talents which are beyond the reach of all 
 ridicule. 
 
 One of us had written a genuine Address 
 for the occasion, which was sent to the com- 
 mittee, and shared the fate it merited, in being 
 rejected. To swell the bulk, or rather to 
 diminish the tenuity of our little work, we 
 added it to the Imitations ; and prefixing the 
 initials of S. T. P. for the purpose of puzzling 
 the critics, were not a little amused, in the 
 sequel, by the many guesses and conjectures 
 into which we had ensnared some of our 
 readers. We could even enjoy the mysticism, 
 qualified as it was by the poor compliment, 
 that our carefully written Address exhibited 
 no -'very prominent trait of absurdit}'," when
 
 J\rric-u for No\ember 1 8 1 2. " An Address by 
 S. T. P. we can make nothing of ; and pro- 
 fessing our ignorance of the author designated 
 by these letters, we can only add, that the 
 Address, though a little affected, and not ver}- 
 full of meaning, hns no veiy prominent trait 
 of absurdity, that we can detect ; and might 
 have been adopted and spoken, so far as we 
 can perceive, without any hazard of ridicule. 
 In our simplicity we consider it as a very 
 decent, mellifluous, occasional prologue ; and 
 do not understand how it has found its way 
 into its present company." 
 
 Urged forward by hurry, and trusting to 
 chance, two very bad coadjutors in any enter- 
 prise, we at length congratulated ourselves on 
 having completed our task in time to have it 
 printed and published by the opening of the 
 theatre. But alas ! our difficulties, so far from 
 being surmounted, seemed only to be beginning. 
 Strangers to the arcana of the bookseller's 
 trade, and unacquainted \\-ith their almost
 
 PREFACE. XXVn 
 
 invincible objection to single volumes of low 
 price, especially when tendered by writers who 
 have acquired no previous name, we little anti- 
 cipated that they would refuse to publish our 
 '' Rejected Addresses,"' even although we asked 
 nothing for the copyright. Such, however, 
 proved to be the case. Our manuscript was 
 perused and returned to us by several of the 
 most eminent publishers. Well do we re- 
 member betaking ourselves to one of the craft 
 in Bond Street, vrhom we found in a back 
 parlour, with his gouty leg propped upon a 
 cushion, in spite of which warning he diluted 
 his luncheon with frequent glasses of Madeira. 
 " What have you already written ? " was his 
 first question, an interrogatory to which we 
 had been subjected in almost every instance. 
 " Nothing by which we can be known." '• Then 
 I am afraid to undertake the pubhcation." 
 We presumed timidly to suggest that every 
 writer must have a beginning, and that to 
 refuse to publish for him until he had acquired
 
 xxviii i']<j:rACj:. 
 
 a name, was to imitate the sapient mother who 
 cautioned her son against going into the water 
 until he could swim. "An old joke — a regular 
 Joe ! " exclaimed our companion, tossing off 
 another bumper. " Still older than Joe Miller," 
 was our reply ; " for, if we mistake not, it is the 
 very first anecdote in the facetiae of Hierocles." 
 "Ha, sirs!'' resumed the bibliopolist, "you 
 are learned, are you ? So, soh ! — Well, leave 
 your manuscript v/ith me ; I will look it over 
 to-night, and give you an answer to-morrow.'" 
 Punctual as the clock we presented ourselves 
 at his door on the following morning, when 
 our papers were returned to us with the 
 observation — " These trifles are really not 
 deficient in smartness ; they are well, vastly 
 well for beginners ; but they will never do — 
 never. They would not pay for advertising, 
 and without it I should not sell fifty copies.'" 
 
 This was discouraging enough. If the most 
 experienced publishers feared to be out of 
 pocket by the work, it was manifest, a fortiori^
 
 PREFACE. XXIX 
 
 that its writers ran a risk of being still more 
 hea\y losers, should they undertake the publi- 
 cation on their own account. We had no 
 objection to raise a laugh at the expense of 
 others ; but to do it at our own cost, uncertain 
 as we were to what extent we might be in- 
 volved, had never entered into our contempla- 
 tion. In this dilemma, our "Addresses," now 
 in every sense rejected, might probably have 
 never seen the light, had not some good angel 
 whispered us to betake ourselves to Mr. John 
 Miller, a dramatic publisher, then residing in 
 F)Ow Street, Covent Garden. No sooner had 
 this gentleman looked over our manuscript, 
 than he immediately offered to take upon 
 himself all the risk of publication, and to 
 give us half the profits, should there be any ; 
 a liberal proposition, with which we gladly 
 closed. So rapid and decided was its success, 
 at which none were more unfeignedly astonished 
 than its authors, that Mr. Miller advised us to 
 collect some " Imitations of Horace."' which had
 
 appeared anonymously in the Monthly Mirror^ 
 ottering to publish them upon the same terms. 
 We did so accordingly ; and as new editions of 
 the •' Rejected Addresses " were called for in 
 quick succession, we were shortly enabled to sell 
 our half copyright in the two works to Mr. Miller. 
 for one thousand pounds ! ! We have entered 
 into this unimportant detail, not to gratify any 
 vanity of our own, but to encourage such 
 literary beginners as may be placed in similar 
 circumstances ; as well as to impress upon 
 publishers the propriety of giving more con- 
 sideration to the possible merit of the works 
 submitted to them, than to the mere magic of 
 a name. 
 
 To the credit of the genus irritabilc be it 
 recorded, that not One of those whom we had 
 parodied or burlesqued ever betrayed the least 
 soreness on the occasion, or refused to join in 
 the laugh that we had occasioned. With most 
 of them we subsequently formed acquaintance- 
 ship ; while some honoured us with an intimacy
 
 PREFACE. XXXI 
 
 which still continues, where it has not been 
 severed by the rude hand of Death, Alas ! it 
 is painful to reflect, that of the twelve writers 
 whom we presumed to imitate five are now no 
 more ; the list of the deceased being unhappily 
 swelled by the most illustrious of all, the claruni 
 et venerabile nomeyi of Sir Walter Scott ! From 
 that distinguished writer, whose transcendent 
 talents were only to be equalled by his virtues 
 and his amiability, we received favours and 
 notice, both public and private, which it will 
 be difficult to forget, because we had not the 
 smallest claim upon his kindness. " I certainly 
 must have written this myself!" said that fine- 
 tempered man to one of the authors, pointing 
 to the description of the Fire, "although I 
 forget upon what occasion." Lydia White, a 
 literary lady who was prone to feed the lions 
 of the day, invited one of us to dinner ; but, 
 recollecting afterwards that William Spencer 
 formed one of the party, wrote to the latter to 
 put him off: telling him that a man was to be
 
 at her table whom he '*' would not like to meet.'' 
 " Pray who is this whom I should not like to 
 meet?" inquired the poet. "Oh!" answered 
 the lady, '■ one of those men who have made 
 that shameful attack upon you I " " The very 
 man U]:)on earth I should like to know I " 
 rejoined the lively and careless bard. Th-, 
 two individuals accordingly met, and have 
 continued fast friends ever since. Lord Byron, 
 too, wrote thus to Mr. ^Murray from Italy — 
 " Tell him I forgive him, were he twenty times 
 over our satirist." 
 
 It may not be amiss to notice, in this place, 
 one criticism of a Leicestershire clergyman, 
 which may be pronounced unique : " I do no: 
 see why they should have been rejected." 
 observed the matter-of-fact annotator ; " I 
 think some of them veiy good!" L'pon the 
 whole, few have been the instances, in the 
 acrimonious history of literature, where a mali- 
 cious pleasantry like the " Rejected Addresses " 
 — which the parties ridiculed might well con
 
 PREIACE. XXXUl 
 
 bider more annoying than a direct satire — - 
 instead of being met by querulous bitterness 
 or petulant retaliation, has procured for its 
 authors the acquaintance, or conciliated the 
 good will, of those whom ihey had the most 
 audaciously burlesqued. 
 
 In commenting on a work, however trifling, 
 which has survived the lapse of twenty years, 
 an author may almost claim the pri\ileged 
 -arrulit}' of a;je ; yet even in a professedly 
 gossiping Preface, we begin to fear that we 
 are exceeding our commission, and abusing 
 the patience of the reader. If we are doing 
 so, we might urge extenuating circumstances, 
 which will explain, though they may not ex- 
 cuse, our dififuseness. To one of us the totally 
 unexpected success of this little work proved 
 an important event, since it mainly decided 
 iiim, some years afterwards, to embark in that 
 literary career which the continued favour of 
 the novel-reading world has rendered both 
 
 pleasant and profitable to him. This is the 
 -34) 1 =
 
 XXXIV PREFACE. 
 
 first, as it will probably be the last, occasion 
 upon which we shall ever intrude ourselvc- 
 personally on the public notice : and wc trust 
 that our now doin^^ so will stand excused by 
 the reasons we have adduced. 
 
 London, March 1833.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 I. Loyal Effusion. By h\ T. F. . 
 II. The Baby's Debut. By William Wordsworth 
 
 III. An Address luithout a Pbcenix. By S. T. P. 
 
 IV. Cui Bono ? By Lord Byron 
 
 V. Hampshire Farmer's Address. By William 
 
 Cobbett 
 
 VI. The Living Lustres. By Thomas Moore 
 VII. The Rebuilding. By Robert Southey . 
 yill. Drury's Dirge. By Laura Matilda 
 L\. A Tale of Drury Lane. By Sir Walter Scott 
 X. Johnson's Ghost ..... 
 XI. The Beautiful Incendiary. By the Hon 
 
 William Robert Spencer 
 XII. Fire and Ale. By Matthew Gregory Lewis 
 
 XIII. Playhouse Musings. By S. T. Coleridge 
 
 XIV. Drury Lane Hustings .... 
 
 PAGE 
 
 59 
 47 
 57 
 63 
 
 79 
 
 91 
 
 99 
 
 117 
 
 125 
 
 ^59 
 
 151 
 161 
 
 171 
 ^79
 
 xxxvi c,o^••n:^■^^. 
 
 PAr.E 
 
 XY. AirhilcctKnil Aloiiis. By Dr. B. . .185 
 
 X\'I. Tbcalrical Jlarm-Bcll. By I'.ditor of the 
 
 '■^ Morning Post" . . . . .201 
 
 X\'II. The Theatre. By the Rev. George Crahhe . 21 r 
 
 XVIII. Macbeth Travestie. By Momns Medhir . 229 
 
 XIX. Stranger Travestie. By Dilio . . .255 
 
 XX. George Burnuril Travestie. F>v Ditto 
 
 XXI. Punch's Apotheosis. By Theodore HooJ< 

 
 LOYAL EFFUSION.
 
 I. 
 
 LOYAL EFFUSION. 
 
 BY W. T. F.^ 
 
 " Quicquid dicunt, laudo : id rursum si negant, 
 Laudo id quoque. —Terence. 
 
 T TAIL, glorious edifice, stupendous work ! 
 
 God bless the Regent and the Duke of 
 York: 
 Ye Muses ! by whose aid I cried down F'ox, 
 Grant me in Drury Lane a private box, 
 
 * William Thomas Fitzgerald. — The annotator's 
 first personal knowledge of this gentleman was at Harry 
 Greville's Pic-Nic Theatre, in Tottenham Street, where 
 he personated Zanga in a wig too small for his head. 
 The second time of seeing him was at the table of old 
 Lord Dudley, who familiarly called him Fitz, but forgot 
 39
 
 .\0 KHJLCTl.l) ADDKi:SSi:S. 
 
 Where I )iiay loll, cry Bravo ! and profess 
 The boundless powers of England's glorious 
 
 press ; 
 While Afric's sons exclaim, from shore lo 
 
 shore, 
 " O^'^shee ma boo I "' — the slave-trade is no 
 
 more ! 
 In fair Arabia (happy once, now stony, 
 Since ruined by that arch apostate Bony), 
 
 to name him in his will. The Earl's son (rcce-'nlly 
 deceased), however, liberally supplied the omission by a 
 donation of five thousand pounds. The third and last 
 time of encountering him was at an anniversary dinner of 
 the Literary Fund, at the Freemasons' Tavern. Botli 
 parties, as two of the stewards, met their brethren in a 
 small room about half-an-hour before dinner, Tlie 
 lampooner, out of delicacy, kept aloof from the poet. 
 The latter, however, made up to him, when the following 
 dialogue took place : 
 
 Fitzgerald (with good humour). " Mr, I mean to 
 
 recite after dinner," 
 
 Mr. . " Do you?" 
 
 l'"itzgerald. " Yes : youll have more of ' God bless ihr 
 Regent and the Duke of York ! ' " 
 
 The whole of this imitation, after a lapse of twenty 
 years, appears to the Authors too personal and sarcastic ;
 
 LOYAL EFFUSION', 4 1 
 
 A Phoenix late was cau.;ht : the Arab host 
 Long ponder'd — part would boil ir. part would 
 
 roast : 
 But while they ponder, up the pot-lid flies, 
 Fledged, beak'd, and claw'd, alive they see him 
 
 rise 
 To heaven, and caw defiance in the skies. 
 So Drury, first in roasting flames consumed, 
 Then bv old renters to hot water doom'd. 
 
 but they may shelter themselves under a very broad 
 mantle : 
 
 " Let hoarse Fitzgerald bawl 
 His creaking couplets in a tavern-hall." — Byron. 
 
 l''itzgerald actually sent in an address to the committee 
 on the 31st of August, 1812. It was published among 
 the other " Genuine Rejected Addresses," in one volume, 
 in that year. The following is an extract : — 
 
 " The troubled shade of Garrick, hovering near, 
 Dropt on the burning pile a pitying tear." 
 
 \\'hat a pity that, like Sterne's Recording Angel, it 
 did not succeed in blotting the fire out for ever ! That 
 failing, why not adopt Gulliver's remedy?
 
 42 REJECTED ADDRESSES. 
 
 By Wyatt's trowel palled, plump and sleek, 
 Soars without \vinc;s, and caws without a 
 
 beak. 
 Gallia's stern despot shall in vain advance 
 From Paris, the metropolis of France ; 
 By this day month the monster shall not gain 
 A foot of land in Portugal or Spain. 
 See Wellington in Salamanca's field 
 Forces his favourite general to yield, 
 Breaks through his lines, and leaves his boasted 
 
 rvlarmont 
 Expiring on the plain without his arm on ; 
 Madrid he enters at the cannon's mouth, 
 And then the villages still further south. 
 Base Buonaparte, filFd with deadly ire. 
 Sets, one by one, our playhouses on fire. 
 Some years ago he pounced with deadly 
 
 glee on 
 The Opera House, then burnt down the 
 
 Pantheon ; 
 Nay, still unsated, in a coat of flames. 
 Next at Millbank he cross'd the river Thames ;
 
 LOYAL EFFLSION. 43 
 
 Thy hatch, O Halfpenny ! * pass'd in a trice, 
 lioird some black pitch, and burnt down 
 
 Astley's twice ; 
 Then buzzing on through ether with a vile 
 
 hum, 
 Turn'd to the left hand, fronting the Asylum, 
 And burnt the Royal Circus in a hurry — 
 ('Twas cali'd the Circus then, but now the 
 
 Surrey). 
 Who burnt (confound his soul !) the houses 
 
 twain 
 Of Covent Garden and of Drury Lane ? 
 Who, while the British squadron lay off Cork 
 (God bless the Regent and the Duke of York !) 
 With a foul earthquake ravaged the Caraccas, 
 And raised the price of dry goods and tobaccos ? 
 
 * In plain English, the Halfpenny-hatch, then a foot- 
 way through fields ; but now, as the same bards sing 
 elsewhere — 
 
 ' ' St. George's Fields are fields no more, 
 The trowel supersedes the plough ; 
 Swamps, huge and inundate of yore. 
 Are changed to civic villas now."
 
 4\ RKJECThD AUDRJiSSLS. 
 
 Who makes the quartern loaf and Luddites rise? 
 Who fills the butchers' shops with large blue 
 
 flies ? 
 Who thought in flames St. James's court to 
 
 pinch ? 
 Who burnt the wardrobe of poor Lady P^inch ? — 
 Why he, who, forging for this isle a yoke, 
 Reminds me of a line I lately spoke, 
 " The tree of freedom is the British oak," 
 
 Bless every man possess'd of aught to give ; 
 Long may Long Tylney Wellesley Long Pole 
 
 live ; 
 God bless the Army, bless their coats of scarlet, 
 God bless the Navy, bless the Princess Char- 
 lotte ; 
 God bless the guards, though worsted GaUia 
 
 scofl", 
 God bless their pig-tails, though they're now 
 
 cut off; 
 And, oh 1 in Downing Street should Old Nid-: 
 
 revel, 
 England's prime minister, then bless the devil I
 
 THE BABY'S DEBUT.
 
 n. 
 
 THE BABY'S DEBUT. 
 
 BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. 
 
 " Thy lisping prattle and thy mincing gait, 
 All thy false mimic fooleries I hate ; 
 For thou art Folly's counterfeit, and she 
 WTao is right foolish hath the better plea ; 
 Nature's true Idiot I prefer to thee," 
 
 — Cumberland. 
 
 \Spoke7i in the character of Nancy Lake^ a girl 
 eight years of age. who is drawn upon the 
 stage in a child's chaise by Samuel Hughes, 
 her uncle's porter.'] 
 
 Y brother Jack was nine in May,^ 
 And I was eight on New-year's-day ; 
 
 * Jack and Nancy, as it was afterwards remarked to 
 the Authors, are here made to come into the world at 
 47
 
 4'S Riiji-crriD addri-sses. 
 
 So in Kate Wilson's sliop 
 Papa (he's my papa and Jack's) 
 Bought me, last week, a doll of wax, 
 
 And brother Jack a top. 
 
 Jack's in the pouts, and this it is, — 
 He thinks mine came to more than his : 
 
 So to my drawer he goes. 
 Takes out the doll, and, O my stars ! 
 He pokes her head between the bars, 
 
 And melts ott half her nose ! 
 
 periods not sufficiently remote. The writers were then 
 bachelors. One of them, unfortunately, still continu(;s 
 so, as he has thus i-ecorded in his niece's album : 
 
 " Should I seek Hymen's tie, 
 As a poet I die — 
 Ye Benedicks, mourn my distresses ! 
 
 For what little fame 
 
 Is annexed to my name 
 Is derived from Rejected Addresses.'''' 
 
 The blunder, notwithstanding, remains unrectified. 
 The reader of poetry is always dissatisfied with emen- 
 dations : they sound discordantly upon the ear, like a 
 modern song, by Bishop or Braham, introduced in " I.ove 
 in a Village."
 
 THE BABY S DEBUT. 49 
 
 Quite cross, a bit of string I beg. 
 And tie it to his peg-top's peg. 
 
 And bang, with might and main, 
 Its head against the parlour door : 
 Off flies the head, and hits the floor. 
 
 And breaks a window-pane. 
 
 This made him cry with rage and spire : 
 Well, let him cry, it serves him right. 
 
 A pretty thing, forsooth ! 
 If he's to melt, all scalding hot, 
 Half my doll's nose, and I am not 
 
 To draw liis peg-top's tooth 1 
 
 Aimt Hannah heard the window break. 
 And cried, " O naughty Xancy Lake, 
 
 Thus to distress your aunt : 
 Xo Drury Lane for you to-day I " 
 And while papa said, '• Pooh, she may I " 
 
 Mamma said, " Xo, she shan't ! '' 
 
 Well, after many a sad reproach. 
 They got into a hackney coach,
 
 50 REJF.CTED ADDRESSES. 
 
 And trotted down the street. 
 I saw them go : one horse was blind. 
 The tails of both hung down behind, 
 
 Their shoes were on their feet. 
 
 The chaise in which poor brother Bill 
 Used to be drawn to Pentonville, 
 
 Stood in the lumber-room : 
 I wiped the dust from off the top, 
 While Molly mopp'd it with a mop. 
 
 And brushed it with a broom. 
 
 My uncle's porter, Samuel Hughes, 
 Came in at six to black the shoes, 
 
 (I always talk to Sam :) 
 So what does he, but takes and drags 
 Me in the chaise along the flags, 
 
 And leaves me where I am. 
 
 My father's walls are made of brick, 
 But not so tall and not so thick
 
 THE BABY S DEBUT. 5 I 
 
 As these ; and, goodness me ; 
 My father's beams are made of wood, 
 But never, never half so good 
 
 As those that now I see. 
 
 What a large floor I 'tis like a town ! 
 The carpet, when they lay it down, 
 
 Won't hide it, I'll be bound. 
 And there's a row of lamps ! — my eye ! 
 How they do blaze ! I wonder why 
 
 They keep them on the ground ? 
 
 At first I caught hold of the wing. 
 And kept away ; but Mr. Thing- 
 
 um bob, the prompter man, 
 Gave with his hand my chaise a shove, 
 And said, " Go on, my pretty love ; 
 
 Speak to 'em, little Nan. 
 
 " You've only got to curtsey, whisp- 
 er, hold your chin up, laugh, and lisp.
 
 32 KLJLCTEIJ ADDRLSbLS. 
 
 And then you're sure to take : 
 I've know the clay when brats, not quite 
 Thirteen, got fifty pounds a night ; * 
 
 Then why not Xancy Lake?'' 
 
 Uut while I'm speaking, where's papa? 
 And where's my aunt ? and where's mamma ? 
 
 Where's Jack? Oh, there they sit I 
 They smile, they nod ; I'll go my ways, 
 And order round poor Billy's chaise, 
 
 To join them in the pit. 
 
 And now, good gentlefolks, I go 
 To join mamma, and see the show ; 
 
 * This alludes to tin:; Young Betty mania. The writer 
 was in the stage-box at the height of this young gentle- 
 man's popularity. One of the other occupants offered, 
 in a loud voice, to prove that young Betty did not under- 
 stand Shakespeare. "Silence!" was the cry; but he 
 still proceeded. " Turn him out ! " was the next ejacu- 
 lation. He still vociferated "He does not understand 
 Shakespeare ; " and was consequently shouldered into 
 the lobby. " I'll prove it to you," said the critic to the 
 doorkeeper. "Prove what, sir?" "That he does not 
 understand Shakespeare." This was Molicre's house- 
 maid with a vengeance !
 
 THE BABY S DEBUT. 53 
 
 So, bidding you adieu, 
 I curtsey, like a pretty miss, 
 And if you'll blow to me a kiss, 
 
 I'll blow a kiss to you. 
 
 \_Blo-d's a kiss, and exit. 
 
 ^&
 
 AN ADDRESS WITHOUT 
 A PHCEXIX.
 
 III. 
 
 AN ADDRESS WITHOUT 
 
 A PHCENIX. 
 
 BY S. T. P. 
 
 " This was looked for at your hand, and this was 
 balked/'— IF/^.?/ You Will. 
 
 ^T THAT stately vision mocks my waking 
 
 sense ? 
 Hence, dear delusion, sweet enchantment, 
 
 hence I 
 Ha ! is it real ? — can my doubts be vain ? 
 It is, it is, and Drury lives again 1 
 Around each grateful veteran attends. 
 Eager to rush and gratulate his friends, 
 
 57
 
 )cS REJECTED ADDRESSES. 
 
 Friends whose kind looks, retrace with proud 
 
 dehght, 
 Endear the past, and make the future bright : 
 Yes, generous patrons, your returning smile 
 Blesses our toils, and consecrates our pile. 
 
 When last we met, Fate's unrelenting hand 
 Already grasped the devastating brand ; 
 Slow crept the silent flame, ensnared its prize, 
 Then burst resistless to the astonished skies. 
 The glowing walls, disrobed of scenic pride, 
 In trembling conflict stemmed the burning 
 
 tide, 
 Till crackling, blazing, rocking to its fall, 
 Down rushed the thundering roof, and buried 
 
 all! 
 
 Where late the sister Muses sweetly sung. 
 And raptured thousands on their music hung. 
 Where Wit and Wisdom shone, by Beauty 
 
 graced, 
 Sat lonely Silence, empress of the waste ;
 
 AN ADDRESS WITHOUT A PHCEXIX, 59 
 
 And still had reigned — but he, whose voice can 
 
 raise 
 More magic wonders than Amphion's lays, 
 Bade jarring bands with friendly zeal engage 
 To rear the prostrate glories of the stage. 
 Up leaped Muses at the potent spell. 
 And Drury's genius saw his temple swell : 
 Worthy, we hope, the British Drama's cause, 
 Worthy of British arts, and j'^//r applause. 
 
 Guided by you, our earnest aims presume 
 To renovate the Drama with the dome ; 
 The scenes of Shakespeare and our bards of 
 
 old. 
 With due observance splendidly unfold. 
 Yet raise and foster with parental hand 
 The living talent of our native land. 
 Oh ! may we still, to sense and nature true. 
 Delight the many, nor offend the few. 
 Though varying tastes our changeful Drama 
 
 claim, 
 Still be its moral tendency the same,
 
 To win by precept, by example warn, 
 
 To brand the front of Vice with pointed 
 
 scorn, 
 And \'irtue's smihng brows with votive \\Teaths 
 
 adorn.
 
 CUI BONO?
 
 IV. 
 
 GUI BONO? 
 
 BY LORD BYRON 
 
 I. 
 
 O ATED with home, of wife, of children 
 
 tired, 
 The restless soul is driven abroad to roam ; ^ 
 Sated abroad, all seen, yet nought admired. 
 The restless soul is driven to ramble home ; 
 
 * This would seem to show that poet and prophet 
 are synonymous, the noble bard having afterwards re- 
 turned to England, and again quitted it, under domestic 
 circimistances painfully notorious. His good-humoured 
 forgiveness of the Authors has already been alluded to 
 in the preface. Nothing of this illustrious poet, hu\ve\ or 
 63
 
 04 KLJECTED AUDRtSbLS. 
 
 Sated with both, beneath new Drur) "s dome 
 The Hend Ennui awhile consents to pine, 
 There growls, and curses, like a deadl)- 
 
 Gnome, 
 Scorning to view fantastic Columbine, 
 Viewing with scorn and hate the nonsense of 
 the Nine. 
 
 trivial, can be otherwise than interesting. " Wc knew 
 him well." At 'Mr. Murray's dinner-table the annotator 
 met him and Sir. John Malcolm. Lord Byron talked of 
 intending to travel in Persia. " What must I do when I 
 set off? " said he to Sir John. " Cut off your buttons ! " 
 "My buttons! what, these metal ones?" "Yes; the 
 Persians are in the main very honest fellows ; but if you 
 go thus bedizened, you will infallibly be murdered for 
 your buttons ! " At a dinner at Monk Lewis's chambers 
 in the Albany, Lord Byron expressed to the writer his 
 determination not to go there again, adding, " I never 
 will dine with a middle-aged man who fills up his table 
 with young ensigns, and has looking-glass panels to his 
 book-cases." Lord Byron, when one of the Drury Lane 
 Committee of Management, challenged the writer to 
 sing alternately (like the swains in Virgil) the praises of 
 Mrs. Mardyn, the actress, who, by-the-bye, was hissed off 
 the stage for an imputed intimacy of which she was quite 
 innocent. 
 
 Tlie contest ran as follows :
 
 GUI BOKO? 6) 
 
 II. 
 
 Ye reckless dupes, who hither wend your way 
 To gaze on puppets in a painted dome. 
 Pursuing pastimes ghttering to betray. 
 Like falling stars in life's eternal gloom, 
 What seek ye here ? Joy's evanescent 
 bloom ? 
 
 " Wake, muse cf fire, your ardent lyre, 
 
 Pour forth your amorous ditty, 
 But first profound, in duty bound, 
 
 Applaud the new committee ; 
 Their scenic art from Thespis' cart 
 
 All jaded nags discarding. 
 To London drove this queen of love, 
 
 Enchanting Mrs. Mardyn. 
 Though tides of love around her rove, 
 
 I fear she'll choose Pactolus— 
 In that bright surge bards ne'er immerge, 
 
 So I must e'en swim solus. 
 ' Out, out, alas ! ' ill-fated gas. 
 
 That shin'st round Covent Garden, 
 Thy ray how flat, compared with that 
 
 From eye of Mrs. Mardyn ! " 
 
 And so on. The reader has, no doubt, already dis- 
 covered " which is the justice, and which is the thief." 
 Lord Byron at that time wore a verv narrow cravat 
 
 (34) ' c:
 
 bb KHJECTED ADDRESSES. 
 
 Woe's me I the brightest wreaths she ever 
 
 gave 
 Are but as flowers that decorate a tomb. 
 Man's heart, the mournful urn o'er which 
 
 they wave, 
 Is sacred to despair, its pedestal the grave. 
 
 of white sarsnet, with the shirt-collar falling over it ; a 
 black coat and waistcoat, and very broad white trousers, 
 to hide his lame foot. These were of Russia duck in 
 the morning and jean in the evening. His watch-chain 
 had a number of small gold seals appended to it, and 
 was looped up to a button of his waistcoat. His face 
 was void of colour ; he wore no whiskers. His eyes 
 were grey, fringed with long black lashes ; and his air 
 was imposing, but rather supercilious. He undervalued 
 David Hume : denying his claim to genius on account 
 of his bulk, and calling him, from the heroic epistle, 
 
 " The fattest hog in Epicurus' sty." 
 
 One of this extraordinary man's allegations was, that 
 " fat is an oily dropsy. ' To stave off its visitation, he 
 frequently chewed tobacco in lieu of dinner, alleging that 
 it absorbed the gastric juice of the stomach and pre- 
 vented hunger. ' ' Pass your hand down my side, " said 
 his lordship to the writer ; "can you count my ribs?" 
 "Every one of them." " I am delig?ited to hear you 
 
 say so. I called last week on Lady ; 'Ah, Lord 
 
 Byron,' said she, ' how fat you grow ! ' But yon know
 
 GUI BONO? 67 
 
 III. 
 
 Has life so little store of real woes, 
 That here ye wend to taste fictitious grief? 
 Or is it that from truth such anguish flows, 
 Ye cour: the lying drama for relief ? 
 
 Lady is fond of saying spiteful things ! " Let this 
 
 gossip be summed up with the words of Lord Chester- 
 field, in his character of Bolingbroke : ' ' Upon the whole, 
 on a survey of this extraordinary character, what can we 
 say, but ' Alas, poor human nature ! ' " 
 
 His favourite Pope's description of man is applicable 
 to Byron individually : — 
 
 " Chaos of thought and passion all confused, 
 Still by himself abused or disabused ; 
 Created part to rise and part to fall, 
 Great lord of all things, yet a slave to all ; 
 Sole judge of truth, in endless error hurled — 
 The glory, jest, and riddle of the world." 
 The writer never heard him allude to his deformed 
 foot except upon one occasion, when, entering the green- 
 room of Drury Lane, he found Lord Byron alone, the 
 younger Byrne and Miss Smith the dancer having just 
 left him, after an angry conference about a pas seuL 
 " Had you been here a minute sooner," said Lord B., 
 ' ' you would have heard a question about dancing referred 
 to me ; — me ! (looking mournfully downward) whom fate 
 from my birth has prohibited frona taking a single step."
 
 txS Ri:ji:crr,D adukessls. 
 
 Lon^y- shall ye find the paiv^, the respite 
 
 brief: 
 Uv if one tolerable page appears 
 In folly's volume, 'tis the actor's leaf, 
 Who dries his own by drawing others' tears, 
 And, raising present mirth, makes glad his 
 
 future years. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Albeit, how like young Betty doth he flee I 
 Light as the mote that danceth in the 
 
 beam, 
 He liveth only in man's present e"e : 
 His life a flash, his memory a dream. 
 Oblivious down he drops in Lethe's stream. 
 Vet what are they, the learned and the 
 
 great ? 
 Awhile of longer wonderment the theme '. 
 Who shall presume to prophesy f/ir/r date, 
 Where nought is certain, save the uncertaint\ 
 
 of fate ?
 
 GUI BONO? 69 
 
 This goodly pile, upheaved by Wyait's toil, 
 Perchance than Holland's edifice* more rleet, 
 Again red Lemnos* artisan may spoil ; 
 The fire-alarm and midnight drum may beat, 
 And all bestrewed ysmoking at your feet I 
 
 * " Holland's edifice." The late theatre was built by 
 Holland the architect. The writer visited it on the night 
 of its opening. The performances were " Macbeth " and 
 the "Virgin Unmasked." Between the play and the 
 farce, an excellent epilogue, written by George Colman, 
 was excellently spoken by Miss FaiTen. It referred to 
 the iron curtain which was, in the event of fire, to be let 
 down between the stage and the audience, and which 
 accordingly descended, by way of experiment, leaving 
 Miss Farren between the lamps and the curtain. The 
 fair speaker informed the audience, that should the fire 
 break out on the stage (where it usually originates), it 
 would thus be kept from the spectators ; adding, with 
 great solemnity — 
 
 ' ' Xo ! we assure our generous benefactors 
 Twill only burn the scenery and the actors ! * 
 A lank of water was afterwards exhibited, in the course 
 of the epilogue, in which a wherry was rowed by a real 
 live man, the band playing— 
 
 " And did you not hear of a jolly young waterman ? " 
 Miss I'arren reciting —
 
 70 REJECTED ADDRESSES. 
 
 Start ye? perchance Death's angel may be sent, 
 Ere from the flaming temple ye retreat ; 
 And ye who met, on revel idlesse bent, 
 May find, in pleasure's fane, your grave and 
 monument. 
 
 " Sit still, there's nothing in it, 
 ^^'e'll undertake to drown you in a single minute." 
 
 " O vain thought ! " as Othello says. Notwithstanding 
 the boast in the epilogue — 
 
 " Blow, wind — come, rack, in ages yet unborn, 
 Our castle's strength shall laugh a siege to scorn " — 
 
 the theatre fell a victim to the flames within fifteen years 
 from the prognostic ! These preparations against fire 
 always presuppose presence of mind and promptness in 
 those who are to put them into action. They remind 
 one of the dialogue, in Morton's "Speed the Plough," 
 between Sir Abel Handy and his son Bob : 
 
 " Bob. Zounds, the castle's on fire ! 
 
 Sir A. Yes. 
 
 Bob. Wliere's your patent liquid for extinguishing fire? 
 
 Sir A. It is not fixed. 
 
 Bob. Then where's your patent fire-escape ? 
 
 Sir A. It is not fixed. 
 
 Bob. You are never at a loss ? 
 
 Sir A. Never. 
 
 Bob. Then what do you mean to do ? 
 
 Sir A. I don't know."
 
 GUI BON'O? 71 
 
 VI. 
 
 Your debts mount high — ye plunge in deeper 
 
 waste ; 
 The tradesman duns — no warning voice ye 
 
 hear ! 
 The plaintiff sues — to public shows ye haste ; 
 The bailiff threats — ye feel no idle fear. 
 Who can arrest your prodigal career ? 
 Who can keep down the levity of youth ? 
 What sound can startle age's stubborn ear ? 
 Who can redeem from wretchedness and ruth 
 Men true to falsehood's voice, false to the voice 
 
 of truth ? 
 
 VTI. 
 
 To thee, blest saint I who doffed thy skin to 
 
 make 
 The Smithfield rabble leap from theirs with 
 
 joy, 
 
 We dedicate the pile — arise ! awake ! — 
 Knock down the Muses, wit and sense 
 destroy,
 
 72 RIZJECTED ADDRKSSHS. 
 
 Clear our new stage from reason's dull alloy, 
 Charm hobbling age, and tickle capering 
 
 youth 
 With cleaver, marrow-bone, and Tunbridge 
 
 toy ; 
 While, vibrating in unbelieving tooth,"*^ 
 Harps twang in Drury's walls, and make her 
 
 boards a booth. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 For what is Hamlet, but a hare in March ? 
 And what is Brutus, but a croaking owl ? 
 And what is Rolla ? Cupid steeped in starch, 
 Orlando's helmet in Augustin's cowl, 
 Shakespeare, how true thine adage, "fair is 
 
 foul : " 
 To him whose soul is with fruition fraught, 
 The song of Braham is an Irish howl, 
 
 * A rather obscure mode of expression for /^wj'-harp ; 
 which some etymologists allege, by the way, to be a 
 corruption of Jaws' -hSLvp. No connection, therefore, with 
 King David.
 
 GUI BOXO 1 75 
 
 Thinking is but an idle waste of thought, 
 And nought is everything, and eveiything is 
 nought 
 
 IX. 
 
 Sons of Parnassus I whom I \iew above. 
 Not laurel-crown'd, but clad in rusty black ; 
 Xot spurring Pegasus through Tempe's 
 
 grove. 
 Ikit pacing Grub Street on a jaded hack ; 
 What reams of foolscap, while your brains 
 
 ye rack, 
 Ve mar to make again ! for sure, ere long, 
 Condemn "d to tread the bard"s time-sanction"d 
 
 track, 
 Ve all shall join the bailiff-haunted throng. 
 And reproduce, in rags, the rags ye blot in 
 
 song. 
 
 X. 
 
 So fares the follower in the Muses' train ; 
 He toils to starve, and only lives in death ;
 
 74 REJECTED ADDRESSES. 
 
 We slight him, till our patronage is vain, 
 Then round his skeleton a garland wreathe, 
 And o'er his bones an empty requiem 
 
 breathe — 
 Oh ! with what tragic horror would he start, 
 (Could he be conjured from the grave 
 
 beneath) 
 To find the stage again a Thespian cart, 
 And elephants and colts down-trampling Shake- 
 speare's art. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Hence, pedant Nature ! with thy Grecian 
 
 rules ! 
 Centaurs (not fabulous) those rules efface ; 
 Back, sister Muses, to your native schools ; 
 Here booted grooms usurp Apollo's place. 
 Hoofs shame the boards that Garrick used lo 
 
 grace. 
 The play of limbs succeeds the play of wit, 
 Man yields the drama to the Hou'yn'm 
 
 race.
 
 GUI BONO? 
 
 /) 
 
 His piompier spurs, his licenser the bit, 
 The stage a stable-yard, a jockey- club the pit. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Is it for these ye rear this proud abode ? 
 Is it for these your superstition seeks 
 To build a temple worthy of a god, / 
 
 To laud a monkey, or to worship leeks ! 
 Then be the stage, to recompense your freaks, 
 A motley chaos, jumbling age and ranks. 
 Where Punch, the lignum-vitee Roscius, 
 
 squeaks. 
 And Wisdom weeps and Folly plays his 
 
 pranks. 
 And moody Madness laughs and hugs the chain 
 
 he clanks.
 
 HAMPSHIRE FARMER^S 
 ADDRESS.
 
 V. 
 
 HAMPSHIRE FARMER'S 
 ADDRESS. 
 
 BY WILLIAM COBBETT. 
 
 TO THE SECRETARY OF THE MANAGING COM- 
 MITTEE OF DRURY LANE PLAYHOUSE. 
 
 OIR, — To the gewgaw fetters of rhyme 
 (invented by the monks to enslave the 
 people) I have a rooted objection. I have 
 therefore written an address for your Theatre 
 in plain, homespun, yeoman's prose ; in the 
 doing whereof I hope I am swayed by nothing 
 but an indepejident wish to open the eyes of 
 this gulled people, to prevent a repetition of 
 
 79
 
 ^O KKJECTEU AUUKESSi:s. 
 
 the dramatic biDiihoozIiiig they have hitherto 
 laboured under. If you like what 1 have 
 done, and mean to make use of it, I don't 
 want any such arisfocj-atic reward as a piece 
 of plate with two griffins sprawling upon it", 
 or a dog and a jackass fighting for a ha'p'worth 
 of ^i,'/// gingerbread^ or any such Bartholomew 
 Fair nonsense. All I ask is that the door- 
 keepers of your playhouse may take all the 
 sets of luy Register now on hand, and force 
 everybody who enters your doors to buy one, 
 j^iving afterwards a debtor and creditor account 
 of what they have received, post-paid^ and in 
 due course remitting me the money and unsold 
 Registers, carriage-paid, 
 
 I am, ^c. 
 
 W. C.
 
 HAMPSHIRE l-ARMl-R S ADDRESS. hi 
 
 IX Tin: CHARACTER (^F 
 
 A HAMPSHIRE FARMER. 
 
 ..." R.ibida qui concitus ira 
 Implevit pariter term's latratibus auras, 
 Et sparsit virides spumis albentibus agros."— Ovin, 
 
 Most thinking Pi:oplf., — When persons 
 address an audience from the stage, it is 
 usual, either in words or gesture, to say, 
 "Ladies and Gentlemen, your servant.'"' If 
 I were base enough, mean enough, paltry 
 enough, and fin/ ft' beast enough, to follow that 
 fashion, I should tell two lies in a breath. In 
 the first place, you are not Ladies and Gentle- 
 men, but I hope something better, that is to 
 say, honest men and women : and in the next 
 place, if you were ev^er so much ladies, and 
 ever so much gentlemen, I am not, nor cva- 
 7vill fit', your humble ser\ant. 'S'ou see me 
 here, 77iost tJiinkin^i^ people^ by mere chance. 
 I have not been within the doors of a play-
 
 iSi i<i.li;r.TF.n ADuui-sshS, 
 
 house before for these ten years ; nor, till 
 that abominable custom of taking money at 
 the doors is discontinued, will I ever sanction 
 a theatre with my presence. The stage-door 
 is the only gate oi freedo?n in the whole edifice, 
 and through that I made my way from liag- 
 shaw's "^ in Br)^dges Street, to accost you. 
 Look about you. Are you not all comfort- 
 able ? Na\-, never slink, mun ; speak out, 
 if you are dissatisfied, and tell me so before 
 I leave town. You are now (thanks to Mi: 
 Whitlrread^ got into a large, comfortable 
 house. Not into a glmcrack palace : not into 
 a Solomo)Ps ttinpic ; not into a frost-work of 
 Brobdignag filigree ; but into a plain, honest, 
 homely, industrious, wholesome, broivn brick 
 playhouse. You have been strugglmg for 
 independence and elbow-room these three 
 years ; and who gave it you ? Who helped 
 you out of Lilliput ? Who routed you from 
 
 * Bagshaw. At that time the publisher of Cobbett's 
 Register.
 
 a rat-hole, five inches by four, to perch you 
 in a palace ? Again and again I answer, M7:. 
 Whitbread. You might have sweltered in that 
 place with the Greek name "* till doomsday, 
 and neither Lord Casflereagh, Mr. Can?ti;i(^, 
 no, nor the Marquess U^ellcsley. would have 
 turned a trowel to help you out I Remember 
 that Never forget that. Read it to your 
 children, and to your children's children ! And 
 now, most tJmiking peoplc\ cast your eyes over 
 my head to what the builder (I beg his pardon, 
 the architect) calls the proscetiiuiii. No motto, 
 no slang, no popish Latin, to keep the people 
 in the dark. No veluti in speculum. Nothing 
 in the dead languages, properly so called, for 
 they ought to die, ay, and be damned to boot ! 
 The Covent Garden manager tried that, and 
 a pretty business he made of it I When a 
 man says veluti in speculum^ he is called a 
 
 * The old Lyceum Theatre, pulled down by Mr. 
 Arnold. That since destroyed by fire was erected on 
 its site.
 
 84 Ki^jLCTiiU ADDin:ssi-:s. 
 
 man of letters. Very well, and is not a man 
 who cries O. P. a man of letters too ? "S'oii 
 ran your O. P. against his I'ehiti in speculum^ 
 and pray which beat ? I prophesied that, 
 though I never told anybody. I take it for 
 granted that ever)- intelligent man, woman, 
 and child, to whom I address myself, has 
 stood severally and respectively in Little 
 Russell Street, and cast their, his, her, and 
 its eyes on the outside of this building before 
 they paid their money to view the inside. Look 
 at the brick- work, English Audience I Look 
 at the brick-work ! All plain and smooth like 
 a Quakers' meeting. None of your Egyptian 
 pyramids, to entomb subscribers' capital. No 
 overgrown colonnades of stone, like an alder- 
 man's gouty legs in white cotton stockings, fit 
 only to use as rammers for paving Tottenham 
 Court Road. This house is neither after the 
 model of a temple in Athens, no. nor a temple 
 in Moorjields^ but it is built to act English 
 plays in ; and. provided you have good scenery.
 
 HAMPSHIRE farmer's ADDRESS. 85 
 
 dresses, and decorations, I daresay you wouldn't 
 break your hearts if the outside were as plain 
 as the pikestaff I used to carry when 1 was a 
 sergeant. Apropos^ as the French valets say, 
 who cut their masters' throats * — apropos^ a 
 word about dresses. You must, many of you, 
 have seen what I ha^•e read a description of, 
 Kemble and Mrs. Siddons in Macbeth, with 
 more gold and silver plastered on their doublets 
 than would have kept an honest family in 
 butcher s meat and flannel from years end to 
 year's end ! I am informed (now mind, I do 
 not vouch for the fact), but I am informed 
 that all such extravagant idleness is to be 
 done away with here. Lady ]\Iacbeth is to 
 have a plain quilted petticoat, a cotton gown, 
 and a mob cap (as the court parasites call it ; — 
 it will be well for them, if, one of these days, 
 they don't wear a mob cap — I mean a white 
 cap. with a mob to look at them) ; and Macbeth 
 
 '^ An allu:^ion to a murder tlien recently committed on 
 J'.arms Trrrace.
 
 6b REJHCTLD ADDRLSSES. 
 
 is to appear in an honest yeoman's drab coat 
 and a pair of black calamanco breeches. Not 
 ^'<?/amanca ; no, nor Talavera neither, my 
 most Noble Marquess ; but plain, honest, black 
 calamanco stuff breeches. This is right ; this 
 is as it should be. Most thinking people^ I 
 have heard you much abused. There is not 
 a compound in the language but is strung fifty 
 in a rope, like onions, by the Morning Post^ 
 and hurled in your teeth. You are called the 
 mob ; and when they have made you out to 
 be the mob, you are called the scum of the 
 people, and the drei^s of the people. I should 
 like to know how you can be both. Take a 
 basin of broth — not cheap, soiip^ Mr. Wilber- 
 force — not soup for the poor, at a penny a 
 quart, as your mixture of horses' legs, brick- 
 dust, and old shoes, was denominated — but 
 plain, wholesome, patriotic beef or mutton 
 broth ; take this, examine it, and you will tind 
 — mind, I don't vouch for the fact, but I am 
 told — you will find the dregs at the bottom,
 
 HAxMPSHIRE farmer's ADDRESS. 87 
 
 and the scum at the top. I will endeavour 
 to explain this to you : England is a large 
 earthenware pipkin; John Bull is the beef 
 thrown into it ; taxes are the hot water he 
 boils in ; rotten boroughs are the fuel that 
 blazes under this same pipkin ; Parliament is 
 the ladle that stirs the hodge-podge, and some- 
 times . But, hold ! I don't wish to pay 
 
 Mr. Newman "^ a second visit. I leave you 
 better off than you have been this many a day : 
 you have a good house over your head ; you 
 have beat the French in Spain ; the harvest 
 has turned out well ; the comet keeps its dis- 
 tance : t and red slippers are hawked about 
 in Constantinople for next to nothing ; and for 
 all this, again and again I tell you, you are 
 indebted to J/r. Whitbread I ! ! 
 
 * At that time keeper of Newgate. The present 
 superintendent is styled governor ! 
 
 t A portentous one that made its appearance in the 
 year 1811 ; in the midst of the war, 
 
 " with fear of change 
 Perplexing nations."
 
 THE LIVING LUSTRES.
 
 VI. 
 
 THE LIVING LUSTRES. 
 
 BY THOMAS MOORE, 
 
 " Jam te juvaverit 
 Viros relinquere, 
 Doctaeque conjugis 
 Sinu quiescere." 
 
 —Sir T. More. 
 
 I. 
 
 WHY should our dull retrospective 
 
 addresses "^ 
 
 Fall damp as wet blankets on Drury Lane 
 
 fire ? 
 
 * "'The Living Lustres' appear to us a very fair 
 imitation of the fantastic verses which that ingenious 
 person, Mr. Moore, indites when he is merely gallant, 
 and, resisting the lures of voluptuousness, is not enough 
 in earnest to be tender." — Jeffrky, Edinburgh Review. 
 
 o
 
 9-i l.LJHCJHD AUDRLSSLS. 
 
 Away with blue devils, away with distresses, 
 And give the gay spirit to sparkling desire ! 
 
 11. 
 Let artists decide on the beauties of Drury, 
 
 The richest to me is when woman is there ; 
 The question of houses I leave to the jury ; 
 
 Jlie fairest to me is the house of the fair. 
 
 III. 
 
 When woman's soft smile all our senses 
 bewilders, 
 And gilds, while it carves, her dear form on 
 the heart, 
 What need has New Drury of carvers and 
 gilders ? 
 With Nature so bounteous, why call upon 
 Art ? 
 
 IV. 
 
 How well would our actors attend to their 
 duties. 
 Our house save in oil, and our authors in wit.
 
 THE LIVING LUSTRES. 95 
 
 In lieu of yon lamps, if a row of young beauties 
 Glanced light from their eyes between us 
 and the pit ! 
 
 V. 
 
 The apples that grew on the fruit-tree of 
 knowledge 
 By woman were pluck'd, and she still wears 
 the prize. 
 To tempt us in theatre, senate, or college — 
 I mean the love-apples that bloom in the 
 eyes. 
 
 VI. 
 
 There too is the lash which, all statutes con- 
 trolling. 
 Still governs the slaves that are made by the 
 fair ; 
 For man is the pupil, who, while her eye's 
 rolling, 
 Is lifted to rapture, or sunk in despair.
 
 94 KEJhCTLD ADDKLSSLS. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Bloom, theatre, bloom, in the roseate blushes 
 Of beauty illumed by a love-breathini; smile I 
 
 And flourish, ye pillars,* as green as the rushes 
 That pillow the nymphs of the Emerald Isle ! 
 
 VIII. 
 
 For dear is the Emerald Isle of the ocean, 
 Whose daughters are fair as the foam of the 
 wave, 
 Whose sons, unaccustom'd to rebel commotion, 
 Tho' joyous, are sober — tho' peaceful, are 
 brave. 
 
 IX. 
 
 The shamrock their olive, sworn foe to a 
 quarrel, 
 Protects from the thunder and lightning of 
 
 ■■■ This alludes to two massive pillars of verd antique 
 which then flanked the proscenium, but which have since 
 been removed. Their colour reminds the bard of the 
 Emerald Isle, and this causes him {more siio) to fly off at 
 a tangent, and Hibernicise the rest of the poem.
 
 THE LIVING LUSTRES. 95 
 
 Their sprig of shillelagh is nothing but laurel, 
 Which flourishes rapidly over their brows. 
 
 X. 
 
 Oh : soon shall they burst the tyrannical 
 shackles 
 Which each panting bosom indignantly 
 names, 
 Until not one goose at the capital cackles 
 Against the grand question of Catholic 
 claims. 
 
 XI. 
 
 And then shall each Paddy, who once on the 
 Liffey 
 l^erchance held the helm of some mackerel- 
 hoy^ 
 Hold the helm of the state, and dispense in a 
 jiffy 
 More fishes than ever he caught when a 
 boy.
 
 96 REJECTED ADDRESSES. 
 
 XII. 
 
 And those who now quit their hods, sho\els, 
 and barrows, 
 In crowds to the bar of some ale-house to 
 flock, 
 When bred to our bar shall be Gibbses and 
 Garrows, 
 Assume the silk gown, and discard the 
 smock-frock. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 P^or Erin surpasses the daughters of Neptune, 
 As Dian outshines each encircling star : 
 
 And the spheres of the heavens could never 
 have kept tune 
 Till set to the music of Erin-fro-bra^h !
 
 THE REBUILDING. 
 
 (34)
 
 VIT. 
 
 THE REBUILDING. 
 
 BY ROBERT SOUTHEY. 
 
 " Per audaces nova dithyrambos 
 Verba devolvit, numerisque fertur 
 Lege solutis." — HoRAT. 
 
 \Spoken by a GhndovecrT^ 
 
 T AM a blessed Glendoveer : ^ 
 
 'Tis mine to speak, and yours to hear. 
 
 Midnight, yet not a nose 
 From Tower Hill to Piccadilly snored I 
 
 Midnight, yet not a nose 
 From Indra drew the essence of repose ! 
 
 * For the Glendoveer, and the rest of the dramatis 
 personei; of this imitation, the reader is referred to the 
 " Curse of Kehama." 
 
 99
 
 IOC) KHjFXTr.D AUURESSI.S. 
 
 See with what crimson fury. 
 By India fann'd, the god of fire ascends the 
 walls of Drury ! 
 
 Tops of houses, blue with lead, 
 
 Bend beneath the landlord's tread. 
 
 Master and 'prentice, serving-man and lord. 
 
 Xailor and tailor, 
 
 Grazier and brazier. 
 
 Through streets and alleys pourd — 
 
 All, all abroad to gaze, 
 
 And wonder at the blaze. 
 
 Thick calf, fat foot, and slim knee, 
 
 Mounted on roof and chimney,* 
 
 The mighty roost, the mighty stew 
 
 To see : 
 
 As if the dismal ^iew 
 
 Were but to them a Brentford jubilee. 
 
 Vainly all-radiant Surya, sire of Phaeton 
 
 * This couplet was introduced by the autliors by way 
 of bravado, in answer to one who alleged that the English 
 lang^uage contained no rhyn\e to chimney.
 
 THE REBUILDING. lOI 
 
 (By Greeks call'd Apollo) * 
 
 Hollow 
 
 Sounds from ihy harp proceed ; 
 
 Combustible as reed, 
 
 The tongue of Vulcan licks thy wooden legs : 
 
 From Drury's top, dissever'd from thy pegs, 
 
 Thou tumblest, 
 
 Humblest, 
 
 * Apollo. A gigantic wooden figure of tliis deity was 
 erected on the roof. The writer [ho7-rescit refcrais !) is 
 old enough to recollect the time when it was first placed 
 there. Old Bishop, then one of the masters of Merchant 
 Taylors' School, wrote an epigram upon the occasion, 
 which, referring to the aforesaid figure, concluded thus : 
 
 " Above he fills up Shakespeare's place. 
 And Shakespeare fills up his below." 
 
 Very antithetical ; but quaere as to the meaning? The 
 writer, like Pluto, "long puzzled his brain" to find it 
 out, till he was immersed " in a lower deep " by hearing 
 Madame de Stael say, at the table of the late Lord 
 Dillon, "Buonaparte is not a man, but a system." 
 Inquiry was made in the course of the evening of .Sir 
 James Mackintosh as to what the lady meant? He 
 answered, "Mass! I cannot tell.'' Madame de Stael 
 repeats this apophthegm in her work on (it>rniany. h 
 is prf)bably understood thc7-c.
 
 I02 Ki.jLCTl.U ADDKLSbl.b. 
 
 Where late thy bright effulgence shone on 
 
 hioh : 
 
 While, by thy somerset excited, fly 
 
 Ten million 
 
 Bilhon 
 
 Sparks from the pit. to gem the sable sky. 
 
 Now come the men of fire to quench the fires : 
 
 To Russell Street see Globe and Atlas run, 
 
 Hope gallops first, and second Sun ; 
 
 On flying heel, 
 
 See Hand-in-Hand 
 
 O'ertake the band ! 
 
 View with what glowing wheel 
 
 He nicks 
 
 Phoenix ! 
 
 While Albion scampers from Bridge Street^ 
 
 Blackfriars — 
 
 Drury Lane I Drury Lane [ 
 
 Drury Lane 1 Drury Lane I 
 
 They shout and they bellow again and again. 
 
 All, all in vain !
 
 THE REBUILDING. 10,3 
 
 Water turns steam ; 
 
 Each blazing beam 
 
 Hisses defiance to the eddying spout : 
 
 It seems but too plain that nothing can put it 
 
 out ! 
 
 Drury Lane I Drur}- Lane ! 
 See, Drury Lane expires. 
 
 Pent in by smoke-dried beams, twelve moons 
 or more 
 
 Shorn of his ray, 
 
 Surya in durance lay : 
 
 The workmen heard him shout, 
 
 But thought it would not pay, 
 
 To dig him out. 
 
 When lo I terrific Yamen, lord of hell, 
 
 Solemn as lead, 
 
 Judge of the dead, 
 
 Sworn foe to witticism. 
 
 By men call'd criticism, 
 
 Came passing by that way : 
 
 Rise ! cried the fiend, behold a sight of gladness !
 
 104 REJECTED ADDRESSES. 
 
 Behold the rival theatre ! 
 
 I've set O. l\ at her,* 
 
 Who, like a bull-dog bold, 
 
 Growls and fastens on his hold. 
 
 The many-headed rabble roar in madness ; 
 Thy rival staggers : come and spy her 
 
 * O. P. This personage, who is alleged to have 
 growled like a bull-dog, requires rather a lengthened 
 note for the edification of the rising generation. The 
 " horns, rattles, drums," with which he is accompanied, 
 are no inventions of the poet. The new Covent Garden 
 Theatre opened on the i8th Sept. 1809, when a cr\' of 
 " Old Prices " (afterwards diminished to O. P.) burst out 
 from every part of the house. This continued and 
 increased in violence till the 23rd, when rattles, drums, 
 whistles, and cat-calls, having completely drowned the 
 voices of the actors, Mr. Kemble, the stage-manager, 
 came forward and said that a committee of gentlemen 
 had undertaken to examine the finances of the concern, 
 and that until they were prepared with their report the 
 theatre would continue closed, "Name them!" was 
 shouted from all sides. The names were declared, viz.. 
 Sir Charles Price, the Solicitor-General, the Recorder of 
 London, the Governor of the Bank, and Mr. Angerstein. 
 "All shareholders!" bawled a wag from the gallery. 
 In a few days the theatre re-opened : the public paid
 
 THE KHBUILDIXC. 10 > 
 
 Deep in the mud as thou art in the mire. 
 
 So saying, in his arms he caught the beaming 
 
 one, 
 
 And crossing Russell Street. 
 
 He placed him on his feet 
 
 'Xeath Covent Garden dome. Sudden a sound, 
 
 As of the bricklayers of Babel, rose . 
 
 no attention to the report of the referees, and the tumult 
 was renewed for several weeks with even increased 
 violence. The proprietors now sent in hired bruisers, to 
 /;//// the refractory into subjection. This irritated most 
 of their former friends, and, amongst the rest, the 
 annotator, who accordingly wrote the song of " Heigh- 
 ho, says Kemble," which was caught up by the ballad- 
 singers, and sung under Mr. Kemble's house windows in 
 Great Russell Street. A dinner was given at the Crown 
 and Anchor Tavern in the Strand, to celebrate the victory 
 obtained by W. Clifford in his action against Brandon, 
 the box-keeper, for assaulting him for wearing the letters 
 O. l\ in his hat. At this dinner Mr. Kemble attended, 
 and matters were compromised by allowing the advanced 
 price (seven shillings) to the boxes. The writer re- 
 members a former riot of a similar sort at the same 
 theatre (in the year 1792), when the price to the boxes 
 was raised from five shillings to six. That tumult, how- 
 ever, only lasted three nights.
 
 Io6 RI.JECTED ADDRESSF.S. 
 
 Horns, rattles, drums, tin trumpets, sheets of 
 
 copper, 
 Punches and slaps, thwacks of all sorts and sizes, 
 From the knobb'd bludgeon to the taper switch,* 
 Ran echoing round the walls ; paper placards 
 Blotted the lamps, boots brown with mud the 
 
 benches ; 
 A sea of heads roll'd roaring in the pit ; 
 
 * " From the knobb'd bludgeon to the taper switch." 
 This image is not the creation of the poets : it sprang 
 from reality. The authors happened to be at the Royal 
 Circus when ' God save the King " was called for, accom- 
 panied by a ciy of "stand up ! " and "hats off! " An 
 inebriated naval lieutenant, perceiving a gentleman in 
 an adjoining box slow to obey the call, stmck his hat 
 off with his stick, exclaiming, " Take off your hat, sir ! " 
 The other thus assaulted proved to be, unluckily for the 
 lieutenant, Lord Camelford, the celebrated bmiser and 
 duellist. A set-to in the lobby was the consequence, 
 where his lordship quickly proved victorious. "The 
 devil is not so black as he is painted," said one of the 
 authors to the other ; "let us call upon Lord Camelford, 
 and tell him that we were witnesses of his being first 
 assaulted." The visit was paid on the ensuing morning 
 at Lord Camelford's lodgings, in Bond Street. Over the 
 fireplace in the drawing-room were ornaments strongly
 
 THE REBUILDIXG. IO7 
 
 On paper wings O. P.'s 
 
 Reclin'd in lettered ease ; 
 
 While shout and scoff, 
 
 Ya! ya! off! off! 
 
 Like thunderbolt on Surya's ear-drum fell, 
 
 And seemed to paint 
 
 The savage oddities of Saint 
 
 Bartholomew in hell. 
 
 expressive of the pugnacity of the peer. A long thick 
 bludgeon lay horizontally supported by two brass hooks. 
 Above this was placed parallel one of lesser dimensions, 
 until a pyramid of weapons gradually arose, tapering 
 to a horsewhip : 
 
 " Thus all below was strength, and all above was grace. " 
 
 Lord Camelford received his visitants with great civility, 
 and thanked them warmly for the call ; adding, that their 
 evidence would be material, it being his intention to 
 indict the lieutenant for an assault. "All I can say in 
 return is this," exclaimed the peer with great cordiality, 
 " if ever I see you engaged in a row, upon my soul I'll 
 stand by you." The authors expressed themselves 
 thankful for so potent an ally, and departed. In about 
 a fortnight afterwards. Lord Camelford was shot in a 
 ^luel with Mr. Best.
 
 I08 REJECTKD ADDRESSES. 
 
 Tears climm'd the god of light — 
 
 "Bear me back, Yamen, from this hideous sight 
 
 Bear me back, Yamen, I grow sick. 
 
 Oh ! burj- me again in brick ; 
 
 Shall I on New Drur>^ tremble, 
 
 To be O. P.'d like Kemble ? 
 
 No, 
 
 Better remain by rubbish guarded, 
 
 Than thus hubbubish groan placarded ; 
 
 Bear me back, Yamen, bear me quick, 
 
 And bury me again in brick.'' 
 
 Obedient Yamen 
 
 Answered, "Amen," 
 
 And did 
 
 As he was bid. 
 
 There lay the buried god, and Time 
 
 Seemed to decree eternity of lime ; 
 
 But pity, like a dew-drop, gently prest 
 
 Almighty A'eeshnoo's * adamantine breast : 
 
 * \'eeshnco. The late Mr. Whitbread.
 
 THE REBUILDING. IO9 
 
 He, the preserver, ardent still 
 To do whate'er he says he will, 
 From South Hill wing'd his way, 
 To raise the drooping lord of day. 
 All earthly spells the busy one o'erpowerd ; 
 He treats with men of all conditions, 
 Poets and players, tradesmen, and musicians ; 
 Nay, even ventures 
 To attack the renters. 
 Old and new : 
 A list he gets 
 Of claims and debts. 
 And deems nought done, while aught remains 
 to do. 
 Yamen beheld, and wither'd at the sight ; 
 Long had he aim'd the sunbeam to control. 
 For light was hateful to his soul : 
 "Go on !" cried the heUish one, yellow with spite ; 
 " Go on : "' cried the hellish one, yellow with 
 
 spleen, 
 " Thy toils of the morning, like Ithaca's queen, 
 I'll toil to undo every night."
 
 no Ki;jECTED ADDRESSES, 
 
 Ye sons of song, rejoice ! 
 
 Veeshnjo has still "d the jarring elements, 
 
 The spheres hymn music ; 
 
 Again the god of day 
 
 Peeps forth with trembling ray, 
 
 Wakes, from their humid caves, the sleeping 
 
 Nine, 
 
 And pours at intervals a strain divine. 
 
 " I have an iron yet in the fire,'" cried Yamen ; 
 
 '• The ^■ollied flame rides in my breath, 
 
 My blast is elemental death ; 
 
 This hand shall tear your paper bonds to pieces ; 
 
 Ingross, your deeds, assignments, leases, 
 
 ]\Iy breath shall every line erase 
 
 Soon as I blow the blaze." 
 
 The lawyers are met at the Crou-n and Anchor, 
 
 And Yamen's visage grows blanker and blanker ; 
 
 The lawyers are met at the Anchor and Crown, 
 
 And Yamen's cheek is a russety brown ; 
 
 Veeshnoo, now thy work proceeds ; 
 
 1 he solicitor reads.
 
 THIZ REBUILDING. Ill 
 
 And, merit of merit ! 
 
 Red wax and green ferret 
 
 Are fixed at the foot of the deeds ! 
 
 Yamen beheld and shiver" d ; 
 
 His finger and thumb were cramp'd ; 
 
 His ear by the flea in't was bitten, 
 
 When he saw by the lawyer's clerk written, 
 
 Sealed and delivered. 
 Being first duly stamped. 
 
 . } 
 
 *' Now for my tur.i 1 " the demon cries, ai:d 
 blows 
 A blast of sulphur from his mouth and nose. 
 Ah I bootless aim I the critic fiend, 
 Sagacious Yamen, judge of hell, 
 Is judged in his turn ; 
 Parchment won't burn ! 
 His schemes of ven_:eance are dissolved in air. 
 Parchment won't tear I I 
 
 Is it not written in the Himakoot book 
 (That mighty Baly from Kehama took)
 
 112 Ui:jECrj-D ADDRESSES. 
 
 '' Who blows on pounce 
 
 Must the Swerga renounce ? '' 
 
 It is ! it is ! Yamen, thine hour is nigli : 
 
 Like as an eagle claws an asp, 
 
 Veeshnoo has caught him in his mighty grasp. 
 
 And Innrd him in spite of his shrieks and his 
 
 squalls, 
 
 Whizzing aloft, like the Temple fountain, 
 
 Three times as high as Meru mountain, 
 
 Which is 
 Ninety-nine times as high as St. Paul's. 
 
 Descending, he twisted like Levy the Jew,"' 
 
 Who a durable grave meant 
 
 To dig in the pavement 
 
 "" Levy. An insolvent Israelite who threw himself from 
 the top of the Monument a short time before. An 
 inhabitant of Monument Yard informed the writ'M", that 
 he happened to be standing at his door talking to a 
 neighbour ; and looking up at the top of the pillar, 
 exclaimed, "Why, here's the flag coming down." 
 " Flag ! " answered the other, " its a man." The words 
 were hardly uttered when the suicide fell within ten feet 
 of the speakers.
 
 THE REBUILDING. II3 
 
 Of Monument Yard : 
 
 To earth by the laws of attraction he tlew, 
 
 And he fell, and he fell 
 
 To the regions of hell : 
 
 Nine centuries bounced he from cavern to rock, 
 
 And his head, as he tumbled, went nickety-nock, 
 
 Like a pebble in Carisbrook Well. 
 
 Now Veeshnoo turn"d round to a caperin-- varlet, 
 
 Array"d in blue and white and scailet, 
 And cried, " Oh ! brown of slipper as of hat ! 
 
 Lend me, Harlequin, thy bat ! "" 
 
 He seized the wooden sword, and smote the 
 
 earth ; 
 
 When lo ! upstarting into birth 
 
 A fabric, gorgeous to behold, 
 
 Outshone in elegance the old. 
 
 And \'eeshnoo saw, and cried, '• Hail, playhouse 
 
 mine ! " 
 
 Then, bending his head, to Surya he said : 
 
 "■ Soon as thy maiden sister Di 
 Caps with her copper lid the dark blue sk)-.
 
 114 UJ.JLCTED ADDRLSSES. 
 
 And through the fissures of her clouded fan 
 
 Peeps at the naughty monster man, 
 
 Go mount yon edifice, 
 
 And show thy steady face 
 
 In renovated pride, 
 
 More bright, more glorious than before ! '* 
 
 But ah ! coy Surya still felt a twinge, 
 
 Still smarted from his former singe ; 
 
 And to A'ceshnoo replied, 
 
 In a tone rather gruff, 
 
 *' No- thank you ! one tumble's enough ! '''
 
 DRURY'S DIRGE,
 
 VIII. 
 
 DRURY'S DIRGE. 
 
 BV LAURA MATILDA.^ 
 
 " You praise our sires : but though they wrote with force 
 Their rhymes were vicious, and their diction coarse : 
 We want their strength, agreed ; but we aton-^ 
 For that, and more, by sweetness all our o\\ n. 
 
 — GlFFORD, 
 
 I. 
 
 T) ALMV Zeplwrs, lightly tiitting, 
 
 Shade me with your azure wing : 
 On Parnassus' summit sitting. 
 Aid me, Clio, while I sing. 
 
 * The authors, as in gallantry bound, wish this lad\- 
 to continue anonymous. If Mr. Cruikshank intends 
 any "scandal about Queen Elizabeth," they beg to dis- 
 avow any share in the responsibility.
 
 Jl8 REJECTED ADDRESSES. 
 
 II. 
 
 Softly slept the dome of Drury 
 
 O'er the empyreal crest, 
 When Alecto's sister-fury 
 
 Softly slumb'ring sunk to rest. 
 
 III. 
 Lo ! from Lemnos limping lamely. 
 
 Lags the lowly Lord of Fire, 
 Cytherea yielding tamely 
 
 To the Cyclops dark and dire. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Clouds of amber, dreams of gladness, 
 Dulcet joys and sports of youth. 
 
 Soon must yield to haughty sadness ; 
 Mercy holds the veil to Truth. 
 
 V. 
 See Erostratus the second 
 
 Fires again Diana's fane ; 
 By the Fates from Orcus beckon'd. 
 
 Clouds envelop Drury Lane.
 
 DRURY S DIRGE. II9 
 
 VI. 
 
 Lurid smoke and frank suspicion 
 Hand in hand reluctant dance : 
 
 While the God fulfils his mission, 
 Chivalry, resign thy lance. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Hark ! the engines blandly thunder, 
 
 Fleecy clouds dishevell'd lie, 
 And the firemen, mute with wonder, 
 
 On the son of Saturn cry, 
 
 VIII. 
 
 See the bird of Ammon sailing. 
 
 Perches on the engine's peak, 
 And, the Eagle firemen hailing, 
 
 Soothes them with its bickering beak. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Juno saw, and mad with malice, 
 Lost the prize that Paris gave : 
 
 Jealousy's ensanguined chalice, 
 Mantling pours the orient wave.
 
 120 REJECTED ADDRESSES. 
 
 X. 
 
 Pan beheld Palroclus dying. 
 
 Nox to Niobc was turn'd ; 
 From ijusiris Bacchus flyini^, 
 
 Saw his Semele inurn'd. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Thus fell Drury"s lofty gloi\', 
 
 Levell'd with the shudderin.s: stones 
 
 Mars, with tresses black and goiy, 
 Drinks the dew of pearly groans. 
 
 xn. 
 Hark .' what soft Eolian numbers 
 
 Gem the blushes of the morn ! 
 Break, Amphion, break your slumbers. 
 
 Nature's ringlets deck the thorn. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Ha I I hear the strain erratic 
 
 Dimly glance from pole to pole ; 
 
 Raptures sweet and dreams ecstatic 
 Fire my everlasting soul.
 
 DRURY S DIRGE. 121 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Where is Cupid's crimson motion ? 
 
 Billowy ecstasy of woe. 
 Bear me straight, meandering ocean. 
 
 \Miere the stagnant torrents flow. 
 
 XV. 
 
 Blood in every vein is gushing, 
 Vixen vengeance lulls my heart ; 
 
 See, the Gorgon gang is rushing ! 
 Never, never let us part ! 
 
 f^
 
 A TALE OF DRURY LANE.
 
 IX. 
 
 A TALE OF DRURY LANE, 
 
 BY SIR WALTER SCOTT. 
 
 "Thus he went on, stringing one extravagance upon 
 another, in the style his books of chivalry had taught 
 him, and imitating, as near as he could, their very 
 phrase.'" — Dox Quixote. 
 
 [ To be spoken by Mr. Kemble^ in a smf of the 
 Black Princess annotcr^ borrowed from the 
 Tower. ] 
 
 O URVEY this shield, all bossy bright— 
 
 These cuisses twain behold ! 
 Look on my form in armour dight 
 Of steel inlaid with gold : 
 My knees are stiff in iron buckles, 
 Stiff spikes of steel protect my knuckles.
 
 126 REJECTED ADDRESSES. 
 
 These once belong'd to sable prince, 
 Who never did in battle wince ; 
 With valour tart as pungent quince, 
 
 He slew the vaunting Gaul, 
 Rest there awhile, my bearded lance, 
 While from green curtain I advance, 
 To yon foot-lights, no trivial dance,* 
 And tell the town what sad mischance 
 
 Did Drury Lane befall. 
 
 On fair Augusta's towers and trees 
 Flitted the silent midnight breeze. 
 Curling the foliage as it past, 
 Which from the moon-tipp'd plumage cast 
 A spangled light, like dancing spray. 
 Then re-assumed its still array ; 
 When, as night's lamp unclouded hung, 
 And down its full effulgence flung, 
 
 * Alluding to the then great distxnce between the 
 picture-frame, in which the green curtain was set, and 
 the band. For a justification of this, see next address, 
 "Johnson's Ghost."
 
 A TALE OF DRURY LANE. 12'] 
 
 It shed such soft and balmy power 
 
 That cot and castle, hall and bower, 
 
 And spire and dome, and turret height, 
 
 Appeared to slumber in the light. 
 
 From Henry's chapel, Rufus' hall, 
 
 To Savoy, Temple, and St. Paul ; 
 
 Frorh Knightsbridge, Pancras, Camden Town, 
 
 To Redriffe, Shadwell, Horsleydown, 
 
 No voice was heard, no eye unclosed, 
 
 But all in deepest sleep reposed. 
 
 They might have thought, who gazed around 
 
 Amid a silence so profound, 
 
 It made the senses thrill. 
 That 'twas no place inhabited, 
 But some vast city of the dead — 
 
 All was so hush'd and still 
 
 %i)z 3Surninc* 
 
 As Chaos, which, by heavenly doom. 
 Had slept in everlasting gloom.. 
 Started with terror and surprise 
 When light first flash'd upon her eyes —
 
 128 KEJECTF.n ADDRHSSriS. 
 
 So London's sons in nightcap woke. 
 
 In bed-gown woke her dames ; 
 For shouts were heard 'mid fire and smoke. 
 And twice ten hundred voices spoke 
 
 " The playhouse is in flames ! "' 
 And, lo 1 where Catherine Street extends, 
 A fiery tail its lustre lends 
 
 To every window-pane ; 
 Blushes each spout in Martlet Court. 
 And Barbican, moth-eaten fort. 
 And Covent Garden kennels sport, 
 
 A bright ensanguined drain ; 
 Meux's new Brewhouse shows the light, 
 Rowland Hill's Chapel, and the height 
 
 Where Patent Shot they sell ; 
 The Tennis Court, so fair and tall, 
 Partakes the ray, with Surgeons' Hall, 
 The Ticket-Porters' House of Call. 
 Old Bedlam, close by London Wall,-^ 
 
 * Old Bedlam, at that time, stood "close by London 
 Wall." It was built after the model of the Tuileries, 
 which is said to have given the French king great offence.
 
 A TALE or DRURY I.AXE. 1 29 
 
 Wright's shrimp and oyster shop withal, 
 
 And Richardson's Hotel. 
 Nor these alone, but far and wide, 
 Across red Thames's gleaming tide, 
 To distant fields, the blaze was borne, 
 And daisy white ajid hoar)- thorn 
 In borrowed lustre seem'd to sham 
 The rose or red sweet Wil li-am. 
 To those who on the hills around 
 Beheld the flames from Drury's mound, 
 
 As from a lofty altar rise, 
 It seem'd that nations did conspire 
 To offer to the god of fire 
 
 Some vast stupendous sacrifice ! 
 
 The summon'd firemen woke at call, 
 
 And hied them to their stations all : 
 
 In front of it Moorfields extended, with broad gravel 
 walks crossing each other at right angles. These the 
 writer well recollects ; and Rivaz, an underwriter at 
 f.loyd's, has told him that he remembered when the 
 merchants of London would parade these walks on a 
 summer evening with their wives and daughters. Rut 
 now. as a punning brother bard sings, " Moorfields are 
 fields no more." 
 
 (34^ '■'
 
 J30 Rl-JFCTRD ADDRESSKS. 
 
 Starting from short and l^roken snooze, 
 Each sought his pond'rous hobnail'd siiocs, 
 But first his worsted hosen plied, 
 Plush breeches next, in crimson dyed, 
 
 His nether bulk embraced ; 
 Then jacket thick, of red or blue, 
 Whose massy shoulder gave to view 
 The badge of each respective crew, 
 
 In tin or copper traced. 
 The engines thunder'd through the street. 
 Fire-hook, pipe, bucket, all complete. 
 And torches glared, and clattering feet 
 
 Along the pavement paced. 
 And one, the leader of the band. 
 From Charing Cross along the Strand, 
 Like stag by beagles hunted hard. 
 Ran till he stopp'd at Vin'gar Yard. 
 The burning badge his shoulder bore, 
 The belt and oil-skin hat he wore. 
 The cane he had, his men to bang, 
 Show'd foreman of the British gang — 
 His name was Higginbottom. Now
 
 A TALE Ol- DRURY LANE. I3I 
 
 'Tis meet that I should tell you how 
 
 The others came in view : 
 The Hand-in-Hand the race begun, 
 Then came the Phoenix and the Sun, 
 Th' Exchange, where old insurers run, 
 
 The Eagle, where the new ; 
 With these came Rumford, Bumford, Cole, 
 Robins from Hockley in the Hole, 
 Lawson and Dawson, cheek by jowl, 
 
 Crump from St Giles's Pound : 
 Whitford and Mitford join'd the train, 
 Huggins and Muggins from Chick Lane, 
 And Clutterbuck, who got a sprain 
 
 Before the plug was found. 
 Hobson and Jobson did not sleep, 
 But ah ! no trophy could they reap, 
 For both were in the Donjon Keep 
 
 Of Bridewell's gloomy mound ! 
 
 E'en Higginbottom now was posed. 
 For sadder scene was ne'er disclosed ; 
 Without, within, in hideous show,
 
 132 RF.JFXTED ADDRESSF.S. 
 
 Devourinc,^ flames resistless glow, 
 And blazing rafters downward go, 
 And never halloo " Heads below I " 
 
 Nor notice give at all. 
 The firemen terrified are slow 
 To bid the pumping torrent flow, 
 
 For fear the roof should fall. 
 Back, Robins, back ! Crump, stand aloof 
 Whitford, keep near the walls ! 
 Huggins, regard your own behoof. 
 For, lo ! the blazing rocking roof 
 Down, down, in thunder falls I 
 An awful pause succeeds the stroke, 
 And o'er the ruins volumed smoke, 
 Rolling around its pitchy shroud, 
 Conceal'd them from th' astonish'd crowd. 
 At length the mist awhile was clear'd. 
 When, lo ! amid the wreck uprear'd. 
 Gradual a moving head appeard, 
 
 ■ And Eagle firemen knew 
 'Twas Joseph Muggins, name revered. 
 
 The foreman of their crew.
 
 A 'l-ALH OF DRURY LAKE. I 33 
 
 Loud shouted all in signs of woe, 
 '• A Muggins ! to the rescue, ho ! " 
 
 And pour'd the hissing tide : 
 Meanwhile the Muggins fought amain. 
 And strove and struggled all in vain, 
 For, rallying but to fall again, 
 
 He totter'd, sunk, and died ! 
 
 Did none attempt, before he fell, 
 To succour one they loved so well ? 
 Yes, Higginbottom did aspire 
 (His fireman's soul was all on fire), 
 
 His brother chief to save ; 
 liUt ah ! his reckless generous ire 
 
 Served but to share his grave ! 
 "Mid blazing beams and scalding streams. 
 Through fire and smoke he dauntless broke. 
 
 Where Muggins broke before. 
 But sulph'ry stench and boiling drench 
 Destroying sight o'erwhelm'd him quite. 
 
 He sunk to rise no more. 
 Still o'er his head, while Fate he braved,
 
 134 REJECTED ADDRESSES. 
 
 His whizzing water-pipe he waved ; 
 
 " Whitford and Mitford, ply your pumps, 
 
 You, Clutterbuck, come, stir your stumps. 
 
 Why are you in such doleful dumps ? 
 
 A fireman, and afraid of bumps ! — 
 
 What are thev fear'd on ? fools 1 'od rot em ! 
 
 Peace to his soul ! new prospects bloom, 
 And toil rebuilds what fires consume ! 
 Eat we and drink we, be our ditty, 
 "Joy to the managing committee 1" 
 Eat we and drink we, join to rum 
 Roast beef and pudding of the plum ; 
 Forth from thy nook. John Horner, come. 
 With bread of ginger brown thy thumb, 
 
 For this is Drur)''s gay day : 
 Roll, roll thy hoop, and twirl thy tops. 
 And buy, to glad thy smiling chops, 
 Crisp parliament with lollypops, 
 
 And fingers of the Lady.
 
 A TALE OF DRURY LANE. I 35 
 
 Didst mark, how toil'd the busy train, 
 From morn to eve, till Drury Lane 
 Leap'd like a roebuck from the plain ? 
 Ropes rose and sunk, and rose again, 
 
 And nimble workmen trod ; 
 To realise bold Wyatt's plan 
 Rush'd many a howling Irishman ; 
 Loud clatter'd many a porter-can, 
 And many a ragamuffin clan 
 
 With trowel and with hod. 
 
 Drury revives ! her rounded pate 
 Is blue, is heavenly blue with slate ; 
 She " wings the midway air " elate, 
 
 As magpie, crow, or chough : 
 White paint her modish visage smears^ 
 Yellow and pointed are her ears. 
 No pendant portico appears 
 Dangling beneath^ for Whitbread's shears '^ 
 
 Have cut the bauble off. 
 
 * Whitbread's shears. An economical experiment of 
 that gentleman. The present portico, towards Hrydgcs
 
 136 KJiJLCTEU AUDRLSbhS. 
 
 Yes, she exalts lier stately head : 
 
 And, but that soHd bulk outspread, 
 
 OppK)sed you on your onward tread, 
 
 And posts and pillars warranted 
 
 That all was true that Wyatt said, 
 
 You might have deem'd her walls so thick 
 
 Were not composed of stone or brick, 
 
 But all a phantom, all a trick, 
 
 Of brain disturb'd and fancy sick, 
 
 So high she soars, so vast, so quick '. 
 
 Street, was afterwards erected under the lesseeship of 
 Elliston, whose portrait in the Exhibition v\as tlius noticed 
 in xhc Exaviiner : "Portrait of the great lessee, in his 
 favourite character of Mr. Elliston.
 
 JOHNSON'S GHOST, 
 
 E 2
 
 JOHNSONS GHOST. 
 
 \Ghost of Dr. Johnson rises from trap-door 
 P. S. , and Ghost of BoswELL from trap- 
 door O. P. The latter bows respectfully to 
 the Hoiise^ and obsequiously to the Doctoi^s 
 Ghostj and retires.'] 
 
 Doctor's Ghost loquitur. 
 " I 'HAT which was organised by the moral 
 ability of one has been executed by the 
 physical efforts of many, and Drury Lane 
 Theatre is now complete. Of that part 
 behind the curtain, which has not yet been 
 destined to glow beneath the brush of the 
 varnisher, or vibrate to the hammer of the 
 carpenter, little is thought by the public, and
 
 IjjO Kli|)^CTLlJ AUDRKSShS. 
 
 little need be said by the committee. Truth, 
 however, is not to be sacrificed for the accom- 
 modation of either : and he who should pro- 
 nounce that our edifice has recei\ ed its final 
 embellishment would be disseminatin.i,^ false- 
 hood without incurring favour, and risking the 
 disgrace of detection without participating the 
 advantage of success. 
 
 Professions laxishly effused and parsimo- 
 niously verified are alike inconsistent with tlie 
 precepts of innate rectitude and the practice of 
 external policy : let it not then be conjectured, 
 that because we are unassuming, we are im- 
 becile ; that forbearance is any indication of 
 despondency, or humility of demerit. He that 
 is the most assured of success will make the 
 fewest appeals to fa\'Our, and where nothing- 
 is claimed that is undue, nothing that is due 
 will be Avithheld. A swelling opening is too 
 often succeeded by an insignificant conclusion. 
 Parturient mountains have ere now produced 
 muscipular abortions : and the auditor who
 
 jonxsox's GHOST. 141 
 
 compares incipient grandeur wiiii rinal vul- 
 garity is reminded of the pious hawkers of 
 Constantinople, who solemnly perambulate her 
 streets, exclaiming, •• In the name of the Pro- 
 phet — figs ! ■' 
 
 Of many who think themselves wise, and 
 of some who are thought wise by others, the 
 exertions are directed to the revival of moul- 
 dering and obscure dramas ; to endeavours to 
 exalt that which is now rare only because it 
 was always worthless, and whose deterioration, 
 while it condemned it to living obscurity, by 
 a strange obliquity of moral perception, con- 
 stitutes its title to posthumous renown. To 
 embody the flying colours of folly, to arrest 
 evanescence, to give to bubbles the globular 
 consistency as well as form, to exhibit on the 
 stage the piebald denizen of the stable, and 
 the half reasoning parent of combs, to display 
 the brisk locomotion of Columbine, or the 
 tortuous attitudinising of launch ; — these are 
 the occupations of others, whose ambition,
 
 142 REJECTED ADDRESSES. 
 
 limited to the applause of unintellectual fatuity^ 
 is too innocuous for the application of satire, 
 and too humble for the incitement of jealousy. 
 
 Our refectory will be found to contain every 
 species of fruit, from the cooling nectarine and 
 luscious peach to the puny pippin and the 
 noxious nut. There Indolence may repose, 
 and Inebriety revel ; and the spruce apprentice^ 
 rushing in at second account, may there chatter 
 with impunity : debarred, by a barrier of brick 
 and mortar, from marring that scenic interest 
 in others, which nature and education have 
 disqualified him from comprehending himself 
 
 Permanent stage-doors we have none. That 
 which is permanent cannot be removed, for, 
 if removed, it soon ceases to be permanent. 
 What stationary absurdity can vie with that 
 ligneous barricado, which, decorated with 
 frappant and tintinnabulant appendages, now 
 serves as the entrance of the lowly cottage, 
 and now as the exit of a lady's bed-chamber ; 
 at one time, insinuating plastic Harlequin ir.to
 
 JOHXSON S GHOST. 143 
 
 a butcher's shop, and, at anotlxir, yawning, as 
 a flood-gate, to precipitate the Cyprians of St. 
 Giles's into the embraces of Macheath. To 
 elude this glaring absurdity, to give to each 
 respective mansion the door which the car- 
 penter would doubtless have given, we vary 
 our portal with the varying scene, passing from 
 deal to mahogany, and from mahogany to oak, 
 as the opposite claims of cottage, palace, or 
 castle, may appear to require. 
 
 Amid the general hum of gratulation \/hich 
 flatters us in front, it is fit that some regard 
 should be paid to the murmurs of despondence 
 that assail us in the rear. They, as I have 
 elsewhere expressed it, '• who live to please," 
 should not have their own pleasures entirely 
 overlooked. The children of Thespis are 
 general in their censures of the architect, in 
 having placed the locality of exit at such a 
 distance from the oily irradiators which nov/ 
 dazzle the eyes of him who addresses you. I 
 am, cries the Queen of Terrors, robbed of my
 
 144 ULJliClLD ADDKHSSKS. 
 
 fair proportions. When the king-killing Thane 
 hints to the breathless auditory tlie murders he 
 means to perpetrate in the casile of Macduff, 
 •' ere his ])ur])ose cool," so vast is the interval 
 lie has to travel before he can escape from tiie 
 stage, that his purpose has even time to freeze. 
 Your condition, cries the Muse of Smiles, is 
 hard, but it is cygnet's down in comparison 
 with mine. The peerless peer of capers and 
 congees'^ has laid it down as a ;ule, that the 
 best good thing uttered by the morning visitor 
 should conduct him rapidly to the doorway, 
 last impressions vying in durability with hrst. 
 Ikit when, on this boarded elongation, it falls to 
 my lot to say a good thing, to ejaculate •• keep 
 moving," or to chant '''' Jiic Jioc Jioriiui genitiviK''' 
 many are the moments that must elapse ere I 
 can hide myself from public: vision in the 
 recesses of O. P. or P. S. 
 
 * The celebrated Lord Chesterfield, whoso Letters tohis 
 Son, according to Dr. Johnson, inculcate "the manners 
 of a dancinir-niaster and the morals of a ," <.*v:c.
 
 JOHNSON'S GHOST. 14) 
 
 To objections like these, captiously urged 
 and querulously maintained, it is time that 
 equity should conclusively reply. Deviation 
 from scenic propriety has only to \ituperate 
 itself for the consequences it generates. Let 
 the actor consider the line of exit as that line 
 beyond which he should not soar in quest of 
 spurious applause : let him reflect, that in pro- 
 portion as he advances to the lamps, he recedes 
 from nature ; that the truncheon of Hotspur 
 acquires no additional charm from encounter- 
 ing the cheek of beauty in the stage-box, and 
 that the bravura of Madame may produce 
 effect, although the throat of her who warbles it 
 should not overhang the orchestra. The Jove 
 of the modern critical Olympus, Lord Mayor 
 of the theatric sky,"^" has, e.v cathedra^ asserted 
 
 - Lord Mayor of the theatric sky. This alludes to 
 Leigh Hunt, who, in the Examiner at this time, kept 
 the actors in hot water. Dr. Johnson's argument is, like 
 many of his other arguments, specious, but untenable ; 
 thai which it defends has since been abandoned as 
 impracticable. Mr. Whitbread contended that the actor
 
 146 RKJKCTIiU ADDRESSES. 
 
 that a natural actor looks upon the audience 
 part of the theatre as the third side of the 
 chamber he inhabits. Surely, of the third wall 
 thus fancifully erected, our actors should, by 
 ridicule or reason, be withheld from knocking 
 their heads against the stucco. 
 
 Time forcibly reminds me, that all things 
 which have a limit must be brought to a 
 conclusion. Let me, ere that conclusion ar- 
 rives, recall to your recollection that the pillars 
 which rise on either side of me, blooming in 
 virid antiquity, like two massy evergreens, had 
 yjt slumbered in their native quarry, but for 
 
 was like a portrait in a picture, and accordingly placed 
 the green curtain in a gilded frame remote from the foot- 
 lights ; alleging that no performer should mar the illu- 
 sion by stepping out of the frame. Dowton was the 
 first actor who, like Manfred's ancestor in the "Castle 
 of Otranto,'' took the liberty of abandoning the canon. 
 " Don't tell me of frames and piciures," ejaculated the 
 testy comedian ; " if I can't be heard by the audience in 
 the frame, I'll walk out of it ! " The proscenium has 
 since been new modelled, and the actors thereby brought 
 nearer to the audience.
 
 JOHNSOX S GHOST. I47 
 
 the ardent exertions of the individual who 
 called them into life : to his never-slumbering 
 talents you arc indebted for whatever pleasure 
 this haunt of the ]\Iuses is calculated to afford. 
 If, in defiance of chaotic malevolence, the 
 destroyer of the temple of Diana yet survives 
 in the name of Erostratus, surely we may 
 confidently predict that the rebuiider of the 
 temple of Apollo will stand recorded to distant 
 posterity in that of — Samuel Whitbread. 
 
 #
 
 THE BEAUTIFUL INCENDIARY.
 
 XI. 
 
 THE BEAUTIFUL INCENDIARY 
 
 BY THE HON. WILLIAM ROBERT SPENCER. 
 
 " Formosam resonare doces Amaryllida sylvas." 
 
 —Virgil. 
 
 [Scene drazus, and discovers a Lady asleep on a cozich.'\ 
 Enter Philander. 
 
 PHILAXDP.R. 
 
 I. 
 O OBRIETY, cease to be sober.* 
 
 Cease, Labour, to dig and to delve ; 
 All hail to this tenth of October, 
 
 One thousand eight hundred and twelve ! 
 
 * Scbriety, &c. The good humour 6f the poet upon 
 occasion of this parody has been noticed in the preface. 
 151
 
 2 KHJHCTLD ADDKLSSLS. 
 
 A}\ I whom do my peepers remark ? 
 
 'Tis Hebe with Jupiter's ju^^ ; 
 Oh no, tis the pride of the Park, 
 
 Fair Ladv Ehzabeth Mu^'^. 
 
 Vv'h)-, beautiful nymph, do you close 
 The curtain that fringes your eye ? 
 
 Wh)- veil in the clouds of repose 
 
 The sun that should brighten our sky ? 
 
 " It's all very well for once," said he afterwards, in comic 
 confidence, at his villa at Petersham, "but don't do it 
 again. I had been almost forgotten when you revived 
 me ; and now ail the newspapers and reviews ring with 
 'this fashionable, trashy author.'" The sand and 
 "filings of glass," mentioned m the last stanza, are 
 referable to the well-known verses of the poet apologising 
 to a lady for having paid an unconscionably long morning 
 visit , and where, alluding to Time, he says, 
 
 All his sands are diamond sparks, 
 That glitter as they pass. " 
 
 Few men in society have more " gladdened life " than 
 this poet. He now resides in Paris, and may thence 
 make the grand tour without an interpreter — speaking, 
 as he does, P^rench, Italian, and Ciernian, as fluently as 
 English.
 
 THE BEAUTIl-L'L INCENDIARY. I 
 
 Perhaps jealous Venus has oiled 
 Your hair with some opiate drug, 
 
 Not choosing her charms should be foiled 
 By Lady Elizabeth -Mugg. 
 
 111. 
 
 But ah ! \vh}- awaken the blaze 
 
 These bright burning-glasses contain, 
 Whose lens with concentrated rays 
 
 Proved fatal to old Drury Lane ? 
 'Twas all accidental, they cry, — 
 
 Away with the flimsy humbug ! 
 •Twas fired by a flash from the eye 
 
 Of Lady Elizabeth Mugg. 
 
 Thy glance can in us raise a flame. 
 
 Then why should old Drury be free ? 
 Our doom and its doom are the same, 
 
 13oth subject to beauty's decree.
 
 154 REJECTED ADDRESSES. 
 
 No candles the workmen consumed, 
 When deep in the ruins they dug ; 
 
 Thy flash still their progress illumed, 
 Sweet Lady Elizabeth Mugg. 
 
 V, 
 
 Thy face a rich fireplace displays : 
 
 The mantelpiece marble — thy brows ; 
 Thine eyes are the bright beaming blaze ; 
 
 Thy bib, which no trespass allows, 
 The fender's tall barrier marks ; 
 
 Thy tippet^s the fire-quelling rug, 
 Which serves to extinguish the sparks 
 
 Of Lady Elizabeth Mugg. 
 
 VI. 
 
 The Countess a lily appears, 
 
 Whose tresses the pearl-drops emboss ; 
 The Marchioness, blooming in years, 
 
 A rose-bud enveloped m moss :
 
 THE BEAUTIFUL INCENDI.^. 
 
 But thou art the sweet passion-tiower, 
 For who would not slavery hug, 
 
 To pass but one exquisite hour 
 In the arms of Elizabeth Mugg? 
 
 VII. 
 
 When at court, or some Dowager's rout, 
 Her diamond aigrette meets our view, 
 
 Slie looks like a glow-worm dressed out, 
 Or tulips bespangled with dew. 
 
 Her two lips denied to man's suit, 
 Are shared with her favourite Pug : 
 
 What lord would not change with the brute, 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Could the stage be a large vis-a-vis, 
 Reserved for the polished and great, 
 
 Where each happy lover might see 
 The nymph he adores tete-a-tete ;
 
 ] )(-> );njECTi:D addki.ssi-:s. 
 
 No longer I'd gaze on the ground, 
 And the load of despondency lug, 
 
 For I'd book myself all the year round. 
 To ride with the sweet Lady Mugg. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Yes, she in herself is a host, 
 
 And if she were here all alone, 
 Our house might nocturnally boast 
 
 A bumper of fashion and to)h. 
 Again should it burst in a blaze. 
 
 In vain would they ply Congreve's plug,* 
 For nought could extinguish the rays 
 
 From the glance of divine Lady Mugg. 
 
 * Congreve's plug. The late Sir William Congreve 
 had made a model of Drury Lane Theatre, to which 
 was affixed an engine that, in event of fire, was made 
 to play from the stage into every box in the house. The 
 writer, accompanied by Theodore Hook, went to see the 
 model at Sir William's house in Cecil Street. "Now 
 I'll duck Whitbread ! " said Hook, seizing the water-pipe 
 whilst he spoke, and sending a torrent of water into the 
 brewer's box.
 
 THE BF.AUTIFUL INCEXDIARY. 157 
 
 X. 
 
 could I as Harlequin frisk. 
 
 And thou be my Columbine fair, 
 My wand should with one magic whisk 
 
 Transport us to Hanover Square : 
 St. George's should lend us its shrine, 
 
 The parson his shoulders might shruj 
 But a license should force him to join 
 
 My hand in the hand of my Mugg. 
 
 xr. 
 
 Court-plaster the weapons should tip, 
 
 By Cupid shot down from above. 
 Which, cut into spots for thy lip, 
 
 Should still barb the arrows of love. 
 The God who from others flies quick. 
 
 With us should be slow as a slug ; 
 As close as a leech he should stick 
 
 To me and Elizabeth Mu^^u.
 
 158 RKJECTED ADDRESSES. 
 
 XII. 
 
 For Time would, with us, "stead of sand. 
 Put filings of steel in his glass. 
 
 To dry up the blots of his hand, 
 
 And spangle life's page as they pass. 
 
 Since all flesh is grass ere 'tis hay,* 
 O may I in clover live snug, 
 
 And when old Time mows me away, 
 
 '* See Ryron, afterwards, in " Don Juan : " — 
 
 " For flesh is grass, which Time mows down to bay." 
 
 Rut as Johnson says of Dr>'den, "His known wealth 
 was so great, he might borrow without any impeachment 
 of his credit." 
 
 %
 
 FIRE AND ALE.
 
 XII. 
 
 FIRE AND ALE. 
 
 BY MATTHEW GREGORY LEWIS. 
 
 " Omnia transformat sese in miracula rerum." — Virgil. 
 
 A /f Y palate is parched with Pierian thirst, 
 
 Away to Parnassus I'm beckoned ; 
 List, warriors and dames, while my la\- is 
 
 rehearsed. 
 I sing of the singe of Miss Drury the first. 
 And the birth of Miss Drur}^ the second. 
 
 * Matthew Gregory Lewis, commonly called 
 Monk Lewis, from his once popular romance of that 
 name. He was a good-hearted man, and, like too many 
 of that fraternity, a disagreeable one— verbose, disputa- 
 tious, and paradoxical. His "Monk" and "Castle 
 Spectre " elevated him into fame ; and he continued to 
 
 (34) Tr,i F
 
 l62 REJECTED ADDRESSES. 
 
 The Fire King, one day, rather amorous felt ; 
 
 He mounted his hot copper firiy ; 
 His breeches and boots were of tin, and the 
 
 belt 
 Was made of cast iron, for fear it should melt 
 
 With the heat of the copper colt's belly. 
 
 Sure never was skin half so scalding as his ! 
 When an infant 'twas equally horrid ; 
 
 write ghost-stories till, following as he did in the wake 
 of Mrs. Radcliffe, he quite overstocked the market. 
 Lewis visited his estates in Jamaica, and came back 
 perfectly negro-bitten. He promulgated a new code of 
 laws in the island, for the government of his sable sub- 
 jects : one may serve for a specimen: " Any slave who 
 commits murder shall have his head shaved, and be con- 
 fined three days and nights in a dark room." Upon 
 occasion of printing these parodies. Monk Lewis said to 
 Lady H., " Many of them are very fair, but mine is not 
 at all like ; they have made me write burlesque, which 
 1 never do." "You don't know your own talent,"' 
 answered the lady. 
 
 Lewis aptly described himself, as to externals, in the 
 verses affixed to his " Monk, ' as having 
 
 "A graceless form and dwarfish stature."
 
 FIRE AND ALE. 1 65 
 
 For the water, when he was baptized, gave 
 
 a tizz. 
 And bubbled and simmerd and started oft, 
 
 whizz I 
 As soon as it sprinkled his forehead. 
 
 Oh ! then there was glitter and tire in each 
 eye. 
 For two living coals were the symbols ; 
 
 He had, moreover, large grey eyes, thick features, and 
 an inexpressive countenance. In talking, he had a dis- 
 agreeable habit of drawing the forefinger of his right 
 hand across his right eyelid. He affected, in conversa- 
 tion, a sort of dandified, drawling tone ; young Harlowe, 
 the artist, did the same. A foreigner who had but a 
 slight knowledge of the English language might have 
 concluded, from their cadences, that they were little 
 better than fools — "just a born goose," as Terry the 
 actor used to say. Lewis died on his passage home- 
 ward from Jamaica, owing to a dose of James's powders 
 injudiciously administered by "his own mere motion." 
 He wrote various plays, with various success: he had 
 admirable notion of dramatic construction, but the good- 
 ness of his scenes and incidents were marred by the 
 badness of his dialogue.
 
 164 REJECTED ADDRESSES. 
 
 His teeth were calcined, and his tongue was 
 
 so dry, 
 It rattled against them, as though you should 
 
 try 
 To play the piano in thimbles. 
 
 From his nostrils a lava sulphureous flows, 
 
 Which scorches wherever it lingers ; 
 A snivelling fellow he's call'd by his foes. 
 For he can't raise his paw up to blow his red 
 nose, 
 For fear it should blister his fingers. 
 
 His wig is of flames curling over his head. 
 
 Well powder'd with white smoking ashes : 
 He drinks gunpowder tea, melted sugar of lead, 
 Cream of tartar, and dines on hot spice ginger- 
 bread. 
 
 Which black from the oven he gnashes. 
 
 Each fire-nymph his kiss from her countenance 
 shields, 
 'Twould soon set her cheekbone a frvinsr ;
 
 I-IRE AXD ALE, TO) 
 
 He spit in the Tenter-ground near Spital- 
 
 tields, 
 And the hole that it burnt, and the chalk that 
 
 it yields, 
 Make a capital lime-kiln for drying. 
 
 When he open'd his mouth, out there issued 
 a blast 
 (Nota bene. I do not mean swearing), 
 liut the noise that it made, and the heat that 
 
 it cast, 
 I've heard it from those who have seen it, sur- 
 pass'd 
 A shot manufactory flaring. 
 
 He blazed, and he blazed, as he gallop'd to 
 snatch 
 His bride, little dreaming of danger ; 
 His whip was a torch, and his spur was a 
 
 match, 
 And over the horse's left eye was a patch, 
 To keep it from •burning the manger.
 
 1 66 REJECTED ADDRESSES. 
 
 And who is the housemaid he means to enthral 
 In his cinder-producing alhance ? 
 
 'Tis Urury Lane Playhouse, so wide, and so 
 tall, 
 
 Who, hke other combustible ladies, must fall, 
 If she cannot set sparks at defiance. 
 
 On his warming-pan kneepan he clattering 
 roll'd, 
 And the housemaid his hand would have 
 taken, 
 But his hand, like his passion, was too hot to 
 
 hold, 
 And she soon let it go. but her new ring of gold 
 All melted, like butter or bacon ! 
 
 Oh ! then she look'd sour, and indeed well she 
 might. 
 
 For Vinegar Yard was before her ; 
 But, spite of her shrieks, the ignipotent knight, 
 Enrobing the maid in a flame of gas light, 
 
 To the skies in a sky-rocket bore her.
 
 FIRE AND ALE. 167 
 
 Look 1 look 1 'tis the Ale King-, so stately and 
 staixb, 
 
 Whose votaries scorn to be sober ; 
 He pops from his vat, like a cedar or larch; 
 Brown-stout is his doublet, he hops in his march, 
 
 And froths at the mouth in October. 
 
 His spear is a spigot, his shield is a bung ; 
 
 He taps where the housemaid no more is, 
 When lo ! at his magical bidding, upsprung 
 A second Miss Drury, tall, tidy, and young, 
 
 And sported i)i loco sororis. 
 
 Back, lurid in air, for a second regale, 
 The Cinder King, hot with desire, 
 
 To Brydges Street hied ; but the Monarch of 
 Ale, 
 
 With uplifted spigot, and faucet, and pail, 
 Thus chided the Monarch of Fire : 
 
 " Vile tyrant, beware of the ferment I brew ; 
 I rule the roast here, dash the wig o' me !
 
 l68 KEJHCTED ADDRESSES . 
 
 If, spite of your marriage with Old Drury, 
 
 you 
 Come here with your tinderbox, courting the 
 
 New, 
 I'll have you indicted for bigamy ! "
 
 PLAYHOUSE MUSINGS.
 
 XIII. 
 
 PLAYHOUSE MUSINGS. 
 
 BY S. T. COLERIDGE. 
 
 " Ille velut fidis arcana sodalibus olim 
 
 Credebat libris ; neque si male cesserat, usquam 
 Decurrens alio, neque si bene." — HORACE. 
 
 TV /r Y pensive Public, wherefore look you sad ? 
 I had a grandmother, she kept a donkey 
 To carry to the mart her crockery-ware, 
 And when that donkey look'd me in the face, 
 His face was sad ! and you are sad, my Public I 
 
 Joy should be yours : this tenth day of 
 October 
 Again assembles us in Drury Lane. 
 Long wept my eye to see the timber planks 
 That hid our ruins ; many a day I cried.
 
 172 KIJLCTLU ADDRESSIS. 
 
 Ah inc ! I fear they never will rebuild it .' 
 
 Till on one e\ e, one joyful Monday eve, 
 
 As along Charles Street 1 prepared to walk, 
 
 Just at the corner, by the pastrycook's, 
 
 I heard a trowel tick ay:ainst a brick. 
 
 I lojk'd me up. and straight a parapet 
 
 Uprose at least seven inches o'er the planks. 
 
 Joy to thee, Drury I to myself I said : 
 
 He of Blackfriars' Road,* who hymned thy 
 
 downfall 
 In loud Hosannahs, and who prophesied 
 That flames, like those from prostrate Solyma, 
 Would scorch the hand that \ entured to rebuild 
 
 thee. 
 Has proved a l)"ing prophet. From that hour, 
 As leisure offer'd, close to Mr. Spring's 
 Box-office door. I've stood and eyed the builders. 
 They had a plan to render less their labours ; 
 Workmen in olden times would mount a ladder 
 
 * "He of Blackfriars" Road," viz., the late Rev. 
 Rowland Hill, who is said to have preached a sermon 
 congratulating his congregation on the catastrophe.
 
 PLAYHOUSE MUSIXGS. I73 
 
 With hodded heads, but these stretch"d forth a 
 
 pole 
 From the wall's pinnacle, they placed a pulley 
 Athwart the pole, a rope athwart the pulley ; 
 To this a basket dangled ; mortar and bricks 
 Thus freighted, swung securely to the top, 
 And in the empty basket workmen twain 
 Precipitate, unhurt, accosted earth. 
 
 Oh ! 'twas a goodly sound, to hear the people 
 Who watch'd the work express their various 
 
 thoughts ! 
 While some believed it never would be finish'd, 
 Some, on the contrary, believed it would. 
 
 I've heard our front that faces Drury Lane 
 Much criticised ; they say lis vulgar brickwork, 
 A mimic manufactory of floor-cloth. 
 One of the morning papers wish'd that front 
 Cemented like the front in Brydges vStreet ; 
 As it now looks, they call it Wyatt's Mermaid, 
 A handsome woman with a fish's tail.
 
 174 Kl-JECTED ADDRESSES. 
 
 White is the steeple of St. Bride's in P^leet 
 
 Street ! 
 The Albion (as its name denotes) is white ; 
 Morgan and Saunders' shop for chairs and 
 
 tables 
 Gleams like a snow-ball in the setting sun 
 White is Whitehall. But not St. Bride's in 
 
 Fleet Street, 
 The Spotless Albion, ^Morgan, no, nor Saunders, 
 Nor white Whitehall, is white as Druiy's face. 
 
 Oh, Mr. Whitbread ! * fie upon you, sir ! 
 I think you should have built a colonnade ; 
 When tender Beauty, looking for her coach, 
 Protrudes her gloveless hand, perceives the 
 
 shower. 
 And draws the tippet closer round her throat, 
 Perchance her coach stands half a dozen off, 
 And, ere she mounts the step, the oozing mud 
 
 * "Oh, Mr. Whitbread!" Sir William Grant, then 
 Master of the Rolls, repeated this passage aloud at a 
 Lord Mayor's dinner, to the no small astonishment of 
 the writer, who happened to sit within ear-shot.
 
 PLAYHOUSE MUSINGS. I75 
 
 Soaks through her pale kid slipper. On the 
 morrow, 
 
 She coughs at breakfast, and her gruff papa 
 
 Cries, '• There you go 1 this comes of play- 
 houses ! " 
 
 To build no portico is penny wise : 
 
 Heaven grant it prove not in the end pound, 
 foolish ! 
 
 Hail to thee, Drury ! Queen of Theatres ! 
 What is the Regency in Tottenham Street, 
 The Royal Amphitheatre of Arts, 
 Astley's Olympic, or the Sans Pareil, 
 Compared with thee ? Yet when I view thee 
 
 push'd 
 Back from the narrow street that christened thee, 
 I know not why they call thee Drury Lane. 
 
 Amid the freaks that modern fashion sanc- 
 tions, 
 It grieves me much to see live animals 
 Brought on the stage. Grimaldi has his rabbity 
 Laurent his cat, and Bradbury his pig ;
 
 176 KlijHCTJJj ADDRhSSES. 
 
 Fie on such tricks 1 Johnson, the machinist 
 Of former Drury, imitated hfe 
 Quite to the life. The Elephant in Blue Ijcard, 
 Stuff'd by his hand, wound round his lithe 
 
 proboscis, 
 As spruce as he who roar'd in Padmanaba."^ 
 Nought born on earth should die. On hackney 
 
 stands 
 I reverence the coachman who cries " Cjce,'' 
 And spares the lash. When I behold a spider 
 Prey on a fly, a magpie on a worm, 
 Or view a butcher with horn-handled knife 
 Slaughter a tender lamb as dead as mutton. 
 Indeed, indeed, Pm very, very sick ! 
 
 \Exit hastily. 
 
 * " Padmanaba," viz., in a pantomime called " Harle- 
 quin in Padmanaba." This elephant, some years after- 
 wards, was exhibited over Exeter 'Change, where, the 
 reader will remember, it was found necessary to destroy 
 the poor animal by discharges of musketry. When lie 
 made his entrance in the pantomime above mentioned, 
 Johnson, the machinist of the rival house, exclaimed, " I 
 should be very sorry if I could not make a better elephant 
 than tliat ! " Johnson was right : we go to the theatre 
 to be pleased with the skill of the imitator, and not to 
 look at the reality.
 
 DRURY LANE HUSTINGS.
 
 XIV. 
 
 DRURY LANE HUSTINGS. 
 91 ift>etD i^alfpennp 33anai3. 
 
 BY A PIC-NIC POET. 
 
 " This is the very age of promise : to promise is most 
 courtly and fashionable. Performance is a kind of will 
 or testament, which argues a great sickness in his judg- 
 ment that makes it." — TiMON OF Athens. 
 
 [ To be sung by Mr. Johnstone /// the character 
 
 Cf LOONEY M•T^VOLTER.] 
 
 I. 
 
 1\/T ^- JACK, your address, says the Prompter 
 
 to me, 
 
 So I gave him my card — no, that ant it, says he ; 
 
 'Tis your pubHc address. Oh I says I, never fear, 
 
 If address you are bother'd for, only look 
 
 here. \Puts on hat affectedly, 
 
 Tol de rol lol, ^c. 
 179
 
 I'SO KF.JI£CTI:D audresshs. 
 
 II. 
 With Drur)'s for sartin we'll never ha\e clone, 
 We"ve built up another, and yet there's but one ; 
 The old one was best, yet Td say, if I durst, 
 The new one is better — the last is the first. 
 
 Tol de rol, &c. 
 
 III. 
 
 These pillars are caird by a Frenchified word, 
 A something that's jumbled of antique and verd ; 
 The boxes may show us some verdant antiques, 
 Some old harridans who beplaster their cheeks. 
 
 Tol de rol. &c. 
 
 TV. 
 
 Only look how high Tragedy, Comedy, stick, 
 Lest their rivals, the horses, should give them 
 
 a kick ! 
 If you will not descend when our authors 
 
 beseech ye, 
 You"ll stop there for life, for I'm sure they 
 
 can't reach ye. 
 
 Tol de rol, <S:c.
 
 DRURY LAXE HUSTINGS, l8l 
 
 Each one-shilling god within reach of a nod is, 
 And plain are the charms of each gallery 
 
 goddess — 
 You. Brandy-faced Moll, don't be looking 
 
 askew, 
 When I talk'd of a goddess I didn't mean you. 
 
 Tol de rol, &c. 
 
 Our stage is so prettily fashion'd for viewing, 
 The whole house can see what the whole house 
 
 is doing : 
 '"Tis just like the Hustings, we kick up a bother ; 
 But saying's one thing, and doing's another. 
 
 Tol de rol, »^c. 
 
 VIl. 
 
 We've many new houses, and some of them 
 
 rum ones, 
 But the newest of all is the new House of 
 
 Commons ;
 
 l82 REJECTED ADDRESSES. 
 
 'Tis a rickety sort of a bantling, I'm told, 
 It will die of old age when it's seven years old, 
 
 Tol de rol, iSic. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 As I don't know on whom the election will fall, 
 
 I move in return for retiu-ning them all , 
 
 But for fear Mr. Speaker my meaning should 
 
 miss, 
 The house that I wish 'em to sit in is this. 
 
 Tol de rol, &c. 
 
 IX, 
 
 Let us cheer our great Commoner, but for 
 
 whose aid 
 We all should have gone with short commons 
 
 to bed ; 
 And since he has saved all the fat from the fire. 
 I move that the house be call'd Whitbread's 
 
 Entire. 
 
 Tol de rol, &c.
 
 ARCHITECTURAL ATOMS.
 
 XV. 
 
 ARCHITECTURAL ATOMS. 
 
 TRANSLATED EV DR. B. 
 
 " Lege, Dick, Lege ! " — Joseph Andrews. 
 
 [To be 7-e cited by the Translator s Son.'\ 
 
 \\VAY. fond dupes 1 who, smit with sacred 
 ^"^ lore, 
 
 ?^Iosaic dreams in Genesis explore, 
 Doat with Copernicus, or darkling stray 
 With Newton, Ptolemy, or Tycho Brahe I 
 To you I sing not, for I sing of truth, 
 Primeval systems, and creation's youth ; 
 .Such as of old, with magic wisdom fraught, 
 Inspired LuCRETius to the Latians taught. 
 
 I sing how casual bricks, in airy climb, 
 flncounter'd casual cow-hair, casual lime :
 
 l86 REJECTED ADDRESSES. 
 
 How rafters, borne through wondering clouds 
 
 elate, 
 Kiss'd in their slope blue elemental slate. 
 Clasp'd solid beams in chance-directed fury, 
 And gave to birth our renovated Drury. 
 
 Thee, son of Jove ! whose sceptre was con- 
 fess'd, 
 Where fair vEolia springs from Tethys' breast ; 
 Thence on Olympus, 'mid celestials placed, 
 God of the Winds, and Ether's boundless 
 
 waste — 
 Thee I invoke ! Oh piif my bold design. 
 Prompt the bright thought, and swell th' har- 
 monious line ; 
 Uphold my pinions, and my verse inspire 
 With Winsor's "^ patent gas, or wind of fire, 
 
 * " Winsor's patent gas" — at that time in its infancy. 
 The first place illumined by it was the Carlton House 
 side of Pall Mall ; the second, Bishopsgate Street. The 
 writer attended a lecture given by the inventor: the 
 charge of admittance was three shillings, but, as the 
 inventor was about to apply to Parliament, members 
 of both houses were admitted gratis. The writer and
 
 ARCHITECTURAL ATOMS, 1 87 
 
 In whose pure blaze thy embryo form enroU'd, 
 The dark enhghtens, and enchafes the cold 
 
 But, while I court thy gifts, be mine to shun 
 The deprecated prize Ulysses won ; 
 Who, sailing homeward from thy breezy shore, 
 The prison'd winds in skins of parchment bore. 
 Speeds the fleet bark till o'er the billow}^ green 
 The azure heights of Ithaca are seen ; 
 But while with favouring gales her way she 
 
 wins, 
 His curious comrades ope the mystic skins ; 
 When, lo ! the rescued winds, with boisterous 
 
 sweep, 
 Roar to the clouds and lash the rocking deep ; 
 
 a fellow-jester assumed the parts of senators at a short 
 notice. "Members of Parliament!" was their impor- 
 tant ejaculation at the door of entrance. " What places, 
 gentlemen?" " Old Sarum and Bridgewater." " Walk 
 in, gentlemen." Luckily, the real Simon Pures did not 
 attend. This Pall Mall illumination was further noticed 
 in " Horace in I^ondon : " — 
 
 " And Winsor lights, with flame of gas, 
 Home, to King's Place, his mother."
 
 I 88 KEJECTED ADDRESSES. 
 
 Heaves the smote vessel in the howhni; blast, 
 Splits the stretch'd sail, and cracks the totterinj,^ 
 
 mast. 
 Launch'd on a plank, the buoyant hero rides, 
 Where ebon Afric stems the sable tides. 
 While his duck'd comrades o"er the ocean fly, 
 And sleep not in the whole skins they untie. 
 
 So, when to raise the wind some lawyer tries, 
 ^lysterious skins of parchment meet our eyes ; 
 On speeds the smiling suit — " Pleas of our 
 
 Lord 
 The King" shine sable on the wide record ! 
 Nods the prunella'd bar, attorneys smile, 
 And siren jurors flatter to beguile ; 
 Till stript — nonsuited — he is doom'd to toss 
 In legal shipwreck and redeemless loss ! 
 Lucky, if, like Ulysses, he can keep 
 His head above the waters of the deep. 
 
 .^olian monarch ! Emperor of Puffs ! 
 We modern sailors dread not thy rebufls ;
 
 ARCHITECTURAL ATOMS. l8c) 
 
 See to thy golden shore promiscuous come 
 Quacks for the lame, the blind, the deaf, the 
 
 dumb ; 
 Fools are their bankers— a prolific line. 
 And every mortal malady's a mine. 
 Each sly Sangrado, with his poisonous pill, 
 Flies to the printer's devil with his bill, 
 Whose Midas touch can gild his ass's ears, 
 And load a knave with folly's rich arrears. 
 And lo I a second miracle is thine, 
 For sloe-juice water stands transformed to 
 
 Avine. 
 Where Day and Martin's patent blacking loU'd, 
 Burst from the vase Pactolian streams of gold ; 
 Laugh the sly wizards, glorying in their stealth, 
 Quit the black art, and loll in lazy wealth. 
 See Britain's Algerines, the lottery fry 
 Win annual tribute by the annual lie ! 
 Aided by thee — but whit'ner do I stray ? — 
 Court, city, borough, own thy sovereign sway ; 
 An age of puffs an age of gold succeeds, 
 And windy bubbles are the spawn it breeds.
 
 190 RliJIiCTED ADDRESSES. 
 
 If such thy power, O hear the Muse's 
 prayer ! 
 Swell thy loud lun^u^s and wave thy wings of air : 
 Spread, viewless giant, all thy arms of mist 
 Like windmill-sails to bring the poet grist ; 
 As erst thy roaring son, with eddying gale, 
 Whirl'd Orithyia from her native vale — 
 So, while Lucretian wonders I rehearse, 
 Augusta's sons shall patronise my verse. 
 
 I sing of Atoms, whose creative brain, 
 With eddying impulse, built new Drury Lane : 
 Not to the labours of subservient man, 
 To no young Wyatt appertains the plan — 
 We mortals stalk, like horses in a mill, 
 Impassive media of atomic will ; 
 Ye stare ! then Truth's broad talisman discern — 
 'Tis demonstration speaks — attend, and learn ! 
 
 From floating elements in chaos hurl'd, 
 Self-form'd of atoms, sprang the infant world : 
 No great First Cause inspired the happy plot, 
 But all was matter — and no matter what.
 
 ARCHITECTURAL ATOMS. I9I 
 
 Atoms, attracted by some law occult, 
 Settling in spheres, the globe was the result ; 
 Pure child of Chance^ which still directs the 
 
 ball. 
 As rotatory atoms rise or fall. 
 In ether launch"d, tlie peopled bubble floats, 
 A mass of particles and confluent motes, 
 So nicely poised, that if one atom flings 
 Its weight away, aloft the planet springs. 
 And wings its course through realms of bounds 
 
 less space, 
 Outstripping comets in eccentric race. 
 Add but one atom more, it sinks outright 
 Down to the realms of Tartarus and night. 
 What waters melt or scorching fires consume. 
 In different forms their being re-assume : 
 Hence can no change arise, except in name. 
 For weight and substance ever are the same. 
 
 Thus with the flames that from old Drury 
 rise. 
 Its elements primeval sought the skies ;
 
 192 RKJ[:cri;U AUURL^SEb. 
 
 There pendulous to wait the happy hour 
 When new attractions should restore their 
 
 power : 
 So, in this procreant theatre elate, 
 Echoes unborn their future life await ; 
 Here embryo sounds in eth^r lie conceal'd. 
 Like words in Northern atmosphere congeald. 
 Here many a foetus laugh and half-encore 
 Clings to the roof, or creeps along the floor ; 
 By puffs concipient some in ether flit, 
 And soar in bravos from the thundering pit ; 
 Some forth on ticket-nights * from tradesmen 
 
 break, 
 
 To mar the actor they design to make ; 
 
 * "Ticket-nights." This phrase is probably unintel- 
 ligible to the untheatrical portion of the community, 
 which may now be said to be all the world except the 
 actors. Ticket-nights are those whereon the inferior 
 actors club for a benefit : each distributes as many 
 tickets of admission as he is able among his friends. A 
 motley assemblage is the consequence ; and as each 
 actor is encouraged by his own set, who are not in 
 general play-going people, the applause comes (as 
 Chesterfield says of Pope's attempts at wit), " generally 
 unseasonably, and too often unsuccessfully."
 
 ARCHITECTURAL ATOMS. I95 
 
 While some this mortal life abortive miss, 
 Crush'd by a groan, or strangled l)y a hiss. 
 So. when " Dog's-meat " re-echoes through the 
 
 streets. 
 Rush sympathetic dogs from their retreats, 
 Beam with bright blaze their supplicating eyes, 
 Sink their hind-legs, ascend their joyful cries ; 
 Each, wild with hope, and maddening to 
 
 prevail, 
 Points the pleased ear, and wags the expectant 
 
 tail. 
 
 Ye fallen bricks ! in Drury's fire calcined, 
 Since doom'd to slumber, couch'd upon the 
 
 wind, 
 Sweet was the hour, when, tempted by your 
 
 freaks, 
 
 Congenial trowels smoothed your yellow cheeks. 
 
 Float dulcet serenades upon the ear, 
 
 Bends every atom from its ruddy sphere. 
 
 Twinkles each eye, and, peeping from its veil, 
 
 Marks in the adverse crowd its destined male. 
 (34) G
 
 194 KEJECTED ADDRESSES. 
 
 Tlic oblong beauties clap their hands of grit, 
 And brick-dust titterings on the bree/.es Hit ; 
 Then down they rush in amatory race, 
 Their dusty bridegrooms eager to embrace. 
 Some choose old lovers, some decide for new, 
 But each, when fix'd, is to her station true. 
 Thus various bricks are made, as tastes invite — 
 The red. the grey, the dingy, or the white. 
 
 Perhaps some half-baked rover, frank and 
 free, 
 To alien beauty bends the lawless knee. 
 But of unhallow'd fascinations sick, 
 Soorj quits his Cyprian for his married brick : 
 The Dido atom calls and scolds in vain. 
 No crisp /Eneas soothes the widow's pain. 
 
 So in.Cheapside, what time Aurora peeps, 
 A mingled noise of dustmen, milk, and sweeps. 
 Falls on the housemaid's ear : amazed she 
 
 stands. 
 Then opes the door with cinder-sabled hands.
 
 ARCHITECTURAL ATOMS. I93 
 
 And " -Matches "' calls. The dustman, bubbled 
 
 nat, 
 
 Thinks 'tis for him, and doffs his fan-tail'd hat ; 
 The milkman, whom her second cries assail. 
 With sudden sink unyokes the clinking pail ; 
 Now louder grown, by turns she screams and 
 
 weeps — 
 Alas I her screaming only brings the sweeps. 
 Sweeps but put out — she wants to raise a flam.e, 
 And calls for matches, but 'tis still the same. 
 Atoms and housemaids I mark the moral true — 
 If once ye go astray, no match for you ! 
 
 As atoms in one mass united mix. 
 So i3ricks attraction feel for kindred bricks ; 
 Some in the cellar view, perchance, on high, 
 Fair chimney chums on beds of mortar lie : 
 Enamour'd of the sympathetic clod, 
 Leaps the red bridegroom to the labourer's hod : 
 And up the ladder bears the workman, taught 
 To think he bears the bricks — mistaken 
 thought !
 
 196 RF.jriCTKD ADDU1-SSF.S. 
 
 A proof behold : if near the top they find 
 The nymphs or broken-corner'd or unkind, 
 Back to the base, "resulting with a bound," 
 They bear their bleeding carriers to the ground ! 
 
 So legends tell along the lofty hill 
 Paced the twin heroes, gallant Jack and Jill : 
 On trudged the Gemini to reach the rail 
 That shields the well's top from the expectant 
 
 pail, 
 When, ah ; Jack falls ; and. rolling in the 
 
 rear, 
 Jill feels the attraction of his kindred sphere ; 
 Head over heels begins his toppling track, 
 Throws sympathetic somersets with Jack, 
 And at the mountain's base bobs plump against 
 
 him, whack I 
 
 Ye living atoms, who unconscious sit, 
 Jumbled by chance in gallery, box, and pit. 
 For you no Peter opes the fabled door, 
 No churlish Charon plies the shadowy oar ;
 
 ARCHITECTURAL ATOMS. 1 97 
 
 Breathe but a space, and Boreas' casual sweep 
 Shall bear your scatter'd corses o'er the deep, 
 To gorge the greedy elements, and mix 
 With water, marl, and clay, and stones, and 
 
 sticks ; 
 While, charged with fancied souls, sticks, 
 
 stones, and clay, 
 Shall take your seats, and hiss or clap the 
 
 play. 
 
 O happy age 1 when convert Christians 
 
 read 
 Xo sacred writings but the Pagan creed — 
 O happy age ! when, spurning Newton's dreams, 
 Our poets' sons recite Lucretian themes, 
 Abjure the idle systems of their youth, 
 And turn again to atoms and to truth ; — 
 O happier still I when England's dauntless 
 
 dames. 
 Awed by no chaste alarms, no latent shames, 
 The bard's fourth book unblushingly peruse. 
 And learn the rampant lessons of the stews !
 
 198 REJECTED ADDKESSLS. 
 
 All hail, Lucretius I renovated sage ! 
 Unfold the modest mystics of thy page ; 
 Return no more to thy sepulchral shelf, 
 But live, kind Ijard — that I may live myself! 
 
 " In one single point the parodist has failed— there- 
 is a certain Dr. Busby, whose supposed address is a 
 translation called ' Architectural Atoms, intended to be 
 recited by the translator's son.' Unluckily, however, for 
 the wag who had prepared this fun, the genuine serious 
 obsui'dity of Dr. Busby and his son has cast all his 
 humour into the shade. The doctor from the boxes, 
 and the son from the stage, have actually endeavoured, 
 it seems, to recite addresses, which they call monologues 
 and tinalogues ; and which, for extravagant folly, tumid 
 meanness, and vulgar affectation, set all the powers of 
 parody at utter deHance." — Qiutrlcrly Review. 
 
 " Of ' Architectural Atoms,' translated by Dr. Busby, 
 we can say very little more than that they appear to us to 
 be far more capable of combining into good poetiy than 
 the few lines we were able to read of the learned doctor's 
 genuine address in the newspapers. They might pass, 
 indeed, for a very tolerable imitation of Darwin."— 
 Jeffrey, Edinburgh Review.
 
 THEATRICAL ALARM- 
 BELL.
 
 XVI. 
 
 THEATRICAL ALARM- 
 BELL. 
 
 BY THE EDITOR OF THE ''MORNING POST."* 
 
 " Bounce, Jupiter, bounce !"— O'Haka. 
 
 T ADIES AND GENTLEMEN', —As it is 
 now the universally-admitted, and in- 
 deed pretty-generally-suspected, aim of Mr, 
 Whitbread and the infamous, bloodthirsty, 
 and, in fact, illiberal faction to which he 
 
 * Tiiis journal was, at the period in question, rather 
 remarkable for the use of the figure called by the 
 rhetoricians catachresis. The Bard of Avon may be 
 quoted in justification of its adoption, when ho writes of 
 taking arms against a sea, and seeking a bubble in the
 
 202 Rl-Jl-XTLD ADDRKSSLS. 
 
 l)clongs, to burn to the ground this free and 
 liappy Protestant city, and estabhsh himself in 
 St. James's Palace, his fellow committee-men 
 have thought it their duty to watch the 
 principles of a theatre built under his auspices* 
 The information they have recei\ed from an 
 undoubted authority — particularly from an old 
 fruit-woman who has turned king's evidence, 
 and whose name, for obvious reasons, we 
 forbear to mention, though we have had it 
 some weeks in our possession — has induced 
 them to introduce various reforms — -not such 
 reforms as the vile faction clamour for, meaning 
 thereby revolution, but such reforms as are 
 necessary to preserve the glorious constitution 
 of the only free, happy, and prosperous countr}' 
 now left upon the face of the earth. From the 
 valuable and authentic source above alluded to, 
 
 Jiiouth of a cannon. The Morning Post, in the year 
 1812, congratulated its readers upon having stripped off 
 Cobbett's mask and discovered his cloven foot : adding, 
 that it was high time to give the hydra-head of Faction a 
 rap on the knuckles !
 
 THEATRICAL ALARM-BELL. 20 3 
 
 we have learnt that a sanguinary plot has 
 been formed by some united Irishmen, com- 
 bined with a gang of Luddites, and a special 
 committee sent over by the Pope at the 
 instigation of the beastly Corsican fiend, for 
 destroying all the loyal part of the audience on 
 the anniversary of that deeply-to-be-abhorred- 
 and-highly-to-be-blamed stratagem, the Gun- 
 powder Plot, which falls this year on Thursday, 
 the fifth of November. The whole is under the 
 direction of a delegated committee of O. P.'s, 
 whose treasonable exploits at Covent Garden 
 you all recollect, and all of whom would have 
 been hung from the chandeliers at that time, 
 but for the mistaken lenity of Government. 
 At a given signal a well-known O. P. was to 
 cry out from the gallery, " Nosey ! Music 1 " 
 whereupon all the O. P.s were to produce 
 from their inside pockets a long pair of shears, 
 edged with felt, to prevent their making any 
 noise, manufactured expressly by a wretch at 
 Birmingham, one of Mr. Brougham's evidences,
 
 204 REJFXTED ADDRESSES. 
 
 and now in custody. With these they were to 
 cut off the heads of all the loyal X. P.'s in the 
 house, without distinction of sex or age. At 
 the signal, similarly given, of "Throw him 
 over !" which it now appears always alluded to 
 the overthrow of our never-sufficiently-enough- 
 to-be- deeply- and -universally- to-be - venerated 
 constitution, all the heads of the X. P.'s were 
 to be thrown at the fiddlers, to prevent their 
 appearing in evidence, or perhaps as a false 
 and illiberal insinuation that they have no 
 heads of their own. All that we know of the 
 further designs of these incendiaries is, that 
 they are by-a-great-deal-too-much-too-horrible- 
 to-be-mentioned. 
 
 The Manager has acted with his usual 
 promptitude on this trying occasion. He has 
 contracted for 300 tons of gunpowder, which are 
 at this moment placed in a small barrel under 
 the pit ; and a descendant of Guy Faux, assisted 
 by Col. Congreve, has undertaken to blow up 
 the house, v/hen necessary, in so novel and in-
 
 thi:atricai. alarm-bell. 205 
 
 genious a manner, that every O. V. shall lie anni- 
 hilated, while not a whisker of the N. F.'s shall 
 be singed. This strikingly displays the advan^ 
 tages of loyalty and attachment to Government. 
 Several other hints have been taken from the 
 theatrical regulations of the not-a-bit-thc-less- 
 on-that- account- to-be - universally -execrated 
 monster Buonaparte. A park of artillery, pro- 
 vided with chain-shot, is to be stationed on 
 the stage, and play upon the audience, in 
 case of any indication of misplaced applause 
 or popular discontent (which accounts for the 
 large space between the curtain and the lamps); 
 and the public will participate our satisf^iction 
 in learning that the indecorous cusiom of stand- 
 ing up with the hat on is to be abolished, as the 
 Bow Street officers are provided with daggers, 
 and have orders to stab all such persons to 
 the heart, and send their bodies to Surgeons' 
 Hall. Gentlemen who cough are only to be 
 slightly wounded. Fruit-women bawling •' Bill 
 of the Play!" are to be forthwith shot, for
 
 206 REJHCTKD ADDRESSES. 
 
 which purpose soldiers Avill be stationed in the 
 sHps, and ball cartridge is to be served out 
 with the lemonade. If any of the spectators 
 happen to sneeze or spit, they are to be trans- 
 ported for life ; and any person who is so tall 
 as to prevent another seeing, is to be dragged 
 out and sent on board the tender, or, by an 
 instrument to be taken out of the pocket of 
 Procrustes, to be forthwith cut shorter, either 
 at the head or foot, according as his own con- 
 venience may dictate. 
 
 Thus, ladies and gentlemen, have the com- 
 mittee, through my medium, set forth the 
 not-in-a-hurry-to-be-paralleled plan they have 
 adopted for preserving order and decorum 
 within the Avails of their magnificent edifice. 
 Nor have they, while attentive to their own 
 concerns, by any means overlooked those of 
 the cities of London and Westminster. Finding 
 on enumeration, that they have with a wiih- 
 two-hands-and-one- tongue- lo- be -applauded 
 liberality contracted for more gunpowder than
 
 THEATRICAL ALARM-BELL. 207 
 
 they want, they have parted with the surplus to 
 the mattock-carn,-ing and hustings-hammering 
 high-baiHft of Westminster, who has. with his 
 own shovel, dug a large hole in the front of 
 the parish church of St. Paul, Covent Garden, 
 that, upon the least symptom of ill-breeding 
 in the mob at the general election, the 
 whole of the market may be blown into the 
 air. This, ladies and gentlemen, may at first 
 make provisions 7isc, but we pledge the credit 
 of our theatre that they will soon fall again, 
 and people be supplied, as usual, with vege- 
 tables, in the in-general-strewed-with-cabbage- 
 stalks- but- on- Saturday-night -lighted- up- with- 
 lamps market of Covent Garden. 
 
 I should expatiate more largely on the orher 
 advantages of the glorious constitution of these 
 by-the-whole-of-Europe-envied realms, but I 
 am called away to take an account of the ladies 
 and other artificial flowers at a fashionable 
 rout, of which a full and particular account 
 will hereafter appear. P'or the present, my
 
 20<S KEJliCTF.D ADDRllSSHS. 
 
 fashionable inicllit^ence is scanty, on account 
 of the opening of Drury Lane ; and the ladies 
 and gentlemen who honour me will not be 
 surprised to find nothing under my usual 
 head ! ! 
 
 W
 
 THE THEATRE.
 
 XVII. 
 
 THE THEATRE. 
 
 BY THE REV. GEORGE CRARBE. 
 
 ' ' Nil intentatum nostri liquere poetas, 
 
 Nee minimum memere decus, vestigia Grceca 
 Ausi desercre, et celebrare domestica facta." — HcjR^ 
 
 A PREFACE OF APOLOGIES. 
 
 T F the following poem should be fortunate 
 
 enough to be selected for the opening 
 
 address, a few words of explanation may be 
 
 deemed necessary, on my part, to avert invi- 
 
 * The Rev. George Crabbe. The writer's first 
 interview with this poet, who may be designated Pope 
 in worsted stockings, took place at William Spencer's 
 villa at Petersham, close to what that gentleman called 
 his gold-fish pond, though it was scarcely three feet in 
 diameter, throwing up a jet deau like a thread. The
 
 212 KFJECTFiD ADDRESSES. 
 
 dious misrepresentation. The animadversion 
 I have thought it right to make on the noise 
 created by tuning the orchestra, will. I hope, 
 give no lasting remorse to any of the gentle- 
 men employed in the band. It is to be desired 
 
 venerable bard, seizing both the hands of his satirist, 
 exclaimed, with a good-humoured laugh, " Ah ! my old 
 enemy, how do you do?" In the course of conversa- 
 tion, he expressed great astonishment at his popularity 
 in London; adding, "In my own village they think 
 nothing of me." The subject happening to be the 
 inroads of Time upon beauty, the writer quoted the 
 following lines : — 
 
 " Six years had pass'd, and forty ere the six. 
 When Time began to play his visual tricks : 
 My locks, once comely in a virgin's sight. 
 Locks of pure brown, now felt th' encroaching white ; 
 Gradual each day I liked my horses less. 
 My dinner more — I learnt to play at chess." 
 
 " That's very good ! " cried the bard : " whose is it ? " 
 " Your own." ' ' Indeed ! hah ! well, I had quite forgotten 
 it." Was this affectation, or was it not? In sooth, he 
 seemed to push simplicity to puerility. Tliis imitation 
 contained in manuscript the following lines, after describ- 
 ing certain Sunday newspaper critics who were supposed 
 to be present at a now play, and who were rather heated 
 in their politics :— -
 
 THE THl-ATRi:. 21 5 
 
 that they would keep their instruments ready 
 tuned, and strike off at once. This would be 
 an accommodaiion to many well-meaning per- 
 sons who frequent the theatre, who, not being 
 blest with the ear of St. Cecilia, mistake the 
 
 " Plard is the task who edits— thankless job— 
 A Sunday journal for the factious mob : 
 With bitter paragraph and caustic jest, 
 He gives to turbulence the day of rest ; 
 Condenin'd, this week, rash rancour to instil, 
 Or thrown aside, the next, for one who will : 
 Alike undone or if he praise or rail 
 (For this affects his safety, that his sale), 
 He sinks at last, in luckless limbo set, 
 If loud for libel, and if dumb for debt.' 
 
 They were, however, never printed ; being, on reflec- 
 tion, considered too serious for the occasion. 
 
 Is it not a little extraordinary that Crabbe, who could 
 write with such vigour, should descend to such lines as 
 the following : — 
 
 " .Something had happen'd wrong about a bill 
 Which was not drawn with true mercantile skill, 
 So, to amend it, I was told to go 
 And seek the firm of Clutterbuck «S: Co." 
 
 Surely "Emanuel Jennmgs," compared with the above, 
 rises to sublimity.
 
 214 RHJECTED ADDRESSES. 
 
 tuning for the overture, and think ihe latter 
 ■concluded before it is bejun. 
 
 -one riddle will 
 
 Give, half-ashamed, a tiny flourish still," 
 
 was originally written " or.e hautboy will ; " but. 
 having providentally been informed, when this 
 poem was on the point of being sent off, that 
 there is but one hautboy in the band, I averted 
 the storm of popular and managerial indignation 
 from the head of its blower : as it now stands, 
 " one fiddle " among many, the faulty individual 
 will, I hope, escape detection. The story of 
 the flying play-bill is calculated to expose a 
 practice much too common, of pinning play- 
 bills to the cushions insecurely, and frequently, 
 I fear, not pinning them at all. If these lines 
 save one play-bill only from the fate I have 
 recorded, I shall not deem my labour ill- 
 employed. The concluding episode of Patrick 
 Jennings glances at the boorish fashion 'of 
 •wearing the hat in the one-shilling gallery.
 
 THE THEATRE. 21) 
 
 Had Jennings thrust his between his feet at 
 the commencement of the play, lie might have 
 leaned forward with impunity, and the catas- 
 trophe I relate would not have occurred. The 
 line of handkerchiefs formed to enable him 
 to recover his loss is purposely so crossed in 
 texture and materials as to mislead the reader 
 in respect to the real owner of any one of them. 
 For in the statistical view of life and manners 
 which I occasionally present, my clerical 
 profession has taught me how extremely im- 
 proper it would be by any allusion, however 
 slight, to give any uneasiness, however trivial, 
 to any individual, however foolish or wicked. 
 
 G. C.
 
 THE THEATRE. 
 
 Interior of a Theatre described. — Pit gradually fills. — 
 The Check-taker.— Pit full. — The Orchestra tuned. 
 — One fiddle rather dilatory. — Is reproved — and 
 repents. — Evolutions of Play-bill. — Its final settle- 
 ment on the Spikes. — The Gods taken to task — and 
 why. — Motley Group of Play-goers. — Holywell 
 Street, St. Pancras. — Emanuel Jennings binds his 
 Son apprentice — not in London — and why. — 
 Episode of the Hat. 
 
 'Tis sweet to view, from half-past five to six, 
 Our long wax-candles, with short cotton wicks, 
 Touch'd by the lamplighter's Promethean art, 
 Start into light, and make the lighter start ; 
 To see red Phcebus through the gallery-pane 
 Tinge with his beam the beams of Drury Lane : 
 While gradual parties 1:11 our widened pit, 
 And gape, and gaze, and wonder, ere they sit. 
 
 At first, while vacant seats give choice and 
 ease. 
 Distant or near, they settle where they please ;
 
 2 lb REJECTED ADDRESSES, 
 
 But when the multitude contracts the span. 
 And seats are rare, they settle where they caa 
 
 Now the full benches to late-comers doom 
 No room for standing, miscall'd standing 
 room. 
 
 Hark ! the check-taker moody silence breaks, 
 And bawling " Pit full ! " gives the check he 
 
 takes ; 
 Yet onward still the gathering numbers cram, 
 Contending crowders shout the frequent damn, 
 And all is bustle, squeeze, row. jabbering, and 
 jam. 
 
 See to their desks Apollo's sons repair — 
 Swift rides the rosin o'er the horse's hair ! 
 In unison their various tones to tune, 
 Murmurs the hautboy, gruwls the hoarse 
 
 bassoon ; 
 In soft vibration sighs the whispering lute. 
 Tang goes the harpsichord, too-too the flute,
 
 THE THEATRE. JI9 
 
 Brays the loud trumpet, squeaks the fiddle sharp, 
 Winds the French-horn, and twangs the tingling 
 
 harp ; 
 Till, like great Jove, the leader^ figuring in. 
 Attunes to order the chaotic din. 
 Now all seems hush'd — but no, one fiddle will 
 Give, half-ashamed, a tiny flourish still. 
 Foird in his crash, the leader of the clan 
 Reproves with frowns the dilatory man : 
 Then on his candlestick thrice taps his bow. 
 Xods a new signal, and away they go. 
 
 Perchance, while pit and gallery cry, *• Hats 
 
 oft" I" 
 And awed Consumption checks his chided 
 
 cough. 
 Some giggling daughter of the Queen of Love 
 Drops, reft of pin, her play-bill from above : 
 Like Icarus, while laughing galleries clap, 
 Soars, ducks, and dives in air the printed scrap ; 
 But, wiser far than he, combustion fears, 
 And, as it flies, eludes the ciiandeliers ;
 
 220 REJECTED ADDRESSES. 
 
 Till, sinking gradual, with repeated twirl, 
 It settles, curling, on a fiddler's curl ; 
 Who from his po .vder'd pate the intruder strikes, 
 And, for mere malice, sticks it on the spikes. 
 
 Say, why these Babel strains from Babel 
 
 tongues ? 
 Who's that calls " Silence ! " with such leathern 
 
 lungs ? 
 He who, in quest of quiet, " Silence I "' hoots, 
 Is apt to make the hubbub he imputes. 
 
 Wliat various swains our motley walls con- 
 tain ! — 
 Fashion from Moorfields, honour from Chick 
 
 Lane ; 
 I3ankers from Paper Buildings here resort, 
 Bankrupts from Golden Square and Riches 
 
 Court ; 
 From the Haymarket canting rogues in grain, 
 (juIIs from the Poultry, sots from Water Lane : 
 The lottery-cormorant, the auction-shark, 
 The full-price master, and the half-price clerk ;
 
 THE THEATRE. 22 1 
 
 I)Oys who long linger at the gallery-door. 
 With pence twice five — they want but twopence 
 
 more ; 
 Till some Samaritan the twopence spares. 
 And sends them jumping up the galler)'-stairs. 
 
 Critics we boast who ne'er their malice balk. 
 Rut talk their minds — we wish they'd mind 
 
 their talk ; 
 Big-worded bullies, who by quarrels live — 
 Who give the lie, and tell the lie they give : 
 Jews from St. Mary Axe, for jobs so wary, 
 That for old clothes they'd even axe St. Mary ; 
 And bucks with pockets empty as their pate, 
 Lax in their gaiters, laxer in their gait.: 
 Who oft, w^hen we our house lock up, carouse 
 With tippling tipstaves in a lock-up house. 
 
 Yet here, as elsewhere. Chance can joy 
 bestow, 
 Where scowling Fortune seem'd to threaten 
 woe.
 
 222 KEJECTED ADDRESSES, 
 
 John Richard William Alexander Dwyer 
 Was footman to Justinian Stubbs, Esquire; 
 But when John Dwyer listed in the blues, 
 Emanuel Jennings polished Stubbs's shoes. 
 Emanuel Jennings brought his youngest boy 
 Up as corn-cutter — a safe employ ; 
 In Holywell Street, St. Pancras, he was bred 
 (At number twenty-seven, it is said), 
 Facing the pump, and near the Granby's Head : 
 He would have bound him to some shop in town, 
 But with a premium he could not come down, 
 Pat was the urchin's name — a red-hair"d youth. 
 Fonder of purl and skittle-grounds than truth. 
 
 Silence, ye gods ! to keep your tongues in awe. 
 The r\Iuse shall tell an accident she saw. 
 
 Pat Jennings in the upper gallery sat, 
 But. leaning forward, Jennings lost his hat : 
 Down from the gallery the beaver llew 
 And spurn'd the one to settle in the two. 
 How shall he act ? Pay at the gallery-door 
 Two shillings for what cost, when new, but four?
 
 THE THEATRE. 22 3 
 
 Or till lialf-price, to save his shilling, wait, 
 And gain iiis hat again at half- past eight ? 
 Now. while his fears anticipate a thief, 
 John Mullens whispers, '-Take my handker- 
 chief" 
 '^ Thank you,"' cries Pat ; " but one won't make 
 
 a line.^' 
 •• Take mine." cried Wilson ; and cried Stokes, 
 
 " Take mine." 
 A motley cable soon Pat Jennings ties. 
 Where Spitalfields with real India vies. 
 Like Iris' bow, down darts the painted clue, 
 Starr'd, striped, and spotted, yellow, red, and 
 
 blue, 
 Old cahco, torn silk, and muslin new. 
 George Green below, wdth palpitating hand, 
 Loops the last "kerchief to the beaver's band — 
 Upsoars the prize ! The youth with joy 
 
 unfeign'd, 
 Regain'd the felt, and felt what he regain'd : 
 While to the applauding galleries grateful Pat 
 Made a low bow, and touch" d the ransom'd hat.
 
 TO THE 
 
 MANACxINXr COMMITTEE 
 
 CiF THE 
 
 NEW DRURY LANE THEATRE. 
 
 (?4)
 
 XVIII. XIX. XX. 
 
 TO THE 
 
 MANAGING COMMITTEE 
 
 OF THE 
 
 NEW DRURY LANE THEATRE. 
 
 /^ ENTLEMEN — Happening to be wool- 
 gathering at the foot of Mount Parnassus, 
 I was suddenly seized with a violent travestie 
 in the head. The first symptoms I felt were 
 several triple rhymes floating about my brain, 
 accompanied by a singing in my throat, which 
 quickly comm.unicated itself to the ears of every- 
 body about me, and made me a burthen to my 
 friends and a torment to Doctor Apollo ; three 
 of wliose favourite servants — that is to say,
 
 2 28 RF.JP.CTF.D ADDRTSSKS. 
 
 Macbeth, his butcher; Mrs. Hall'.r, his cook: 
 and (icor'^^e FJarnweil, his book-keeper — I way- 
 laid in one of my fits of insanity, and mauled 
 after a very frightful fashion. In this woeful 
 crisis, I accidentally heard of your invaluable 
 New Patent Hissing Pit, which cures ever\' 
 disorder incident to Grub Street. I send you 
 enclosed a more detailed specimen of my case : 
 if you could mould it into the shape of an 
 address, to be said or sung on the first night of 
 your performance, I have no doubt that I should 
 feel the immediate effects of your invaluable 
 New Patent Hissing Pit, of which they tell me 
 one hiss is a dose. 
 
 1 am, Sec, 
 
 MOMUS Medlar.
 
 Case No. I. 
 MACBETH. 
 
 [Ejifer Macbeth in a red nightcap. Pagi 
 following with a torch.^ 
 
 (jO, boy, and thy good mistress tell 
 
 (She knows that my purpose is cruel),. 
 I'd thank her to tingle her bell 
 
 As soon as she's heated my gruel. 
 Go, get thee to bed and repose — 
 
 To sit up so late is a scandal ; 
 But ere you have taen off your clothes, 
 
 IJe sure that you put out that candle. 
 
 Ri fol de rol tol de rol lol 
 
 229
 
 230 RLJECTHD ADURliSShS. 
 
 My Stars, in the air here's a knife ! — 
 
 I'm sure it can not be a hum ; 
 rU catch at the handle, add's hfe I 
 
 And then I shall not cut my thumb. 
 I've got him 1 — no, at him again I 
 
 Come, come. I'm not fond of these jokes 
 This must be some blade of the brain — 
 
 Those witches are given to hoax. 
 
 I've one in my pocket, I know, 
 
 ]\Iy wife left on purpose behind her ; 
 She bought this of Teddy-high-ho, 
 
 The poor Caledonian grinder, 
 I see thee again I o'er thy middle 
 
 Large drops of red blood now are spill'd,. 
 Just as much as to say, diddle diddle, 
 
 Good Duncan, pray come and be kill'd. 
 
 It leads to his chamber, I swear; 
 
 I tremble and quake every joint — 
 No dog at the scent of a hare 
 
 Ever yet made a cleverer point.
 
 Ah, no ! 'twas a dagger of straw — 
 
 Give me blinkers, to save me from starting 
 
 The knife that I thought that I saw 
 Was nought but my eye, Betty Martin. 
 
 Now o'er this terrestrial hive 
 
 A life paralytic is spread ! 
 For while the one half is alive, 
 
 The other is sleepy and dead. 
 King Duncan, in grand majesty, 
 
 Has got my state-bed for a snooze ; 
 I've lent him my shppers, so I 
 
 May certainly stand in his shoes. 
 
 Blow softly, ye murmuring gales ! 
 
 Ye feet, rouse no echo in walking ! 
 For though a dead man tells no tales, 
 
 Dead walls are much given to talking. 
 This knife shall be in at the death — 
 
 I'll stick him, then off safely get ! 
 Cries the world, this could not be Macbeth, 
 
 For he'd ne'er stick at anything yet.
 
 l^LjLCTHD ADDKlibSES. 
 
 Hark, bark 1 'tis the signal, by goles ! 
 
 It sounds like a funeral knell ; 
 Oh, hear it not, Duncan ! ii tolls 
 
 To call thee to heaven or hell. 
 ( )r if you to heaven wont fly, 
 
 Hut rather prefer Pluto's ether, 
 Only wait a few yeais till I die, 
 
 And we'll go to the devil together, 
 
 l\\ fol de rol, eSic.
 
 Case Xo. II. 
 THE STRANGER. 
 
 Who has e'er been at Drury must needs know 
 
 the Stranger, 
 A waiHng old Methodist, gloomy and wan, 
 A husband suspicious — his wife acted Ranger, 
 She took to her heels, and left poor Hypocon. 
 Her martial gallant swore that truth was a libel, 
 That uiarriage was thraldom, elopement no sin : 
 QuoJi she, I remember the words of my Bible, 
 My spouse is a Stranger, and 111 take him in. 
 
 With my sentimentalibus lachr^mice roar'em. 
 
 And pathos and bathos delightful to see ; 
 
 And chop and change ribs, a-la-mode Ger- 
 manorum, 
 
 And high diddle ho diddle, pop tweedle dee.
 
 2 34 Ri:jECTKl) ADDRESSES. 
 
 To keep up her dignity no long^er rich enough, 
 Where was lier plate ? — why, 'twas laid on the 
 
 shelf: 
 Her land fullers earth, and her great riches 
 
 kitchen-stuff — 
 Dressing the dinner instead of herself 
 No longer permitted in diamonds to sparkle. 
 Now plain Mrs, Haller, of servants the dread. 
 With a heart full of grief, and a pan full of 
 
 charcoal, 
 She lighted the company up to their bed. 
 
 Incensed at her flight, her poor hubby in 
 
 dudgeon 
 Roam'd after his rib in a gig and a pout. 
 Till, tired with his journey, ihe peevish 
 
 curmudgeon 
 Sat down and blubber'd just like a church- spout. 
 One day. on a bench as dejected and sad he 
 
 laid, 
 Hearing a squash, he cried, Damn it, what's 
 
 that ?
 
 THE STRAXGEPv. 23$ 
 
 'Twas a child of the Count's, in \vhose service 
 
 lived Adelaide, 
 Soused in the river, and squalTd like a cat. 
 
 Having drav.-n his young excellence up to the 
 
 bank, it 
 Appear"d that himself was all dripping, I swear ; 
 No wonder i-.e soon became dry as a blanket, 
 Exposed as lie was to the Count's son and Jwh'. 
 Dear Sir, quoth the Count, in rew^ird of your 
 
 valour. 
 To sho V that my gratitude is not mere talk, 
 You shall eat a beefsteak with my cook. Mrs. 
 
 Haller, 
 Cut from the rump with her own knife and fork. 
 
 Behold, now tiie Count gave the Stranger a 
 
 dinner, 
 With gunpowder-tea. which you know brings 
 
 a ball, 
 And. thin as he was, that he might not grow 
 
 thinner. 
 He made of the Stranger no stranger at all.
 
 236 Rr-JECTED ADDRESSES. 
 
 At dinner fair Adelaide brou;^ht up a chicken — 
 A bird that she never had met with before ; 
 ]>ut, seeing him, scream'd, and was carried off 
 
 kicking", 
 And he bang'd his nob 'gainst the opposite door. 
 
 To finish my tale without roundaboutation, 
 Young master and missee besieged their papa ; 
 They sung a quartetto in grand blubberation — 
 The Stranger cried, Oh ! Mrs. Haller cried. 
 
 Ah! 
 Though pathos and sentiment largely are 
 
 dealt in, 
 I have no good moral to give in exchange ; 
 For though she, as a cook, might be given to 
 
 melting, 
 The Stranger's behaviour was certainly strange. 
 With this sentimentalibus lachrymae roar 'em, 
 And pathos and bathos delightful to see, 
 And chop and change ribs, a-la-mode C.er- 
 
 manorum, 
 And high diddle ho diddle, pop tweedle dee.
 
 Case No. III. 
 GEORGE BARNWELL. 
 
 George Barnwell stood ar the sliop-door, 
 A customer hoping to find, sir ; 
 His apron was hanging before, 
 But the tail of his coat was behind, sir. 
 A lady, so painted and smart, 
 Cried, Sir, I've exhausted my stock o' late ; 
 I've got nothing left but a groat — 
 Could you give me four penn'onh of chocolate ? 
 
 Rum ti, &.C. 
 
 Her face was rouged up to the eyes. 
 Which made her look prouder and prouder; 
 His hair stood on end with surprise, 
 And hers with pomatum and powder.
 
 238 Ri:jECTEI) ADDRhSSi:s. 
 
 The business was soon understood ; 
 The lady, who wishd to be more rich, 
 Cries, Sweet sir, my name is Mihvood, 
 And I lodge at the Ounner's in Shoreditcli, 
 Rum ti, &c. 
 
 Now nightly he stole out. good lack I 
 And into her lodging would pop, sir ; 
 And often forgot to come back, 
 Leaving 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 caird for his gin and tobacco. 
 Rum ti, &c. 
 
 And now — for the truth must be told, 
 
 Though none of a "prentice should speak ill — 
 
 He stole from the till all the gold. 
 
 And ate the lump-sugar and treacle. 
 
 In vain did his master exclaim. 
 
 Dear George, don't engage with that Dragon .
 
 GIORGE iiARNWLLL. 239 
 
 She'll lead you to sorrow and bhame, 
 And leave you the devil a rag on 
 
 Your Rum ti. &c. 
 
 In vain he entreats and implores 
 The weak and incurable ninny, 
 So kicks him at last out of doors, 
 And Georgy soon spends hi:> last guinea. 
 His uncle, whose generous purse 
 Had often relieved iiim, a^ I know, 
 Xow finding him grow worse and worse, 
 Refused to come down with the rhino. 
 Rum ti, &c. 
 
 Cried Milwood, whose cruel hearts core 
 Was so flinty that nothing could shock it, 
 If ye mean to come here any more. 
 Pray come with more cash in your pocket : 
 Make Nunky surrender his dibs, 
 Rub his pate with a pair of lead towels, 
 Or stick a knife into his ribs — ■ 
 I'll warrant he'll then show ?ome bowels. 
 Rum ti. iiic-
 
 :40 UEJHCTED ADDRESSES. 
 
 A pistol he got from his love — 
 'Twas loaded with powder and bullet ; 
 He trudged off to Camberwell Grove, 
 But wanted the courage to pull it. 
 Tnere's Xunky as fat as a hog, 
 ^^■hile 1 am as lean as a lizard ; 
 Here's at you, you stingy old dog I — 
 And he whips a long knife in his gizzard. 
 Rum ti. &c. 
 
 All you who attend to my song, 
 A terrible end of the farce shall see, 
 If you join the inquisitive throng 
 That follow'd poor George to the Marshalsea. 
 If Milwood were here, dash my wigs, 
 Quoth he, I would pummel and lam her well ; 
 Had I stuck to my prunes and figs, 
 I ne'er had stuck Nunky at Camberwell. 
 Rum ti, &c. 
 
 Their bodies were never cut down ; 
 For granny relates with amazement,
 
 GtORGE BARNWELL. 2}I 
 
 A witch bore "em o\er the lown. 
 And hung them on Tliorowgoods casement. 
 The neighbours, I've heard the folks say. 
 The miracle noisily brag on ; 
 And the shop is, to this very day. 
 The sign of the Cieorge and the Dragon. 
 Rum ti, &.C. 
 
 *^^
 
 PUNCH'S APOTHEOSIS.
 
 XXI. 
 
 PUNCH'S APOTHEOSIS. 
 
 BV THEODORi: HOOK. 
 
 " Rhymes the rudders are of verses, 
 With which, hke ships, they steer their courses." 
 
 ^Hluibkas, 
 
 [^Scene draws, and discovers PUNXil on a throne, sur- 
 rounded by Lear, Lady Macbeth, Macheth, 
 Othello, George Barnwell, Hamlet, 
 Ghost, Macheath, Juliet, Frl\r, Apothe- 
 cary, Romeo, and Falstaff. — Prxcn descends 
 and addresses them in the folio-.^in^:; 
 
 A 
 
 RI-:CITATIVE. 
 
 S manager of horses Mr. Merrx^man is, 
 So I with yoti am master of the cere- 
 monies —
 
 246 RI-jr.CTF.T) ADDRi:ssi:s. 
 
 Tlicsc grand rejoicini^s. Let me see, how 
 name ye "em ? — 
 
 Oh, in Greek liniji^o "tis E-pi-thalamium. 
 
 October's tentli it is : toss up each hat to- 
 day, 
 
 And celebrate with shouts our opening^ Satur- 
 day '. 
 
 On this great night "tis settled by our manager. 
 
 That we. to please great Johnny Bull, should 
 plan a jeer. 
 
 Dance a bang-up theatrical cotillon. 
 
 And put on tuneful Pegasus a pillion ; 
 
 That every soul, whether or not a cough he 
 has. 
 
 May kick like Harlequin, and sing like Orpheus. 
 
 vSo come, ye pupils of Sir John Gallini.* 
 
 Spin up a teetotum like Angiolini ; f 
 
 That John and Mrs. Bull, from ale and tea- 
 houses. 
 
 May shout huzza for Puncii's Apotheosis I 
 
 * Then Director of the Opera House. 
 
 + At that time the chief dancer at this establishment.
 
 PUNXH S APOrHKOSIS. 247 
 
 They dance and sing. 
 Air—" Sure such a day.'—To^l THUMB. 
 
 LEAR. 
 
 Dance, Regan ! dance, with Cordelia and 
 
 Goneril — 
 Down the middle, up again, poussette, and 
 
 cross ; 
 Stop, Cordeha I do not tread upon her heel, 
 Regan feeds on coltsfoot, and kicks like a 
 
 horse. 
 See, she twists her mutton fists like MoiNneux 
 
 or Beelzebub, 
 Andt'other's clack, who pats her back, is louder 
 
 far than hell's hubbub. 
 They tweak my nose, and round it goes — I fear 
 
 they'll break the ridge of it, 
 Or leave it all just like Vauxhall, with only half 
 
 the bridge of it.* 
 
 • Vauxhall Bridpfc then stood suspended in the middle 
 of the Thames.
 
 2 4«-> Kiqi:r.T!.i) ADOKF.^^r:-.. 
 
 O.MNKS. 
 
 Round let us bound, for this is Punch's holy 
 
 day. 
 Glory to Tomfoolery, huzza I huzza ! 
 
 I.ADV MACBETH. 
 
 / killed ihe king : my husband is a heavy 
 
 dunce : 
 He left the grooms unmassacred, then massacred 
 
 the stud. 
 One loves long gloves ; for mittens, like king's 
 
 evidence. 
 Let truth with the fingers out. and won't hide 
 
 blood. 
 
 MACf^.ETH. 
 
 When spooneys on two knees implore the aid 
 
 of sorcery. 
 To suit their wicked purposes they quickly put 
 
 the laws awry ;
 
 PU\XH S APOTHEOSIS, 249 
 
 With Adam I in ^vife may vie, for none could 
 
 tell the use of her, 
 Except to cheapen golden pippins hawk'd about 
 
 by Lucifer. 
 
 OMNES. 
 
 Round let us bound, for this is Punch's holy- 
 day, 
 ( Jlory to Tomfoolery, huzza ! huzza ! 
 
 OTHELLO. 
 
 Wife, come to life, forgive what your black 
 
 lover did, 
 Spit the feathers from your mouth, and munch 
 
 roast beef; 
 I ago he may go and be toss'd in the 
 
 coverlet 
 That smother'd you, because you pa\vn"d my 
 
 handkerchief.
 
 2)0 RhJHCTKl) AUDKKSSKS. 
 
 GEORGE BARNWELL. 
 
 Why, neL;er, so eager about your rib im- 
 maculate ? 
 
 Milwood shows for hanging us they've got an 
 ugly knack o' late ; 
 
 If on beauty 'stead of duty but one peeper bent 
 he sees, 
 
 Satan waits with Dolly baits to hook in us 
 apprentices. 
 
 OMNES. 
 
 Round let us bound, for this is Punch's holy- 
 day, 
 Glory to Tomfoolery, huzza 1 huzza ! 
 
 HAMLET. 
 
 I'm Hamlet in camlet, my ap- and peri-helia 
 The moon can fix, which lunatics makes sharp 
 or flat.
 
 PUNCH S APOTHEOSIS. 2) I 
 
 I Stuck by ill luck, enamourd of Ophelia, 
 Old Polony like a sausage, and exciaim'd, •- Rat 
 rat : " 
 
 GHOST. 
 
 Let Gertrude sup the poison'd cup — no mo:e 
 ril be an actor in 
 
 Such sorry food, but drink home-brewd of Whit- 
 bread's manufacturin'^^ 
 
 MACHEATH. 
 
 I'll Polly it, and folly it, and dance it quite the 
 
 dandy O ; 
 But as for tunes, I have but one, and that is 
 
 Drops of Brandy O. 
 
 OMNES. 
 
 Round let us bound, for this is Punch's holy- 
 day, 
 Glory to Tomfooler)-, huzza ! huzza '.
 
 2)2 KEJECTED AUURESSES. 
 
 JULIET. 
 
 I'm Juliet Capulet, who took a dose of helle- 
 bore — 
 A. hell-of-a-bore I found it to put on a pall. 
 
 FRIAR. 
 
 And I am the friar, who so corpulent a Belly 
 bore. 
 
 APOTHECARY, 
 
 And that is why poor skinny I have none at all, 
 
 ROMEO. 
 
 I'm the resurrection-man, of buried bodies 
 amorous. 
 
 FALSTAFF. 
 
 I'm fagg'd to death, and out of breath, and am 
 for quiet clamorous ;
 
 PUNCH S APOTHHOSIS. 255 
 
 For though my paunch is round and staunch, I 
 ne'er begin to feel it ere I 
 
 Feel that I have no stomach left for entertain- 
 ment military. 
 
 OMNES. 
 
 Round let us bound, for this is Punch's hol\- 
 
 day, 
 Glor}' to Tomfoolery, huzza ! huzza ! 
 
 [^Exeunt dauciiig. 
 
 " ' Punch's Apotheosis,' by G, Colman, junior, is too 
 purely nonsensical to be extracted ; and both gives less 
 pleasure to the reader and does less justice to the in- 
 genious author in whose name it stands, than any other 
 of the poetical imitations." — Edinburgh Rcvie'w. 
 
 " We have no conjectures to offer as to the anonymous 
 author of this amusing little volume. He who is such a 
 master of disguises may easily be supposed to have been 
 successful in concealing himself, and, with the power of 
 assuming so many styles, is not likely to be detected by his 
 own. We should guess, however, that he had not written 
 a great deal in his own character — that his natural style 
 was neither very lofty nor very grave — and that he rather 
 indulges a partiality for puns and verbal pleasantries.
 
 2)4 REJECTED ADDRESSES. 
 
 We marvel why he has shut out Campbell and Rogers 
 from his theatre of living poets, and confidently expect 
 to have our curiosity in this and in all other particulars 
 very speedily gratified, when the applause of the country 
 shall induce him to take off his mask." — Edinbur<:;h 
 Revieiv. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 P.ALLANTYNF I'RESS : FniNP.rRCH AND LONDON'.