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THE ABODE OF A TRAGEDY QUEEN. 
 
 4 
 
 MES. SIDDONS' HOUSE IN UPPER BAKER-STREET. 
 
 This rather picturesque building, i a comparative failure. Some say that 
 sitxxated at the corner of Upper pique on Garrick's part caused this. 
 Baker-st. and Allsopp-place, is about But the statement vras never sub- 
 to make way for the enlargement of stantiated. At the end of the season 
 Baker-st. Station. It is notable not she was not re-engaged. She then 
 alone on account of its commanding toured for six years; her repiitation 
 position, but for the fact that for a grew fast, her appearance everywhere 
 number of years it sheltered, accord- creating quite a furore. It ended in 
 ing to the best of contemporary dra- her again being engaged at Drury 
 matic criticism, one of tne greatest Lane Theatre in 1782. She appeared in 
 actresses that England ever produced, an adaptation by David Garrick, en- 
 Mrs. Sarah Siddons, whose wonderful titled " The Fatal Marriage." Her 
 tragedy voice even in every day life success was immediate and perman- 
 roused a feeling of awe in her own ent, and from this time she was the 
 home circle. She was the eldest unquestioned queen of the stage. In 
 daughter of Roger Kemble, a theatri- 1803 she followed the fortunes of her 
 cal manager in a small way, born brother, John Philip Kemble, retiring 
 a,t Brecon in 1755. As a child she in 1812, when she appeared for the 
 was a member of her father's com- last time as Lady Macbeth. She died 
 pany. At 17 Bhe formed an attach- on June 8th, 1831, and was buried in 
 ment to Siddons, also a member of Paddington churchyard. And to 
 the company, and, greatly against further quote the greatest critic of 
 her family's wish, married him. She her time, *' She reached a height of 
 made her first appearance in London, perfection which has probably never 
 accepting an engagement from Gar- been surpassed by any player of any 
 rick at Drury Lane in 1775, and was ago or country." 
 
CIGARETTE PAPERS 
 
 By JOSEPH HATTON. 
 
 An Absent- Minded Begrsar. 
 
 One thing is a little curious; the 
 Post Offic-e letter department will take ii 
 the trouble to look a name up in thpll 
 directory, but the tele^aph depart- 
 ment will not put itself out of iJie 
 way in the least. It won't even check 
 a wrong nunaber in a given streei. If 
 you have made a mistake, say, i*0, 
 Norreys-street, when you should have 
 written 20, the department will i in- 
 form you that the telegram has not 
 been delivered, " no such number m 
 Norreys-st."' Probably the depart- 
 ment is right, but if the message had 
 been a letter the postman would have 
 delivered it. Planche tells an amusing 
 story of Sheridan Knowies, the famous 
 Irish actor and dramatist. Knowles, 
 a« you are aware, was a very absent- 
 minded man. He was acting in the 
 country when he receiTed an urgent 
 letter from his wife telling him that 
 .£200 which he had promised to send 
 her on a certain day had never reached 
 her. Knowles thereupon wrote a Tery 
 angry letter to Sir Francis Freeling, 
 the then Postmaster-General, explain- 
 ing the circumstance of his sendiiig 
 the money and of its non-arrival, fie 
 denounced the Post Office in strong 
 terms, and demanded an immediate ji 
 inquiry, the delivery of the money, t, 
 and an apology for its detention. Sir}! 
 Francis wrote a pleasant letter in j 
 reply, saying how much he had en- 1 
 joyed Knowles's works, and therefore i 
 looked upon him as a friend, and at 
 the same time acknowledged that 
 Knowles was nuite right in stating 
 that he had posted the letter in ques- 
 tion containing the bank-notes, but 
 that he had omitted not only his sig- 
 nature, but all address outside the 
 letter, having sealed up the notes wi th 
 th« words, "I send you the money, '* 
 which he had duly poste-d without any 
 direction. The letter was opened at 
 the chief ofPice, and detained until 
 inquiry should be made for it. Sir 
 Francis finished his explanation to 
 Knowles with the information that by 
 the time he received this reply tlie 
 money would be in Mrs. Knowles's 
 hands; anxious that she should not 
 be further inconvenienced, the Post 
 Ofi&oe had sent it by special mes- 
 senger. " My dear Sir," wrote Knowles 
 to the Postnvjxster, " you are right Kud 
 I am wrong. God bless you! I will 
 call upon you when I come to town." 
 
 Behind the Scenes. 
 
 Ther* are many stories told of 
 Knowles's absent-mindedness, and also 
 of hig odd whimsicalities. Planche 
 was evidently fond of Knowles, and ' 
 was himself a man of delightful fancy. 
 On-e can imagine the pleasure with 
 which he witnessed the following ji 
 little incident behind th« scenes at I 
 Covent Garden. The opera turned | 
 upon the story of the love of a young 
 man for a gipsy girl, whom he subse- 
 quently deserts for a Ijtdy of rank and, 
 fortune. In the second act there was 
 a fete in the gardens of the chateau 
 in honour of the bride-elect. Mr.. 
 Binge was playing the Count, and in 
 the scene was seated in an arbour, neay 
 one of the wings, watching the ballet. 
 Knowles, wto had been in front durin^f 
 the previous part of the opera\ and 
 had to leave before it was finished, 
 went behind the scenes, and advanc- 
 ing as near as he could to Binge, with^ 
 out being in sight of the audience, 
 called to him in a loud whisper,, 
 " Binge ! " Binge looked over his 
 shoulder. "Well, what is it.?" ''Tell 
 me; do you marry the poor gipsv girl 
 after all ? " " Yes," answered Binge, 
 impatiently stretching his arm ooit 
 behind him and making signs with it 
 for Knowles to keep back. Knowles 
 caught the hand, pressed it fervently, 
 and exclaimed, " God bless you, Binge; 
 you are a good fellow ! " i 
 
RECOLLECTIONS AND REFLECTIONS. 
 

T )>J 
 
 THE ^ 
 
 EECOLLECTIONS AND ,**; 
 
 EEFLECTIONS 
 
 V^ 
 
 OF 
 
 J. R. PLANCHE, 
 
 (somerset herald). 
 
 % ^rnfcssbnal i.iTt0lri00rapIjg. 
 
 " I ran it through, even from my boyish days, 
 To the very moment that he bade me tell it. " 
 
 Othello, Act i., Scene 3. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 VOL. L 
 
 LONDON : 
 TINSLEY-BKOTHERS, 18, CATHERINE STREET, STRAND. 
 
 1872. 
 All rights reserved. 
 
LONDON : 
 BRADBURY, EVANS, AND CO., PRINTERS, VVHITEFRIAR.S. 
 
 U 
 
TO 
 
 '^ MY DEAE GEANDCHILDREN 
 
 THESE RECOLLECTIONS OF A LIFE 
 
 THE DECLINE OP WHICH HAS BEEN CHEERED BY THEIR SMILES 
 
 AND 
 BLESSED BY THEIR AFFECTION. 
 
 J. R. PLANCHE, 
 
ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 Some of tlie anecdotes that will be found in the followino- 
 pages appeared in the "London Society" Monthly Magazine 
 from April to October, 1871 : but considerable additions 
 have been made to them, and the " Recollections " which 
 were brought to a close with the Proclamation of Peace, in 
 1856, have been continued to the present year. They are 
 limited as strictly as possible to such public and professional 
 matters as it appeared to me would be interesting to the 
 general reader or on which I felt myself entitled to comment 
 — avoiding reference to my own family and private affairs 
 except where it was necessary for explanation, and rigidly 
 observing the same reticence with respect to those of 
 others. 
 
 J. R P, 
 
 College of Arms, 
 June, 1872. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER T. 
 
 Letter to Walter Arnold — Birth, Parentage, and Education — 
 My Parents and their Connexions — Anecdotes of my Child- 
 hood — The Stadtholder of Holland — ThePeaceof Amiens— My 
 Schoolfellows — Andrew Planche one of the original founders 
 of the Derby China Works in 1756 1 
 
 CHAPTER If. 
 
 Early Recollections — Mrs. Jordan — John Kemble — Mrs. Siddons 
 — Mrs. Powell — Amateur Theatricals — John Reeve — Wyman 
 — Miss Beaumont — My first and only appearance in Public — • 
 Death of my Father — Production of "Amoroso" — Drury Lane 
 Theatre in 1818 — James Smith — Samuel Beazley — Sir Lum- 
 ley Skeffington, Bart 21 
 
 CHAPTER IIL 
 
 My first Visit to Paris — Potier in " Le Bourgomestre de Saardam " 
 — Stephen Kemble, Acting Manager qi Drury Lane — His 
 Falstaff — Dowton's — The Green Rooms and the etiquette ob- 
 served in them — Elliston at the Olympic Pavilion — " Rodolj^h 
 the Wolf, or Little Red Riding Hood," a speaking Pantomime 
 — Reception of — Elliston' s harangue to the Carpenters — ^Anec- 
 dotes of — " Abudah, or the Talisman of Oromanes " — Michael 
 Kelly— His Music and Eccentricity — Anecdote of Mrs. Charles 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Kemble and Harley — " The Vampire " at the Lyceum — 
 Samuel James Arnold — Eichard Brinsley Peake — John Tay- 
 lor (of "The Sun")— Dr. 'Kitchener— Charles Mathews the 
 elder — "Kenil worth" at the Adelphi — My Marriage and 
 second Visit to Paris — Baptism of the Duke of Bourdeaux — 
 The Comtesse de Gonteau — Potier in " Eiquet a la Houpe" — 
 Engaged at the Adelphi — Production by Moncrieff of " Tom 
 and Jerry " — Introduction to Charles Kemble — Comparison 
 of the two companies, Drury Lane and Covent Garden — Pro- 
 duction of *'Maid Marian" — Eeflections on the subject of 
 Adai3tations of Popular Novels 33 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Reform of Theatrical Costume— Eevival of ' ' King John' ' at Covent 
 Garden — Doctor Samuel Meyrick — Mr. Francis Douce — Diffi- 
 culties and opposition encountered — Eawcett — Farley — Alarm 
 of the Performers — Triumphant success of the play — Eeflec-. 
 tions on the general subject of accurate stage dresses and deco- 
 rations — Absurd attempt at imitation at the Victoria Theatre 
 ■ — Visit to Paris in 1824 — Kemble — Young — Croznier — Merle 
 — Madame Dorval — Mazurier — Fanny Kemble — Production 
 at Covent Garden of "A Woman Never Vexed " — Prologue 
 to five-act play first dispensed with — Visit to Paris and 
 Eheims to witness the coronation of Charles X. — The Duke 
 of Northumberland at Calais — Talma — The family of the 
 Viscount Euinart de Brimont, Mayor of Eheims — Story of 
 ■ Mrs. Plowden — Cardinal de Latil, Archbishop of Eheims — 
 Coronation of the King and installation of the knights of the 
 St. Esprit — Talleyrand — Chateaubriand — Anecdote of Talley- 
 rand — Production of *'The Pageant of the French Corona- 
 tion" at Covent Garden and Drury Lane — " Success; or, a 
 Hit if you Like it " at the Adelphi 52 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Weber's '* Oberon " — Letters of the Composer — State of Music in 
 England in 1826 — Critical opinions of Weber's compositions — 
 
CONTENTS. xi 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Remarks on the Company at Covent Garden — Madame Vestris 
 the only singing actress — Miss Goward — Braham — Miss Paton 
 — Miss Harriet Cawse — Charles Bland — Defence of the story 
 — Letter from Charles Kenible — Production of George Soane 
 and Bishop's opera, "Aladdin," at Drury Lane — Bo7i mot of 
 Tom Cooke's 74 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Yauxhall Gardens — Engagement of Bishop, Braham, Sinclair, 
 Miss Stephens, Madame Yestris, and Miss Love — Visit to 
 Paris — Mrs. Salmon — T. P. Cooke with the gout— Odry and 
 his Wife — Eeturn to London with Potier and Laporte — 
 Greenwich Fair- — Reflections on National Costume — The 
 French plays at Tottenham Street — Anecdote of H.R.H. the 
 Duke of Gloucester — Weber's Concert — Death, and Funeral 
 — Verses on the occasion 86 
 
 CHAPTER VIL 
 
 New acquaintances — William Jerdan — Mr. and Mrs.Crofton Croker 
 — Tom Hood — John Hamilton Reynolds — Rey. George Croly 
 — Miss Landon^ — Anecdotes of them — Brief notes of a tour 
 through the Netherlands, north of Germany, and Holland in 
 1826 — The Opera at Hessen-Cassel and Berlin — Berlin first 
 lighted with Gas — The " Rust Kammer " at Dresden — Book 
 Fair at Leipzig — The old Chateau and Gardens at Gotha — • 
 The Castle of Wartburg and its Collection of Armour— The 
 Rhine — ^Visit to Ferdinand Reis at Godesberg — ' ' The Lays 
 and Legends of the Rhine" composed and dedicated to Sir 
 Walter Scott 97 
 
 CHAPTER VIIL 
 
 Shere Afkun" — "The Album" — Robert Sulivan — Campbell— 
 The Misses Jewsbury — Redgrave — Cope — Song by Mary Jane 
 Jewsburj' — Andrews, the Bookseller of Bond Street — Wash- 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 ington Irving — Epigram on Andrews — Introduction to the 
 Haymarket Theatre— Laporte's appearance there — Operatic- 
 comedy, " The Eencontre " — Mr. David Morris, Anecdotes of 
 — Poole — Kenny — Elliston at the Surrey — Price at Drury 
 Lane — Osbaldiston at the Cohurg — Anecdotes of Glossop's 
 management — Tomkins — Stanfield — David Eoberts — Increase 
 of acquaintance — Mr. and Mrs. Horace Twiss — Mrs. Ark- 
 wright — Mr. Procter (Barry Cornwall), his wife and daughter 
 Adelaide — Eev. "William Harness — T. J. Pettigrew — John 
 Britton — Sir Charles and Lady Morgan — Sir Gore Ousely — 
 Sir Pobert Kerr Porter — His sisters, Jane and Anna Maria — 
 Haynes Bayly — Samuel Lover — Mrs. Opie — Peyronet Briggs, 
 E.A. — Miss Agnes Strickland — Miss Pardee — Mrs. Jameson 
 — G. P. E. James — Colley Grattan — Erancis Mahony (Father 
 Prout)— Tommy Hill 116 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 American Eelations— Second tour in Germany — Wurtzburg — Our 
 fat friend there — Nuremberg — Our learned friend there — 
 Eatisbon — Descent of the Danube — Death of Mr. Canning 
 and its consequences to me at the Haymarket — Vienna — 
 Salzburg — Munich — Lake of Constance — Falls of the Ehine 
 — Black Forest — Basle — The Vosges — Source of the Moselle 
 — Paris — Opera of " Le Philtre " — Ballet of "La Somnam- 
 bule" — Production of *' The Merchant's Wedding" at Co vent 
 Garden — Disagreement with the Proprietors — Transfer of my 
 services to Drury Lane — " Charles XII." — Its great success 
 — Present from Mr. Price — Origin of the Dramatic Author's 
 Act 135 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Marschner's " Der Yampire" — "The Brigand" — Song of "Gentle 
 Zitella" — Consequences of its singular success— Treatment of 
 Dramatic Authors by the Musical Publishers — A stop put to 
 it — Mr. Price leaves Drury Lane — Anecdotes of him — Drury 
 
CONTENTS. xiii 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Lane Beefsteak Club — Practical joke X)layed on John Hughey 
 — Billy Dunn the Treasurer — Anecdotes of him . . .151 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 Elected Fellow of the Society of Antiquaries — Consequent ac- 
 quaintance with Hallam — Gage Eookwood — Hudson Gur- 
 ney — Crabb Eobinson — "Literary Union Club" dissolved 
 and reconstructed as " The Clarence" — Foundation of " The 
 Garrick Club " — Opening Dinner — Duke of Sussex in the 
 chair — Anecdotes of Theodore Hook— r Thackeray — James 
 Smith — Sir Henry Webb, Bart IGi 
 
 CHAPTER XIL 
 
 Captain Polhill and Alexander Lee take Drury Lane Theatre — 
 Madame Vestris takes the Olympic — Production of the 
 "Olympic Revels" — Opening Address by J. H. Reynolds — 
 Reflections on late and early termination of performances — 
 Anecdote of Listen — Invitation to write for Drury Lane — 
 Farce of "The Jenkinses" — Miss Mordaunt, afterwards Mi's. 
 Nisbett— "The Romance of a Day"— "The Legion of 
 Honour" — Miss Poole — " A Friend at Court " — ^Miss Taylor, 
 afterwards Mrs. Walter Lacy — " The Ai^my of the North" — 
 "The Love Charm" — Hliberal and impolitic opposition — 
 " Olympic Devils " 178 
 
 CHAPTER XIIL 
 
 1832-1833 — Laporte lessee of Covent Garden — " His Fii'st Cam- 
 paign " — "Reputation" — Junction of the two National 
 Theatres under the Management of Mr. Bunn — Engaged by 
 Mr. Arnold to manage the Adelphi during his lesseeship of 
 that Theatre — Madame Malibran — De Beriot — Thalberg — 
 "The Students of Jena" — Last Appearance and Death of 
 Edmund Kean 191 
 
xiv CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 The Dramatic Authors' Act and its Consequences — Formation of 
 the Dramatic Authors' Society — Inefficiency of its Protection 
 — Comparison of the Laws affecting the Drama in France 
 and England — Great Advantages enjoyed by the French 
 Authors — Eeflections on the Position of English Dramatists . 196 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 1833-1834 — Production of " Gustavus Third " — " Secret Service " 
 — "Loan of a Lover" — Yisit to the Kensington Theatre — • 
 Henry G. Denvil — His Engagement by Bunn — Appears in 
 " Shylock," " Richard III.," " Bertram," and "Manfred "— 
 Production of " The Red Mask " — John Cooper — Reflections 
 on " respectable" Acting — Ellen Tree's effective Performance 
 — Extraordinary Excitement— Alteration of last Scene — Re- 
 flections on the " sensational " Drama 211 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Publication of " The History of British Costume"— Anecdotes of 
 Artists in connection with it— West— Etty—Wilkie— Abra- 
 ham Cooper — Haydon — Maclise — My Acquaintance and 
 Friendship with many others— The Dinners at Fonnereau's— • 
 The Sketching Society — Henri Monnier, the French Painter 
 and Actor .......... 223 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Engagement with Bunn—" Telemachus " and " The Court Beau- 
 ties " at the Olympic— End of the Union of the two Patent 
 Theatres — Failure of the Scheme — Production of "The 
 Jewess"— Its great success— Further Reflections on the 
 sensational Drama and Remarks on Translations . . . 236 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Mission to Paris — Production of " Les Huguenots" and interview 
 with Meyerbeer — Premature Production of " Chevy Chase " 
 — Contrast of Bunn's Management with that of Madame 
 Yestris — Eirst Appearance of Charles James Mathews — 
 "Court Favour "— " Two Figaros "— " Piquet with the Tuft," 
 the first of the Fairy Extravaganzas — James Bland — Eobson 
 — Death of George Coleman the younger — Parody by . .248 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Introduction to the Duchess-Countess of Sutherland — Rogers and 
 Luttrell — Anecdotes respecting them — Opinions of Rogers on 
 Poetry and Music— The Eight Hon. Thomas GrenviUe — 
 Anecdotes by — His Death — Lord Byron's Description of the 
 Duchess- Countess — Her Grace's Character and Accomplish- 
 ments 258 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Introduction to the Countess of Blessington — Action against 
 Braham — The Hon. Henry Fitzharding Berkeley — Mr. 
 Angelo Selous — Mr. Berkeley's Answer to Mr. Adolphus — 
 Production of " Norma " at Drury Lane and appearance on 
 the English stage of Madame Schroeder Devrient — Dis- 
 graceful Performance of '* Caractacus " — Production of " The 
 Magic Flute " — Vindication of the original Libretto . . 269 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 Engagement by Chappell and Co. to write an opera for Mendels- 
 sohn — Mendelssohn's Correspondence with us during 1838-9 
 and the results of it ... 279 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 It is well-nigh forty years ago since I wrote the fol- 
 ^lowing reply to a young friend who, on the part of a 
 few gentlemen, had requested me to furnish them with 
 some particulars respecting my " birth, parentage, and 
 education, life, character, and behaviour," for the 
 purpose of a memoir in a new biographical work 
 they had projected — I believe entitled " The Georgian 
 iEra." 
 
 " Dear Walter,* — What do your friends mean by 
 keeping me thus in constant fear of * my life ? ' Let 
 them take it. I will lay it down for you with pleasure 
 (on paper) as far as I can recollect it. I was so young 
 when I was born that I scarcely remember that circum- 
 
 * Walter Augustus Arnold, the present proprietor o£ tlie Lyceum 
 Theatre, and second son of Samuel James xirnold, for whom it was 
 originally erected. 
 
 VOL. I. B 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 stance, but I believe I made my first appearance in Old 
 Burlington Street, Burlington Gardens, on the 27tli of 
 February, 1796, about tlie time the farce begins at the 
 Haymarket, that is, shortly after one o'clock in the 
 morning. I was received with considerable appro- 
 bation by an indulgent audience, * fit though few,' and 
 with the help of new dresses and decorations became 
 in due time a very respectable representative of Little 
 Pickle in * The Spoiled Child.' My parents were first- 
 cousins and French refugees. I had scarcely got over 
 the measles before I was attacked by a violent * ca- 
 coethes scribendi,' and at the age of ten had perpe- 
 trated several ' Odes,' * Sonnets,' &c. An ' Address to 
 the Spanish Patriots ' particularly was, as well as I 
 can remember, really terrible to listen to. In the 
 meantime the education I had received from a kind 
 and accomplished mother, whom I unfortunately lost 
 before I was nine years old, was zmperfected at a 
 boarding school, where I was ^^7^taught the French 
 I spoke fluently as a child, and made to resemble 
 Shakespeare in the solitary particular of * knowing 
 little Latin and less Greek.' Before I was fourteen 
 I worried myself home, and the important question 
 was propounded of what was to be done with me. I 
 had a playmate in an attorney's office, and therefore 
 wished to be a lawyer. I was fond of drawing, and 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEPLECTIONS. 3 
 
 therefore desired to be an artist. I liked cricket, too, 
 uncommonly, and was no mean batter or bowler ; but 
 it did not appear that I could get a living as a long- 
 stop or make a fortune in a few innings; and my 
 father, who had known what it was to be almost a 
 beggar in a foreign country, and to attain a com- 
 petency by his own industry and honesty, determined 
 I should have a trade or profession at my back. He 
 had made himself a w^atchmaker, but he couldn't make 
 me one. Ultimately I declared for the pencil, and 
 was sent to study geometry and perspective under a 
 Monsieur de Court, a French landscape-painter of 
 some ability. He died before I could discover the 
 quadrature of the circle, and his death was the vanish- 
 ing point of my line in perspective. This disappoint- 
 ment brought on an attack of my old complaint of 
 scribbling, and in the hope of one day pubhshing my 
 own works, I suddenly determined to be a bookseller. 
 To a bookseller accordingly I was articled, and during 
 the few years I passed with him my theatrical pro- 
 pensities began to develop themselves. I had spoken 
 RoUa's speech to his soldiers shortly after I had found 
 Qiy own, and had been bribed to take some nasty stuff, 
 when an urchin, on one occasion by the present of a 
 complete harlequin's suit, mask, wand, and all, and on 
 another by that of a miniature theatre and strong com- 
 
EEOOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 pany of pasteboard actors, in whose control I enjoyed 
 all the roses without any of the thorns of theatrical 
 management. I now turned amateur actor myself. 
 At the theatres Private, Berwick Street, Pancras 
 Street, Catherine Street, and Wilton Street, alter- 
 nately, I murdered many principal personages of the 
 acting drama, in company with several accomplices 
 who have since risen to deserved distinction upon the 
 public boards ; and it is most probable by this time I 
 should have been a very bad actor had not * the sisters 
 three and such odd branches of learning ' occasioned 
 me by the merest accident to become an indifferent 
 dramatist. Finding nothing in Shakespeare and 
 Sheridan worthy my abilities, I determined on writing 
 a play myself, and acting, of course, the principal 
 part in it. The offspring of this thought was the 
 burlesque entitled * Amoroso, King of Little Britain,' 
 which being completed and handed round amongst my 
 brother amateurs, was by one of them shown to Mr. 
 Harley, of the Theatre Royal Drury Lane. That 
 establishment happened to be at the moment in a 
 state of absolute starvation — the only cause I can 
 imagine of its suddenly snapping at so humble a 
 morsel. Snap at it, however, it did, and the excellent 
 acting and singing of Mr. Harley, Mr. Knight, Mr. 
 Oxberry, Mr. G. Smith, Mrs. Orger, and Mrs. Bland 
 
RECOLLECTIONS AND REFLECTIONS. 5 
 
 secured for it a popularity it could never otherwise 
 have enjoyed. This to me most unexpected event 
 (I knew nothing of its being in the theatre before I 
 saw it announced in the bills for performance) occurred 
 on the 21st of April, 1818, and at once determined my 
 future. Encouraged by my kind friend Mr. Harley, 
 and subsequently by Mr. Elhston and Mr. Stephen 
 Kemble, I commenced to be a dramatist in earnest, 
 and at this present date have put upon the stage, of 
 one description and another, seventy-six pieces." 
 
 Since the period at which the above was penned 
 (February, 1833), I have added nearly a hundred to 
 that number, and am now at the age of seventy-five 
 once more called upon to "give an accoui>t of myself ; " 
 not, I am perfectly conscious, with the idea that any 
 interest would be taken by the 'general public in my 
 own " sayings and doings," but that having lived in 
 London society upwards of half a century, it has been 
 thought I may have something to tell it of many of 
 my contemporaries who have been its greatest orna- 
 ments, instructors, and entertainers. I enter upon this 
 task with considerable diffidence, for the memory upon 
 which I have to depend recalls a countless number 
 of autobiographies, memoirs, and reminiscences, all 
 in possession of very nearly the same ground over 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 whicli I must inevitably travel * ■ — portraits more 
 powerfully painted, scenes more graphically described, 
 and, Voorst of all, the best stories anticipated. In 
 many instances I shall feel that mine is "a tale 
 twice told, and in the second hearing troublesome." 
 It is this special consideration which has constantly \ 
 deterred me hitherto from acting on the suggestions 
 of numerous friends that I should give to the world 
 a more detailed account of my experiences at home 
 and abroad than is contained in the brief memoirs 
 to be found appended to some of my dramas, the ji 
 biographical notice in "Men of the Time," and one 
 or two other pubhcations. I have at length, how- 
 ever, taken heart of grace, sundry considerations 
 thereunto me moving, one of which was, that having 
 for some time survived the threescore years and ten 
 allotted to man by Scriptural authority, and having 
 never kept a journal or even a note-book, it was ex- 
 tremely uncertain how long memory might '' hold a 
 seat in this distracted brain," and highly probable that 
 "my life " might come to an endbefore I began it. 
 Turning over some old papers, in search of any 
 
 * At tlie present moment a large addition has been made to this 
 class of publications, and nearly all concerning my personal friends 
 and acquaintances ; notably the Eev. Francis Barham, Charles Young, 
 Crabb Eobinson, Kean, the Kembles, and the Eev. W. Harness ; and 
 ■*' the cry is still they come." 
 
BECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 7 
 
 material that would assist my recollection or illustrate 
 my narrative, I lighted upon a rough and almost 
 illegible draft of the above letter, and thought, as it 
 contained the principal facts concerning myself up to 
 the time I came of age, and began seriously the battle 
 of life, it would put me so far on my journey without 
 any more trouble. Two or three points in it, however, 
 recal circumstances, anecdotes, and personages which 
 will, I trust, excuse my "harking back" to them. 
 In the first place, respecting my parents. I stated in 
 that letter that they were French refugees. I should 
 have said, more correctly, that they were the children 
 of French refugees, both of them having been born in 
 London. Who were "the real old original " emigrants 
 of my family at the period of the Revocation of the 
 Edict of Nantes (1685), I have as yet been unable to 
 discover. All I have ascertained is that three bro- 
 thers, Paul, Antoine, and Pierre- Ant oine, were hving 
 in London during the first half of the last century, 
 and married here — Paul in 1723, Anthony in 1758, 
 and Peter Anthony in 1770. It is, therefore, possible 
 that they also may have been born in England ; but I 
 took no interest in such matters during the hfetime of 
 those who could have informed me, and have only 
 a dreamy recollection of a family tradition that 
 somebody, at the time of the persecution of the 
 
8 EECOLLECTIONS AND REFLECTIONS. 
 
 Protestants, escaped from France in a tub, which 
 may probably be nothing more than a tale of one. 
 However, I am in the proud position of being able 
 to prove that I had a grandfather, my father being the 
 fifth and youngest son of the said Paul Planche, by 
 Marie Anne Fournier, his first wife. He was born 
 in 1734, baptised at the French Protestant Chapel, 
 Leicester Fields, and received the name of Jacques 
 from a godfather who rejoiced in the magnificent 
 appellation of Jacques de Guyon de Pampelune, as 
 I have recently discovered from the registers of that 
 chapel preserved at Somerset House; but who or 
 what that illustrious foreigner may have been I am 
 woefully ignorant. My principal reason for mentioning 
 the exact date of my father's baptism is to record a 
 fact I have often heard him mention, that when twelve 
 years old he passed over Tower Hill during the exe- 
 cution of the rebel Lords Kilmarnock and Balmerino, 
 August 18, 1746. 
 
 An old gentleman, the late Mr. WiUiam Dance 
 (father of Charles, my collahorateur in the " Olympic 
 Revels " and several other pieces), to whom I men- 
 tioned the circumstance, instantly " capped " it by 
 exclaiming, " My father built the scaffold." " The life 
 of man is but a span," and yet how far into the past 
 will two or three generations sometimes carry us ! 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 9 
 
 My grandfather must have remembered the battle 
 of Blenheim. My father was born before the battle 
 of Culloden, and lived to read the accomits of the 
 battle of Waterloo ; and in the reign of William IV. I 
 was talking to a hale and hearty octogenarian whose 
 father was born in the reign of William III., and 
 whose grandfather probably had seen Charles 11. My 
 grandmother did not long survive my father's birth; 
 and he, with his brothers and sisters, were too soon 
 made miserable by a step-mother, who, as I have 
 often heard my father say, drove him — still a mere 
 boy — out of the house by her cruel conduct. He 
 made his way by some means to Geneva, where he 
 learned the art and mystery of watchmaking, and 
 was in Paris in 1757, where he saw Damien taken to 
 execution for the attempt to assassinate Louis XV. 
 One of the most tender-hearted of human beings, he 
 had not tarried on Tower Hill to see the axe fall upon 
 Lord Kilmarnock ; I need scarcely say he did not 
 follow the procession to witness the tearing asunder 
 of a fellow-creature by four horses. There were no 
 illustrated penny papers in those days to excite the 
 morbid appetites of youth, and famiharise the boys 
 and girls of the period with sights of horror and 
 ruffianism, '' teaching (^le young idea how to shoot," 
 or stab, as may be most convenient. On his return to 
 
10 RECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 England he found employment in the celebrated house 
 of Vulliamy & Co., watchmakers to his youthful 
 Majesty King George III., who took a great fancy 
 to my father, and often chatted with him in the 
 most famihar manner. One day, going to St. James's 
 with the King's watch, which had been mended, 
 he remarked to the page that the ribbon was rather 
 dirty. The King heard him, and coming to the door, 
 said, in the sharp, quick way which was habitual 
 to him, "What's that, Planche? What's that?" 
 My father repeated his observation, and suggested a | 
 new ribbon. "New ribbon, Planche! What for? \ 
 Can't it be washed? Can't it be washed?" With ' 
 what malicious glee would Peter Pindar have mis- 
 represented this half-jocular, half-innocent, question of j 
 the simple-minded, good-natured sovereign. 
 
 I have mentioned that my father and mother were 
 first-cousins, she being the only child of Antoine 
 Planche, brother of Paul, by Mary, only daughter of 
 Abraham and Catherine Thomas, both Prussians, who 
 came over to England in the suite of Caroline, Queen 
 of George 11. ; so that during the late lamentable war I 
 have been really surprised that I have not died of 
 spontaneous combustion, and can only attribute my 
 escape from at least serious V^;estine commotion to 
 the letters of naturalisation prudently taken out by my 
 
EECOLLECTIOXS AND EEFLECTIONS. 11 
 
 ancestors, by virtue of which they became British 
 subjects, and consequently imparted to the blood of 
 their descendant that benevolent neutrality which has, 
 I trust, secured to us the eternal gratitude of both the 
 belligerents. 
 
 I have a misty sort of notion that Mr. (I suppose I 
 should say Herr) Thomas w^as tutor or German master 
 to Charles, fourth Duke of Rutland, and was with him 
 in Ireland during his grace's viceroyalty; but, be that 
 as it may, I know the Duchess (the Beautiful Isabella, 
 as she was called) was warmly attached to his 
 daughter (my grandmother, Mary Blanche), and was 
 most kind to my mother and me. I w^as frequently 
 taken to see her in Sackville Street, Biccadilly (the 
 house is now " Draper's Hotel "), and remember 
 riding round the drawing-room on the late Duke's 
 gold-headed cane — at that time a fine tall young 
 man of three- or four-and-twenty, wearing a blue 
 tailed-coat with gilt buttons, buckskin breeches, and 
 top-boots. 
 
 I mention this circumstance, because at that period 
 his grace offered my mother an ensign's commission 
 for me, I being four years old. Had she accepted it, 
 I might have led my regiment at Waterloo, and been 
 now perhaps a major-general and a G.C.B., with one 
 eye and a wooden leg, supposing always that I had 
 
12 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 not been "left alone in my glory," like Sir John 
 Moore, on the ramparts of Corunna, or prudently 
 retired upon half-pay as soon as I arrived at 
 years of discretion. Perhaps this latter alternative 
 did not occur to her. Oh happy days of England, 
 when babies were really born with gold spoons 
 in their mouths, and could be made colonels of 
 regiments, commissioners of excise, or masters of the 
 Mint, in their cradles, and without competitive exami- 
 nation ! The great-grandfather of a friend of mine 
 affords a remarkable example of this precocity of pre- 
 ferment. The lady of a cabinet minister (I purposely 
 suppress names) had promised to stand godmother to 
 the infant, and calling on his parents a day or two pre- 
 vious to the ceremony, expressed her regret that Lord 
 
 had nothing left at his disposal of any importance ; 
 
 and that the only thing he could do for her godson was 
 to put his name on the pension -list as a superannuated 
 general postman. The offer was accepted. The pen- 
 sion was regularly paid to the parents during the 
 minority of their son, and to him afterwards as long as 
 lie lived. He thrived in the world, became an alder- 
 man of Chichester, and attained a considerable age, 
 often declaring that he had more pleasure in pocketing 
 the few pounds he drew half-yearly from this source 
 than he derived from the receipt of any other portion 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND REFLECTIONS. 13 
 
 of his income. He died a few days after one payment 
 was due, and one of his executors came to town to 
 receive the money and announce his decease. On 
 asking the clerk who paid him if it were necessary to 
 produce a certificate of the death, he was answered, 
 *' Oh no, not in the least — I will take your word for it. 
 My father paid this pension as long as he lived, and I 
 have paid it myself for the last thirty years. I'm quite 
 
 sure Mr. must be dead by this time." He had 
 
 been a superannuated general postman for upwards of 
 eighty years ! His descendant is now a baronet and a 
 member of parKament ; and I had the story from his 
 father at his own dinner-table. 
 
 It must have been about the year 1800 that I had 
 an interview with an illustrious personage whose title 
 has a weird and ghostly sound in these days — the 
 Stadtholder of Holland. My mother, whose health had 
 begun to decline, was on a visit to some friends who 
 had apartments in Hampton Court Palace, at that time 
 the residence of his Serene Highness William V., 
 Prince of Orange, Hereditary Stadtholder, who had 
 taken refuge in England on the advance of the French 
 under Pichegru in 1794. I was playing in the gardens 
 with my nurse ; and, being restricted by her from 
 doing something or other which I desired to do — most 
 likely because it was w^rong — began to kick and stamp 
 
14 EECOLLECTIONS AND REFLECTIONS. 
 
 and howl after the fashion of naughty children in 
 general. His Serenity, who was returning from a walk, 
 kindly stopped to ask what had disturbed my serenity ; 
 but as the subject of our conference was emphatically 
 domestic, and its results had no influence on the im- 
 portant political events then convulsing the Continent, 
 I should not think it necessary to repeat what passed, 
 even if I remembered it, which I don't ; nor should I 
 have mentioned the circumstance at all could I have 
 resisted the temptation of recording that I have actu- 
 ally seen and spoken with a Stadtholder. Fancy a 
 naturalist old enough and fortunate enough to have 
 seen a live dodo ! Dining recently with an old friend 
 and schoolfellow, the conversation turned upon the 
 ages of the persons present, and each was asked what 
 was the earhest pubHc event he could remember. My 
 answer was, " The general illumination for the peace 
 of Amiens." " The peace of Amiens ? Why, that was 
 in 1801 ! " exclaimed a learned judge who sat near to 
 me. *' Exactly ; but I remember it perfectly." He 
 turned to his next neighbour, and, in an audible whis- 
 per, said, " The Wandering Jew ! " In support of my 
 assertion I then related the following circumstance. 
 Monsieur Otto, the French Minister, resided, at that 
 time, in Portman Square, and my father having moved 
 from Old Burlington Street into Park Street, Grosvenor 
 
RECOLLECTIONS AND REFLECTIONS. 15 
 
 Square, took me to see the illumination at the French 
 Embassy, which was exceedingly magnificent. The 
 house was one blaze of coloured lamps from parlour to 
 parapet. Green olive-branches with red berries — not 
 natural, but eifective — and other pacific emblems sur- 
 rounded the windows : and above those of the drawing-- 
 room, occupying the whole breadth of the building, 
 glittered in golden-coloured lamps the word ''Con- 
 corde." Though as nearly English as a French word 
 could well be, it was misinterpreted by a number of 
 sailors in the crowd, who began shouting, "We are 
 not conquered ! Pull it down!" The mob, always 
 ripe for a row, took up the cry, and was proceeding 
 from uproar to violence, when some one announced 
 from the doorsteps that the obnoxious word should be 
 altered ; and a host of lamplighters were speedily seen 
 busily employed in removing and substituting for it 
 " Amitie." Unfortunately this was also misunderstood 
 by the ignorant masses for " Enmity," and the storm 
 again raged with redoubled fury. Ultimately was done 
 what should have been done at first. The word 
 " Peace " was displayed, and peace was restored to 
 Portman Square for the rest of the evening. The 
 peace itself was of not much longer duration.* What 
 
 * The preliminaries of Peace were signed in London, December, 
 1801 : but Peace was not proclaimed until Thursday, 29th April, 1802, 
 
16 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 a different thing was a general illumination in those 
 days to one at the present time ! True, there was no 
 gas, nor so much picturesque effect as modern art has, 
 by the means of cut glass, produced in such decorations 
 as have dehghted the pubHc at Poole's ; but, on the 
 other hand, the former illuminations were really general. 
 Not a window in the smallest court or blindest alley 
 but had its candle stuck in a lump of clay, while in 
 houses of more pretension one blazed in every pane. 
 Eows of flambeaux fastened to the area railings flared 
 in every direction, and long lines of variegated lamps 
 bordered every balcony, or, arranged in graceful fes- 
 toons, valanced each verandah. There was not a dark 
 street to be found in London. Mobs paraded the me- 
 tropolis, from Hyde Park Corner to Whitechapel, with 
 shouts of " Light up ! Light up ! " and smashed every 
 window that did not swiftly display a humble dip in 
 obedience to the summons. Since the rejoicings for 
 the crowning victory of Waterloo, nothing like a general 
 illumination has been seen in London. 
 
 My poor mother's health breaking down completely, 
 and incapacitating her from furthe;r superintendence of 
 my education,* I was placed, at the age of eight, in a 
 boarding-school kept by a Rev. Mr. Farrer in Lawrence 
 
 and it must have been on tliat evening tlie above circumstance took 
 place. 
 
 ♦ She died Auo;ust 11, 1804. 
 
 ( 
 
 ( 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 17 
 
 Street, Chelsea. In the room in which I slept were* 
 two boys, both as handsome as they were clever. 
 They amused themselves with writing plays, and enact- 
 ing the principal parts in them, displaying considerable 
 histrionic ability. My early developed theatrical pro- 
 clivities naturally rivetted the bonds of friendship which 
 were speedily formed between us. The youngest was 
 about my own age. He had glossy black hair, curling 
 gracefully over his head, and a pair of piercing dark 
 eyes that sparkled with humour and intelligence. They 
 left school before me. The eldest I never saw again ; 
 he went to America, and died there ; but my especial 
 friend rose to high distinction at the Bar, and having 
 filled the important offices of SoHcitor and Attorney- 
 General, is, at the present moment. Lord Chief Baron 
 of the Exchequer. It was at his table the conversa- 
 tion took place I have just related, and my interlocutor 
 was Baron Bramwell. 
 
 I think I may as well take this opportunity 
 of disposing in a few words of the rest of my 
 paternal ancestors. Pien-e Antoine, the youngest of 
 my father's uncles, appears from Rivington's " Com- 
 plete Guide," a sort of London Directory published in 
 1763, to have been at that date an East India merchant, 
 residing in Rood Lane, Fenchurch Street. He was 
 admitted to the freedom of the Levant Company in 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
18 EECOLLECTIONS AND BEFLECTIONS. 
 
 #1775, and died at Compi^gne, in France, in 1797, 
 leaving by his wife, Sarah Douglas, an only son, John 
 Douglas Planche, Captain in the 60th Kegiment of 
 Foot, who died in command of his company at Dominica, 
 in the West Indies, Oct. 3rd, 1812. He married a 
 Miss Brown, of Jamaica, and left an only son, named 
 James after my father, who settled somewhere in 
 America, and remained ever afterwards a very distant 
 relation. 
 
 My father had four brothers, only one of whom lived 
 to man's estate ; and there is, I find, some general in- 
 terest attached to him, of which I was entirely ignorant 
 till the other day, when I received the follow^ing infor- 
 mation from Mr. Llewellyn Jewitt, F.S.A., of AVinster 
 Hall, Matlock, the well-known Derbyshire antiquary, 
 and editor of the Quarterly Archaeological Journal and 
 Review, entitled " The Reliquary," his attention havings 
 been called to the subject by the first chapter of m}' 
 *' Recollections," in the April number of " London 
 Society." *' There has always been a tradition that the 
 first maker of China (porcelain) in Derby, was a French- 
 man, who lived in a small house in Lodge Lane, who 
 modelled and made small articles in China, j^rincipally 
 animals — birds, cats, dogs, lambs, &c., which he fired 
 in a pipe-maker's oven in the neighbourhood, belonging 
 to a man named Woodward ; and I tried very hard to 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 19 
 
 find out who the French refugee was, and I am happy ,^ 
 to say that I am able to show, as I told you, that he 
 was no other than Andrew Planche. You will find 
 with this letter, a copy of a draft of an agreement (the 
 original is in my own possession), in which he enters 
 into partnership with Wm. Duesbury and John Heath, 
 for the making of China in Derby. So he was the 
 first China-maker in Derly. I have some of the small 
 birds made (I think there can be no doubt) by him ; 
 but, curiously, his name never appears again in con- 
 nection with the works. ... He was evidently a 
 very clever man in China-making, and I firmly beheve 
 he had the secret of China body,* Duesbury the energy 
 and other requirements, and Heath the money, to start 
 and carry out the famous Derby China Works. . . . 
 As I am very anxious to give Andrew Planche his full 
 and proper place in the history of China (ware), I shall 
 be quite thankful for any genealogical notes you can 
 
 ^ive me." 
 
 This letter was accompanied by a copy of the 
 iraft of agi-eement, as promised, and extracts from 
 ie parish register at Derby of the baptisms of Paul, 
 Tames, and WilHam, sons of Andrew Planche and 
 ^arah his wife, the names of the two former being 
 trongly indicative of the identity of the China-maker 
 
 * /. e., the materials requisite for the composition of fine porcelain. 
 
 c 2 
 
20 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLEOTIONS. 
 
 with my uncle Andrew, who was born the 14th and 
 baptised the 24th of March, 172|, and would, there- 
 fore, at the date of the ^ agreement, January 1, 1756, 
 have nearly completed the 28th year of his age. He 
 was living at Bath in 1804, and died there a few years 
 subsequently. The draft is headed " Articles of Agree- 
 ment between John Heath, of Derby, in the county of 
 Derby, gentleman, Andrew Planch^, of the same place, 
 China-maker, and W"^- Duesbury, of Langton, in the 
 county of Stafford, enameller," and records that " y' 
 said John Heath hath f day of y^ date of these pre- 
 sents delivered in as a stock y^ sum of one thousand 
 pounds, to be made and employed between them for y^ 
 carrying on y^ said art of making China wares." I 
 trust, with Mr. Jewitt, that in the history of Ceramic 
 art in England, the name of Andrew Planche will 
 henceforth be duly recorded. 
 
CHAPTER 11. 
 
 Were it my object to spin out these pages by 
 enumerating every thing that I have seen since I 
 could see anything, it would be easy for me to do so. 
 I need only copy the facts out of " Haydn's Dictionary 
 of Dates," or some similar useful compilation. Also, 
 if I could suppose the public desirous to become ac- 
 quainted with every little circumstance connected with 
 me and my family, I should be most happy to enter 
 into the minutest details I could remember ; for though 
 not aware that I have anything particular to boast of, 
 I thank God I know nothing I need be ashamed of. 
 I have, however, too much self-respect to adopt the 
 former course, a,nd too little vanity to be seduced into 
 the latter. Of course, as a resident in London, I 
 remember the destruction by fire of both the great 
 national theatres; the 0. P. Row at New Covent 
 Garden ; the young Roscius mania ; the retirement of 
 John Kemble and Mrs. Siddons ; the advent of Ed- 
 mund Kean and Miss O'Niel ; and many other les&. 
 
22 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 important theatrical occurrences, which have been 
 recently so fully and graphically described by Dr. 
 Doran, in his interesting work " Their Majesties' 
 Servants," and Mr. Percy Fitzgerald, in his "Lives 
 of the Kembles," — volumes which leave nothing to be 
 desired as regards the Ultimus Komanorum of the 
 English stage and his magnificent sister. 
 
 As to political events, I saw Sir Francis Burdett taken 
 to the Tower from his house in Piccadilly, 6 th of April, 
 1810, and artillerymen standing with lighted matches 
 by the side of their loaded field-pieces in Berkley 
 Square, and blood running in the kennels in Bur- 
 lington Street, into which men and women were dipping- 
 sticks and handkerchiefs in front of the residence of 
 Mr. Robinson (afterwards Lord Goderich) during the 
 Corn Law Riots in 1815 ; but beyond the main 
 facts, which are matters of history, I have no incident 
 to mention, no anecdote to relate, which would add to 
 their illustration. I may briefly state that I saw Mrs. 
 Jordan act in " The Country Girl," and George Frede- 
 rick Cooke play lago to Pope's Othello, at Drury Lane; 
 John Kemble, in Macbeth, Brutus, and King Lear ; 
 and Mrs. Siddons, in Lady Macbeth, at Covent Gar- 
 den ; but it would be impertinence in me to express 
 my opinion of performances I was much too young to 
 appreciate. I can remember, however, being greatl}^ 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 23 
 
 impressed by two effects ; one, the wonderful expres- 
 sion of Kemble's face in his interview with Lady 
 Macbeth after the murder of Duncan, act iii. scene 2. 
 I can see him now, standing in the door-way in the 
 centre of the scene. The kingly crown appeared a 
 burthen and a torture to him. How terribly clear it 
 was, before he uttered a word, that his mind was "full 
 of scorpions " — that he acutely felt — 
 
 " Better be with the dead, 
 
 Whom^we, to gain our peace, have sent to peace, 
 Than on the torture of the mind to lie 
 In restless ecstacy." 
 
 The other was the exulting exclamation of Mrs. 
 Siddons, when, as Lady Macbeth, having read the 
 letter, she greets her husband on his entrance with — 
 
 *' Great Glamis ! worthy Cawdor ! 
 Greater than both, by the ' all-hail ' hereafter /" 
 
 The effect was electrical. Her whole performance, 
 indeed, impressed me with an awe that, when I met 
 her in society, several years afterwards, I could not 
 entirely divest myself of on being presented to her. 
 
 Mrs. Powell (then Mrs. Renaud), a beautiful woman^ 
 and a good actress of the old school, succeeded Mrs. 
 Siddons in many of her characters. She was anxious 
 to conceal her second marriage, not from any unworthy 
 
24 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 motive, but for private family reasons. An actress in 
 the Covent Garden Company, who bore by courtesy 
 the name of one of the performers, and had become 
 acquainted with the fact, mahciously addressed her one 
 night in the green-room, before a numerous assemblage 
 of actors and visitors, thus : — " Mrs. Powell, everybody 
 says you are married." "Indeed!" retorted Mrs. 
 Eenaud, coldly ; '^ everybody says you are not." 
 
 Amongst the amateurs, with whom I became ac- 
 quainted at various private theatres, and the Mnemosy- 
 nean Society, in Portugal Street, Lincoln's Inn Fields, 
 where I was wont to recite pieces of my own composi- 
 tion, some of which are still popular in " Penny Eead- 
 ings," I must m.ention the celebrated John Eeeve, of 
 the Adelphi, Frank Wyman, a respectable actor of 
 small character parts, at the Olympic, and the beautiful 
 Miss Beaumont of Covent Garden. Once, and once 
 only, I made my appearance in pubHc, for the benefit 
 of a young friend, who afterwards acquired some re- 
 putation as a tragedian, under the name of Barton, in 
 America. It was at the Theatre Royal — Green- 
 wich! I played Multiple, in the "Actor of All- Work," 
 a duo-drama in one act, written expressly for the elder 
 Mathews, and which had never been printed; but 
 my memory was in those days really marvellous, and I 
 wrote the whole piece out after one night's hearing at 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND REFLECTIONS. 25 
 
 the Haymarket, going a second night to correct errors, 
 and scarcely finding a word to add or to alter. The 
 part was one of impersonation, with rapid changes of 
 dress and character, and at the end of the piece I gave 
 imitations of all the principal London performers. Mrs. 
 Faiicit, afterwards Mrs. Farren, sat behind the stage- 
 door in the proscenium — there were stage-doors in the 
 proscenium then — to witness the audacious attempt, 
 and flattered me at the close of it, by recommending 
 Mr. Faucit, the manager, to offer me an engagement, 
 which he actually did before I left the theatre. How 
 I resisted the temptation I know not, for it was a 
 temptation of no ordinary power. I doted on the 
 theatre ; the smell of the lamps and the orange peel 
 was intoxicating : but it was not to be, and I am 
 grateful for what I must consider a narrow escape 
 from a profession wherein it is unlikely I should have 
 attained eminence, and of which I was unequal to 
 bear the constant toils and frequent mortifications. 
 
 In 1816 I lost my excellent father. If an honest 
 man be the noblest work of God, he emphatically 
 deserved that enviable title. 
 
 In 1818, as I have already stated in my prefatory 
 letter, I perpetrated the burlesque of " Amoroso, King 
 of Little Britain."* It was a poor imitation of " Bom- 
 
 * Produced April 21st. Mr. George Daniel, in his Eemarks, appended 
 
26 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 bastes Furioso," with which it is unworthy compari- 
 son. When I think of the many deserving authors 
 who have toiled for years before they could obtain a 
 trial, I feel almost ashamed of my unsought success.* 
 But consider the cast ! Harley in the height of his 
 popularity, who had* but to show his teeth to set the 
 house in a roar ; "Little Knight,", as he was affec- 
 tionately called by the public ; the unctuous Oxberry 
 (the elder) ; the grotesque basso-profundo, George 
 Smith ; charming Mrs. Orger, and mellifluous Mrs. 
 Bland ! I sat in the upper boxes utterly ignorant of 
 danger — " he jests at scars who never felt a wound," — 
 and screamed with the good-natured audience. If the 
 public, however, proved indulgent, the management 
 was just. It estimated my work at its right value as a 
 literary production, and paid me nothing ; but I had 
 the proud satisfaction of learning from authority, that 
 the success of " Amoroso " had prevented the prema- 
 ture closing of the doors of Drury Lane Theatre. Was 
 
 to Cumberland's edition of the Piece (which, by the way, was not 
 originally called by me a burlesque, but " a serio-comic, bombastic, 
 and operatic interlude"), says, '•'We have heard that the original 
 title was 'Amoroso, King of Pimlico,' but the licenser objected to 
 it, in consequence of the palace of a portly potentate being situate in 
 the vicinity." I never heard of such a title, or such a prohibition. 
 The piece was announced without my knowledge, as *' The King and 
 the Cook," to which I stronglj^ objected, and insisted upon the restora- 
 tion of my own title, " Amoroso, King of Little Britain." 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 27 
 
 there any pecuniary compensation to desire after that? 
 An atrabilious critic, reviewing the piece in the next 
 number of *' Blackwood," wrote "Author! But even 
 the shoeblacks of Paris call themselves marcJiands 
 de cirage."" Hard words to swallow, but they didn't 
 choke me. They only determined me to try and write 
 better. Fas est, &C. Besides, I was quoted by " The 
 Times" in a leading article. " Think of that, Master 
 Brook." A sudden resignation of ministers, or a dis- 
 solution of Parliament — I forget which, and it is not 
 worth the trouble of ascertaining — reminded the writer 
 of the King of Little Britain's speech to his courtiers : 
 " My lords and gentlemen — get out ! '^ What was the 
 abuse of " Blackwood " to an author quoted by " The 
 Times?" 
 
 DruryLane Theatre, in 1818, was under the direc- 
 tion of a committee of noblemen and gentlemen, to 
 most of whom I was of course presented ; but, unfor- 
 tunately, a change had just taken place, and amongst 
 the retiring members was Lord Byron, who had already 
 left England, never to return. I have never ceased to 
 regret my missing, by only a few months, an introduc- 
 tion to that truly noble poet. I cared little about 
 knowing the Earls of Yarmouth and Glengall, who 
 were on the new committee ; but to be personally 
 acquainted withKean, Munden, Dowton, the two genial 
 
28 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 Jacks (they were never called anything else), Bannister, 
 who, though he had left the stage, was often in the 
 Green Room, and (Irish) Johnstone, Harley, Knight, 
 Oxberry (the elder), Mrs. Glover, Mrs. Orger, Mrs 
 Mardyn, and Mrs. Robinson, the two latter, perhaps, 
 unsurpassed in beauty as the two former, also hand- 
 some women, were in talent, was to me a gratification 
 as great as it was unexpected. I lived in the Theatre. 
 Went home but to dine, and reluctantly to sleep. Nor 
 were these great actors and actresses the only attrac- 
 tion in the evening. Some of the best writers and 
 most celebrated wits had the entree behind the scenes, 
 and frequently availed themselves of the pleasant privi- 
 lege. Two of the most constant visitors were James 
 Smith, of " Rejected Addresses " celebrity, and Samuel 
 Beazley, the architect and dramatist. It would be diffi- 
 cult to name two more amiable as well as amusing 
 persons, and I enjoyed the friendship of both as long- 
 as they lived. Dear, good-tempered, clever, generous, 
 eccentric, Sam Beazley ! He died in Tonbridge Castle, 
 where he resided for the few last years of his^life, hav- 
 ing a professional appointment in connection with the 
 South Eastern Railway. Many years before, he wrote 
 his own epitaph : 
 
 *' Here lies Samuel Beazley, 
 
 Wlio lived hard and died easil3%" 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 29 
 
 Alas ! the latter declaration was not prophetic. He 
 suffered considerably a short time before his decease, 
 and his usual spirits occasionally forsaking him, he one 
 day wrote so melancholy a letter, that the fliend to 
 whom it was addressed, observed, in his reply, that it 
 was "like the first chapter of Jeremiah." " You are 
 mistaken, my dear fellow," retorted the wit ; " it is the 
 last chapter of Samuel." 
 
 Beazley never had five shillings for himself, but 
 he could always find five pounds for a friend. Return- 
 ing with him, in his carriage, from a Greenwich 
 dinner, I casually alluded to the comfort of being in- 
 dependent of public conveyances. " Yes," he said ; 
 " but I'm rather a remarkable man. I have a carriage, 
 and a cabriolet, and three horses, and a coachman and 
 a footman, and a large house, and a cook and three 
 maid-servants, and a mother and a sister, and — half-a- 
 crown." 
 
 It was scarcely an exaggeration, and yet he was 
 never known to be in debt, and left many little legacies 
 to friends, besides providmg for his widow and only 
 daughter. He was truly ** a remarkable man." The 
 work he got through was something astounding. He 
 appeared to take no rest. He built theatres and wrote 
 for them with the same rapidity ; had always "just 
 arrived by the mail " in time to see the fish removed 
 
30 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 from the table, or was going off by the early coach 
 after the last dance at four in the morning. At dinner^ 
 or at ball, was there a lady who appeared neglected, 
 because she was old, ill-favoured, or uninteresting, 
 Beazley was sure to pay her the most respectful and 
 delicate attentions. Not a breath of scandal ever 
 escaped his lips ; not an unkind word did I ever hear 
 him utter. There were two men whom he held in 
 horror, but he never abused them ; his brow darkened 
 if their names were mentioned, but by that, and his 
 silence alone could you have surmised that he enter- 
 tained the least feeling against them. His pleasant 
 sayings would fill a volume. The wit was, perhaps,, 
 not particularly pungent, but it was always playful. 
 Building a staircase for Sir Henry Meux, he called it 
 making a new " Gradus ad Parnassum," because it 
 was steps for the muses. Some very old brandy, 
 pathetically pointed out by George Robins as having 
 been left to him by his father, he proposed should 
 be called, ^' Spirit of my Sainted Sire !" and when the 
 question arose of how the title of Herold's charming 
 Opera, *' Le Pre aux Clercs," should be rendered in 
 EngHsh, he quietly suggested " Parson's Green." 
 Beazley was essentially a gentleman, and it is, there- 
 fore, a greater gratification to me to record him as 
 one of the first to take me by the hand in the society 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 31 
 
 to which I ha.d been so suddenly and unexpectedly 
 introduced. 
 
 Of my equally kind and encouraging friend, James 
 Smith, I shall have to speak more fully hereafter, and 
 will therefore only say that our acquaintance com- 
 menced during the rehearsal of " Amoroso," to which 
 he paid me the great compliment of contributing a 
 lively duet for Harley and Mrs. Orger, an obligation 
 which I duly acknowledged in the printed book, by 
 stating that it was " written by a gentleman of literary 
 celebrity." 
 
 There was another liahitue with whom I became 
 acquainted at the same period ; one of the last of that 
 pecuHar style of fop whose dress and manners were un- 
 sparingly caricatured in the print-shops, and became 
 conventional on the stage. But with all his extrava- 
 gance of attire, his various -coloured under waistcoats, 
 his rouged cheeks, and coal-black wig, with portentous 
 toujpee^ poor old Sir Lumley Skeffington was a perfect 
 gentleman, a most agreeable companion, and bore " the 
 stings and arrows of outrageous fortune " with Spartan 
 courage and Christian resignation. Though his fair- 
 weather friends had deserted him, no complaint or 
 reproach ever passed his lips. But once only, during 
 the many years we were acquainted, did I hear him 
 allude to the misery of his position. We were the only 
 
23 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 two guests at tlie dinner-table of a mutual friend, and 
 Sir Lumley had been particularly lively and entertain- 
 ing. Our host being called out of the room to speak 
 to some one on business, I congratulated the old 
 baronet on his excellent spirits. " Ah ! my dear Mr. 
 Planche," he replied, "it's all very v^ell while I am in 
 society ; but I give you my honour, I should heartily 
 rejoice if I felt certain that after leaving this house to- 
 night I should be found dead on my own doorstep." I 
 shall never forget the deep but quiet pathos of these 
 sad words. I am happy to add that he lived to inherit 
 a small property, and ended his days in peace and 
 comfort. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 Shortly after the production of "Amoroso," I 
 paid my first visit to Paris, where I witnessed, at the 
 "Porte St. Martin," the dehghtful acting of Potior, 
 in " Le Bourgmestre de Sardam," one of his most 
 celebrated characters, with a translation of which I 
 returned to London, and, as in duty bound, presented 
 it to Drury Lane ; but a version of the piece being at 
 the same moment announced for immediate representa- 
 tion at Co vent Garden, it was not thought advisable to 
 be second in the field, and mine, entitled " The Czar, 
 or a Day in the Dockyards," was therefore returned to 
 me.* The acting manager of Drury Lane at that 
 period was Mr. Stephen Kemble, brother of John and 
 Charles, and Mrs. Siddons. His obesity was so great 
 that he played Falstaff without stuffing. I saw him do 
 it on one occasion; but the effect was more painful 
 tlian amusmg. He evidently suffered under the exer- 
 
 * It was subsequently produced at Sadler's Wells, June 21, 1819. 
 
 VOL. I. D 
 
34 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 tion; and thougli his reading of the part was irre- 
 proachable, he lacked the natural humour, and was too 
 ill at ease to pourtray the mere animal spirits of the 
 jovial knight. But did any one ever see Sir John 
 Falstaff except in his mind's eye? Dowton was, in 
 my opinion, the best representative in my time. His 
 eye had the right rogueish twinkle ; his laugh, the fat, 
 self-satisfied chuckle ; his large protruding under lip, the 
 true character of sensuality ; but his memory was 
 notoriously treacherous, and the text suffered severely. 
 He used to say to an author, "D — n your dialogue! 
 give me the situations." As Ducrow, in more recent 
 days, was wont to exclaim, "Cut out the dialect^ and 
 come to the 'osses!" But Shakespeare cannot be so 
 cavalierly treated with impunity. 
 
 The first green-room — for there was a second 
 in those days, for the ballet and chorus, besides a room 
 for " the supers " — the first green-room of either of the 
 great Theatres Eoyal at the time of my introduction to 
 them, was certainly one of the most delightful resorts 
 in London, combining the elegance and courtesy of 
 fashionable life with all the wit, mirth, and " admirable 
 fooling" to be found in hterary, theatrical, and artistic 
 circles. Presided over by men of liberal education, 
 accustomed to the highest society, however great the 
 fun, it never degenerated into coarseness nor passed 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND REFLECTIONS. 35 
 
 the bounds of good breeding. No visitor was allowed 
 to enter who was not in full evening dress. Even the 
 actors were excluded if in boots, unless when attired 
 in their stage habiliments. The principal ladies had 
 each her page waiting in the corridor to pick up her 
 train as she issued from the green-room, and bear it to 
 the wing or other point of her entrance on the stage. 
 "Nous avons change tout cela." AVhether for the 
 better or not, I leave it to others to say. 
 
 Elliston had become proiDrietor of the Olympic 
 Pavihon, as it was then called, in Wych Street, built 
 originally by old Astley for equestrian performances. 
 At his suggestion I wrote a speaking harlequinade, with 
 songs for the columbine, the subject being " Little Red 
 Riding Hood." On the first night of its representation 
 (December 21, 1818) every trick failed, not a scene could 
 be induced to close or to open properly, and the curtain 
 fell at length amidst a storm of disaiDprobation. I was 
 with Mr. Elliston and his family in a private box. He 
 sent round an order to the prompter that not one of 
 the carpenters, scene-shifters, or property-men were to 
 leave the theatre till he had spoken to them. As soon 
 as the house was cleared, the curtain was raised, and 
 ill the culprits assembled on the stage in front of one 
 3f the scenes in the piece representing the interior of a 
 ;ottage, having a door in one half and a latticed window 
 
 D 2 
 
36 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 in the other. Elliston led me forward, and standing in 
 the centre, with his back to the foot-lights, harangued 
 them in the most grandiloquent language — expatiated 
 on the enormity of their offence, their ingratitude to the 
 man whose bread they were eating, the disgrace they 
 had brought upon the theatre, the cruel injury they 
 had inflicted on the young and promising author by his 
 side ; then pointing in the most tragical attitude to his 
 wife and daughters, who remained in the box, bade 
 them look upon the family they had ruined, and bury- 
 ing his face in his handkerchief to stifle his sobs, 
 passed slowly through the door in the scene, leaving 
 his auditors silent, abashed, and somewhat affected, 
 yet rather reheved by being let off with a lecture. 
 The next minute the casement in the other flat was 
 thrown violently open, and thrusting in his head, his 
 face scarlet with fury, he roared out, " I discharge you 
 all! " I feel my utter incapacity to convey an idea of 
 this ludicrous scene, and I question whether any one 
 unacquainted with the man, his voice, action, and 
 wonderful facial expression, could thoroughly realize 
 the glorious absurdity of it from verbal description. 
 With Elliston I was extremely intimate for several 
 years, and had great respect for his amiable wife 
 and charming daughters; but our mutual friend, the 
 late George Eaymond, has written so exhaustive a life 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND PtEFLECTIONS. 37 
 
 of this *' Napoleon of tlic Drama" — so thoroughly 
 described the man, and so industriously collected every 
 scrap of information concerning him, every anecdote 
 connected with him — that there is only one little inci- 
 dent that I do not find he has mentioned, at least in 
 the edition I possess, and it is so characteristic, that it 
 deserves recording. Within a few hours of his death 
 he objected to take some medicine, and, in order to 
 induce him to do so, he was told he should have some 
 brandy and water afterwards. A faint smile stole over 
 his face, the old rogueish light gleamed for a moment 
 in his glazing eye, as he murmured, "Bribery and 
 corruptions They were almost the last intelligible 
 words he uttered. EUiston was one of the best general 
 actors I have ever seen ; but the parts in which he has 
 remained unrivalled to this day were the gentlemanly 
 rakes and agreeable rattles in high comedy. His 
 Ranger, Archer, Marlow, Doricourt, Charles Surface, 
 Rover, Tangent, and many other such characters, he 
 made his own — and no wonder, for these characters 
 reflected his own. 
 
 During 1819 I produced several dramas of various 
 descriptions at sundry theatres, amongst which I may 
 mention an Easter piece at Drury Lane, founded on 
 one of the Tales of the Genii, and called " Abudah, or 
 the Talisman of Oromanes." The ballads sung in it 
 
EECOLLEOTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 were set by that extraordinary character, Michael 
 Kelly, cruelly described as " Composer of Wines and 
 Importer of Music," and were I should think his latest 
 productions in the latter capacity. During one of the 
 rehearsals a young lady, whose name I will not try to 
 remember, sang wofully out of tune ; a shriek of 
 agony, followed by a volley of oaths and objurgations, 
 startled the whole dramatis personae, as the utterer w^as 
 invisible. Kelly, who was a cripple from the effects of 
 gout, had, unknown to any one, hobbled into the 
 house, and taken his seat in a pit-box behind the cloth 
 with which it was covered in the day-time. The piece 
 was a very poor one, miserably put on the stage, and, 
 despite the loyal endeavours of Harley, and the sweet 
 warbling of Mrs. Bland, scarcely survived the Easter 
 holidays. At that time, however, a run of nine nights 
 was considered a success. It would now, and with 
 reason, be accounted a lamentable failure. 
 
 It was shortly after this, I think, that Mrs. Charles 
 Kemble, meeting Harley one day in Bow Street, ex- 
 claimed, *' Oh, Mr. Harley, how much we wish you 
 were at Co vent Garden." Harley made his most pro- 
 found bow, in acknowledgment of the compliment ; 
 but the lady unfortunately added, "to play a bad part 
 in an Easter piece." 
 
 ^' There is a sort of compliment," wrote Jerrold, in 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 39 
 
 one of his comedies, *' wliicli comes upon a man like a 
 cannon-ball," and certainly tliis might be considered an 
 example. Nevertheless, it loas a very high compli- 
 ment, for it showed a just appreciation of the invaluable 
 services of so honest an actor as John Harley, v^ho 
 never neglected to do his utmost with every part he 
 undertook, however unworthy of his abilities. The 
 many poor di'amas that he contributed to *'pull 
 through," by his tact, humour, liveliness, and per- 
 sonal popularity, would fill pages, if enumerated. 
 
 There was great comic talent at Covent Garden, but 
 the want of a Harley had, no doubt, often been felt in 
 " a bad Easter piece'," and Mrs. Charles Kemble, with 
 that amusing naivete which was one of her greatest 
 charms, expressed that feeling, without the least inten- 
 tion to disparage the general ability of a conscientious 
 artist and deservedly favourite comedian. 
 
 A more fortunate melodrama of mine, " The Vam- 
 pire, or the Bride of the Isles," was produced at 
 the Lyceum, or Enghsh Opera House, as it was then 
 called, August 9, 1820. Mr. Samuel James Arnold, 
 the proprietor and manager, had placed in my hands, 
 for adaptation, a French melodrama, entitled " Le 
 Vampire," the scene of which was laid, with the usual 
 recklessness of French dramatists, in Scotland, where 
 the superstition never existed. I vainly endeavoured 
 
40 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 to induce Mr. Arnold to let me change it to some place 
 in tlie east of Europe. He had set his heart on Scotch 
 music and dresses — the latter, by the way, were in 
 stock — laughed at my scruples, assured me that the 
 public would neither know nor care — and in those 
 days they certainly did not — and therefore there was 
 nothing left for me but to do my best with it. The 
 result was most satisfactory to the management. The 
 situations were novel and effective; the music lively 
 and popular ; the cast strong, comprising T. P. Cooke, 
 who made a great hit in the principal character, Harley, 
 Bartley, Pearman, Mrs. Chatterley, and Miss Love. 
 The trap now so well known as *'the Vampire trap " 
 was invented for this piece, and the final disappearance 
 of the Vampire caused quite a sensation. The melo- 
 drama had a long run, was often revived, and is to this 
 day a stock piece in the country. I had an oppor- 
 tunity many years afterwards, however, to treat the 
 same subject in a manner much more satisfactory to 
 myself, and, as it happened, in the same theatre, under 
 the same management ; but of that anon. 
 
 At this theatre I became acquainted with "Dicky 
 Peake,'^ the well-known humorist and dramatic writer, 
 who was the treasurer, Mr. John Taylor of the " Sun," 
 a notoriety of that day, Dr. Kitchener, Charles Mathews 
 the elder, and various other visitors to the green-room 
 
KECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 41 
 
 — noble, literary, and artistic. I have spoken of Peakc 
 as "a humorist," for I know no epithet that would so 
 accurately describe him. He was not a wit in the true 
 sense of the word. There is not a scintilla of wit that 
 I can remember in any of his dramas or in his conver- 
 sation ; but there was some good fun in a few of his 
 farces, and he had a happy knack of *' fitting" his 
 actors, a memorable example of which is Geoffrey 
 MufSncap, the charity schoolboy, in '' Amateurs and 
 Actors," which was expressly written to suit the pecu- 
 harities of person, voice, and manner of "Wilkinson. 
 Peake's humour consisted in a grotesque combination 
 of ideas, such as the following — Calling with him one 
 summer day on a mutual friend, the fire-place in the 
 drawing-room was ornamented with a mass of long 
 slips of white paper falling over the bright bars of the 
 stove. Peake's first question was, " What do you keep 
 your macaroni in the grate for?" At a party at 
 Beazley's, his black servant entered to make up the 
 fire. Peake whispered to me, " Beazley's nigger has 
 been scratching his head, and got a scuttle of coals 
 out." I could fill a page or two with such concetti^ 
 which, spurted out in his peculiar manner, were per- 
 haps more comical to hear than to repeat. His farces 
 were usually damned the first night, and recovered 
 themselves wonderfully afterwards. A striking instance 
 
42 EECOLLECTIOXS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 of this was "A Hundred-Pound Note," at Covent 
 Garden, in which the conundrums, bandied between 
 Power and Keeley, were violently hissed on the first 
 representation, and received with roars of laughter 
 subsequently. Indeed they may be said to have popu- 
 larized, if not originated, the " why and because " style 
 of jesting, which forms a principal feature in our comic 
 journals and Christy Minstrel entertainments. His 
 failures I consider were attributable to a strange mis- 
 apprehension of the principles of dramatic composition. 
 Any absurdity which had made Mm laugh he assumed 
 must necessarily produce a similar effect on a general 
 audience ; a most fatal mistake for any one to fall into 
 who caters for that "many-headed monster," the 
 public. Poor Dicky's misfortunes rarely came alone. 
 He was wont to pace Waterloo Bridge during the 
 performance of a new piece, and on returning to the 
 theatre received, with the account of its failure, the 
 tidings on more than one occasion that his wife had 
 presented him with twins. His extreme good temper 
 and obliging nature made him a universal favourite. 
 Pie was devotedly attached to Mr. Arnold, whose bond 
 for 200/., in acknowledgment of his long and faithful 
 service, he generously thrust into the breakfast-room 
 fire before him, the morning after the burning down of 
 the Lyceum Theatre (February 16th, 1830), saying, 
 
EECOLLECTIOXS AND REFLECTIONS. 43 
 
 *' You liave lost all by lire, let this go too." Richarct 
 Brinsley Peake died a poor man — a singular circum- 
 stance considering tliat lie had been for so many years 
 the treasurer of a theatre. 
 
 In the course of the winter season 1820-21 I wrote 
 ten pieces for the Adelphi, one of them being an adap- 
 tation of Sir Walter Scott's novel of Kenilworth, in 
 which I ventured to retain the catastrophe as described 
 by the author, without any alteration. Amy Eobsart 
 fell — of course not the actress (Mrs. Waylett) herself — 
 though the business was so cleverly managed that the 
 audience thought so, and the curtain descended to 
 thunders of applause. This was fifty years ago, re- 
 member, and a most hazardous experiment. There 
 has been much controversy respecting similar inci- 
 dents since then, which I shall have occasion to notice 
 hereafter, and have therefore recorded this, I believe, 
 the first on the English stage. 
 
 In April, 1821, I took unto myself a wife, and paid 
 with her a second visit to Paris, where we were present 
 at the fetes in honour of the Duke de Bordeaux, now 
 Count de Chambord or Henri V., as political opinion 
 may dictate. The Comtesse de Gonteau was his nurse, 
 and as my wife's mother had kept that noble lady firom 
 starving when an exile in England, Mrs. Planche inno- 
 cently imagined that a note revealing her maiden name 
 
44 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 would immediately procure her a peep at the baby, as 
 the Countess had protested when they parted that she 
 could never repay the obhgations she was under to all 
 the family. I am bound to say she never did. 
 
 It was on this occasion I saw, at the Porte St. 
 Martin, the inimitable Potier in the " Comedie Feerie," 
 by MM. Saurin and Brazier, entitled, "Piquet a la 
 Houppe," which was then in its first run, having been 
 produced about two months previously. I brought it 
 with me to England, and fifteen years afterwards it 
 formed the foundation of the first of those fairy extra- 
 vaganzas which for so long a period enjoyed without 
 one breakdown an almost unprecedented popularity. 
 On our return to London I entered into an engagement 
 with Messrs. Jones and Rodwell, the then proprietors 
 of the Adelphi, to write only for that theatre, but can- 
 celled it after a few months, sooner than soil the stage 
 with the production of ''Tom and Jerry." A newly 
 married man, the engagement was of consequence 
 to me ; but I can safely say that I never suffered 
 pecuniary considerations to influence my conduct when 
 the higher interests of the drama appeared to me at 
 stake. Moncrief was not so fastidious. The piece 
 was wofully dull and was ill received on its first repre- 
 sentation ; but the fun and spirit gradually introduced 
 into it by Wrench, John Peeve, Keeley, and Wilkinson 
 
EECOLLEOTIONS AND REFLECTIONS. 45 
 
 kept it on its legs, till by degrees the town took to it, 
 and the proprietors netted a small fortune. The fol- 
 lowing year I was introduced by a mutual friend to 
 Mr. Charles Kemble, who had just succeeded to the 
 management of Covent Garden on the retirement of 
 Mr. Henry Harris, and to that theatre I voluntarily 
 attached myself for six seasons. 
 
 The company at Drury Lane, now under the 
 management of ElKston, who had become the 
 lessee, at the enormous rent of £10,200 per 
 annum, had received important accessions in the 
 persons of Charles Young, Macready, Liston, and 
 Miss Stephens. Still that at Covent Garden was 
 strong in comedy, and superior in spectacular enter- 
 tainments. Generally speaking, too, its members 
 were, with the exception of the four great seceders, 
 *'tant soit peu" higher in social status, more refined 
 in manners, more intellectual in conversation. It was 
 "jolly '* enough to dine with Kean at the "Black 
 Jack" Tavern, or sup with him and a few more 
 "choice spirits" at OfHeys ; but the retrospection was 
 more gratifying after a quiet little family dinner with 
 Mr. and Mrs. Charles Kemble or an admirably cooked 
 mutton chop with Duruset at his lodgings in Jermyn 
 Street, where the guests were worthy of the wine, and 
 neither head nor heart worse for it next mornino;. 
 
46 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 On the 3rd of December, 1822, was produced my 
 first opera, " Maid Marian," tlie music by Bishop, the 
 subject taken from a sparkling little tale of that name 
 written by Mr. Peacock, of the India House, author of 
 *' Headlong Hall " and two or three other similar 
 *' novelettes," published by Hookham, in Bond Street. 
 To Mr. Hookham, as in duty bound, I offered the 
 refusal of the libretto of my opera, which, be it ob- 
 served, contained much original lyrical and other 
 matter, besides two or three situations from Ivanhoe, 
 a kindred subject, Mr. Peacock's story being too slight 
 to form the entire framework of a three-act opera. 
 This offer Mr. Hookham declined in terms it would 
 be flattering to call courteous, and all but threatened 
 to prevent the performance of the opera as an infringe- 
 ment of his copyright. Its great success afforded me 
 the handsome revenge of putting a lump of money in 
 his pocket by the sale not only of the novel of *'Maid 
 Marian," but of all the other works by the .same author, 
 of which a second edition was speedily demanded, and 
 the great gratification of making the pubhc acquainted 
 with the works of one of the most agreeable of writers 
 which, like too many gems " of purest ray serene," had 
 remained for years unknown, and consequently unap- 
 preciated. 
 
 And here I am desirous of making a few observa- 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 47 
 
 tions on a much contested subject. One of the many 
 respecting which my favourite philosopher, Sir Roger 
 de Coverley, remarks, " much may be said on both 
 sides," viz., the adaptation of novels or romances in 
 prose or in verse to the stage. If we refer to usage, 
 no one can deny that it has been the practice of the 
 greatest dramatists in every age and every country to 
 found their plays upon the popular tales of their own 
 or of former times, and provided the fact was " hand- 
 somely acknowledged," like the offence described by 
 Sir Lucius O'Trigger, it " became an obligation." I 
 question if any author felt otherwise than flattered 
 by the proceeding. I know that Mr. Charles Kemble, 
 when he placed " Maid Marian " in my hands, never 
 entertained an idea of any objection being made by its 
 writer ; nor was there ; for, in consequence of Mr. 
 Hookham's behaviour, I called on Mr. Peacock at the 
 India House, and was most cordially received by him. 
 The objection was solely that of the short-sighted pub- 
 lisher, who could not perceive how greatly the value of 
 his property would be increased till the gold began to 
 jingle in his own pocket, some of it, I trust, finding its 
 way into that of the amiable author. The great mass 
 of writers of fiction are not dramatists, and if they 
 desire, as to my knowledge they nearly all do, to see 
 their works transferred to the stage, they must bo 
 
48 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 indebted to the playwrights. After the success of 
 " Maid Marian," I had piles of novels sent me by not 
 only authors but by their pubKshers, requesting my 
 acceptance of them for that purpose. They knew it 
 was the finest advertisement for a book in the world ; 
 and I have been even offered money by some to obtain 
 for them that advantage. The author was especially 
 on the safe side ; for if the adaptation was good, and 
 the piece successful, he had the chief glory, and a 
 brisk sale for his book ; while if it failed the dramatist 
 was the sufferer in purse as well as reputation. How 
 few writers combine the diametrically opposite qualifi- 
 cations required for success on the stage and popularity 
 in the circulating library ! The hackneyed quotation 
 " Poeta nascitur, non fit," is equally apphcable to the 
 playwright, and it is remarkable that the greater the 
 novelist the less able has he proved himself to fulfil 
 the requirements and exigences of the theatre. The 
 talent of the novelist is displayed in elaboration ; that of 
 the dramatist is condensation. The former may waft 
 his reader from " Indus to the Pole " at his pleasure ; 
 occupy pages with the description of a country-house 
 or the character of its proprietor ; dedicate a chapter 
 to the development of his plot. Not so the modern 
 playwright ; he can no longer, as in the early days of 
 the English drama, shift the scene from country to 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EBFLECTIONS. 49 
 
 country, or direct the performer who has just made 
 his exit in one to walk on the next minute in the 
 other, without the fall of an act-drop, and an intima- 
 tion of the time supposed to have elapsed in the 
 playbill ; and at no time dared he ever to exceed a 
 certain limit in his dialogue, or substitute lengthy 
 narrative for action. Walter Scott was devoted to the 
 theatre, but quite incapable of dramatising his very 
 dramatic novels and romances, and gladly contributed 
 his valuable aid to his friend Teny in their adaptation 
 as operas, by writing for him many charming charac- 
 teristic lyrics. Dickens tried "his 'prentice hand," 
 and never repeated the experiment. Thackeray sadly 
 disappointed the manager to whom he had promised a 
 comedy, and which, when presented, was pronounced 
 unactable. 
 
 Mrs. Charles Gore and Lord Lytton are the only 
 examples, so far as I can recollect, of novelists who 
 have obtained any success on the stage ; and it is 
 worthy of remark that they have never attempted to 
 dramatise their own most popular novels ; but sought 
 in history or the French drama for plots better suited to 
 the purpose. Mr. Wilkie ColHns appears likely to add 
 his name as a third ; but these are quite the exceptions 
 that prove the rule, and I am aware of none other ; for 
 Mr. Charles Reed was a dramatist before he was a 
 
 VOL, I. E 
 
50 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 novelist, having written for the stage at the com- 
 mencement of his literary career, in conjunction with 
 a master of his art, Tom Taylor. He cannot, there- 
 fore, be included in the category. On the other hand, 
 I should be the last to dispute the right of the novelist 
 to the full benefit of his own property, or think he 
 should not be " courteously entreated " previous to any 
 meddling with it. He may have contemplated at- 
 tempting to dramatise it himself, or be desirous to 
 entrust another with the task, or have strong objec- 
 tions to its being dramatised at all, as Dickens had to 
 the adaptation of his Pickwick Papers ; and no one 
 with a grain of delicacy would disregard such objec- 
 tions. I simply contend that, except in special cases 
 such as above mentioned, the complaint of injury to the 
 interest of the novelist which has been recently so 
 loudly expressed is utterly without foundation. And 
 in any case who is the greatest criminal? The 
 adapter, who violates the rights of property and the 
 courtesies of society, or the manager who rewards 
 him for the act, even if he have not, as is the case 
 in nine instances out of ten, suggested and tempted 
 him to commit it?- Surely if the receiver be worse 
 than the thief, the encourager of literary larceny is 
 more blameable than the perpetrator. Were there not 
 ready markets for stolen goods, depredation would 
 
RECOLLECTIONS AND REFLECTIONS. 51 
 
 Speedily cease to be a trade worth following. Were 
 there no theatres at which such pieces were accept- 
 able, the least scrupulous dramatist would soon find 
 honesty the best policy. 
 
CHAPTER IV, 
 
 In 1823, a casual conversation with Mr. Kemble 
 respecting the play of "King John," which he was 
 about to revive for Young, who had returned to Covent 
 (larden, led to a step, the consequences of which have 
 lieen of immense importance to the English stage — 
 and not the less valuable because, as in all other great 
 changes, excess and abuse have occasionally entailed 
 misfortune and merited reprobation. I complained to 
 Mr. Kemble that a thousand pounds were frequently 
 lavished on a Christmas pantomime or an Easter spec- 
 tacle, while the plays of Shakespeare were put upon 
 the stage with make-shift scenery, and, at the best, a 
 new dress or two for the principal characters. That 
 although his brother John, whose classical mind re- 
 volted from the barbarisms which even a Garrick had 
 tolerated, had abolished the bag wig of Brutus and the 
 gold-laced suit of Macbeth, the alterations made in the 
 costumes of the plays founded upon English history in 
 particular, while they rendered them more picturesque, 
 added but little to their propriety; tlie whole series. 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 53 
 
 King Lear included, being dressed in habits of the 
 EHzabethan era, the third reign after its termination 
 with Henry VIII. , and, strictly speaking, very inac- 
 curatel}^ representing the costume even of that period. 
 At that time I had turned my attention but little to 
 the subject of costume, which afterwards became my 
 most absorbing study ; but the slightest reflection was 
 sufficient to convince any one that some change of 
 fashion must have taken place in the civil and military 
 habits of the people of England during several hundred 
 years. I remembered our Life-Guards in cocked hats, 
 powder, and pigtails, and they were at that moment 
 wearing helmets and cuirasses. It was not requisite 
 to be an antiquary to see the absurdity of the soldiers 
 before Angiers, at the beginning of the thirteenth 
 century, being clothed precisely the same as those 
 fighting at Bosworth at the end of the fifteenth. If 
 one style of dress was right, the other must be wrong. 
 Mr. Kemble admitted the fact, and perceived the pecu- 
 niary advantage that might result from the experiment. 
 It was decided that I should make the necessary re- 
 searches, design the dresses, and superintend the pro- 
 duction of ** King John," gratuitously^ I beg leave to 
 say ; solely and purely for that love of the stage, which 
 has ever induced me to sacrifice all personal considera- 
 tions to what I sincerely believed would tend to elevate 
 
o4 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 as well as adorn it. Fortunately I obtained, tlirougli 
 a mutual friend, an introduction to Doctor, afterwards 
 Sir Samuel Meyrick, who had just published his 
 elaborate and valuable work, " A Critical Inquiry into 
 Ancient Arms and Armour," and was forming that 
 magnificent and instructive collection now exhibiting 
 at South Kensington. How little did I dream at that 
 time that I should ever be called on to arrange it twice 
 for public exhibition ! — at Manchester, in 1857, and at 
 South Kensington, in 1868. He entered most warmly 
 and kindly into my views, pointed out to me the best 
 authorities, and gave me a letter of introduction to Mr. 
 Francis Douce, the eminent antiquary, from whom also 
 I met with the most cordial reception. 
 
 This gentlemen had assisted Mr. John Kemble when 
 he introduced several alterations in the costume of 
 Shakespeare's plays, particularly those founded on 
 Roman history; for which latter, however, he drew 
 his materials from the columns and arches of the 
 emperors, and not from contemporaneous republican 
 authorities. When urged to do so, and to " reform it 
 altogether," he exclaimed to Mr. Douce, in a tone 
 almost of horror, "Why, if I did, sir, they would call 
 me an antiquary." "And this to me, sir!" said the 
 dear old man, when he told me of this circumstance, 
 "to me, who flattered myself I ^Das an antiquary." 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 55 
 
 Mr. Douce speedily discovered that, so far from having 
 any objection to incur the risk of such a reproach, it 
 was my ambition to deserve the appellation, and most 
 liberajly placed the whole of his invaluable collection 
 of illuminated MSS. (now in the Bodleian Library, to 
 which he bequeathed them) at my disposal. He paid 
 me also the great compliment of lending me his fine 
 copy of Strutt's " Dress and Habits of the People of 
 England," coloured expressly for him by its author. 
 *• I will lend you books, sir, because you love them 
 and will take care of them ; " I think he added, ^' and 
 will return them " — a more uncommon virtue to 
 possess than the two former. At any rate, I can 
 honestly say that I justified his confidence. Dr. Mey- 
 rick was equally kind and of great assistance to me, for 
 of armour our artists and actors in those days knew 
 even less than of civil costume. In the theatre, how- 
 ever, my innovations were regarded with distrust and 
 jealousy. Mr. Fawcett, the stage-manager, considered 
 his dignity offended by the production of the play 
 being placed under my direction. He did not speak 
 to me, except wh6h obliged by business, for, I think, 
 nearly three years ; but I lived it down, and remained 
 very good friends with that excellent actor to the day 
 of his death. Mr. Farley — dear old Charles Farley 
 — also took huif. He was the recognised purveyor 
 
56 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 and director of spectacle, and dreaded " the dimming 
 of his shining star." The expenditure of a few 
 hundred pounds on any drama, except an Easter piece 
 or a Christmas pantomime, was not to be tolerated. 
 " Besides," he piteously exclaimed, " if Shakspeare is 
 to be produced with such splendour and attention to 
 costume, what am I to do for the hohdays?" He 
 was not quite so openly rude to me as Fawcett, but he 
 didn't like me a bit the better then^ though he also 
 came round in the end, and was one of the warmest 
 admirers of ony Easter pieces. Never shall I forget 
 the dismay of some of the performers when they 
 looked upon the flat-topped chapeaux de fer [fer hlanc^ 
 I confess) of the 12th century, which they irreverently 
 stigmatized as stewpans ! Nothing but the fact that the 
 classical features of a Kemble were to be surmounted 
 by a precisely similar abomination would, I think, have 
 induced one of the rebellious barons to have appeared 
 in it. They had no faith in me, and sulkily assumed 
 their new and strange habiliments, in the full belief 
 that they should be roared at by the audience. They 
 were roared at ; but in a much more agreeable way 
 than they had contemplated. When the curtain rose, 
 and discovered King John dressed as his e^&igj appears 
 in Worcester Cathedral, surrounded by his barons 
 sheathed in mail, with cylindrical helmets and correct 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 57 
 
 armorial shields, and his courtiers in the long tunics 
 and mantles of the thirteenth century, there was a 
 roar of approbation, accompanied by four distinct 
 rounds of applause, so general and so hearty, that the 
 actors were astonished, and I felt amply rewarded for 
 all the trouble, anxiety, and annoyance I had expe- 
 rienced during my labours. Receipts of from 400^. to 
 600/. nightly soon reimbursed the management for 
 the expense of the production, and a complete reform- 
 ation of dramatic costume became from that moment 
 inevitable upon the English stage. 
 
 That I was the original cause of this movement is 
 certain. That without fee or reward, and in defiance 
 of every obstacle that could be thrown in my path b} 
 rooted prejudice and hostile interest, I succeeded in 
 the object I had honestly at heart, I am proud to 
 declare ; but if propriety be pushed to extravagance, 
 if what should be mere accessories are occasionally 
 elevated by short-sighted managers into the principal 
 features of their productions, I am not answerable for 
 their suicidal folly. To a certain degree, therefore, I 
 coincide with Mr. Percy Fitzgerald in the views he 
 has expressed in his two recent publications, "The 
 Principles of Comedy and Dramatic Effect" and "The 
 Lives of the Kembles ; " but when he says in tlie 
 latter work (vol. i. p. 323), that " There are certain 
 
58 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 conventional types of costume and illustration to wWcli 
 an audience is accustomed, and whicli indicate suffi- 
 ciently tlie era to which the piece belongs ; and this is 
 all that is required — all that will harmonize with the 
 grand objects of interest, the progress of character, 
 and the action of the drama," — I am at a loss to 
 conceive what he would consider a conventional type of 
 costume to which an audience of the present day 
 would feel accustomed — say, in the play just spoken 
 of, "King John." 
 
 What conventional costume would he suggest for 
 the historical characters of the kings of England and 
 France, the Duke of Austria, the Earls of Salisbury 
 and Pembroke, and Queen Eleanor? He will be 
 pleased to learn that Mrs. Siddons was of his opinion, 
 and expressed herself to her brother Charles in pre- 
 cisely the same terms : "It was sufficient for the 
 dresses to be conventional." I must regret that I had 
 no conversation with her on the subject, for I should 
 have much liked to have heard from her own lips her 
 definition of the word " conventional " as applied to 
 costume or scenery. I can perfectly understand " King 
 John " or any other historical play being acted in plain 
 evening dress without any scenery at all, and inter- 
 preted by great actors interesting the audience to such 
 a degree that imagination would supply the picturesque 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLEOTIONS. 59 
 
 accessories to tliem as sufficiently as it does to the 
 reader of the play in his study. But go one step 
 beyond this : what conventional attire could be as- 
 sumed by the performers that would be endured in 
 these days by the least critical play-goers ? If the 
 king is to be crowned, what would be the conventional 
 shape of the diadem? If a knight is to be armed, 
 what would be the conventional character of the 
 armour? Are we to ignore the information which 
 has been obtained on such subjects because it may 
 not be perfectly correct, and wilfully present to the 
 public that which we know to be entirely erroneous, 
 thereby falsely impressing the minds of the unedu- 
 cated, whose instruction as well as amusement is the 
 bounden duty of the stage ? It is quite true that we 
 are at present in considerable ignorance as to the exact 
 appearance of a Scotch nobleman in the days when 
 Edward the Confessor reigned in England ; but for that 
 reason shall we return from the nearest approach to it 
 we are now enabled to make, to the scarlet and gold- 
 laced general's uniform sported by Garrick in Macbeth, 
 or even the military head-gear of the gallant 42nd 
 Highlanders worn by John Kemble until Walter Scott 
 with his own hands plucked the huge, funereal, black 
 plume out of his bonnet and substituted for it the 
 sinofle broad easfle's feather, the time-honoured dis- 
 
60 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. ' 
 
 tinction of a Highland chieftain? I shall have such 
 frequent occasion to return to this subject in the 
 course of these Recollections, that I will dwell no 
 longer upon it at present. 
 
 One ludicrous result 1 must needs chronicle. A 
 melodrama, quasi historical, was announced for pro- 
 duction at the Coburg Theatre, now known as the 
 "Victoria," under the title of "William the Con- 
 queror, or the Battle of Hastings." In imitation of 
 the Covent Garden playbill, a long and imposing 
 (very imposing in this instance) list of authorities was 
 quoted for the new dresses and decorations, most of 
 them being those general works on costume and 
 armour which I had enumerated in the announcement 
 of " King John." Curious to observe the effect of 
 such a representation on a transpontine public, I 
 obtained a private box, and was seated in it long 
 before the rising of the curtain. The house was 
 crammed to the ceiling ; and in the very centre of 
 the pit, a most conspicuous object amongst the dingy 
 denizens of the New Cut and St. George's Fields, who 
 filled it to suffocation, arose the snow-white powdered 
 head of the learned and highly respected Dr. Coombe, 
 the Keeper of the Medals at the British Museum, who, 
 attracted as I had been by the " promissory note " of 
 preparation, had unfortunately neglected to provide 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 61 
 
 himself, as I had done, with a " coin of vantage " from 
 whence he could witness the performance in ease 
 and comfort, without peril to his best black suit and 
 immaculate neckcloth. There was no possibility of 
 extricating him from the spot in which he was wedged ; 
 and I could only hope, therefore, that the brilliancy 
 of the spectacle would atone for the discomfort of his 
 position. 
 
 The hope was fallacious. I will not attempt to 
 describe dresses that were indescribable, even by the 
 indefinite term of conventional, and in which I could 
 not detect the faintest resemblance to any pourtrayed 
 in the works so unblushingly cited; but the banners 
 of the rival hosts had obviously been painted from 
 authorities which would have been admitted indis- 
 putable by the whole College of Heralds. Armorial 
 bearings, it is true, were not known in the days of 
 the Conqueror, but overlooking that slight anachron- 
 ism, and the rather important fact that the arms were 
 not even those borne by the direct descendants of the 
 contending chieftains, the coats, crests, and supporters 
 displayed were heraldically correct, and undeniably 
 those of departed English worthies, noble and gentle, 
 for they were nothing less than the funeral hatchments 
 of some score of lords, ladies, baronets, and members 
 of parliament, which, having hung for the usual period 
 
62 RECOLLECTIONS AND REFLECTIONS. 
 
 on the walls of their family mansions, had reverted to 
 the undertaker, and been " furnished " by him, for a 
 consideration, to the liberal and enterprising lessee of 
 "the Coburg." There they were, and no mistake. 
 Simply taken out of their frames, and without any 
 alteration of the well-known lozenge form, hoisted on 
 poles, some surmounted by cherubims, others by skulls 
 with crossbones. A wicked wag might have managed, 
 by the exercise of a little ingenuity, to have appro- 
 priated the " hatchments " to the principal personages. 
 The ambitious Norman duke, who aspired to a kingly 
 crown, might have been preceded by one which bore 
 for motto, " Spero meliora." A hint might have been 
 conveyed to the belhcose Bishop of Bayeux by another, 
 with " In coelo quies ; " and the royal Saxon standard 
 might have drooped over the prostrate Harold, with 
 " Requiescat in pace." I can scarcely hope to be 
 believed when I assert that this ridiculous and dis- 
 graceful exhibition excited neither shouts of derision 
 nor symptoms of disgust amongst the general audience. 
 I certainly cannot say that the piece was received 
 with enthusiasm ; but it escaped the condign punish- 
 ment which its absurdity and bad taste richly deserved. 
 In August, 1824, 1 was again in Paris, and passed a 
 most enjoyable time there with Kemble and Young, 
 MM. Croznier an'd Merle (the popular dramatic autliors 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. iiS 
 
 and directors of the Porte St. Martin), and some of the 
 principal actors and actresses of that day, amongst 
 whom I may mention Madame Dorval, the celebrated 
 melodramatic actress, and Mazurier, the wonderful 
 pantomimist, whose performances in *' Jocko; on, le 
 Singe de Bresil," which I afterwards arranged for him 
 at Covent Garden, and " Polichinelle," were and have 
 hitherto remained incomparable. I returned to Eng- 
 land with Mr. Kemble and his eldest daughter, Fanny, 
 Avho had been en pension in Paris, and subsequently on 
 the stage of Covent Garden estabUshed her hereditary 
 right to the throne of English tragedy. On the 9th of 
 November, *' Lord Mayor's Day," in that year, I pro- 
 duced at Covent Garden my adaptation of Rowley's 
 comedy, " A Woman Never Vext," with a pageant of the 
 '* Lord Mayor's Show," as it appeared in the reign of 
 Henry VL The comedy was in five acts ; and, at one 
 of the last rehearsals, Fawcett asked me if I had written 
 a prologue. *' No." "A five-act play, and no pro- 
 logue! — they'll tear up the benches!" They did 
 nothing of the sort. The play, admirably acted by 
 Young, Charles Kemble, Keeley, and the beautiful 
 Miss Chester, who certainly looked " a woman never 
 vexed," was a great success, and the custom for pro- 
 logues to 
 
 ** Precede the piece in mournful verse, 
 
 As undertakers strut before the hearse," 
 
64 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 was broken through for the first time, without the 
 sHghtest notice being taken of it by the public. 
 
 On the occasion of the coronation of Charles X. of 
 France, 29th May, 1825, I was selected by Mr. Kemble 
 to make the drawings of dresses and decorations pre- 
 pared for that ceremony, and superintend a represen- 
 tation of it at Covent Garden. Furnished with letters 
 of introduction to several influential personages both at 
 Paris and at Rheims, I proceeded to Calais, where I 
 awaited the arrival of the Duke of Northumberland, 
 envoy extraordinary appointed to convey the congra- 
 tulations of King George IV. to the new sovereign of 
 France, and to invest his most Christian Majesty with 
 the Order of the Garter. His Grace entered the 
 harbour the next morning, amidst a salute from the 
 frigate which had escorted him and the town batteries, 
 entertained at dinner the British Consul, the English 
 naval officers, the mayor of Calais, and the principal 
 local authorities, civil and military, and slept that night 
 at Dessein's. The bill was enormous; but it would 
 have been paid without a murmur, if the proprietor had 
 not been so short-sighted as to charge a couple of 
 francs for a broken wine-glass ! This piece of stupidity 
 — ^for the few sous could scarcely have been a matter of 
 calculation in such an account — so exasperated and dis- 
 gusted Mr. Hunter, the King's messenger, who had the 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND REFLECTIONS. 65 
 
 entire travelling arrangements of the mission under his 
 control, that he took the Duke to Boulogne on his way 
 back, and sailed from that port to Dover, avoiding 
 Calais, and thereby depriving Monsieur Dessein of 
 more francs than would have purchased a wagon-load 
 of wine-glasses. At Paris every facility was afforded 
 me of inspecting the regalia, the royal robes, the state 
 dresses of the great officers, the magnificent uniforms 
 of the " Cent Suisses," &c., through the kind instru- 
 mentality of the Viscountess Dowager of Hawarden 
 and others to whom I was " accredited " as " Envoy 
 Extraordinary and Minister Plenipotentiary " from the 
 Theatre Royal, Covent Garden ; amongst the rest to a 
 very illustrious theatrical potentate — the great trage- 
 dian Talma, — whose reception of me was most cordial, 
 and whose acquaintance I regret I had not more fre- 
 quent opportunities of cultivating. I saw him act his 
 celebrated characters of " Neron " and " Manlius," in 
 which the well-known " Qu'en dis-tu? " reminded me 
 of some of the peculiar points of Kean, between whose 
 style of acting and his own there was considerable re- 
 semblance generally, Talma having the advantage in 
 voice, and in some respects in person. On leaving 
 Paris he presented me with two engraved portraits of 
 himself subscribed with his autograph, one of which I 
 gave some years afterwards to the Garrick Club. 
 
 VOL. I. F 
 
66 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 I travelled toRheims in company with Arthur Ruinart, 
 youngest son of Mons. Ruinart de Brimont,* mayor of 
 Rheims, and head of the well-known house of " Ruinart 
 et Comp'®," the principal growers, at that time, of the 
 Sillery Champagne. As I had a letter to his father, we 
 speedily fraternized, and a most amiable and agreeable 
 companion I found him, not only on the journey but 
 during my residence at Rheims, where he kindly con- 
 stituted himself my cicerone. Mons. de Brimont had 
 two elder sons in the business, each having separate es- 
 tablishments ; and in addition to these three mansions, 
 a fourth, the residence of the mother of Madame de 
 Brimont, was with equal liberality thrown open to 
 friends and visitors. 
 
 This fine old lady was an Englishwoman, the widow 
 of a Mr. Plowden. She had resided from her childhood 
 in France, and her narrow escape from the guillotine 
 during the Reign of Terror, as she related it herself to 
 me, is so remarkable that I shall not apologise for its 
 introduction. She was dragged, -with a crowd of other 
 unfortunates, before one of the sanguinary tribunals in 
 Paris, and, having in vain pleaded her English birth, 
 was on the point of being hurried out to the fatal 
 tumbril awaiting its next load of victims, when one of her 
 judges asked her of what province in England was she 
 
 * Created Vicomte de Brimont by Charles X. on this occasion. 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AXD EEFLECTIONS. 67 
 
 a native ? In her fright she hastily answered, '' Salop ! " 
 in lieu of " Shropshire." A shout of laughter and a 
 general clapping of hands, was followed by an order to 
 set her at hberty ; and amid shouts of *' Salope ! 
 Salope ! " she was pushed out into the streets, to run 
 home she scarcely knew how, with her head on her 
 shoulders. The young English lady was not aware 
 that the word " Salope " was used by the lower orders 
 in France to designate one of the filthiest of her sex, 
 and by its utterance she had unwittingly rebutted the 
 charge of being an aristocrat ! Mrs. Plowden of course 
 spoke French gi'ammatically like a native, but with 
 the most unmistakable English accent. She was a 
 Catholic; and on inviting me for the first time to 
 dinner, she said, "Eemember it will be Friday, and 
 you will get nothing but fish." Of course I repHed 
 that, " what I should have to eat was a matter of per- 
 fect indifference," &c. We sat down, between twenty 
 .and thirty, to one of the most sumptuous banquets I 
 ■ever partook of,— everything, in truth, being fish, from 
 the soup to the dessert, but it would have puzzled a 
 conjuror to have discovered it without some previous 
 mtnnation. My mornings were passed drawing in the 
 magnificent cathedral, and my evenings at the house of 
 one or the other of this amiable family. 
 Amongst the letters of introduction I had brou-lit 
 
 F 2 
 
C8 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 with me from England was one for a most important 
 personage, Monseigneur Jean Baptiste Marie-Anne 
 Antoine, Comte de Latil, Cardinal Archbishop of 
 Rheims, Peer of France, who was to place the crown 
 upon the head of his most Christian Majesty. Mr. 
 Coutts Trotter, on hearing of the object of my journey, 
 said to me, " I will give you a letter which will procure 
 for you every advantage you can desire at Rheims. At 
 the time of the Revolution the Archbishop (then simply 
 Abbe de Latil) took refuge in our house at Colmar, in 
 Alsace, and at the risk of our own ruin we refused to 
 give him up to the Government, to whom he had ren- 
 dered himself particularly obnoxious by his strong 
 Bourbon partisanship. Since the Restoration, when he 
 was made Bishop of Chartres, he has repeatedly made 
 us offers of service, and pressed us to visit him. I will 
 now write and say that any obligations he may suppose 
 himself under to us we shall consider repaid by his 
 attention to you." He did so, and consequently as soon 
 as I learned that his Eminence had arrived I repaired 
 to the palace and presented my credentials. I was 
 received with effusion. The Cardinal pressed my hand 
 between both his own, declared that he owed his life to 
 my friend, and that he was grateful to Providence for 
 having given him this first opportunity of evincing his 
 sense of the immense obligations he was under to Mr. 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND REFLECTIONS. (^d 
 
 Coutts Trotter. What could he do for me ? Give me 
 a good place in the cathedral to witness the coronation. 
 Oh, that of course. The tickets had not yet been 
 issued, but he expected them hourly ; in the mean- 
 while I must come and dine with him. Where was I 
 staying ? I gave him my address, and added that I was 
 always to be found at Monsieur de Brimont's, the mayor. 
 Hah ! that was an address he could never forget ; and 
 after many more pressures of my hand and protestations 
 of affection for my introducer, I took my leave, most 
 favourably prepossessed by the charm of his manner, 
 the music of his voice, the graceful dignity of his 
 demeanour, and that benevolent smile of an aged man 
 which an Oriental writer extols as surpassing in sweet- 
 ness that of a lovely woman. 
 
 I must confess that although I was faring " sump- 
 tuously every day," I looked forward with some 
 curiosity to a veritable " bocca di cardinali." One of 
 the best places in the cathedral he would no doubt 
 secure for me, but hundreds would see the show as 
 well, though not better. But a dinner " en petit comit^ " 
 with a cardinal ! Alas ! it was not to be. His Emi- 
 nence had miscalculated the strength of his memory 
 and his gratitude. I never heard a word from him 
 from that moment. The wealth and position of the 
 persons who had saved his life at Colmar placed them 
 
;0 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 above any pecuniary recompense or the reception of 
 any personal favours. They had condescended to give 
 him an opportunity of wiping off his heavy obligations 
 by an ordinary courtesy to one of their friends, and he 
 neglected it — never even wrote to tliem to explain or 
 apologize. I need scarcely say their indignation was 
 intense, and when in 1830 the Archbishop had again to 
 fly for his life, and narrowly escaped with it from the 
 enraged populace, who broke into his hotel in Paris 
 and threw his furniture out of the windows into the 
 Seine, was it possible for them to feel the slightest sym- 
 pathy for his second reverse of fortune ? It is quite 
 true that gratitude is not one of the "four cardinal 
 virtues." 
 
 As far as my mission was concerned, however, 
 I suffered no loss by the obliviousness of his Emi- 
 nence. I had excellent seats secured for me by the 
 kindness of the mayor and of my friends in the 
 British embassy both for the coronation and the subse- 
 quent installation of the knights of the order of the St. 
 Esprit. The entrance of the king and royal family, 
 accompanied by detachments from all the principal 
 regiments in the service, to the amount of ten thousand 
 men, was an exceedingly fine sight, which I witnessed 
 from the windows of my own lodgings. The coronation 
 was the grandest spectacle I have ever seen, and the 
 
RECOLLECTIONS AND REFLECTIONS. 71 
 
 installation on the day following one of the most in- 
 teresting from the celebrity of the persons present. 
 The Due d'Angouleme, " the Dauphin," as he was 
 then designated, heir presumptive to the throne of 
 France, and husband of " Madame," only daughter of 
 tl^e unfortunate Louis XVI. ; the venerable Due de 
 Bourbon-Conde, father of the Due d'Enghien, whose 
 execution at Vincennes by the arbitrary order of 
 Napoleon Bonaparte in 1804 excited the sympathy of 
 Europe, and Louis Philippe, Duke of Orleans, after- 
 wards " King of the French." Next to these royal 
 personages, and equal to them in celebrity, were Talley- 
 rand and Chateaubriand, who, though political oppo- 
 nents, advanced together to receive the accolade from 
 their sovereign. Talleyrand, who was lame, stumbled 
 as he approached the throne, and was courteously sup- 
 ported by his adversary. A murmur ran through the 
 august assembly, and I have no doubt " le Fran^ais 
 ne malin " indulged in many an epigram on the occa- 
 sion. As I shall not have any reason to mention 
 Talleyrand again, I will venture to record an anecdote 
 of him, related to me by the late Duchess of Nor- 
 folk, which I have not met with in print, and which 
 amusingly illustrates his diplomatic discretion. A 
 tradesman, to whom he was indebted a considerable 
 sum, having made many unsuccessful efforts to obtain 
 
72 EECOLLECTIONS AND REFLECTIONS. 
 
 payment, planted himself in the jpoi^te cocliere of the 
 prince's hotel, and resolutely accosted him as he was 
 entering his carriage. "Que me voulez-vous, monsieur?" 
 asked the minister. " Monseigneur, je veux seulement 
 savoir quand son Excellence voudrait bien me payer? " 
 "Vous etes bien curieux," observed his Excellency, 
 pulling up the window. The story is not apropos of 
 his Excellency being made a knight of the order of the 
 Saint Esprit , but that he was entitled to the grand 
 cordon of the order of Beaux E sprits there are suffi- 
 cient proofs, independent of this evasive answer. 
 
 I returned to Paris on the 5th of June, the day be- 
 fore his Majesty, and witnessed his arrival in state at 
 the Tuileries from the windows of the apartments of 
 Sir John Burke at the corner of the Rues de Rivoli 
 and Castiglione, and on the 10th of July " the pageant 
 of the Coronation of Charles X." was produced at the 
 Theatre Royal Covent Garden, with a prelude by 
 Peake entitled "The Ramsbottoms atRheims," a name 
 made popular at that period by a series of letters in the 
 "John Bull" newspaper, edited by Theodore Hook, 
 and wherein a Mrs. Ramsbottom promulgated her 
 opinions " on things in general " something in the style 
 of our later acquaintance Mrs. Brown. It had been 
 anticipated by a few evenings at Drury Lane, according- 
 to the discourteous and discreditable custom of Endish 
 
RECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 73 
 
 theatrical management; but the hasty, slovenly, and 
 inaccurate exhibition''^ was speedily eclipsed by the 
 "real Simon Pure," to the truth of which the testi- 
 mony of many eye-witnesses of the ceremony at Rheims 
 was publicly recorded. 
 
 My theatrical labours in the year 1825 terminated 
 with the production at the Adelphi, then under the 
 management of Messrs. Terry and Yates, of a one-act 
 piece on the 12th of December, entitled " Success ; or, 
 a Hit if you Like it," which I only mention because it 
 was the first attempt in this country to introduce that 
 class of entertainment so popular in Paris called 
 " Revue," and of which, with one solitary exception, I 
 believe I have been the sole contributor to the English 
 stage. This rather bold experiment, illustrated by the 
 talent of Wrench, Terry, Yates, T. P. Cooke, Mrs. 
 Yates, Mrs. Fitzwilliam, and other deservedly favourite 
 performers, was a " success " so satisfactory that it en- 
 couraged me to follow it up as occasion presented 
 itself, and if I am any judge of my own works these 
 " pieces de circonstance," though inevitably ephemeral 
 from their nature, are amongst the most creditable of 
 my dramatic compositions. 
 
 * The interior of the Cathedral was painted from an engraving of 
 the ceremony of the coronation of Louis XVI., when the decorations 
 were altogether dissimilar. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 The year 1826 is memorable in the annals of music, 
 for it is that in which Carl Maria von Weber produced 
 his last great opera, " Oberon," on the EngHsh stage. 
 The deathless work of a dying man. Mr. Charles 
 Kemble having engaged the celebrated composer of 
 *' Der Freischiitz " to write an opera expressly for the 
 Theatre Eoyal, Covent Garden, I had the honour of 
 being selected to furnish the libretto, the subject having 
 been chosen by Weber himself. His letters to me 
 from Dresden during the progress of the work have 
 been already published more or less accurately in some 
 editions of the opera for sale in the theatre, and, grati- 
 fying to me in every way as are their contents, I re- 
 frained from reprinting them in "London Society;" 
 but I shall not apologize for their insertion here in 
 their integrity, for two reasons : Firstly, because they 
 contain such interesting evidence of the though tfulness 
 and sound critical judgment of the composer, as well as 
 of the amiability of the man, that it is due to him they 
 
• EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. To 
 
 should be incorporated in a history of the production of 
 his opera by the writer of the libretto ; and, secondly, 
 as proofs of the disadvantages under which both of us 
 laboured, and which at the distance of nearly half a 
 century have been lost sight of by a few critics of 
 another generation. They are three in number, and 
 are now printed verbatim et literatim^ no attem]3t 
 having been made to rectify little inaccuracies of ortho- 
 graphy or peculiarities of idiom, surprisingly few for a 
 foreigner, writing English for the first time and on a 
 matter of business. His perfect comprehension of the 
 language was a most unexpected and agreeable dis- 
 covery, as it relieved my mind from any fear of mis- 
 takes either on his part or mine, which might entail 
 upon us long and perplexing correspondence, to avoid 
 which as much as possible, I had taken the trouble to 
 convey the sense of what might have been obscure 
 passages in the text, by a literal translation into 
 French. 
 
 WEBER'S LETTERS. 
 
 SiK, 
 
 I am most obliged to you for all the kind things 
 you are pleased to honour me with. I can only congratulate 
 myself to share in toils of an author who displays so much 
 feeling and genius in his fluent verses. 
 
 The cut of an English opera is certainly very different from 
 a German one. The English is more a drama with songs ; 
 
76 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. « 
 
 but in the first act of " Oberon " there is nothing that 1 could 
 wish to see changed, except the finale. The chorus is con- 
 ducted to its place, I think, rather forcibly, and cannot exite 
 the interesse of the public which is linked to the sen- 
 timent of Keiza. I would wish, consequently, for some more 
 verses full of the greatest joy and hope for Keiza, which I 
 might unite with the chorus, and treat the latter as sub- 
 ordinate to Reiza's sentiments. Pardon my making use of 
 your condescending permission. I thank you obligingly for 
 your goodness of having translated the verses in French ; 
 but it was not so necessary, because I am, though yet a 
 weak, a diligent student of the English language. 
 I am, with esteem, 
 Sir, 
 Your most obedient Servant, 
 
 Ch. M. de Weber. 
 
 Dresden, January 6, 1825. 
 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 I have received the second act of " Oberon " the 
 18th January, and the third act and your very amiable letter 
 in one and the same day, the 1st February. 
 
 These two acts are also filled with the greatest beauties. 
 I embrace the whole in love, and will endeavour not to 
 remain behind you. 
 
 To this acknowledgment of your work you can give credit, 
 the more, as I must repeat, that the cut of the whole is very 
 foreign to all my ideas and maxims. The intermixing of so 
 many principal actors who do not sing — the omission of the 
 music in the most important moments — all these things 
 deprive our "Oberon" of the title of an opera, and will 
 
' RECOLLECTIONS AND REFLECTIONS. 77 
 
 make him unfit for all other theatres in Europe, which is 
 a very bad thing for me, but — passons la-dessous. 
 
 You have so well construed my first prayers, that I con- 
 tinue with proposals in confidence to your kindness. 
 
 The scene between Sherasmin and Fatima, in the second 
 act, and the (very pretty) arietta of the latter, must neces- 
 sarily be omitted, and the quartette follow immediately. 
 Also the chorus of the Pirates. But the time which we sfain 
 thereby we must spend for a duetto between Huon and 
 Reiza. The absence of this piece of music would be very 
 much regretted, and the scene upon the desert shore seems 
 the most convenient place for it, though my musical heart 
 sighs that the first moment when the loving pair find each 
 other passes without music ; but the opera appears too long 
 already. 
 
 Now wish I yet a T^iad aria for Sherasmin, when he dis- 
 cover the horn, in which Fatima's lamentations unite and 
 close the scene with a beautiful contrast. 
 
 Oh ! dear sir, what would not we produce if we were 
 living in the same town ? Still I beg leave to observe ..that 
 the composer looks more for the expression of feelings than 
 the figurative ; the former he may repeat and develope in all 
 their graduations, but verses like — 
 
 " Like the spot the tulip weareth 
 Deep within its dewy urn," 
 
 or in Huon's song — 
 
 ' ' Like hopes that deceive us, 
 Or false friends who leave us 
 Soon as descendeth prosperity's sun," 
 
 must be said only once. 
 
 You see that I speak to you as an old acquaintance, and 
 I hope, at least, that you will consider it so. 
 
RECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 Mr. Kemble lias not honoured me till now with an answer 
 to my letter of the 6th January. I conclude from this that 
 he is convinced of the necessity to retard the opera, and that 
 consequently we have time to regulate our affairs. The 
 same reason has also withheld me from replying to his letter 
 of the 4th February, which has crossed mine of the 6th 
 January. Yet I must own I wish to see this affair decided 
 at Easter, because all sorts of uncertainty puzzles me, and 
 distracts me in working. 
 
 To speak sincerely, I do not understand why our honoured 
 friend, Mr. Kemble, hesitates to name the sum which he can 
 offer me. He knows what length he can go to the credit of 
 his country and establishment. I can make no demand, and 
 I would neither appear indiscreet nor suffer injury, the latter 
 of which I have too frequently experienced. Eussia, Sweden, 
 Holland, France, Scotland, and England have brought on 
 the boards my performances without their being entitled to 
 it ; for my works have not been printed ; and though I do 
 not value money to take notice of it, the world forces me at 
 last. 
 
 Pardon, dear sir, that I am molesting you with things you 
 cannot be interested in ; but poets and composers live toge- 
 ther in a sort of angels' marriage, which demands a reciprocal 
 trust. And now it is truly time to end my very checkered 
 epistle. 
 
 I am, with the greatest esteem and regard. 
 Your most obedient servant, 
 
 C. M. VON Weber. 
 
 Dresden, February 19, 1825. 
 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 I am very ashamed to be your debtor for tliose 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 amiable letters ; but you must have indulgence with a very 
 much toiled and moiled poor man as I am. 
 
 I have now to give you an account of our " Oberon." Two 
 acts are ended. The first is in its total state as you have 
 written it. In the second I have yet fulfilled your wish, to 
 compose "a lonely Arab maid;" but I would have omitted 
 " Araby, my native land," because I fear the opera will be 
 too long already. This song, however, shall not disunite us, 
 and I will compose it, perhaps, first in England. 
 
 The duo for Eeiza and Huon, which you were so kind as 
 to send me, I have not composed, because, beautiful as it is, 
 it cannot be placed in that position with effect. 
 
 Little changes to which I have permitted myself shall, as I 
 hope, be ratified by you. My health is yet weak indeed, 
 but much better than last winter, and if "Oberon" is yet 
 fixed to be played on Easter Monday, 1826, I hope surely to 
 be in London the first days of March. 
 
 I pray that you will be so good as to say to M. Livius * 
 that I have already sent him an answer, under the date 
 of the 18th of September, on his address, Dorset Cottage, 
 Grosvenor Place. Not enough can I express the pleasure in 
 hoping to make your personal acquaintance, and till then, 
 and ever, believe me. 
 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 Most sincerely yours, 
 
 C. M. Weber. 
 
 Dresden, December 3, 1825. 
 
 Such was the state of music in England six-and- 
 
 ■ 
 
 forty years ago, that when in conjunction with Bishop, 
 
 * Basham Livius, an amateur author and composer, who arranged 
 the music of " Der Freischiitz" for my version of that opera, pro- 
 duced at Covent Garden, 14th October, 1824. 
 
80 EBCOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 I had made an attempt in my second opera, " Cortez, 
 or the Conquest of Mexico " (produced November 5, 
 1823), to introduce concerted pieces, and a finale to 
 the 2nd act more in accordance with the rules of true 
 operatic construction, it had proved, in spite of all the 
 charm of Bishop's melody, a signal failure. Ballads, 
 duets, choruses, and glees, provided they occupied no 
 more than the fewest number of minutes possible, were 
 all that the play-going public of that day would en- 
 dure. A dramatic situation in music was ^' caviare to 
 the general," and inevitably received with cries of 
 ^* Cut it short!" from the gallery, and obstinate 
 coughing or other significant signs of impatience fi:om 
 the pit. Nothing but the Huntsman's Chorus and the 
 diablerie in " Der Freischiitz " saved that fine work 
 from immediate condemnation in England ; and I re- 
 member perfectly well the exquisite melodies in it 
 being compared by English musical critics to " wind 
 through a key-hole ! "'^* An immense responsibility was 
 placed upon my shoulders. The fortunes of the season 
 were staked upon the success of the piece. Had I 
 constructed it in the form which would have been most 
 agreeable to me and acceptable to Weber, it could not 
 
 * In a number of tlie " Quarterly Musical Magazine and Review," 
 for June, 1825, a critic describing tlie music of *'Der FreiscMtz," 
 says, *' Nearly all that was not irresistibly ridiculous, was supremely 
 dull." 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND REFLECTIONS. 81 
 
 have been performed by the company at Co vent Gar- 
 den, and if attempted must have proved a complete 
 fiasco. None of om- actors could sing, and but one 
 singer could act — Madame Vestris — who made a 
 charming Fatima. A young lady who subsequently 
 became one of the most popular actresses in my recol- 
 lection was certainly included in the cast ; but she 
 had not a line to speak, and was pressed into the ser- 
 vice in consequence of the paucity of vocalists, as she 
 had a sweet though not very powerful voice, and was 
 even then artist enough to be entrusted with anything. 
 That young lady was Miss Goward, now Mrs. Keeley, 
 and to her was assigned the exquisite Mermaid Song 
 in the finale to the second act. At the first general 
 rehearsal, with full band, scenery, &c., the effect was 
 not satisfactory, and Fawcett, in his usual brusque 
 manner, exclaimed, " That must come out ! — it won't 
 go!" Weber, who was standing in the pit, leaning 
 on the back of the orchestra, so feeble that he could 
 scarcely stand without such support, shouted, " Where- 
 fore shall it not go ? " and leaping over the partition 
 like a boy, snatched the baton from the conductor, and 
 saved from excision one of the most delicious morceaux 
 in the opera. No vocalist could be found equal to the 
 part of Sherasmin. It was, therefore, acted by Faw- 
 cett, and a bass singer, named Isaacs, was lugged in 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 head and shoulders to eke out the charming quatuor, 
 " Over the Dark Blue Waters." Braham, the greatest 
 English tenor perhaps ever known, was about the 
 worst actor ever seen, and the most unromantic person 
 in appearance that can well be imagined. His de- 
 served popularity as a vocalist induced the audience to 
 overlook his deficiencies in other qualifications, but 
 they were not the less fatal to the dramatic effect of 
 the character of Huon de Bordeaux, the dauntless 
 paladin who" had undertaken to pull a hair out of the 
 Caliph's beard, slay the man who sat on his right 
 hand, and kiss his daughter! Miss Paton, with a 
 grand soprano voice, and sufficiently prepossessing 
 person, was equally destitute of histrionic ability, and 
 consequently of the four principal parts in the opera 
 only one was adequately represented, that of Fatima 
 by Madame Vestris. Amongst the minor characters, 
 Miss Harriet Cawse, a pupil of Sir George Smart's, 
 distinguished herself as an arch and melodious Puck, 
 and did her " spiriting gently," and Mr. Charles Bland, 
 brother of James the future king of extravaganza, was 
 happily gifted with a voice which enabled him to exe- 
 cute at least respectably the airs assigned to the King 
 of the Fairies. The composer therefore had justice 
 fairly done to Am, and any sbort-comings, as far as 
 the drama was concerned, were of secondary import- 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 83 
 
 ance. My great object was to land Weber safe amidst 
 an unmusical public, and I therefore wrote a melo- 
 drama with songs, instead of an opera, such as would 
 be required at the present day. I am happy to say 
 that I succeeded in that object, and had the great 
 gratification of feeling that he fully appreciated my 
 motives, and approved of my labours. On the morning 
 after the production of the opera (April 12), I met him 
 on the stage. He embraced me most affectionately, 
 and exultingly exclaimed, " Now we will go to work 
 and write another opera together, and then they shall 
 see what we can do ! " " Man proposes and Heaven 
 disposes.'^ In a few weeks after I followed him to his 
 grave ! " Oberon " was the song ot the dying swan. 
 The hand of death was upon him before he commenced 
 It, and the increasing weight upon his spirit is unmis- 
 takably evident in the latter portion of his work. The 
 last air of Eieza, "Mourn, thou poor Heart," necessita 
 ting, unfortunately, plaintive expression, was a wail of 
 such unrelieved dreariness that, coming late in the 
 opera, it was worse than ineffective, and is, I believe, 
 omitted even in Germany. 
 
 Much has been said of the want of human interest 
 in the story. The same complaint' might be made of 
 nearly every drama founded on a fairy tale, or in which 
 supernatural agency is employed to work out the plot. 
 
84 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 But it seems to have escaped the objectors that, as 
 far as the expression of the passions is concerned, 
 there can be no difference, either in words or music, 
 whether the personages are mortals or fairies. The 
 love, the jealousy, the anger, the despair of an elf or a 
 demon must be told in the same language, and set to 
 the same notes, as would be employed to express similar 
 emotions in human beings, while much more scope is 
 given to the fancy of the composer in the supernatural 
 situations. But, independently of this argument, the 
 trials of Huon and Rieza are amongst the severest 
 known to humanity — shipwreck on a desolate island, 
 ■ — separation — slavery — temptation in its most alluring 
 forms, and the imminent danger of death in the most 
 fearful — not, as the writer of " The Life of Weber " in- 
 correctly states, " with the lily wand of Oberon always 
 behind them," but utterly hopeless of fairy aid ; for the 
 magic horn that should evoke it is lost before their 
 trials commence, and only recovered at the last moment, 
 to bring the opera to a happy termination. 
 
 That I may have failed in my attempt to depict the 
 passions aroused by those situations is another ques- 
 tion, and that I leave the critics to decide. I simply 
 contend that the charge of want of human interest in the 
 story is not founded on fact ; and that Weber should 
 have preferred a fairy subject to one of purely human 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 85 
 
 interest, proves that as a musician lie did not see the 
 objection ; while the exquisite opening in Oberon's 
 palace, the chorus of the spirits of the elements in the 
 storm-scene, and the unrivalled finale to the second act, 
 including the mermaids' song, display the power as well 
 as the desire to deal with the wild and wonderful, of 
 which he had already given such evidence in " Der 
 Freischiitz." 
 
 Mr. Charles Kemble was in Scotland, fulfilling a 
 provincial engagement, when "Oberon" was produced, 
 and wrote to me the following letter : — 
 
 Glasgow, April 17, 1826. 
 
 My dear Planche, 
 
 Allow me to offer you my best thanks and con- 
 gratulations upon the success of " Oberon." 
 
 Though I have been absent, I have not been the less 
 interested about your piece. My anxiety has truly been 
 very great, and my joy at the result, as you may naturally 
 suppose, proportionately gigantic. I think I like your verses 
 better in print than manuscript. That is not the case with 
 the verses of most authors, for many of whom it would be 
 better never to have gone to press. I shall see you in a day 
 or two ; but will not deny myself the pleasure of letting you 
 know how sincerely I am delighted at your success, all selfish 
 feelings out of the question. " From the fulness of the heart 
 the mouth speaketh," and, I will add, the hand writeth on 
 this occasion. That you may witness many such triumphs 
 in Covent Garden Theatre is the sincere wish of, 
 My dear Planche, 
 
 Yours most faithfully, 
 
 C. Kemble. 
 
86 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 According to the courteous custom which has pre- 
 vailed time out of mind in English theatricals, an 
 Easter piece on the subject of " Oberon " had been 
 rushed out at Drury Lane in anticipation of Weber's 
 opera, and, in addition to this, Bishop was engaged 
 to write an opera to be produced in opposition to 
 it, the libretto by George Soane being founded on 
 the popular story of "Aladdin, or the Wonderful 
 Lamp." It was not very favourably received, and 
 the delicious warbling of Miss Stephens could not 
 secure for it more than a lingering existence of a 
 few nights. Tom Cooke, the leader of the orchestra 
 at Drury Lane, one of the cleverest musicians and 
 most amusing of men, met Braham in Bow Street, 
 and asked him how his opera (" Oberon ") was going. 
 " Magnificently! " repHed the great tenor, and added, 
 in a fit of what he used to call enthoosemusy^ " not to 
 speak it profanely, it will run to the day of judg- 
 ment!" — " My dear fellow," rejoined Cooke, "that's 
 nothing! Ours has run five nights afterwards! " 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 The proprietors of Vauxhall Gardens were at that 
 period Messrs. Hughes and Gye, the latter gentle- 
 man, M.P. for Chippenham, being the father of the 
 present Mr. Frederick Gye, lessee and director of 
 the Royal Italian Opera. I was requested by them 
 to draw up a scheme for some novel entertainment, 
 and very liberal terms were offered me to undertake 
 its production. I sketched out a programme, and 
 submitted it for their consideration ; but I need not 
 have taken the trouble. I soon discovered that Mr. 
 Hughes had an idee fixe. He was passionately fond 
 of music, and believed that a grand concert would 
 be more attractive at Vauxhall than any spectacular 
 entertainment. He had already made liberal ■ offers 
 to several of our most eminent vocalists, but not 
 one could be tempted to sing at Vauxhall. I had 
 no opinion of the scheme, and frankly told him so ; 
 but finding he had set his heart upon it, and was pre- 
 pared to take upon himself the entire responsibility of 
 
88 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 the result, I consented to attempt carrying out liis 
 plans in lieu of my own, and in less than a fortnight, 
 as much to his surprise as his delight, he held in his 
 hands the signed engagements of Braham, ^nclair. 
 Miss Stephens, Madame Vestris, and Miss Love, all of 
 whom had previously declined his highest offers. The 
 simple secret of my success lay in the fact that I had 
 gone at once to Bishop, and put before him an agree- 
 ment to act as director and composer, at terms to be 
 inserted by himself, with full power to engage the first 
 vocal and instrumental talent in the country. Having 
 secured him, and thereby given a guarantee for the 
 character of the concert, all the others followed like a 
 flock of sheep. The speculation, however, proved, as 
 I had anticipated, anything but profitable to the pro- 
 prietors, but they bore their loss gallantly, and paid 
 every one without a murmur. 
 
 Previously to the opening of the gardens I had 
 run over to Paris, and ineffectually endeavoured to 
 lure that exquisite vocalist Mrs. Salmon back to 
 public life. She was residing in a charming house 
 in the Allee des Veuves, Champs Elysees, and 
 very wisely, I acknowledge, declined risking her 
 great reputation by a return to the profession of 
 which she had been so long a " bright particular star.'^ 
 Those yet living who can remember her render- 
 
RECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 89 
 
 ing of " From miglity kings he took the spoil," at the 
 Ancient Concerts, will, I think, agree with me that for 
 luscious sweetness of tone, purity of style, and power 
 of expression, Mrs. Salmon was and remains unrivalled 
 amongst English sopranos. T. P. Cooke and his wife 
 were at this moment in Paris, he having accepted an 
 engagement to perform at the Porte St. Martin, in a 
 French version of Peake's melodrama " Frankenstein, 
 or the modern Prometheus," his original part of the 
 monster, which he, rather than the modern Prometheus, 
 had created at the Lyceum Theatre in London. My 
 visit to the French capital had been so suddenly deter- 
 mined on, that I had not apprised any one of my com- 
 ing, and on the first night of my arrival, I made my 
 w^ay to Cooke's lodgings, where, cruel as it seemed, I 
 could scarcely forbear laughing to find him laid up with 
 the gout. The monster, who was to frighten all the 
 fair Parisians into fits, moping in an arm-chair, with 
 his foot enveloped in flannel deposited on another, in 
 a state of helpless inactivity ! There was something 
 exceedingly ludicrous in the position; but it was no 
 laughing matter to him, poor fellow. There he was, 
 literally tied by the leg, unable even to attend re- 
 hearsals, and uncertain whether he would be well 
 enough to make his appearance before the expiration of 
 his conge from Mr. Arnold. He had never had the 
 
90 RECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 gout before, and attributed the attack to the acidity 
 of the French wines. Fortunately it was as short as 
 it was sharp, and his success was so great that 
 "monstre bleu," the colour he painted himself, be- 
 came the fashion of the day in Paris. By Cooke 
 I was introduced to Odry, the Listen of the French 
 stage, and his wife, who prided herself on being 
 an Englishwoman, having been "born Brown Bear, 
 Piccadilly," as she expressed herself — the only four 
 words of English she had brought away with her. 
 Odry was fond of the English, but a staunch Na- 
 poleonist, and invariably terminated his eulogy of 
 England with the reproachful question — " Pourquoi 
 as-tu tue mon Empereur? " 
 
 The admirable Potier was at that time under an en- 
 gagement to Laporte, who in conjunction with Cloup 
 and Pellissie had the direction of the French company 
 performing in London, and as he (Potier) spoke no 
 English, and had never visited this country, I was asked 
 to take him with me on my return, a request to which 
 I joyfully acceded. We secured the coupe of the French 
 malle-poste, and a more agreeable companion to while 
 away the tedium of the many long hours which 
 were at that time occupied in travelling even by 
 post the distance between Paris and Calais, could not 
 have been found. Laporte, himself an excellent come- 
 
• EECOLLECTIONS AND REFLECTIONS. 91 
 
 dian, met us at Dover, where we dined, and then started 
 all three by coach for London. 
 
 It was broad dayhght by the time we reached 
 the junction of the Greenwich and Old Kent roads, 
 and a sight suddenly presented itself to the eyes 
 of our visitor which astonished, interested, and 
 amused him to the greatest extent. On each side 
 of the road, four or five deep, a line of human 
 beings extended as far as the eye could reach ; men 
 and women, boys and girls, the majority of the adults of 
 both sexes in every possible stage of intoxication, yell- 
 ing, screaming, dancing, fighting, playing every con- 
 ceivable antic, and making every inconceivable noise. 
 For the instant I was almost as much surprised as my 
 companions, and as little able to account for the extra- 
 ordinary and unexpected scene ; but after a few minutes 
 I recollected it was the morning of the Wednesday in 
 Easter week, and the end of Greenwich Fair, and these 
 dregs of the London populace, which had for three 
 days made the pretty Kentish borough a bear-garden, 
 and its fine old park a pandemonium, were now flowing 
 in a turbid flood of filth, rags, debauchery, and drunken- 
 ness, back to their sources in the slums of the metro- 
 polis. There was no picturesque costume to fascinate 
 the eye of the artist, no towering cauchoise with its 
 frills and streamers, no snow-white caps, short scarlet 
 
92 RECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. • 
 
 petticoats and blue stockings, no embroidered velvet 
 bodices, no quaint gold or silver head-gear, no jacket 
 gay with countless buttons, no hat bedecked with 
 ribbons, no coquettish Montero — all was dirt and 
 squalor, draggled dresses, broken bonnets, hats without 
 crowns, coats and trousers in tatters. Such was the 
 British public as it first appeared to the great French 
 comedian. 
 
 *' Mais comme c'est drole ! Tout le monde porte 
 chapeau ! " was his first exclamation after I had 
 explained to him the character of the crowd in the 
 midst of which we had so suddenly found ourselves. 
 For in no similar assemblage in France, or indeed in 
 Europe, would he have seen so many hats and 
 bonnets ; and it is this peculiarity which makes an 
 English mob look so much more disreputable than 
 a foreign one. Abroad, not one woman in a hun- 
 dred of the lower classes, would wear a tawdry, 
 trumpery bonnet, made in what is supposed to be 
 the fashion, and which can never cause them to be 
 taken for ladies, though it exposes them to the 
 disgrace of a very different misapprehension. If an 
 honest desire to become better than we are could 
 supersede the vulgar ambition to seem of more 
 consequence than we are, how infinitely happier 
 and richer would be the community in general ! Is 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 93 
 
 there no compulsory education that could effect so 
 important an improvement ? 
 
 The theatre at which Potier made his first appear- 
 ance in England, on Friday, May 19th, 1826, was the 
 little building in Tottenham Street, Tottenham Court 
 Eoad, now so popular as " The Prince of Wales's." 
 I knew the builders, and was frequently within the 
 walls during its construction. Like the Olympic, it 
 was originally intended for equestrian performances, 
 and rejoiced in a ring, which speedily gave place to a 
 pit, and was, at the period I am now speaking of, as 
 dark and dingy a den as ever sheltered the children of 
 Thespis. Like the Olympic also, its out-of-the-way 
 situation and humble neighbourhood did not prevent 
 *'the upper ten thousand" from visiting it. *' Chacun 
 prend son plaisir ou il le trouve," and the highest in 
 the land found theirs in the "low latitudes" of the 
 little " West London Theatre," as it was then desig- 
 nated. I was present one evening when H.R.H. the 
 Duke of Gloucester, in a pit box, revealed the whole 
 plot of a vaudeville which had amused him to the 
 Duchess, whom he had brought to see it, as it pro- 
 gressed, in so loud a voice that he took the entire 
 ]3arterre into his confidence, the foreign portion of 
 which, being unaccustomed to so peculiar a "pro- 
 gramme de spectacle," and unconscious of the rank of 
 
94 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 the illustrious expositor, most ungratefully repaid him 
 for the information by shouts of " a la porte ! " anglice^ 
 " turn him out ! " His royal highness, being fortu- 
 nately hard of hearing, remained ignorant of the dis- 
 courtesy, and continued his commentaries in stentorian 
 tones to the fall of the curtain. 
 
 On the 25th May I received the following note from 
 Weber, enclosing tickets for his concert/''-' which took 
 place the following evening : — 
 
 " With C. M. Von Weber's best compliments to his dear 
 friend, Mr. Planch^ and he hopes to have the honour of 
 seeing him and Mrs. Planche on the concert. In present- 
 ing the enclosed, he will be most happy to send more, if 
 desired." 
 
 These w^ere the last lines he wrote to me. Ten 
 days afterwards (5th of June) he was found dead in 
 his bed by Sir George Smart, in whose house, 91, 
 Great Portland Street, he resided; and on the 21st I 
 attended the funeral, by invitation, riding in the third 
 coach with Moschelles, to the Roman Cathohc chapel 
 in Moorfields, where the body found a temporary 
 resting-place, previous to its removal to Germany. 
 
 * At the rehearsal the Chorus comraenced singing a prayer at 
 the top of their lungs. Weber hushed them down instantly, exclaim- 
 ing : " If you were in the presence of God Almighty, you would not 
 speak loud." 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 95 
 
 The following verses, hastily thrown off by me on 
 receiving the sad tidings of his death, were afterwards 
 set by Brahani, who introduced some of the most 
 popular melodies in the opera of Der Freischiitz, and 
 sang them with great feeling and effect on the occasion of 
 the Benefit for the widow and family. The lines have 
 no claim to literary merit ; but they sincerely, as spon- 
 taneously, expressed my sorrow, and faithfully described 
 his character : — 
 
 ** Weep I for the word is spoken ! 
 Mourn — for the knell hath knoU'd ; 
 The master- chord is broken, 
 And the master-hand is cold ! 
 Eomance hath lost her minstrel. 
 No more his magic strain 
 Shall throw a sweeter spell around 
 The legends of Almaine ! 
 
 " His fame had flown before him 
 To many a foreign land ; 
 His lays were sung by every tongue, 
 And harp'd by every hand. 
 He came to seek fresh laurels, 
 But Eate was in their breath, 
 And turned his march of triumph 
 Into a dirge of death ! 
 
 " ! all who knew him loved him. 
 Eor, with his might}' mind, 
 He bore himself so meekly; 
 His heart — it was so kind. 
 His wildly warbling melodies — 
 
96 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 The storms that round them roll * 
 Are types of the simplicity 
 And grandeur of his soul. 
 
 " Though years of ceaseless suffering 
 Had worn him to a shade, 
 So patient was his spirit, 
 No wayward plaint he made. 
 E'en Death himself seemed loth to scare 
 His victim pure and mild, 
 And stole upon him gently, 
 As slumber o'er a child ! 
 
 * ' Yf eep ! for the word is spoken ; 
 Mourn — for the knell hath knoll'd ; 
 The master- chord is broken, 
 And the master-hand is cold ! " 
 
 * I find, in a contemporaneous criticism, " the ro?//r<5' bass passage " 
 in the orchestral accompaniments to one of his sweetest melodies, 
 noticed as a strong proof of his regard to instrumental effects. — 
 Quarterly Musical Magazine and Review^ yoI. yiii. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 About this period I was residing in Brompton 
 Crescent, having removed thither after the termina- 
 tion of my engagement at the Adelphi, and in that 
 suburban locality made the acquaintance of various 
 literary and artistic celebrities, in whose society some 
 of the pleasantest years of my life were passed. 
 Jerdan, the editor of the "Literary Gazette," I am 
 bound in gratitude to distinguish. His unvarying 
 kindness to me and mine for upwards of thirty years 
 imperatively demands this brief but sincere acknow- 
 ledgment. He was my near neighbour, occupying a 
 large house, with a long garden attached to it, in what 
 was Brompton Grove, and is now Ovington Square. 
 There I met Crofton Croker and his clever wife, Tom 
 Hood and his brother-in-law, John Hamilton Revnolds, 
 whose dawning genius had attracted the notice of 
 Byron ; the Rev. George Croly, author of the " Angel 
 of the World" and the comedy of "Pride shall have a 
 Fall," which latter work, produced at Covent Garden, 
 
 VOL. I. H 
 
98 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 not meeting with much success, Poole, who hated him, 
 invariably spoke of, as " Croly shall have a fall, by the 
 Rev. George Pride," and Miss Landon — poor L. E. L. 
 — whose early death in the fatal region of Sierra Leone 
 caused a painful excitement in literary circles. A me- 
 lancholy roll-call — not one remains to answer " Here !" 
 Jerdan, himself the earliest born, was the latest who 
 left us. He attained the patriarchal age of eighty- 
 eight, dying only two years ago, June 11th, 1869, 
 having retired from the editorship of the " Literary 
 Gazette " in 1850. In a notice of his decease in the 
 *' Times " newspaper, it was remarked that " his kindly 
 help was always afforded to young aspirants in lite- 
 rature and art, and his memory will be cherished by 
 many whom he helped to rise to positions of honour 
 and independence." As one who specially enjoyed 
 that " kindly help," and was a fi-equent witness of its 
 ready extension to others, it is my gratifying duty to 
 testify to the truth of that honourable record. His 
 buoyant spirits enabled him to bear up against ^'a sea 
 of troubles," which would have overwhelmed an 
 ordinary man. Mr. Moves, his printer, " a canny 
 Scot," being asked by a mutual acquaintance, " Has 
 our friend Jerdan got through his difficulties?" cha- 
 racteristically exclaimed, " Difficulties! I never knew 
 he was in any." 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 1)9 
 
 The genius of Tom Hood lias been so generally 
 acknowledged, liis humour and his pathos so highly 
 appreciated, and so many anecdotes recorded of 
 him, that I shall only cite a few of his salhes, 
 which I believe have never been chronicled. At a 
 large dinner party at Jerdan's one of the guests in- 
 dulged in some wonderful accounts of his shootino- 
 The number of birds he had killed, and the distances 
 at which he had brought them down, were extra- 
 ordinary. Hood quietly remarked, — 
 
 " What lie hit is history, 
 What he missed is mystery." 
 
 Anything more happily conceived and expressed 1 
 contend it would be difficult to discover. 
 
 At the same house, on another occasion, when Power 
 the actor was present, Hood was asked to propose his 
 health. After enumerating the various talents that 
 popular comedian possessed, he requested the company 
 to observe that such a combination was a remarkable 
 illustration of the old proverb, " It never rains but it 
 
 power s^ 
 
 In his last illness, reduced as he was to a skeleton, 
 he noticed a very large mustard poultice which Mrs. 
 Hood was making for him, and exclaimed, " Mary ! 
 Mary !— that will be a great deal of mustard to a very 
 little meat!" 
 
100 BEOOLLECTIONS AND EEFLEOTIONS. 
 
 Shortly before his death, being visited by a clergy- 
 man whose features as well as language were more 
 lugubrious than consoling, Hood looked up at him 
 compassionately and said, " My dear sir ! I'm afraid 
 your religion doesn't agree with you." 
 
 There seemed to be a mint in his mind in which the 
 coining of puns was incessantly and almost unconsciously 
 in process, not with the mere object of raising a laugh, 
 but because his marvellous command of language 
 enabled him to use words in every possible sense in 
 which they could be understood ; and he could not help 
 playing upon them, even in his most serious moods. 
 For instance, in that pathetic appeal to the bene- 
 volence of the public on behalf of the widow and 
 children of poor Elton,"' the actor, who was drowned 
 on his passage from Leith to Hull, in 1843, after most 
 touchingly describing the lifeless hand idly playing 
 with the tangled weed, he concludes with a parallel 
 between the dead and the living, by imploring assist- 
 ance for the latter, who is struggling " 'mid hreahers 
 huge enough to hreah the heart." Admirably de- 
 livered as I heard it, by Mrs. Sterling, the power of 
 the line told upon the audience with increased effect 
 from the play on the word, which I question if any 
 
 * His real name was Elt, and he was one of a company of amateurs 
 I belon":ed to. 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 101 
 
 other writer would have hazarded under such cir- 
 cumstances. 
 
 When the water broke into the Thames Tunnel, 
 during the progress of the work, he said to me, 
 " They've been labouring at that affair for a long 
 time, and now the Thames has filled up their leisure." 
 On my repeating this to Charles Kemble, the same 
 afternoon, he said, " Well, Planche, I can't see any- 
 thing in that so " laughable, he would have 
 
 added; but he began to laugh before he could finish 
 the sentence. 
 
 John Hamilton Reynolds, his brother-in-law, and 
 collahorateur in some of his works, less generally 
 known to the public, was only inferior to his celebrated 
 connection as a wit, a poet, and if I may be allowed 
 the expression, a philosophical punster. 
 
 He was specially distinguished for the aptness of his 
 (][uotations. Finding him one day lunching at the 
 " Garrick," I asked him if the beef he was eating was 
 good. " It would have been," he answered, "if damned 
 custom had not hrazed it so." 
 
 Not long before his death, he was appointed 
 treasurer of a County Court in the Isle of Wight. 
 It was absolute exile for a man of his town 
 tastes and habits, and he lost no opportunity 
 of running up, if only for a few hours, to London. 
 
102 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIOXS. 
 
 Ex23atlating on the dulness of tlie locality to wliicli he 
 Avas relegated, and the absence of that class of society 
 to which he had been all his life accustomed, he told me 
 how that, one evening he had attended a tea-party, and 
 noticing a pretty, bright-looking girl, he entered into 
 conversation with her, and elicited from her, to his 
 great gratification, that she was very fond of poetr}'. 
 ^' Then, of course, you admire, as much as I do, 
 Shakespere's exquisite comedy of ^ As you like it' " 
 ^' I have read it," she answered; "but I don't under- 
 stand it — ." " Not understand it ! Then I am afraid 
 you don't understand a tree." This was infinitely 
 beyond her, and with a look of blank astonishment, 
 she replied, " I don't know what you mean." '' Upon 
 which," said Reynolds, " I took my leave of her ' under 
 the shade of melancholy hoios.'' " The happiness of 
 this quotation from the play itself, might have induced 
 €ven Doctor Johnson to pardon the pun it inevitably 
 suggested. 
 
 The interest Crofton Croker took in the study of 
 antiquities was an additional bond of unison between 
 us, and we lived much together. He used often to say to 
 me, " Planche, you will never succeed unless you write 
 for the pigs." My answer was invariably, "Then 
 I never shall succeed;" and I am thankful to say, 
 that whatever success I have been fortunate to achieve 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 103 
 
 ill the course of my literary life, I Lave certainly not 
 been indebted for it to any intentional sacrifice of my 
 own principles at the shrine of popularity. 
 
 Of Lsetitia Elizabeth Landon, Mr. and Mrs. Carter 
 Hall have given so minute and interesting an account 
 in their " Book of Memories," that it leaves me little 
 to say, beyond adding my testimony to the truth of all 
 they have asserted in defence of that most cruelly 
 maHgned lady, and my tribute of regret at her 
 miserable and unmerited fate. I was her constant 
 visitor in Hans Place, and have preserved some 
 letters of hers, and of her friend Miss Emma Roberts ; 
 but they contain no passages that would justify quota- 
 tion. I remember "L. E. L.," however, saying to me 
 one day, when congratulating me on some recent 
 success in the theatre, "I would give all the reputa- 
 tion I have gained, or am ever likely to gain, by 
 WTiting books, for one great triumph on the stage. 
 The praise of critics or friends may be more or less 
 sincere ; but the spontaneous thunder of applause of a 
 mixed multitude of utter strangers, uninfluenced by 
 any feelings but those excited at the moment, is an 
 acknowledgment of gratification surpassing, in my 
 opinion, any other description of approbation." 
 
 Of Croly I knew but little, and was not over anxious 
 to know more. He was a man of undoubted talent, 
 
104 EBCOLLECTIONS Al^D EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 but cold, imperious, and sarcastic. He died suddenly 
 in 1860. 
 
 At the close of my Vauxhall engagement I left 
 England with my wife, a friend and his wife, for a 
 tour on the continent, leaving the Tower Stairs on 
 Wednesday morning, August 30, on board the " Lord 
 Melville" steam-packet, for Calais, where the fol- 
 lowing day we assisted at a wedding. The organist 
 played "the Bridemaids'" chorus from Der Frei- 
 schiitz, as the young lady entered the church, and 
 " Home sweet Home," from " Clari," as the happy 
 couple departed. Having been so recently con- 
 cerned in the production of both those operas at 
 Covent Garden Theatre, the coincidence of my for- 
 tuitous attendance was as amusing to us as the 
 selection of the airs was appropriate to the situations 
 — if not to the locality. Several popular waltzes, 
 with which the excellent performer "favoured the 
 company," both before and during the ceremony, gave 
 our friends a high opinion of his skill, but a rather low 
 one of his organ — of veneration. 
 
 I am not going to inflict on my readers, in 
 1871, my " impressions de voyage " during a 
 tour through the Netherlands, the north of Ger- 
 many, and Holland, in 1826. Brussels, Liege, 
 Aix-la-Chapelle, have been " done to death " since 
 
RECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 105 
 
 then by hundreds of pens, more or less pointed. 
 Berh'n, Leipzig, Dresden, Frankfort, liave suffered as 
 severely, and as to the Rhine — Ach himmel ! Such a 
 "wacht" has been kept on it that one might as well 
 hope to interest a Londoner with a description of the 
 Thames from Battersea to Blackwall. Even one spot 
 out of the common track of cockney tourists, and at 
 the time I visited it a terra incognita to the majority 
 of English travellers, has recently attracted so much 
 attention, not only in this country but throughout 
 Europe and the United States, in consequence of its 
 having been selected for the internation of an illus- 
 trious prisoner of war, that ''our special reporter," and 
 "our American cousin," have left me nothing to say of 
 Wilhelmshohe, but what every one has already seen 
 in the newspapers. I shall, therefore, get over the 
 ground as rapidly as possible. 
 
 In the pretty little theatre of that prettiest of little 
 German cities — Hessen-Cassel, to which Wilhelmshohe 
 is a picturesque appendage, we had the good fortune, 
 the only evening we could spare for the purpose, to 
 hear " La Vestale," conducted by its celebrated com- 
 poser, Spontini himself, at that time Capel Meister to 
 his Serene Highness the Grand Duke. A passing 
 peep 
 
 " at the U- 
 
 niversity of Gottingen,'" 
 
106 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 pleasantly reminded us of the distinguislied statesman 
 whose loss we were too soon to lament, and in Bruns- 
 wick, with its bronze lion of the twelfth century ; in 
 Magdeburgh with its cathedral, to which every anti- 
 quary should make a pilgrimage, and Brandenburgh 
 with its gigantic statue of Roland, nearly twenty feet 
 high, and apparently a work of the fourteenth century, 
 I found more food for my archaeological appetite, than 
 I could spare time healthfully to digest. 
 
 Berlin was crammed with visitors for the great 
 annual militar}^ manoeuvres, and with difficulty we 
 obtained apartments at the Hotel de Petersburgh, 
 Unter den Linden. A few days after our arrival we 
 had taken places at the Grand Opera House to witness 
 the representation of Spontini's "Nourmahal," founded 
 on Moore's popular poem. In the morning we had 
 been smothered with dust at the grand review of 
 cavalry, and afterwards driven to Charlottenburg to 
 see the celebrated effigy of the beautiful and regretted 
 Queen of Prussia, visited various churches, a collection 
 of ancient paintings, the iron foundry — and, in short, 
 had a hard day of it. The consequence was that by 
 the time we had dined and reached the theatre, the 
 opera had commenced, and we found the house filled 
 to the ceiling by a most brilliant audience. Their 
 Royal Highnesses the Duke and Duchess of Cam- 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLEOTIONS. 10 < 
 
 bridg'c had arrived at Berlin, and the royal box, which, 
 according to continental custom, was in the centre of 
 the house, was occupied by the King, the Duchess of 
 Liegnitz (liis majesty's wife by a morganatic marriage, 
 or what the Germans call "linken hand "), two of the 
 King's brothers, the Prince and Princess Royal, Prince 
 Albrecht, Prince Charles of Bavaria, a princess of 
 Mecklenburgh-Strelitz — (or Schwerin), I forget which, 
 and a splendid suite — in addition to the illustrious 
 guests from Hanover. The general company con- 
 sisted of the whole corps diplomatique, and of course 
 officers of every rank and arm in the service, all in 
 full-dress uniform, the majority displaying a galaxy of 
 stars ''and ribbons of all the hues of the rainbow. 
 Almost to our consternation we were politely ushered 
 to the four seats which had been scrupulously reserved 
 for us, the only ones in the house at that moment 
 vacant, and immediately adjoining the Royal Box. 
 There in our travelling attire, for we had rigidly 
 limited our impedimenta to the smallest possible 
 quantity, we endured, with as much sangfroid as we 
 could summon to our assistance, the good-natured 
 scrutiny of the august assembly in whose proximity 
 we so unexpectedly found ourselves, and certainly felt 
 we were the most " distinguished foreigners " in the 
 theatre. 
 
108 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 The spectacle on the stage upon this occasion 
 was not inferior to that before the curtain. Nour- 
 mahal had undoubtedly been '' got up regardless 
 of expense." The Oriental costumes were magnifi- 
 cent, and, what was better, correct. An ambitious 
 attempt to represent a tropical noon-day sun would 
 have been a real *' blaze of triumph," but for the too 
 visible revolution of some machinery behind it intended 
 to increase its dazzling brilliancy. All the appoint- 
 ments were perfect ; and no wonder, for the King 
 himself, we were told, not only contributed liberally 
 to the funds of the estabhshment, but constantly went 
 behind the scenes, personally inspected the dresses and 
 decorations, and severely visited any laches of actor, 
 artist or manager. On issuing from the theatre we 
 saw the city under a light which was a new one even 
 to the inhabitants themselves — " the light of other 
 days " being superseded by gas. 
 
 All Berlin was 
 
 " Abroad to gaze, 
 
 And wonder at the blaze." 
 
 On the 28th of January, 1807, I had wandered down 
 Pall Mall with my father, and seen the first lamps 
 lighted with gas in London, and it so happened that I 
 was accidentally present both in Berlin and Paris on 
 the first occasion of its introduction to those capitals. 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND REFLECTIONS. 109 
 
 Interested as I had become in all matters of costume, 
 civil or military, I need scarcely say that I specially 
 enjoyed my visit to the "Rust Kammer" at Dresden, 
 and only regretted my inability to remain and 
 thoroughly inspect and study its wilderness of 
 weapons, ranks of stately suits, and rare and curious 
 pieces of tilting and other armour : but even at that 
 time, tyro as I was, the absence of chronological 
 arrangement struck me as a sad drawback on the 
 utility of the collection to the artist, and confusing 
 even to the casual visitor. In the Japanese Palace, 
 also, there was a room full of veritable apparel of the 
 17th and 18th centuries, which I had scarcely a 
 moment to glance at ; and as, unfortunately, I have 
 never been able to get to Dresden again, I have only 
 a dreamy recollection of the fact, and can simply say 
 that I am not aware of any other similar exhibition. 
 Another great treat was in store for me at Leipzig, 
 which we entered in the midst of its great annual 
 Michaelmas book fair. At the Hotel de Russie, the 
 table d'hote was suggestive of a supper at a bal- 
 masque, from the infinite variety of picturesque and 
 singular costume of the guests surrounding it — Greeks, 
 Armenians, Russians, Turks, Hungarians, Bulgarians, 
 Wallachians, Croats, all the Sclavonic tribes, in fine, in 
 
no EEOOLLEOTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 addition to representatives from all the provinces in 
 Germany, Switzerland, and the Tyrol. 
 
 From Leipzig v^e passed over the battle-field of 
 Lutzen, where a stone marks the spot on which 
 was found the body of the great Gustavus, to 
 Weissenfels, Weimar, where we saw the hereditary 
 Princess go out for an airing in a handsome 
 carriage drawn by six cream colours, Erfurth, and 
 Gotlia, a place possessing now a melancholy in- 
 terest for England, and I therefore transcribe from 
 some notes I made on this tour, the following descrip- 
 tion of a locality possessing so much natural beauty, 
 independent of the memories connected with it, that I 
 wonder it has not been noticed by English travellers. 
 
 Sunday, Oct. 1st, the following note. — "Walked to 
 the old Chateau, which is a large square building in a 
 very commanding situation and surrounded by a fine 
 terrace, which has been said, and not without some 
 reason, to resemble that at Windsor. There are several 
 beautiful gardens and parks round the town which 
 join one another and produce a pleasing effect. The 
 most interesting is that of the late Duke Ernest, who 
 bequeathed it to Prince Frederick. In the centre is a 
 lake with a woody island, in which the said Duke is 
 buried with four of his children. There is a small 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. Ill 
 
 column and urn erected to the memory of the two 
 youngest with this inscription : 
 
 Quies Ernesti et Ludovici 
 
 Carissimoriiiri 
 
 E. D. S. G. 
 
 et 
 
 Charlottse, Filiorum. 
 
 The other two who died subsequently to their father 
 are buried, one on each side of him, under flower beds. 
 Pie (Duke Ernest) was interred by his own desire 
 ^vithout a coffin in a plain military uniform. The 
 Intendant of the Gardens, M. Iverbeck, who has the 
 care of the Island and keeps the key of the little 
 floating bridge by which you pass over the lake to 
 it, showed us every attention, and refused to receive 
 the slightest pecuniary remuneration, saying he was 
 delighted to see English visitors, and as he proved 
 himself perfectly disinterested, we had no right to 
 doubt his sincerity. He has displayed great taste in 
 the decoration of this interesting spot. Duke Augustus 
 was very fond of flowers, and therefore the most beau- 
 tiful wave over him. Duke Frederick was an enthu- 
 siastic admirer of Italy, and his grave is ornamented 
 with flowers of that country. Duke Ernest II. (their 
 father), whose memory is universally respected in 
 Gotha, loved simple, unsophisticated nature, and ac- 
 
112 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 cordingly his grave is covered with luxuriant creeping 
 plants, with wild rose-bushes at each corner, and a 
 fragile tree that seems to spring furtively up from the 
 centre. He had an idea that the sooner the body 
 became dust, the sooner would 'corruption put on 
 incorruption/ and the soul rejoin the body in its new 
 and purified state. His wife, the Dowager Duchess, 
 is still living, and an album is kept for her inspection 
 on the Island, in which strangers are requested to 
 inscribe their names, an invitation we of course readily 
 complied with." 
 
 At the time this was written, the reigning Duke of 
 Saxe Coburg Gotha was Ernest Antoine Charles Louis, 
 father of the present Duke and of the lamented Prince 
 Consort. 
 
 Eisenach, and the Wartburg, wherein Luther found a 
 refuge, (and in a chamber of which I was shown some 
 very fine mounted cap-a-pie suits of the 16th century 
 with complete armour for the horses). One is absurdly 
 said to have belonged to Albert Landgraf of Thuringia, 
 who died in 1314, and another still more ridiculously 
 to " Cuhigunda seine gemahlin ! " The same pre- 
 posterous kind of appropriation attends a suit labelled 
 Agnes, wife of Frederick, Landgraf of Thuringia. The 
 suit which bears his name must have belonged to 
 a man almost of gigantic stature. Amongst the 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 113 
 
 other most particular suits were those appropriated 
 to: 
 
 Henry H., King of France, a finely gilt and engraved suit. 
 John, Duke of Saxe-Weimar (1570-1605). 
 Jolin Ernest, Duke of Saxony (a boy's suit). 
 Heinrich Raspon, Landgraf of Thuringia. 
 
 Ludwig IV., Landgraf of Thuringia (the horse-armour, an imita- 
 tion of the slashed dresses of the 16th century). 
 Herman I., Landgraf of Thuringia. 
 Ludwig of Eisenach, Landgraf of Thuringia. 
 Heini-ich der Erbarlechte (painted blue). 
 Feige von Bomssen. Eitter. 
 Pope Julius II. • 
 
 Both these latter suits are curiously embossed and engraved. 
 
 I have given the names of the personages to whom 
 the above suits are ascribed as they were given to me, 
 but to prevent any one being misled by them, I beg to 
 say that they are nearly all apocryphal. Ludwig of 
 Eisenach lived in the 12th century; Herman I., Ludwig 
 IV., and Heinrich Raspon, Landgraves of Thuringia, 
 were contemporaries of our kings John and Henry HI., 
 and Albert and Frederick lived in the reign of our 
 Edward I., two hundred years before any of the 
 armour in the Castle of Wartburg was manufactured. 
 It is lamentable to think what interesting information 
 has been lost to the world by this most reprehensible 
 practice of ascribing suits of armour, weapons, and 
 other relics of bygone ages to popular historical 
 
 VOL. I. t 
 
114 RECOLLECTIONS AND REFLECTIONS. 
 
 personages who could never have set eyes upon them, 
 while the names of their real owners are buried in 
 oblivion. The mischief done in an educational point 
 of view is still more deplorable. Pope Julius 11. 
 certainly wore armour at the siege of Mirandola in 
 1511, and if the suit to which his name was attached 
 did really belong to him, it would be one of the most 
 interesting in Europe. It would be curious to ascer- 
 tain what authority there is for the story, and by 
 yhat means the armour found its way into Eisenach. 
 From thence to Fulda, Hanau, and Frankfort ; whence 
 after a quiet sojourn of a few days we drove to Mayence^ 
 and hiring a boat with two watermen leisurely dropped 
 down the Rhine to Cologne, landing to dine and sleep 
 where we fancied, and paying " en passant" a visit to 
 Ferdinand Reis, the eminent composer, at his pretty 
 country house at Godesberg, near Bonn. From Co- 
 logne we travelled again by land to Gueldres and 
 Cleves, thence again by water to Rotterdam, and after 
 a short tour through Holland, during which we visited 
 Brock, the emporium of hnc-a-brac^ altogether, 
 perhaps, the most singular village in Europe, and 
 Saardam (or Saandam, as it is more correctly called), 
 the scene of my old favourite " Bourgemestre," recently 
 revived at the " Gaiety," in the operatic form given to 
 it by " Lortzing," returned to England via Antwerp 
 
RECOLLECTICtNS AND REFLECTIONS. 115 
 
 and Calais. The result of tins trip being, as far as 
 the public Avas concerned, the two first parts of " The 
 Lays and Legends of the Rhine," the music of which 
 was composed by Bishop ; and the illustrative views 
 drawn on stone by the then unknown but now cele- 
 brated Louis Haghe from sketches principally made 
 by me on the spot, and the work dedicated by per- 
 mission to Sir Walter Scott. 
 
 I 2 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 The publication of a little oriental tale, in verse, 
 entitled " Shere Afkun, a Legend of Hindostan," in 
 1823, liad brought me into frequent communication 
 with Mr. Andrews, the bookseller, of Bond Street, who 
 had also pubHshed the earliest effusion of Mrs. Charles 
 Gore, who in after-life often alluded to the circum- 
 stance. He now projected a monthly serial, to be 
 called ''The Album," of which Mr. Robert Suhvan, 
 brother-in-law of the late Sir Edmund Filmer, and 
 subsequently better known to the public as the author 
 of the comedies, "A Beggar on Horseback," produced 
 at the Hay market, and " The King's Friend," at Sad- 
 ler's Wells, was appointed editor. " The Album " was 
 not long-lived ; but Suhvan and I became great friends, 
 and at his pleasant house at Ashford, near Staines, I, 
 my wife and children, were constant guests for many 
 years, meeting Campbell, the Misses Jewsbury, Red- 
 grave and Cope (both now Royal Academicians), and 
 much agreeable and intellectual society. Sulivan was 
 
RECOLLECTIONS AND REFLECTIONS. 117 
 
 a most genial and liberal Lost, and, with all his poetical 
 temperament, as full of frolic as a school-boy — never 
 more happy than when playing "Hare and hounds" 
 with our children, or some absurd but harmless prac- 
 tical joke upon his visitors. I remember his gravely 
 introducing Tom Campbell to some ladies as Tom Cribb 
 the pugilist, and the poet lending himself to the joke, 
 putting on the gloves, and gravely giving his entertainer 
 a lesson, in the conservatory, in the noble art of self- 
 defence. I need scarcely say how relieved and de- 
 lighted the ladies were when they discovered they had 
 to sit down to dinner with the author of "The Battle 
 of the Baltic," instead of the hero of a hundred prize- 
 fights on Moulsey Hurst or Wormwood Scrubbs. 
 
 Of Mary Jane Jewsbury, for whose loss Words- 
 worth grieved " as for a shining light gone out," and 
 of whom Felicia Hemans, who wore mourning for her, 
 wrote — "She was taken away in the very prime 
 of her intellectual life, when every moment seemed 
 fraught with new treasures of knowledge and power "* 
 — I possess an interesting relic, in some verses, of 
 which she kindly sent me a copy, " as a slight memorial 
 of the three pleasant days she was domesticated with 
 Mr. Planche at Ashford." 
 
 They are dated May 20, 1830. In 1832 she married 
 
 ♦ " Book of Memories," by S. C. HaU. 
 
lis 
 
 EECOLLEOTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 the Eev. W. K. Fletcher, one of the Chaplains of the 
 Honourable East India Company, and died of cholera 
 on her way to Poonah, on the 4th of October, 1833. 
 
 The verses may or may not have been printed ; but, 
 after forty years, they will be new to many, and 
 acceptable to all. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 "With thine image in mine eye, 
 
 And thy beauty in my heart, 
 I could deem thee passing by, 
 
 Spring to meet thee— then I start, 
 And only see the shadow 
 
 Of many a woodland bough, 
 Waye dark upon the meadow 
 
 Where the golden wild flowers grow. 
 
 Thy loved voice my heart and mind 
 
 So haunteth with its tone, 
 Oft I hear thee— and then find 
 
 The deceiving voice my own ! 
 And only hear the zephyr 
 
 Sing to his forest lute, 
 Or the soft flow of some river, 
 
 "When that zephyr's song is mute. 
 
 Thou art but in seeming near. 
 
 Thou art very far away, 
 But a dream— a thought— a tear, 
 
 Bears thee to me night and day. 
 And the soHd field and mountain 
 
 Not more stable are to me. 
 Not more real, sky and fountain, 
 Than my spirit's dream of thee. 
 
 M. J. Jewsbury. 
 
RECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 119 
 
 In the words of our mutual friend, poor Lsetitia 
 Landon — and they would be equally appHcable to 
 herself — ^" she died too soon! What noble aspirings, 
 what generous enthusiasm, what kindly emotions, 
 went down to the grave with her unfulfilled destiny." 
 Her younger sister, Geraldine, a partaker of her 
 genius, I am thankful to say still lives, my near 
 neighbour and esteemed friend. At Andrews' table 
 — he prided himself, and with reason, on its excellence 
 — I frequently met, amongst other literary luminaries, 
 Washington Irving — the least American of Americans 
 I ever encountered. He was not brilliant in conver- 
 sation ; but good sense, as well as good nature, made 
 him a most agreeable companion. I do not remember 
 any particular mot; but he was a great admirer of 
 Shakespere, and had little respect for his commentators, 
 whom he compared to a pack of hungry dogs quarrel- 
 ling under the table for dry bones. 
 
 Our Amphitryon, the said John Andrews, was ex- 
 ceedingly corpulent, and upon one occasion had a 
 severe attack of illness, which nearly proved fatal. 
 On his recovery he received, by post, the following 
 lines : — 
 
 " By an illness, much worse than he e'er had before, 
 Poor Andrews, they say, has been brought to death's door. 
 But danger there's none, unless he should grow thin. 
 For Death hasn't a door that would now let him in." 
 
120 RECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 One of the results of my acquaintance with Laporte 
 was my introduction to the Haymarket Theatre, then 
 under the sole direction of its proprietor, Mr. David 
 Morris, who had engaged that pleasant French come- 
 dian to perform in English, which he spoke fluently 
 and with very little accent. He had already made his 
 debut on our national stage at Drury Lane, in Dryden's 
 comedy " The Two Amphitryons," and had been most 
 favourably received, a slight resemblance to Harley^ 
 who played the other Socia, contributing to the effect 
 of the personation. 
 
 He made his bow to the Haymarket audience in a 
 one-act farce I adapted for him, from a French vaude- 
 ville he selected for the purpose, on the 15th of June, 
 1827, and I then wrote the operatic comedy called 
 "The Rencontre; or, Love will Find Out the Way," 
 for which my old collahorateur^ Bishop, composed some 
 exceedingly pretty music, in the execution whereof I 
 had the great advantage of the assistance, for the 
 second time, of a lady to whose almost unparalleled 
 popularity I was subsequently indebted for many of the 
 most gratifying of my successes. I mean of course 
 Madame Vestris, who had previously been of such 
 essential service to me in *' Oberon." Upon this 
 occasion also another lady, destined to become a great 
 public favourite, Mrs. Charles Kean (then Miss Ellen 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 121 
 
 Tree), was included in the cast, wliicli comprised 
 Farren, Cooper, Alexander Lee — a clever composer 
 and an agreeable tenor — and Laporte. Thus sup- 
 ported it would have been hard to fall. The recep- 
 tion of " The Eencontre " was brilliant, and its run, for 
 those days, extraordinary — terminating only with the 
 season. 
 
 Mr. David Morris was a great character. A tho- 
 roughly honourable gentleman and a shrewd man of 
 business, by no means illiberal in his dealings with 
 authors and actors, and scrupulously punctual in his * 
 payments ; had Providence added to these very valu- 
 able qualifications for a theatrical inanager, the talent 
 of theatrical management, he would have been the 
 most perfect specimen of his class in England : but, 
 unhappily, he was lamentably deficient in that one 
 rather important article, and, what was more unfor- 
 tunate, he was not in the least aware of the deficiency. 
 On the contrary, he prided himself particularly on his 
 managerial abilities, and was extremely surprised at the 
 expression of any doubts, however delicately hinted, of 
 the soundness of his judgment or the accuracy of his 
 taste. Such a delusion is by no means uncommon. 
 An anecdote or two will enable the reader to form a 
 tolerably fair estimate of his capacity for the position 
 which had been previously held by Macklin, Samuel 
 
122 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 Foote, and the two Colmans. Fulfilling faithfully all 
 his own obligations, he expected, justly enough, equal 
 rectitude on the part of others. Observing, one morn- 
 ing at the rehearsal of some music, that one of the 
 band was quiescent, he leant over from the pit in 
 which he was standing, and touched him on the 
 shoulder — "Why are you not playing, sir?" — "I 
 have twelve bars rest, sir," answered the musician. 
 " Rest ! Don't talk to me about rest, sir ! Don't you 
 get your salary, sir? I pay you to play and not to 
 rest, sir! Rest when you've done your work, and 
 not in the middle of it ! " "' 
 
 Alexander Lee, who had the musical direction 
 of the Haymarket the following season — when my 
 "Green-Eyed Monster" was produced, complained 
 to him of the unsatisfactory state of the orchestra. 
 " Unsatisfactory ! Pray what fault have you to 
 find with my orchestra?" Every man having been 
 engaged by himself he considered the attack per- 
 sonal. " Some of the principal members are ex- 
 tremely inefficient." "Name one, sir!" — "Well, 
 
 there is Mr. the first clarionet — really of no use 
 
 at all." "Mr. ! Do you know who he is, sir? 
 
 * A similar storj^ is told about old Astley, and there is no reason 
 wliy both, should not be true. " Great wits jump," they say, and it 
 may be equally true of the reverse. 
 
RECOLLECTIONS AND REFLECTIONS. 123 
 
 Are you aware that he was for more than twenty years 
 first clarionet at His Majesty's Theatre?" It was 
 quite true, and naturally the poor old gentleman had 
 scarcely any breath left in his body. 
 
 It was one of the absurd ideas of managers in general 
 at that period that the stage should never be unoccu- 
 j^ied ; and Mr. Morris w^as especially a martinet in this 
 matter. If he found no one upon it after the clock 
 ]iad struck eleven at the latest, he would immediately 
 cause a rehearsal to be called of something, no matter 
 what. He paid his people, and he was determined they 
 should, earn their money. So the poor stage-manager 
 had a pleasant time of it. Tom Dibdin, one of the sons 
 of the celebrated nautical poet, and himself the author 
 of many popular dramatic pieces, held that responsible 
 position at the Haymarket in 1823, and had engaged 
 to write a comedy for that theatre. Some weeks 
 having elapsed, and no portion of it being forth- 
 coming, Morris attacked him one day as he was coming- 
 through the box-office. "Mr. Dibdin! Where is the 
 comedy you promised me?" — "My dear sir, what 
 opportunity have I for writing? I am on the stage 
 all day from ten or eleven in the morning till four in 
 the afternoon. Run home to my dinner, and back 
 again to see the curtain up, and remain till it finally 
 falls, long after midnight. I never have any time 
 
124 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 for composition." "No time! What do you do on 
 Sundays?" 
 
 It would require a larger amount of stupidity than 
 could be reasonably expected in the direction of a 
 theatre, notwithstanding the sublime examples of folly 
 and infatuation which have been exhibited in more than 
 one establishment during the last fifty years, utterly to 
 destroy the prestige of "the little Theatre in the Hay- 
 market." If anyone could have done it, I sincerely 
 beheve that most respectable, highly honourable, rather 
 consequential and perfectly self-satisfied little old gen- 
 tleman, Mr. David Morris, was the man ; but neither 
 the production of dull melodramas, which made John 
 Poole button up his coat and answer, when I asked 
 him one night how he felt — " I feel as if I had to walk 
 three miles over the fields home from a country barn,'* 
 nor the astounding feat of engaging old Mr. D'Egville 
 and a score of very ordinary, clumsy ballet-girls, in 
 rivalry of the Terpsichorean triumphs at "His Majesty's 
 Theatre " over the way, could quite empty the benches, 
 of the most permanently popular theatre that ever 
 existed in the metropolis. Much as Mr. Morris's mis- 
 takes were to be deplored for his own sake, as well as 
 for that of the drama, there was always, as there is still, 
 and I trust ever will be, a good working company of 
 legitimate actors, comprising some of the greatest Lon- 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 125 
 
 don favourites, and any temporary retrogression was 
 speedily remedied by the revival of one of our sterling 
 old comedies, or the fortunate production of a new one 
 by Poole or Kenny, such as " Paul Pry," " Sweet- 
 hearts and Wives," and similar memorable examples 
 of what was acknowledged "good Hay market com- 
 modity." 
 
 And here let me say a word or two respecting the 
 above-mentioned popular dramatists, who had worthily 
 won their spurs long before I entered the lists. They 
 wxre equally witty ; but in Poole's wit there was too 
 frequently a mixture of gall, while Kenny's never left a 
 taste of bitterness behind it. I appreciated Poole's 
 talent, but I loved Kenny. The former was, perhaps, 
 the most humorous as well as the most satirical; the 
 latter more refined and more genial. Dining one day 
 where the host became exceedingly excited and angry 
 at not being able to find any stuffing in a roasted leg of 
 pork, Poole quietly suggested, " Perhaps it is in the 
 other leg!' Dining in his company on another occasion, 
 the conversation turned on the comedy of " The School 
 for Scandal." A city knight who was present inquired, 
 " Who wrote ' The School for Scandal ? ' " Poole, with 
 the greatest sang froicl^ and a glance of infinite 
 contempt, replied, " Miss Chambers, the banker's 
 daughter." " Ah ! indeed," said Sir J , " clever 
 
126 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 girl ! very clever girl ! " Almost immediately 
 
 afterwards, Poole said, " Pray, Sir J , are you a 
 
 knight bachelor or a knight errant ? " " Well now — I 
 really can't say — I don't think I ever was asked that 
 question. Til make it a point to inquire." It was as 
 good as a play to watch Poole's countenance, but I 
 confess his audacity made me shiver. 
 
 Kenny would have had too much respect for the 
 friend he was dining with, to have shown up one of his 
 guests so unmercifully. I do not remember his saying 
 a severe thing of or to anyone. Even in moments of 
 irritation he would give a graceful turn to his reproof, 
 One evening when I was playing whist with him at 
 his own house, Mrs. Kenny burst suddenly into the 
 room, followed by three or four ladies who had been 
 dining with us, all in fits of laughter at some ludicrous 
 incident that had occurred, and startled Kenny (a very 
 nervous man), so greatly that he let drop some of his 
 cards, and exclaimed " Is — Heaven broke loose ? " 
 
 Several changes occurred about this period (1827) 
 in the theatrical world. EUiston had been ruined at 
 Drury Lane, having paid the Committee for rent during 
 his seven years' occupation £65,000 out of £71,000, 
 besides expending nearly £30,000 in rebuilding, im- 
 proving, and decorating their property. 
 
 He retreated " pour mieux sauter," as he trusted, to 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 127 
 
 the Royal Circus, re-christened the Surrey Theatre, Mr. 
 Stephen Price (an American manager) becoming the 
 lessee of old Drury at a rental of equal magnitude. I 
 told George Robins, the well-known auctioneer and the 
 Magnus Apollo of Drury Lane at that period, that the 
 enormous rent the committee was screwing out of their 
 lessees rendered any chance of enduring success hope- 
 less, and that in a few years I should see the theatre to 
 let without a bidder for it. He laughed me to scorn : 
 but I was too true a prophet ; I did see it. 
 
 Glossop had been ruined at the Coburg, and the 
 theatre had passed into the hands of a Mr. Osbaldiston. 
 Previous to the change, however, I heard two criticisms 
 from the gallery there, from which a tolerably accurate 
 idea of the causes of failure in this case may I think 
 fairly be drawn. The first was the rebuke of an indig- 
 nant deity, who, during the performance of a wretchedly- 
 written melodrama, most carelessly represented, ex- 
 claimed, " We don't expect no grammar, but you might 
 let the scenes meet ! " The other was on the occasion 
 of the first exhibition of an enormous looking-glass 
 curtain or act drop, the advent of which had been 
 announced in the largest type for many weeks, and had 
 been confidently counted upon as an immense attraction. 
 The house was certainly crowded the first night, and I 
 was amono:st the number of the curious, if not of the 
 
128 EECOLLECTIONS AKD EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 sanguine spectators. After an overture, to which no 
 attention of course was paid by the excited and im- 
 patient audience, the promised novelty was duly dis- 
 played ; not one entire plate of glass — ^that could not 
 have been expected — but composed of a considerable 
 number of moderately-sized plates — I have seen larger 
 in some shop-windows — within an elaborately gilt 
 frame. The effect was anything but agreeable. The 
 glass was all over finger or other marks, and dimly re- 
 flected the two tiers of boxes and their occupants. It 
 was no imposition, however, it was a large mass of 
 plate-glass, and in those days must have cost a great 
 deal of money. There was consequently considerable 
 applause at its appearance. The moment it ceased, 
 some one in the gallery, possessing a stentorian voice, 
 called out, " That's all werry well ! Now show us 
 summut else ! ^^ What more cutting commentary could 
 the keenest wit have made upon this costly folly ? 
 Did the manager who was guilty of it deserve to 
 succeed ? 
 
 I retain one recollection of this theatre which is 
 really interesting. I was much struck one evening by 
 the admirable painting of the interior of a Swiss cot- 
 tage with a wooden gallery and staircase, and meeting 
 Glossop in the lobby between the acts of the piece — 
 the title of which has escaped me — I complimented 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 129 
 
 him on the possession of so good an artist, and inquired 
 his name. " That scene," he replied, "was painted by- 
 two boys. Come behind with me, and you shall see 
 them : they will be pleased with your praise." I fol- 
 lowed him, and on the stage saw two lads playing 
 at leap-frog. Those were the painters. I was in- 
 troduced to them. The name of the youngest was 
 Charles Tomkins ; the other's name was Clarkson 
 Stanfield. 
 
 Tomkins migrated to the Adelphi, where he attained 
 considerable reputation, but was unfortunately com- 
 pelled to relinquish his profession, in 1838, from the 
 effects of a sunstroke, and died shortly afterwards in 
 the prime of life. Of my old friend Stanfield 's career 
 it is unnecessary for me to speak. His greatest works 
 in oil are happily preserved to us ; but it is painful to 
 think how many of his exquisite pictures have necessa- 
 rily gone the way of all stage scenery — what moonlit 
 lakes and sunny seas have been painted out ; what 
 '^ cloud-capped towers and gorgeous palaces " used up, 
 and left " not a wreck behind ! " The name of Stan- 
 field naturally recalls that of another great scenic 
 artist, his gifted contemporary and fellow Koyal Acade- 
 mician, David Roberts, who also in the painting-room 
 of Drury Lane first developed that genius, which 
 
 VOL. I. K 
 
130 BECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 speedily obtained for him the highest honours in his 
 profession. 
 
 My acquaintance, by this time, had vastly increased in 
 various circles of society. My intimacy with the Kembles 
 had naturally led to a knowledge of their relatives 
 and visitors : Mr. and (the first) Mrs. Horace Twiss, 
 Mrs. Arkwright, whose musical recitation — for it could 
 not strictly be called singing — was marvellous for its 
 expression; Mr. Procter, the poet (better known as 
 Barry Cornwall), and his wife, both of whom I am 
 happy to number amongst my surviving friends ; also 
 their most amiable and highly gifted daughter Adelaide, 
 too early lost, but who has left us imperishable proofs 
 of her genius and exquisite sensibility ; and the late 
 Eev. William Harness (the school-fellow for whom 
 Byron fought at Harrow), one of the best and kindest 
 of men, but recently, by a sad accident, taken from us. 
 
 My general literary and antiquarian pursuits brought 
 me into communion with some of the most eminent 
 authors and archaeologists of the day ; and at the conver- 
 sazioni of Mr. Pettigrew, the Egyptian antiquary, in 
 Saville Row, the breakfasts of John Britton, the archi- 
 tect, who had always an encouraging word and a help- 
 ing hand for rising youth or struggling age, the soirees 
 at Sir Charles and Lady Morgan's, and the receptions 
 of other private friends, I met, and was introduced to 
 
 i 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND REFLECTIONS. 131 
 
 most of the notabilities then living in London. Amongst 
 the most interesting were the two great orientalists, Sir 
 Gore Ousely and Sir Robert Kerr Porter, Sir Robert's 
 accomplished sisters, Jane and Anna Maria Porter, 
 authors of those popular novels, " The Scottish Chiefs," 
 and ''Thaddeus of Warsaw ; " Haynes Bayly and Samuel 
 Lover, the songsters of society ; Mi^s. Opie, the most 
 charming of " Friends ; " and her connexion, Peyronet 
 Briggs, R.A., the historical painter ; Miss Agnes Strick- 
 land, Miss Pardee, Mrs. Jameson, G. P. R. James, 
 CoUey Grattan, and Francis Mahony, alias Father 
 Prout. 
 
 Unworthy of ranking amongst the above-named 
 eminent persons, yet perhaps one of the most extra- 
 ordinary characters of that period, moving particularly 
 in literary and theatrical circles, was a man known 
 familiarly as Tommy Hill. He might have sat to 
 Mrs. Centhvre for the portrait of Marplot in " The Busy 
 Body," and if not the original of Poole's "Paul Pry," 
 which Poole always denied, though nobody believed 
 him, he certainly sat for the portrait of Mr. Hull, in 
 Theodore Hook's novel " Gilbert Gurney." He knew, 
 or was supposed to know, everything about everybody, 
 and was asked to dine everywhere in order that he 
 might tell it. Scandal was, of course, the great staple 
 of his conversation ; but in general defamatory gossip 
 
 K 2 
 
132 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 he might have been equalled by too many. His 
 sjpecialite was the accurate information he could im- 
 part to those whom it concerned, or whom it did not 
 concern, of all the petty details of the domestic economy 
 of his friends, the contents of their wardrobes, their 
 pantries, the number of pots of preserves in their store- 
 closets, and of table napkins in their linen-presses, the 
 dates of their births and marriages, the amounts of their 
 tradesmen's bills, and whether they paid them weekly 
 or quarterly, or when they could — and he always 
 " happened to know," and never failed to inform you 
 when they couldn't. He had been " on the Press " in 
 former times, and particularly connected with the 
 " Morning Chronicle," and used to drive Mathews crazy 
 by ferreting out his whereabouts whenever he left Lon- 
 don, though but for a short private visit, popping the 
 address in some paper, and causing his letters to be sent 
 to houses after he had left them, sometimes to the ob- 
 struction of business, and always to the doubling of 
 postage — no small matter in those days. 
 
 But while so communicative respecting others, he 
 was rigidly reticent with regard to himself. Nobody 
 knew when or where he was born, or could form the- 
 slightest conjecture respecting his age or connections. 
 Fawcett and Farley, and others still more advanced in 
 years, remembered finding him established in London 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 133 
 
 when tliey entered it as young men, looking mucli the 
 same as he did when I knew him, and no one had ever 
 been able to elicit from him the least morsel of evidence 
 that would lead them to a probable conclusion. This 
 was the cause of much amusing banter amongst his 
 acquaintances, who used to ask him questions concern- 
 ing the Norman Conquest, the Spanish Armada, and 
 other ancient historical events, which they insisted he 
 must have been contemporary with ; and some one, 
 less extravagantly, identified him with a Mr. Thomas 
 Hill, who is mentioned by Pepys in his Diary, as giving 
 musical parties in the City in the reign of Charles II. 
 He bore all this with the greatest equanimity, and was 
 never observed to wince but upon two occasions ; once 
 when Theodore Hook declared that Tommy had stood 
 godfather to old Mrs. Davenport, which was just within 
 the bounds of possibility, and again when Charles 
 Dance maintained that it was quite clear Hill could 
 not have been, as reported, in the ark with Noah, 
 because the animals were all in pairs, and there never 
 was another beast of Tommy's kind. 
 
 It was surely his thus being the cause of wit in others 
 that occasioned him to be so constantly the guest of 
 many of the most brilliant men of the time ; for he was 
 certainly not witty himself, and I will not do them the 
 injustice to believe that the extremely small tittle-tattle 
 
134 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 of which he was the ceaseless retailer could have had 
 any particular attraction for them, although it occasion- 
 ally provoked laughter from its contemptible triviality. 
 I never heard any one express the least regard for him 
 while living, or regret for him when he died ; for I 
 believe, but would by no means affirm, that he is dead, 
 and *' kills characters no longer." 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 In the autumn of 1827 I had a little windfall in the 
 acceptable shape of a few hundreds, which I recovered 
 from the estate of a lady to whom I was next of kin, 
 but had never set eyes on in my life, and am at this 
 moment in ignorance of the precise twig of the family 
 tree from which she did us the favour to spring. All 
 I know is, that she was the widow of an American 
 gentleman of the name of Bonsai, and lived at Charles- 
 ton, South Carolina, U. S. (" American papers please 
 copy.") Previous to the war with America in 1815'''' 
 she was in frequent communication with my father, 
 and always requested him to keep her letters, as 
 " James " was her only blood relation. She could not, 
 therefore, have been a Planche, as of that illustrious 
 race I, the said James, was by no means the sole 
 
 * From a book entitled ** Yincent Nolte's Life in Two Hemisplieres,'* 
 I learned tliat a Major Planche, an American, commanded the Eifles 
 at the Siege of New Orleans, in that year. He Hved to be a General, 
 and died there at a yery advanced age. I entered into correspondence 
 with his family ; but could not trace any connection with mine. 
 
136 BECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLEOTIONS. 
 
 existing specimen at that period. I, therefore, pre- 
 sume Mrs. Bonsai must have hailed from the Teutonic 
 stock on which we were grafted, and was in both 
 senses of the word my cousin German. On the 
 renewal of amicable relations between the two coun- 
 tries I made several vain attempts (my father being 
 dead) to learn some tidings of my relation. Dowton, 
 the actor, who had made a professional tour through 
 the States, had seen and personally known the old 
 lady in Charleston before he knew me, and described 
 her as of goodly presence and highly respectable 
 position. At length, through the medium of Mr. 
 Miller, the theatrical bookseller of Bow Street, Covent 
 Garden, who had business communications with the 
 United States, I ascertained that she was dead, had 
 left no will, and that her property was claimed by the 
 family of her deceased husband. I was just in time 
 to put in my claim as heir-at-law, grounded on the 
 letters aforesaid, and being offered the choice of a 
 moiety or a chancery suit, by the advice, improbable as 
 it may seem, of my lawyer, I accepted the former, 
 and in due course received a remittance of something 
 short of a thousand pounds, with an intimation of 
 more to follow. 
 
 Thereupon I proposed to treat myself to another 
 tour in Germany; and Mrs. Blanche being in too 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 137 
 
 delicate a state of health at that moment to travel, 
 I started on the 15th of August for Vienna, accom- 
 panied by a gentleman, whose acquaintance I had 
 but recently made, but with whom I contracted a 
 friendship which terminated only with his death in 
 1858. Our route was upon this occasion by Ostend 
 to the Rhine, which we quitted at Coblentz for the 
 banks of the Lahn, visiting all the baths, from Ems to 
 Wiesbaden ; thence by Franckfort and Aschaffenburgh, 
 through the grand forest scenery of the Spessart, to 
 Wurtzburg. 
 
 Whilst discussing in the sjpiese saal of the hotel 
 *' La Cour de Bavierre," the inevitable veal chop 
 and a bottle of the famous wine wdiich is grown 
 upon the hill crowned by the citadel, a portly per- 
 sonage made his appearance, attired in a grass-green 
 frock-coat, a white waistcoat, and nankeen trousers. 
 A white hat, with green lining to the brim, surmounted 
 a profusion of tow-coloured, or no-coloured hair, which 
 fell in curls on his broad shoulders, and his closely- 
 shaven face had the "shining morning" glow of a 
 fresh-scrubbed schoolboy. W^hen, years afterwards, I 
 read Wilkie Collins' exciting novel, " The Woman in 
 White," I seemed to recognize an old acquaintance in 
 the admirably-drawn character of Fosco. This re- 
 markable individual seated himself, with a benevolent 
 
138 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 smile at our table, and courteously, but rather fami- 
 liarly, accosted us in French. " We were EngHsh? " 
 *'Yes." Was this our first visit to Wurtzburg? It 
 was. He should have great pleasure in showing us 
 the city. And, somehow or another, we had scarcely 
 concluded our luncheon when, without having actually 
 accepted his offer, we found ourselves in his — I 
 might almost say — custody. I myself, indeed, was 
 literally his captive, for, passing his left arm under my 
 right, as we issued from the hotel, he grasped my 
 wrist firmly in his capacious palm and then led me 
 along, wheeling me round suddenly and swiftly when 
 we arrived at any object he thought worthy our 
 attention. Prospect, building, or monument, he raised 
 his right hand towards it, uttering invariably the single 
 w^ord "Comment?" and before it was possible to 
 express an opinion in reply to that note of interro- 
 gation, down came the ponderous paw, like a sledge 
 hammer, upon my imprisoned arm, accompanied by 
 the exclamation, " C'est superb ! " I need scarcely 
 say that the repetition of this evolution at about every 
 hundred yards became, in the course of half an hour, 
 anything but agreeable, more particularly as I detected 
 a smile of malicious amusement on the countenance of 
 my more fortunate companion at every recurrence of 
 the infliction. A happy thought occurred to me. 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 139 
 
 Upon the next "right about face," at the same in- 
 stant that he said, "Comment?" I exclaimed, " C'est 
 superb ! " The anticipation had the effect of arresting 
 for a few seconds the descent of the paw ; but though 
 surprised, he was not to be defeated. Down it came 
 with the same force on the same place, with the verbal 
 variation of " C'est le mot ! " 
 
 "To bear is to conquer our fate," as the Bard 
 of Hope has philosophically sung, so I endured mine 
 stoically during the remainder of our promenade. 
 He was certainly a capital guide, and evidentl}^ 
 well known to the good folks of Wurtzburg — 
 civil, military, and official. In the Palace Gar- 
 dens a respectably-dressed young man was seated on 
 a bench, reading a book. As we were passing him 
 our fat friend coolly took it out of his hand, with the 
 question, "Vas lezen sie?" ("What are you read- 
 ing?") and having satisfied his curiosity by a glance 
 at the title-page, returned it to him with a polite bow, 
 receiving one as polite in exchange from the person 
 whose studies he had so unceremoniously interrupted. 
 Through the gates, up the grand marble staircase, and 
 through the state apartments of the palace we passed, 
 unchallenged by sentinels, unquestioned by servants. 
 No one spoke to him, or interfered in any way with 
 his movements or descriptions, and I have no doubt 
 
140 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 we saw more in two hours under his direction than we 
 could have done in a day if left to our own devices. 
 After conducting my companion through the Lunatic 
 Asylum — an excellent establishment, with an inspec- 
 tion of the exterior of which, however, I was perfectly 
 contented, and enjoyed meanwhile the release of my 
 arm fi'om the pounding it had undergone — our mys- 
 terious friend took leave of us with the same famihar 
 courtesy that had characterised all his proceedings, 
 neither demanding nor apparently expecting any re- 
 muneration for his trouble, being, no doubt, sufficiently 
 paid for it by the police, of which it was subsequently 
 hinted to us by our host he was a secret agent. They 
 manage these matters extremely well in Germany, 
 as we had afterwards more than one opportunity of 
 observing. 
 
 From Wurtzburg we journeyed by diligence to 
 Nuremberg, the city of Albert Durer, and worthy 
 of being the birthplace of such an artist. There 
 we hired a carriage to take us to Regensburg 
 (Ratisbon), the tidings of which arrangement having 
 reached the ears of a learned professor sojourning in 
 the hotel, and who was desirous of migrating to the 
 said city, his wish was communicated to us by the 
 waiter while we were at dinner, with a request that 
 we would allow the learned gentleman to share our 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLEOTIONS. 141 
 
 conveyance, he paying his proportion of the expenses 
 hien entendu. We consented, and were consequently 
 favoured with his company for two days, during which, 
 as he spoke nothing but German, of which our know- 
 ledge was exceedingly limited, we were not com- 
 pensated by any particularly amusing or interesting 
 conversation, for his total forgetfulness to settle his 
 account with us on arriving at the end of our journey. 
 The herr professor was most probably not over- 
 burdened with cash, and we would have willingly 
 given him a lift ; but it is disagreeable to feel done 
 out of sixpence — a tout jgeclieur misericorde. 
 
 At Ratisbon we hired a flat-bottomed boat of pecu- 
 liar construction, called a Weitz-ziller, used to descend 
 the Danube in those days, when no steamer had ever 
 profaned that romantic river. This singular-looking 
 craft was forty feet in length, and composed of deal 
 planks quite rough and rudely nailed together, the ribs 
 being natural branches, and in the centre a kind of hut 
 of the same materials. It was, in fact, little more than 
 a large rude punt, rowed by two men with long paddles 
 tied to upright posts, and steered by a third with a 
 similar paddle. For boat and men we paid something 
 less than ten pounds in EngHsh money, with an under- 
 standing that they were to land us at Vienna in the 
 course of four davs. 
 
142 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 My account of this little voyage was published 
 in an octavo volume, entitled " The Descent of the 
 Danube," shortly after my return ; and ample quota- 
 tions from it will be found in Mr. Murray's " Hand- 
 book for Southern Germany." For though he declined 
 taking the book, which I offered first to him, he paid 
 me the compliment of borrowing pretty considerably 
 from it as soon as it was pubhshed. Consequently, 
 as no very remarkable adventure occurred to us during 
 the descent, I will spare the reader of these " Recollec- 
 tions " the repetition of descriptions of scenery which, 
 forty-three years ago, possessed the charm of novelty 
 for the majority of English travellers, but is now — 
 though not so familiar as that of the Rhine — sufficiently 
 well-known to the general public. 
 
 Two questions were eagerly asked wherever we 
 landed : " Was the Thames Tunnel finished ? " 
 "Was Mr. Canning dead?" Alas! that we had to 
 answer " Yes " to the second. He had died some 
 three weeks before we started ; and a farce of mine, 
 most unfortunately named ^' You must be Buried," 
 was produced at the Haymarket on the 11th of 
 August, a few days previous to his funeral. It was 
 simply a free translation of " La Veuve de Malabar," 
 sent to me by Laporte to do for him ; and there was 
 not a word in its one short act to give offence, or which 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND BEFLECTIONS. 143 
 
 could possibly be twisted into any allusion to the seri- 
 ous loss the nation was lamenting ; but, as ill-luck 
 would have it, John Reeve, who played a principal 
 part in it, was more imperfect than usual, and being, as 
 usual, BaccJii plenus^ indulged in such vulgar and re- 
 volting ribaldry of his own introduction — technically 
 called " gag " — that the audience, already prejudiced 
 by the mal-a-pro'pos title, became justly incensed, and 
 hissed the piece furiously. It lingered on the stage for 
 a few nights, and was then, in obedience to its prophetic 
 appellation, consigned to the tomb of all the Capulets. 
 
 A version of the same piece, at a more fortunate 
 period, was successfully produced at Drury Lane by 
 Kenney, and still keeps the stage under the improved 
 title of " The Illustrious Stranger." The same subject 
 has recently also been used for a burlesque by Mr. 
 Robert Reece, called " Brown and the Brahmins." 
 
 I was present at the funeral of Mr. Canning in West- 
 minster Abbey, and remember the extraordinary effect 
 produced by the remarkable likeness of Sir Thomas 
 Lawrence, who was one of the mourners, to the emi- 
 nent statesman whose remains were being borne before 
 him. It was as though the spirit of the departed was 
 regretfully following the tenement of clay from which 
 it had been so suddenly ejected. 
 
 But to return to Vienna, where we were duly landed, 
 
144 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 according to contract, on the fourth day after leaving 
 Ratisbon. On landing, we were most politely invited 
 by an officer in fall uniform to walk in and take our 
 seats in his private apartments, while our baggage was 
 being brought on shore, and a vehicle obtained to take 
 us to our hotel ; " Die Kaiserin Von Oestreich," which 
 he specially recommended to us. After a very agree- 
 able chat with him, on all sorts of subjects, our pass- 
 ports having been pronounced " en regle,^' and our 
 carriage arrived, we parted with mutual and repeated 
 salutations, feeling quite grateful for the information he 
 had favoured us with, so valuable, as my companion 
 observed to two foreigners, who had for the first time 
 visited Vienna ! As he made this remark we both 
 seemed suddenly to recollect our fat friend at Wurtz- 
 burg, and felt that we had fairly balanced the obliga- 
 tion, by giving our polite host all the information re- 
 specting ourselves that the police could possibly desire 
 to become possessed of. 
 
 The young Duke of Reichstadt (Napoleon 11. , as 
 he has since been styled) was then residing in 
 the palace of Schonbrun. We were shown his 
 apartments, but did not catch a glimpse of the 
 prince himself. We saw everything else that was 
 to be seen ; made an excursion to Laxembourg (the 
 Wilhelmshoe of Vienna), the lovely Hellenthal, and the 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 145 
 
 Briilil, a romantic gorge in the mountains of the Wiener 
 Wald ; and after a brief but pleasant sojourn in the 
 capital of Austria, proceeded by Salzburg to Munich, 
 from thence to Lindau, the Lake of Constance, Schaff- 
 hausen, and the Falls of the Rhine, through the Black 
 Forest to Basle, crossed the Vosges, sleeping at the 
 little village of St. Maurice on the summit, where we 
 hopped over the Moselle at its source, and then by 
 Nancy to Paris, where I heard Scribe and Auber's 
 charming opera "Le Philtre," on the libretto of which 
 Donizetti founded his " Ehsire d'Amore " and saw the 
 ballet of "La Somnambule," with Montessu for the 
 heroine, the subject of which was afterwards converted 
 into an opera for Bellini. 
 
 I returned to London, to find my "Rencontre " still 
 drawing good houses at the Haymarket, and to com- 
 mence work for the coming season at Covent Garden ; 
 to the stage of which I had the pleasure of restoring 
 (Feb. 5th, 1828) another of our fine old comedies, 
 " The City Match," by Jasper Mayne, first acted in 
 1639, with some additions from Rowley's " Match at 
 Midnight;" the title of my arrangement being "The 
 Merchant's Wedding." His Royal Highness the Duke 
 of Clarence was present on its first performance, and 
 w^as so much pleased with it, that I received his per- 
 mission to dedicate the play^ on publication, to him. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
146 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 My friendly connection with Covent Garden Theatre 
 was, however, destined to be temporarily suspended. 
 With Mr. Charles Kemble I should never have had any 
 disagreement ; but, unfortunately, he had two partners. 
 One of them, it is true, was a quiet person who seldom 
 spoke, though probably, like the Welshman's parrot, 
 "he thought the more; " but the other was a " rude 
 and boisterous captain of the sea," who, utterly desti- 
 tute of literary taste, and ignorant of theatrical usage, 
 imagined a play-house could be managed like a ship, 
 and everybody "on board" treated as the crew of it. 
 If the greatest actor in the company was too ill to play 
 his part, he would say, " Let another fellow do it! " 
 perfectly indifferent as to whether the " other fellow " 
 could ; or if he refused one he was asked to play, he 
 would have ordered him a round dozen, had it been in 
 his power to enforce the punishment. " He'd flog 
 Charles Young ! " growled Fawcett one day to me. 
 " I know he would if he could!— he'd positively flog 
 Charles Young ! " I rarely came in contact with this 
 gentleman : but after Easter the business declined, and 
 some difiiculty was found in meeting the manager's 
 engagements. Mr. Kemble never interfered in the 
 financial arrangements of the theatre ; and I was, there- 
 fore, compelled to have an interview with " the officer 
 in command" of the treasury; whose discourtesy was 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 147 
 
 SO gross, that I declined any further communication 
 with him, and left him to be brought to book by my 
 solicitor. Of course I withdrew myself, though with 
 much reluctance, from a theatre to which I had become 
 so much attached that I had repeatedly declined most 
 tempting offers to write for the rival establishment ; 
 and, after producing "A Daughter to Marry" and 
 '' The Green-eyed Monster " at the Haymarket during 
 the summer, and " The Mason of Buda" at the Adelphi 
 in October, I accepted the renewed offer of Mr. Stephen 
 Price, and set to work once more for Old Drury. 
 
 On the 11th of November, 1828 (the anniversary, as it 
 happened, of the death of its eccentric hero), my drama 
 " Charles Xllth " was brought out at that theatre with 
 remarkable success : Farren looking and acting the 
 Swedish monarch to perfection, and Listen taking the 
 house by storm in the character of Adam Brock, which 
 had been considered by the management quite out of 
 his line, but which he had taken to eagerly and played 
 so admirably that, as he was constantly in the habit of 
 declaring, " I had given him the opportunity of making 
 a new reputation." My old friend, and dramatic father, 
 as he used to call himself, John Harley, made an 
 amusing Muddlework, a part which, in the theatre, 
 was thought should have been Listen's ; and Miss 
 Ellen Tree as Ulrica, and Miss Love, with the ballad 
 
148 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 of " Rise, gentle Moon," composed for lier by John 
 Barnet, contributed to secure for the piece a popularity 
 wliicb it enjoys to the present day. 
 
 On tlie morning after its fiftieth representation my 
 wife received a very handsome silver tea-service, with 
 a note from Mr. Price, begging her acceptance of it, 
 " as a small acknowledgment of the great success of 
 ' Charles Xllth.'" 
 
 A far greater benefit, not to me alone, but to 
 English dramatic authors in general, resulted ulti- 
 mately from this "great success." The piece not 
 being printed and pubhshed, which, at that period, 
 would have entitled any manager to perform it 
 without the author's permission, Mr. Murray, of 
 the Theatre Royal, Edinburgh, wrote to inquire 
 upon what terms I would allow him to produce 
 it. I named the very moderate sum of ten pounds, 
 which he admitted I was perfectly justified in asking, 
 but declined paying, on the plea that since the intro- 
 duction of half-price in the provinces, the expenses at- 
 tendant on the production of afterpieces was barely 
 covered by the receipt they brought. This was all 
 very well; but Mr. Murray had the dishonesty to 
 obtain surreptitiously a MS. copy of the piece, and the 
 effrontery, in the face of the above excuse, to pro- 
 duce the piece, without my permission, at loliole jpricc . 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. UV 
 
 leaving me to my remedy. I did not bring an action 
 against him, but I asked Poole, Kenny, Limn, Peake, 
 and some others of the working dramatists of the day 
 to dine with me in Brompton Crescent and talk the 
 matter over ; and it was agreed that steps should be 
 immediately taken to obtain the protection of an Act 
 of Parliament. I accordingly called on the Hon. 
 George Lamb at Melbourne House, and he kindly con- 
 sented to bring in a bill for that purpose. He did so, 
 but was unable to get it through the third reading. 
 Mr. Lytton Bulwer, now Lord Lytton, then took it in 
 hand, and succeeded in carrying the measure through 
 both Houses. It received the Eoyal assent June 10, 
 1833 (3rd of William IV.), and though, from the diffi- 
 culties of enforcing it against managers who are un- 
 principled enough to resort to any means by which 
 they can evade payment, it does not enable the author 
 to— 
 
 " sit at ease, 
 Under tlie shade of his own laurel trees," 
 
 as was more poetically than truthfully stated in the 
 prologue to his Lordship's play, " The Duchess de La 
 ValHere," it must be thankfully acknowledged that it 
 has greatly improved the dramatic writer's position, by 
 giving him an indisputable control over his own pro- 
 perty ; and managers have to thank the unworthy con- 
 
150 EECOLLEOTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 duct of one, who was considered the most respectable 
 of then' fraternity, for the existence of the first Dramatic 
 Authors' Act. I reserve some remarks and reflections 
 on the working of this Act for a subsequent chapter. 
 I have anticipated events for some years, and must re- 
 turn to the date I have strayed from. 
 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 In the summer of 1829 I had the opportunity of 
 treating the subject of " The Vampire " in accordance 
 with my own ideas of propriety. The French melo- 
 drama had been converted into an opera for the German 
 stage, and the music composed by Marschner. 
 
 Mr. Hawes, who had obtained a score of it, having 
 induced Mr. Arnold to produce it at the Lyceum, I was 
 engaged to write the libretto, and consequently laid the 
 scene of action in Hungary, where the superstition 
 exists to this day, substituted for a Scotch chieftain a 
 Wallachian Boyard, and in many other respects im- 
 proved upon my earlier version. The opera w^as 
 extremely well sung, and the costumes novel as well 
 as correct, thanks to the kindness of Dr. Walsh, the 
 traveller,* who gave me some valuable information 
 respecting the national dresses of the Magyars and 
 the Wallachians. 
 
 * Eev. Eobert Walsh, LL.D., author of "A Eesidence in Constan- 
 tinople," and other similar works. 
 
152 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 I am surprised that Marschner's most dramatic and 
 melodious works, " Der Vampyr," " Die Judin," &c., 
 have not been introduced to our more advanced 
 musical audiences at one or other of our great ope- 
 ratic establishments. 
 
 The production of "Der Vampyr" was followed 
 by that of " The Brigand " at Drury Lane, in 
 which that great melodramatic favourite, James 
 Wallack, increased his popularity so immensely by 
 his performance of the hero, " Alessandro Mazza- 
 roni," that the public would scarcely receive him 
 in Tragedy or Comedy, the leading parts in which 
 he was ambitious of sustaining. This unlooked-for 
 consequence so nettled him, that he has frequently 
 
 said to me, quite savagely, * D n your " Brigand," 
 
 sir! It has been the ruin of me.' Nevertheless, he 
 was not best pleased with his brother Henry, a very 
 inferior actor, anticipating him in the character all 
 over the country, and advertising himself as " Mr. 
 Wallack of the Theatre Koyal, Drury Lane," omitting 
 the distinguishing baptismal appellation. 
 
 In this melodrama I introduced three tableaux from 
 Eastlake's well-known pictures, "An Italian Brigand 
 Chief reposing," " The Wife of a Brigand Chief watch- 
 ing the result of a Battle," and " The Dying Brigand," 
 engravings of which had been just publislied by 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. lo3 
 
 Messrs. Moon, Boys, & Graves, and were in all the 
 printsliop windows. They were very effective, and led 
 to the adoption of this attractive feature in several sub- 
 sequent dramas, Douglas Jerrold's '^ Rent Day," 
 founded on Wilkie's celebrated picture, in particular. 
 Perhaps one of the most unexpected hits in the piece 
 was the extraordinary success of the song, " Gentle 
 Zitella," which I wrote for Wallack to sing, who was 
 no singer. Assisted by the situation, he got through 
 it very creditably, and it told well with the audience ; 
 but the extraordinary part of the business was the 
 enormous popularity of the song out of the theatre. 
 The late Mr. Chappell, of New Bond Street, who was 
 at that moment in treaty for the purchase of the busi- 
 ness of Mr. Latour, had agreed to give, as I was 
 credibly informed, £500 more for it on the strength of 
 the sale of tha* song alone, which brought him upwards 
 of £1000 the first year, and continued for many to pro- 
 duce a considerable income. 
 
 By this bit of good fortune I profited not one 
 shilling. Mr. T. Cooke received £25 for his arrange- 
 ment of the air (which was mine as well as the 
 words), and some further benefit in the exchange 
 of a piano ; but when, on hearing of the wonderful 
 sale of the song, I appealed to Mr. Latour for some 
 recognition, however trifling, of my property in the 
 
154 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 work, he referred me to Mr. Chappell, to wliom lie 
 had sold the business, and who would reap all the 
 profits of the song ; and on applying to Mr. Chappell, 
 he assured me that Mr. Latour had exacted so large a 
 sum from him in consideration of the value of that 
 song, that he really could not afford to pay anything 
 more for it. He had bought it of Mr. Latour, and 
 to Mr. Latour I must look for remuneration. 
 
 This set me a-thinking. It had been a custom of long 
 standing for an author to allow the composer of his opera 
 to publish the words with the music. They were not 
 considered of any value, and in a literary point of view 
 there might, in too many instances, have been some 
 truth in the assertion. Still, without the words, how- 
 ever poor they might be, the music of a new opera 
 could not be published. That fact never appeared to 
 have occurred to any one, or, if it had, no author 
 had thought it worth his while to moot the question. 
 In those days successful dramas had a certain sale, and 
 there were actually booksellers who would give a^ery 
 fair price for a new play, and a much larger one for an 
 opera, as the sale of the book of the songs in the house 
 would alone net a sufficient sum to pay the author and 
 the expenses of printing at the least, without reckon- 
 ing the money taken over the counter for the complete 
 libretto. But those days were fast disappearing, and 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 155 
 
 booksellers were becoming chary of purchasing the 
 copyrights of any dramatic pieces whatever, unless at 
 such low prices that they were able to publish them 
 in a small size at sixpence or a shilling, instead of, 
 as formerly, in 8vo, at three or five shillings. The 
 lyrical drama also, assuming gradually a more strictly- 
 operatic form, " the book of the songs " no longer con- 
 sisted of a few ballads and duets, a glee and two or three 
 choruses. It contained the greater part of the whole 
 piece, and every word of it was printed and published 
 by the music-seller, without the least compensation to 
 the bookseller who had purchased the copyright of the 
 author. Mr. Miller, Mr. Dolby, and other theatrical 
 booksellers, had paid me fifty, sixty, and a hundred 
 pounds for copyrights, but such offers were "getting 
 few by degi'ees and beautifully less." Meanwhile, the 
 music-publishers were making large fortunes by the 
 sale of songs for the words of which they had not 
 paid sixpence. The case of " Gentle Zitella," though 
 the most flagrant, was no by means the first. The 
 ballad of "Rise, gentle Moon," in Charles Xllth," 
 had been published by the composer as a matter of 
 course, and had commanded an extensive sale without 
 my receiving the shghtest consideration for it. I 
 determined to be the victim of "tyrant custom" no 
 longer, and told George Rodwell, who was just about 
 
156 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 to publish the vocal pieces of my operetta, "The 
 Mason of Buda," of which he had arranged the music, 
 that I should expect some payment, I cared not about 
 the amount, provided it was a sufficient recognition 
 of my right as author of the libretto. 
 
 My protest was contemptuously disregarded, and 
 the music was published in defiance of it. I walked 
 into the city, not to my lawyer, but to Mr. Cum- 
 berland, who was then pubhshing his " Theatre," 
 explained to him the case, and sold and assigned to 
 him, in due form, all my rights and interests, vested 
 and contingent, in the operetta of " The Mason of 
 Buda.'' 
 
 On my return home, I informed Messrs. D'Almaine 
 & Co. of the step I had taken, and that, as they 
 had declined to deal with me, they would now 
 have to deal with Mr. Cumberland. My letter 
 was speedily followed by one from Mr. Cumber- 
 land's solicitor, prohibiting the further sale of the 
 music, and demanding an account. How they com- 
 promised matters with Cumberland, I forget, if I ever 
 knew, but I recollect being warmly thanked by my old 
 acquaintance FitzBall, to whom D'Almaine had sent in 
 a great pucker, and paid him for a host of things for 
 which otherwise he would not have received a farthing ; 
 and from that time I have been fairly paid by the music- 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 157 
 
 publishers for the right of printing the words of my 
 operas, without injury to the composers, who com- 
 manded the same prices as they did previously. I had 
 the gratification also of feeling in this case, as well as 
 in that of the Dramatic Authors' Act, that I w^as not 
 simply struggling for my own benefit, but for that of 
 all my extremely ill-treated brethren, whose claims 
 were invariably the last considered by managers or 
 publishers. 
 
 The season of 1829 — 30 brought the managerial 
 career of Mr. Stephen Price at Drury Lane to a 
 disastrous conclusion — an event as much to be de- 
 plored for the sake of the public as for his own ; 
 for he had catered well and successfully for them, and 
 conducted the theatre with considerable tact and great 
 respectability, and had actually made a little money the 
 second season. But the rent was certain to ruin any 
 lessee in the long run ; and the infatuated proprietors 
 continued cutting up the goose that laid them golden 
 eggs till they could find no goose green enough to 
 submit to the operation. Mr. Price was not a highly 
 educated man, nor the possessor of a very refined 
 taste ; but he was a straight-forward, sensible man 
 of business, thoroughly understood the practical work- 
 ing of a theatre, having been many years the manager 
 of one of the principal theatres in New York. He 
 
158 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 had no favourites but such as experience proved to him 
 were favourites of the pubKc ; no prejudices to warp 
 his judgment, and was perfectly free from that common 
 and fatal weakness of managers — the encouragement 
 of talebearers and mischief-makers. He had his 
 likings and his dislikings, as other men ; but he never 
 suffered them to bias him in matters of business, never 
 allowed private feeling to influence his conduct to a 
 performer, or affect the interest of the public. At the 
 same time he ruled with a strong hand, and could 
 neither be coaxed nor coerced into taking any step 
 which his natural shrewdness warned him might be 
 hazardous. An eminent tragedian once suggested to 
 him the omission of Locke's music in the tragedy of 
 " Macbeth," as it was an interpolation, the words sung 
 to it being taken from Middleton's " Witch." Price 
 listened attentively to his arguments, and after a few 
 minutes of apparent consideration, said, " Well, look 
 here, sir, I don't think it would do to omit the music; 
 but, if you think it would be an improvement, I've no 
 objection to leave out the Macbeth." 
 
 Price was very fond of a rubber, and not more 
 irritable than whist-players in general, when a partner 
 makes a mistake. A gentleman, apologismg for an 
 inadvertence by saying, "I beg your pardon, Mr. 
 Price, I thought the queen was out," lie rephed, I'll 
 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND REFLECTIONS. 159 
 
 bet you five pounds, sir, you didn't think any such 
 thing." 
 
 A Beef-steak Chib had been estabHshed at Drury 
 Lane, in 1826, in imitation of the original at the 
 Enghsh Opera House. The meetings took place in the 
 painting room of the theatre, a portion of which was 
 partitioned off by scenery. The lessee for the time 
 being was the president, and the treasurer of the 
 theatre (" Billy Dunn," as he was familiarly called — a 
 great character) acted in the same capacity, as well as 
 secretary, for the club, having the assistance of a 
 deputy in the collection of the subscriptions, fines, &c., 
 who was Kean's friend John Hughes. I was not 
 a member of the club, but occasionally dined with it as 
 a guest. There was much good fun, as may be imagined, 
 at these dinners, and not a little practical joking. A 
 rather strong example of the latter may be worth re- 
 cording. By one of the rules of the club the fine of 
 half-a-crown was imposed upon all members using 
 certain expressions or doing certain things most natural 
 and inoffensive, and which, from general and constant 
 custom, it was almost impossible to avoid. One even- 
 ing the company appeared strangely oblivious or perti- 
 naciously defiant of their regulation. Everybody was 
 fined over and over again, and little Jack Hughes was 
 kept constantly on his legs during the dinner, rushing 
 
160 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 from one end of the table to another to collect the 
 half-crowns of the unwary or wilful offenders. Shortly 
 after the cloth was drawn, the messenger of the theatre 
 was sent up by the stage-doorkeeper, to tell Mr. Hughes 
 a gentleman wished to speak with him directly on im- 
 portant business. Hughes followed the messenger down 
 to the hall, and was ushered into the little room on the 
 right of the entrance, used sometimes as a manager's 
 
 room, and therein found L , a Bow Street of&cer, 
 
 who was perfectly well-known to him. On inquiring 
 the object of his visit, the officer gravely replied that 
 he was extremely sorry to say, having known and re- 
 spected Mr. Hughes for several years, that an informa- 
 tion had been laid against him for the uttering of base 
 coin, and that a wan^ant had been issued, which it was 
 his painful duty to be the bearer of. Poor little Hughes, 
 conscious of his innocence, was nevertheless horror- 
 struck at the intelligence, and, while indignantly repu- 
 diating the charge, implored the officer not to take 
 him into custody, pledging his honour that he would 
 attend at Bow Street the next morning, and meet any 
 accusation that could be brought against him. The 
 officer said it would be at his own peril if he acceded 
 to such a proposition ; but having known Mr. Hughes 
 so long, and feeling confident there must be some mis- 
 take, he would run the risk, provided Mr. Hughes 
 
EECOLLECriONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 161 
 
 would not object to his searching him on the spot. 
 Huglies assented eagerly, little thinking what would 
 follow. In a few minutes the officer was in possession 
 of between two and three dozen of bad half-crowns, 
 which Jack had unsuspiciously stuffed into his pockets 
 as fast as he could take them, without examination. In 
 vain did he offer the easy explanation, and request the 
 officer to go up-stairs with him, or to send for Dunn to 
 corroborate his statement. Under such suspicious cir- 
 cumstances, he was told, he must be locked up for the 
 night, and send for the witnesses in the morning. At 
 this point, however, it was considered that the joke had 
 been carried far enough ; and Dunn, the chief con- 
 spirator, who had been on the watch, made his appear- 
 ance and relieved his half-distracted deputy from appre- 
 hension of any description. He was a good-natured 
 little fellow, and generously forgave the perpetrators 
 the trick they had played him, which was rather beyond 
 a joke, and even extended his clemency to the Bow 
 Street officer, whose conduct in lending himself to the 
 imposition was highly reprehensible, and, if reported, 
 would have been severely visited. 
 
 He was a dry fellow, that Billy Dunn, a great 
 character, as I have already observed. During the 
 many years he was treasurer of Drury Lane I 
 don't suppose he once witnessed a performance; 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
162 
 
 EECOLLECTIONS AND BEFLECTIONS. 
 
 but regularly after tlie curtain had fallen on a new 
 piece, it mattered not of what description, he would 
 let himself through with his pass-key from the front 
 of the house, as if he had sat it out, and on being 
 asked his opinion, invariably answer, after a long pause 
 and a proportionate pinch of snuff, "Wants cutting." 
 Nine times out of ten he was right, and if wrong it 
 would have been dif&cult to prove that he was so, as he 
 never entered into any discussion of the subject. The 
 trouble of extracting a direct reply from him, at any 
 time or concerning anything, was remarkable. I called 
 one morning at the theatre, on my way to the city, to 
 ask him a question about writing orders on some par- 
 ticular night. I was told he was in the treasury, and 
 accordingry ran up to it. He was alone at his desk, 
 countino- cheques. "Would there be any objection, 
 Dunn, to my sending a friend or two to the boxes 
 on such a night?" He looked at me, but made no 
 answer, and continued to count his cheques. I 
 waited patiently till he had finished and replaced 
 them in the bags. Still no answer. He turned to 
 his books. I waited perhaps five more minutes, and 
 then, without repeating my inquiry, or speaking 
 another word, walked quietly out of the room and 
 went about my other business. Returning between 
 two and three in the afternoon, I ascertamed from 
 
EECOLLECTIONS xiND REFLECTIONS. 163 
 
 the hall-keeper that Mr. Dunn was still in the 
 theatre. I mounted the stairs again, entered the 
 treasury, and found him, as before, alone. I stood 
 perfectly silent while he looked at me and took the 
 customary pinch of snuff, after which he drawled 
 out, "No, I should think not ; " some four hours 
 having elapsed since I asked him the question. 
 
 M 2 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 On the 24tli of December, 1829, I was elected a 
 fellow of the Society of Antiquaries, and was received 
 with the usual formalities at the next meeting, Uth 
 January, 1830. This led to my making the acquaint- 
 ance of 'many remarkable persons— Hallam, the his- 
 torian of the Middle Ages, Gage Rookwood, the Sussex 
 Antiquary, Hudson Gurney, Grabb Robinson, &c. At 
 the same time I belonged to a newly-formed club. No. 
 12, Waterloo Place, called the " Literary Union," of which 
 Campbell the poet was the founder and president, and 
 Mr Cyrus Redding, I think, the secretary.* Jerdan, 
 John Jesse, Dr. Maginn, Samuel Carter Hall, Harrison 
 Ainsworth, and the majority of the working authors of 
 that day had entered it; but some irregularities, which 
 led to dissensions and brought it into bad odour, occa- 
 
 . The first committee was composed of the foUowing members- 
 W Avrton, Prince CimitiUi, Sir George Duckett. Sir Francis Freehng, 
 J Gcldsmid, Dr. Henderson. Wm. Mackinnon, S. Maxbn S:r Go« 
 Ousely. W. H. Kckersgill. E.A., Eev. Dr. Wade, E. Walmer, anc 
 J. Webster. 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 165 
 
 sioned it to be dissolved and reconstructed as " The 
 Clarence." Campbell was re-elected president, and 
 many of the old members adhered to it ; but another 
 and more attractive one was projected, principally by 
 Mr. Francis Mills and Mr. Henry Broadwood, with the 
 avowed object of supporting the drama, and bringing 
 authors and actors into more social communication with 
 the noblest and most influential of its patrons as well as 
 with each other. The scheme was warmly taken up, 
 a committee formed, a house in King Street, Covent 
 Garden, known as " Probert's Hotel," was secured by 
 them in November, 1831, and the name selected for 
 the new club was " The Garrick." 
 
 On the 15th of February following, the opening was 
 inaugurated by a dinner, H.R.H. tlie Duke of Sussex, 
 who had signified his pleasure to be patron of the club, 
 taking the chair, supported by the Earl of Mulgrave, 
 afterwards Marquis of Normanby (president), the 
 Marquis of Clanricarde, the Marquis of Worcester, the 
 Earl of Chesterfield, Viscount Castlereagh, Lord 
 Adolphus Fitzclarence, and many other noblemen, 
 whilst the general company included the majority of 
 the principal dramatists and actors then living. It was 
 a vastly pleasant club, receiving constant additions of 
 the most desirable members. Since the days of 
 " AVill's " and " Button's," I question if such an assem- 
 
166 . RECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 blage as could be daily met witli there, between four 
 and six in the afternoon, had ever been seen in a coffee- 
 room. James Smith, Poole, and Charles Mathews the 
 elder, were original members. The Eev. Eichard 
 Harris Barham (Tom Tngoldsby), Theodore Hook, 
 Thackeray, Charles Dickens, and a host of memorable 
 names were gradually added to the list ; and the club 
 being formed upon the principle that membership was 
 a sufficient introduction, the social intercourse between 
 men 'of all ranks was an attractive feature in " The 
 Garrick," distinguishing it agreeably from the gene- 
 rality of such establishments, wherein, as a friend of 
 mine observed of one of the most celebrated, "it 
 was as much as your life was worth to ask a stranger 
 to poke the fire." 
 
 Amongst the earlier members was a very amiable and 
 accomplished gentleman, who, perfectly sane upon all 
 other topics, had what the Scotch call "a bee in his 
 bonnet" on the subject of the "Millennium." If this 
 were touched upon he would start up from his chair, 
 pace the room agitatedly, and declaim in the most 
 vehement manner on the approach of that momentous 
 epoch. One day, when he was more than ordinarily ex- 
 cited, he assured us that the world would be at an end 
 within three years from that date. Hook looked up 
 from his newspaper, and said, " Come, L , if you 
 
EEOOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 167 
 
 are inclined to back your opinion, give me five pounds 
 now, and I will undertake to pay you fifty if it 
 
 occurs." L was not quite mad enough, to close 
 
 with the whimsical offer. 
 
 I had often met Hook in society without being 
 introduced to him ; but our acquaintance and inti- 
 macy dated simultaneously from the evening of a 
 dinner at Horace Twiss's in Park Place, St. James's, 
 the precise period of which has escaped me, but not 
 the circumstances connected with it. It was a very 
 merry party. Mr. John Murray (the great Murray of 
 Albemarle Street), James Smith, and two or three 
 others, remained till very late in the dining-room, some 
 of us singing and giving imitations. Hook being pressed 
 to sing another of his wonderful extemporary songs, con- 
 sented, with a declaration that tbe subject should be John 
 Murray. Murray objected vehemently, and a ludicrous 
 contention took place, during which Hook dodged him 
 round the table, placing chairs in his path, w^hich was 
 sufficiently devious without them, and singing all the 
 while a sort of recitative, of which I remember only the 
 commencement : 
 
 *' My friend, Jolin Murray, I see has arriyed at the head of the table. 
 And the wonder is, at this time of night, that John Murray should 
 
 be able. 
 He's an excellent hand at a dinner, and not a bad one at a lunch, 
 But the devil of John Murray is that he never will pass the punch." 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 It was daybreak — broad daylight, in fact, before we 
 separated. I bad given an imitation of Edmund Kean 
 and Holland, in Matliurin's tragedy of " Bertram," 
 which had amused Hook ; and, as we were getting our 
 hats, he asked me where I lived. On my answering 
 " At Brompton," he said, " Brompton ! — why that's in 
 my way home — I live at Fulham. Jump into my 
 cabriolet, and I'll set you down." The sun of a fine 
 summer morning was rising as we passed Hyde Park 
 Corner. " I have been very ill," said Hook, " for some 
 time, and my doctors told me never to be out of doors 
 after dark, as the night air was the worst thing for me. 
 I have taken their advice. I drive into town at four 
 o'clock every afternoon, dine at * Crockford's,' or 
 wherever I may be invited, and never go home till this 
 time in the morning. I have not breathed the night 
 air for the last two months." From that day to the 
 latest of his life. Hook's attachment to me was so re- 
 markable, that, knowing his irresistible passion for 
 hoaxing and practical jokes of all descriptions, I was at 
 first a little alarmed occasionally at the peculiar and 
 marked attention he paid to me, accompanied as it was 
 by respect, which from one of his age and celebrity was 
 as singular as, if sincere, it was flattering. That it was 
 sincere I had many gratifying proofs, some of which I 
 §till treasure, in his handwriting. His fame as an im- 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 169 
 
 provisatore is a matter of social history ; but I cannot 
 refrain from giving one instance of his powers which is 
 as creditable to his heart as his head. There had been 
 a large party at the house of some mutual friends of 
 ours and Hook's neighbours at Fulham. It was late, 
 but many still remained, and before separating another 
 song was requested of him. He was weary, and really 
 suffering, but good-naturedly consented on condition 
 that somebody would suggest a subject. No one 
 volunteering, he said, " Well, I think the most proper 
 subject at this hour would be ^ Good-night.' " And 
 accordingly he sat down to the piano, and sang several 
 verses, each ending with " Good-night," composed with 
 his usual facility, but lacking the fun and brilliancy 
 which had characterised his former effusions. Some 
 oddity of expression, however, in the middle of one of 
 his verses, elicited a ringing laugh from a fine hand- 
 some boy, son of Captain the Hon. Montague Stopford, 
 who was staying with his parents in the house,'"' and 
 who had planted himself close to the piano. Hook 
 stopped short, looked at him admiringly for an instant, 
 
 "^ "Prior's Eank"at tliat time jointly occupied by Messrs. Baylis 
 and Whitmore, the latter a son of General Sir George Whitmore, 
 K.C.B. The "boy" became the husband of Caroline, daughter 
 of the late Field-Marshal Sir John Burgoyne, Bart., and died in 
 1860. 
 
170 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIOXS. 
 
 then, completing tlie verse, added with an intensity of 
 expression I can never forget, — 
 
 '* You laugh I and you are quite right, 
 Por yours is the dawn of the morning, 
 And God send you a good night ! " 
 
 The effect was electrical, and brought tears into the eyes 
 of more than one of the company, while cheer upon 
 cheer arose in recognition of that charming and touch- 
 ing burst of feeling. 
 
 Other versions of this remarkable incident are in 
 print, but I have confidence in the accuracy of my own, 
 for one particular reason. Supposing that I had im- 
 perfectly heard the words, I could not have mistaken 
 the emphasis in their utterance, and the fervour with 
 which God's blessing was invoked upon that beautiful 
 and joyous boy. could not by any possibility have 
 accompanied such words as " For me, is the solemn 
 good night," nor the applause that followed, loud and 
 long, been caused by so melancholy a farewell. I 
 know the tears that filled my eyes were not those of 
 sorrow, but of pleasurable emotion. 
 
 My acquaintance with Thackeray commenced some 
 time before he joined "The Garrick," and while I was 
 the guest of his cousin. Captain Thomas James 
 Thackeray, in the Rue du Faubourg St. Honore, during 
 one of my many visits to Paris. He was at that time 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 171 
 
 a slim young man, rather taciturn, and not displaying 
 any particular love or talent for literature. Drawing 
 appeared to be his favourite amusement ; and he often 
 sat by my side while I was reading or writing, covering 
 any scrap of paper lying about with the most spirited 
 sketches and amusing caricatures. I have one of 
 Charles IX. firing at the Huguenots out of the windows 
 of the Louvre, which he dashed off in a few minutes 
 beside me on the blank portion of the yellow paper 
 cover of a French drama. (See plate). A member of 
 " The G-arrick," who was specially unpopular with the 
 majority of the members, was literally draion out of 
 the club by Thackeray. His figure, being very pecu- 
 liar, was sketched in pen and ink by his implacable 
 persecutor. On every pad on the writing-tables, or 
 whatever paper he could venture to appropriate, he 
 represented him in the most ridiculous and derogatory 
 situation that could be imagined, always with his back 
 towards you : but unmistakable. His victim, it must 
 be admitted, bore this desecration of his " lively 
 effigies" with great equanimity for a considerable 
 period ; but at length, one very strong — perhaps too 
 strong — example of the artist's graphic and satirical 
 abilities, combined with the conviction that he was 
 generally objectionable, induced him to retire from the 
 club, and leave the pungent pen of Michael Angelo Tit- 
 
172 EECOLLECTIOKS AND EEELECTIONS. 
 
 marsh to punish more serious offenders than bores and 
 toadies. 
 
 Of my old friend James Smith I have many gratify- 
 ing recollections ; but they are too purely personal for 
 introduction in these pages. I may be allowed, how- 
 ever, to testify, perhaps, to the utter absence of that 
 desire to "play first fiddle," which is too often remark- 
 able in celebrities of his description. He was the 
 heartiest laugher at another's joke, and generally pre- 
 faced his own by the question of " Have you heard 
 what a man said when," &c. On hearing a song of 
 mine which I had written in humble imitation of his 
 style, he good-naturedly and gracefully said, — 
 
 Let old Timotlieiis yield the prize, 
 Or both divide the crown." 
 
 This song I shall take the liberty of introducing here, 
 as it has never been printed in its original form, but 
 only as altered for Charles Mathews, to sing in my 
 classical extravaganza, " Theseus and Ariadne," and 
 because some verses, entitled "A Medley, for a Young 
 Lady's Album," written about a year later by Barham, 
 appear to have been suggested by it, some few lines 
 being actually identical.* 
 
 * Yide Life of Eev. E. II. Barham, vol. i., p. 300. 
 
EECOLLECTIOXS AND EEFLECTIONS. 173 
 
 A DEEAM. 
 
 I'm quite in a flutter, 
 
 I scarcely can utter 
 
 The words to my tongue that come dancing — 
 
 come dancing. 
 I've had such a dream, 
 That I'm sure it must seem 
 To incredulous ears like romancing — 
 
 romancing. 
 There can be no question 
 'Twas sheer indigestion, 
 Occasioned by supping on chine. Sir — 
 
 on chine, Sir ; 
 But if such vagaries 
 Portend their contraries, 
 Pray what's the contrary of mine. Sir ? — 
 of mine. Sir ? 
 
 I dreamed I was walking 
 With Homer, and talking 
 The very best Greek I was able — 
 
 was able, 
 When Lord Liverpool, he 
 Came in very coolly, 
 And danced a Scotch jig on the table — 
 
 the table. 
 Then Hannibal rising, 
 Declared 'twas surprising 
 That gentlemen couldn't sit quiet — 
 
 sit quiet, 
 And sent his attorney 
 For Sir Eichard Birney * 
 To hasten and put down the riot — 
 
 the riot. 
 
 He came, and found Cato 
 
 • Chief Magistrate at Bow Street. 
 
174 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 At cribbage with Plato, 
 And Washington playing the fiddle — 
 the fiddle ; 
 Snatched a dii^k in the dark 
 Prom the ex-Sheriff Park- 
 ins,* and ran Peter Mooref through the middle— 
 
 the middle. 
 Then Dido turned paler, 
 And looked at John Taylor, t 
 Who sat by her side like a mummy — 
 
 a mummy, 
 But Mr. MacAdam § 
 Said, Eeally dear Madam, 
 I never play whist with a dummy — 
 
 a dummy. 
 
 I'm rather perplext 
 
 To say what I saw next, 
 
 But I think it was Poniatowski — 
 
 atowski. 
 Came driving Queen Sheba, 
 With Eeginald Heber, 
 Through Portugal Place, in a drosky — 
 
 a drosky. 
 When Nebuchanazar, 
 In his witty way, Sii', 
 Observed it was very cold weather — 
 cold weather, 
 And flinging his jasey 
 At Prince Esterhazy, 
 They both began waltzing together — 
 together. 
 
 * A civic dignitary of that day. 
 
 f An unpopular member of the Drury Lane Committee. 
 
 t Editor of the " Sun." 
 
 § The Colossus of Roads. 
 
 II The Eev. Eeginald Heber, of Bibliographical celebrity. 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND REFLECTIONS. ITo 
 
 The news next was spread 
 That Pope Pius was dead, 
 And Elliston, fearing the worst, Sir — 
 
 the worst, Sir, 
 Proclaimed, in a hurry, 
 Himself at " the Sui-rey," 
 As Pope Eobert "William the First, Sir — 
 
 the First, Sir. 
 He hanged Master Bui'ke,* 
 xlnd alarmed the Grrand Turk, 
 By a bull of excommunication — 
 
 nication, 
 And cutting the rake, 
 For his family's sake, 
 Yowed he'd walk in his own coronation — 
 
 ronation. 
 
 But Mr. O'Connell, 
 
 -ffineas McDonell, 
 
 And two or three more who were Eoman — 
 
 were Roman, 
 Came o'er in a jiffy, 
 And swore by the Liffey, 
 The Pope should be Cobbett, or no man — 
 
 or no man. 
 Poor Robert, they stripped him. 
 And in the Thames dipped him. 
 And thought they were rid of the pest. Sir — 
 
 the pest. Sir, 
 When pop — up he rose. 
 In a new suit of clothes. 
 
 With his hair neatly powdered and drest, Sir — 
 
 and drest. Sir. 
 
 To laugh I began, 
 
 WTien a good-looking man, 
 
 * A second " young Roscius." 
 
176 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 With a handsome bald head and a cane, Sir, — 
 
 a cane, Sir, 
 Came and hit me a whack 
 On the broad of my back, 
 Saying, * ' What ! you are at it again. Sir — 
 
 again. Sir ! " * 
 I woke in a fright, 
 And I found it was light, 
 By my bed-side, tea, toast, eggs, and cresses — 
 
 and cresses. 
 And down on the floor, 
 From a shelf o'er the door. 
 Had fallen — " Eejected Addresses " — 
 *' Addresses! " 
 
 His brother Horace lived at Brighton, and of him I 
 knew less, but quite enough to admire his talent and 
 respect his character ; and I have the pleasure still to 
 include amongst my friends his two surviving and 
 accomplished daughters. Of Barham, Dickens, ' and 
 other stars in " The Garrick " galaxy, as well as of 
 the aforesaid luminaries, I shall speak incidentally 
 hereafter. I will only mention here, a very amusing 
 member of the club in early days, with whom I was 
 
 * Alluding to another song, *' Farewell to the Lilies and Eoses," pre- 
 viously written and afterwards published at Hook's request in Colburn's 
 New Monthly Magazine. In a note to Mrs. Orger, dated Saturday, 30th 
 May (1835), Smith refers to it thus : " On Thursday last there was a 
 great supper at Twiss's, at which I could not attend. Twiss addressed 
 the company, stating that Mr. James Smith had just arrived, and 
 would favour the company with a song. Whereupon Planche started off 
 with one in imitation of me, to the great gratification of a candid and 
 enlightened audience." 
 
RECOLLECTIONS AND REFLECTIONS. 17' 
 
 on terms of great intimacy as long as he remained 
 in England— Sir Henry Webb, a baronet, and for- 
 merly in the Life Guards. He was a man of refined 
 taste, perfect manners, and great good-nature, and 
 possessed the peculiarly happy art of saying agree- 
 able things, without forfeiting the independence of his 
 judgment or incurring the reproach of insincerity. 
 There was a vein of humour also in his observations, 
 of the most original and whimsical description. He 
 was passionately fond of music, and a great patron of 
 Eliason, who first started the '' Promenade Concerts " 
 in London, which were afterwards made so popular by 
 JuUien. On my asking him how his protege was going 
 on, he replied, '* He is going on so well that he will 
 carry everything before him, or—" after a pause and a 
 pinch of snuff—" he will leave nothing behind him — 
 which is precisely the same thing." As of course it is ; 
 and the musician verified the prediction ; for he omitted 
 leaving behind him even the violin (a real Cremona) 
 which he had pledged to Mr. Frederick Gye for money 
 advanced to him. 
 
 YOL. 
 
CHAPTER XIL 
 
 The successors to Mr. Price at Drury Lane were 
 Captain Polhill, a gentleman possessing more money 
 than brains, and Alexander Lee, the composer, who 
 had certainly some brains but no money. As I am not 
 writing a history of that or any other theatre, I need 
 not enter into a detail of the circumstances which 
 speedily deprived the Captain of his fortune and the 
 composer nearly of his wits ; but one of the first blunders 
 they committed resulted in an event of considerable im~ 
 portance to the theatrical world in general and to me 
 in particular. 
 
 The new management had declined to re-engage 
 Madame Vestris ; and there being no opening for her 
 at Covent Garden, she suddenly determined to set up 
 for herself. Passing through Long Acre one day, 
 I met her in her carriage. She stopped it, and informed 
 me she had just taken the Olympic in conjunction with 
 Miss Foote ; that they had engaged Mrs. Glover, and 
 several other performers, and would be glad if I had 
 
EECOLLECTIOXS AND EEFLECTIONS. ny 
 
 anything ready for immediate iDroduction and would 
 assist them in any way by my advice or interest. I 
 readily consented ; and remembering a classical bur- 
 lesque I had written shortly after the production of 
 "Amoroso," but could never get accepted at any 
 theatre, mentioned the subject to her; and it was 
 agreed that I should immediately make such altera- 
 tions as time and circumstances had rendered neces- 
 sary, and that she would open the season with it and 
 in it. Having much work on my hands at the time, I 
 induced Charles Dance, with whom I had already 
 written a farce for the Haymarkefc, to try his hand 
 at this style of composition; and, in two or three 
 evenings, we brushed up together the oft-rejected 
 Durlesque, founded on George Colman the younger's 
 story " The Sun Poker," and named by me " Pro- 
 metheus and Pandora;" and, under the additional 
 locally-allusive title of " Olympic Revels," it was pro- 
 duced on the 3rd of January, 1831 (the opening night), 
 Madame Vestris sustaining the part of Pandora. The 
 extraordinary success of this experiment — for it may 
 justly so be termed — was due not only to the admirable 
 singing and piquante performance of that gifted lady, 
 but also to the charm of novelty imparted to it by the 
 elegance and accuracy of the costume ; it having been 
 previously the practice to dress a burlesque in tlio 
 
ISO EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIOXS. 
 
 most outre and ridiculous fashion. My suggestion to 
 try the effect of persons picturesquely attired speaking 
 absurd doggrel fortunately took the fancy of the fair 
 lessee, and the alteration was highly appreciated b}^ 
 the public ; but many old actors could never get over 
 their early impressions. Liston thought to tlie last 
 that Prometheus, instead of the Phrygian cap, tunic, 
 and trousers, should have been dressed like a great 
 lubberly boy in a red jacket and nankeens, with a 
 pinafore all besmeared with lollipop ! — a dress, by the 
 way, in which he actually came to a child's party at 
 my house, and insisted on sitting in the lap of my 
 dear old stepmother, who was a great favourite with 
 him. It would be superfluous to say more on this 
 subject than simply that " Olympic Eevels " was the 
 first of a series which enjoyed the favour of the public 
 for upwards of thirty years. 
 
 The following address was written at my request 
 by John Hamilton Reynolds and spoken by Madame 
 Vestris on the opening night. It is a happy specimen 
 of the graceful muse of a writer too little known to the 
 general public : — 
 
 Noble and gentle — ^Matrons — Patrons— -Friends ! 
 Before you here a venturous woman bends ! 
 A warrior woman — that in strife embarks, 
 The first of all dramatic Joan of Arcs. 
 Cheer on the enterprise, thus dared by me ! 
 The first that ever led a company ! 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 181 
 
 Wliat though, until this very hour and age, 
 A lessee-lady never owned a stage ! 
 I'm that Belle Sauvage — only rather quieter. 
 Like Mrs. Nelson, turned a stage proj^rietor I * 
 Welcome each early and each late arriver — 
 This is my omnibus, and I'm the driver ! 
 Sure is my ventui'e, for all honest folk, 
 Who love a tune or can enjoy a joke. 
 Will know, whene'er they have an hour of leisure, 
 Wych- street is best to come to for their pleasure. 
 The laughter and the lamps, with equal share. 
 Shall make this house a light-house against care. 
 This is our home ! 'Tis yours as well as mine ; 
 Here Joy may pay her homage at Mirth's shrine ; 
 Song, Whim, and Fancy jocund rounds shall dance, 
 And lui-e for you the light Yaudeville from France. 
 Humour and Wit encourage my intent. 
 And Music means to help to pay my rent. 
 'Tis not mere promise — I appeal to facts ; 
 Henceforward judge me only by my acts ! 
 
 In this, my purpose, stand I not alone — 
 
 All women sigh for houses of their own ; 
 
 And I was weary of perpetual dodging 
 
 From house to house, in search of board and lodging ! 
 
 Faint was my heart, but, with Pandora's scope, 
 
 I find in every box a lurking hope : 
 
 My dancing spirits know of no decline, 
 
 Here's the first tier you've ever seen of mine. 
 
 Oh, my kind friends I befriend me still, as you 
 
 Have in the bygone times been wont to do ; 
 
 Make me your ward against each ill designer, 
 
 And prove Lord Chancellor to a female minor. 
 
 Cheer on my comrades, too, in their career, 
 
 Some of your favourites are around me here ; 
 
 * Well known to coaching men of that daj^. 
 
182 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 Give them — give me — the smiles of approbation 
 In this Olympic Game of Speculation. 
 Still aid the petticoat on old kind principles, 
 And make me yet a Captain of Invincihles.'^ 
 
 A very unforeseen advantage was obtained by the 
 manageress from a dilemma into wliicli she was acci- 
 dentally placed shortly after the opening, by the neces- 
 sity arising for an alteration in the bill, which was at 
 that time what is technically called " a four piece bill." 
 One of the four was a drama in two acts, entitled 
 ^' Mary Queen of Scots," in which Miss Foote enacted 
 the heroine. Its sudden removal, for some cause or 
 other, occasioned the performances of that evening to 
 terminate at eleven instead of twelve. Dance and I, 
 going out with the crowd, heard several expressions of 
 gratification at the prospect of getting home at a 
 rational hour, and the fact favourably contrasted with 
 the practice at other theatres of prolonging the per- 
 formance till long past midnight, so that persons Kving 
 at any distance could not possibly be in their beds 
 before the small hours in the morning. The following 
 day therefore, when Madame Vestris consulted us as 
 to what should be the programme for the following 
 week, we advised her strongly to take advantage of 
 the circumstance, and instead of substituting any 
 
 '^ Alluding to Morton's farce, "The Inyincibles," in which, at 
 Covent Garden, Madame Yestris achieyed a great renown. 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 183 
 
 drama for the one withdrawn, to announce in the 
 bills that the performances for the future would be 
 so arranged as to terminate every evening as nearly as 
 possible at eleven o'clock. 
 
 Our advice was taken. The new arrangement gave 
 general satisfaction, and continued during the whole 
 period of Madame Vestris' lessee-ship, one of the 
 many agreeable features that distinguished the 
 Olympic Theatre. . The lines in the finale to the 
 '' Olympic Devils," 
 
 *' Since home at eleven you take yourselves, 
 It cannot be said that you rake yourselves," 
 
 were invariable received with applause as well as 
 laughter by the audience. 
 
 It ought surely to be a self-evident fact that nothing 
 can be more injurious to a theatre than the exhaustion 
 of the actors and the wearying of the public by the 
 spinning out of the performances to so late an hour as 
 is still too frequently the practice at more than one 
 theatre. An anecdote of Listen amusingly illustrates 
 the extent to which it was carried at the Haymarket in 
 the days of Mr. Morris — the period of which I am 
 writing. Mr. and Mrs. Listen were staying at the 
 Ship Hotel, Dover. One day as Liston, returning 
 from a walk, was passing through the hall, the land- 
 
184 RECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 lord accosted him and begged he would do him the 
 favour to step into his parlour, as there was a lady 
 there who would feel much flattered by being per- 
 mitted to renew her acquaintance with him. Liston, 
 with some degree of curiosity, complied, and was intro- 
 duced to the landlord's wife, who with many smiles 
 and blushes expressed her fear that Mr. Listen would 
 not recollect her. Listen confessed that he certainly 
 could not call to mind that they had ever met before. 
 Would she oblige him by refreshing his memory? 
 " Oh, Mr. Listen, I had the honour of acting with 
 you one evening." " Indeed, madam ! When and 
 where ?'^ *' Last season, at the Hay market." Listen 
 was still oblivious ; but a few more words explained the 
 matter clearly. The lady previous to her marriage, 
 which had only recently taken place, had indulged 
 a fancy to go on the stage, and had made her first 
 appearance in a trifling part in the second act of a 
 farce at the Haymarket at a quarter to one in the 
 morning. As the farce had not been repeated, and 
 Listen had never set eyes on her since, it was not 
 particularly astonishing that his recognition of her was 
 not instantaneous. 
 
 Since that period a practice has arisen which is 
 still more to be reprobated; the result to a certain 
 degree of the former. No star or principal performer, 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 185 
 
 whose position enables him or her to dictate terms to 
 the manager, will now condescend to play in the last 
 piece, so some old worn-out farce, disgracefully muti- 
 lated to meet the circumstances, is hurried through 
 anyhow by the unfortunate members of the company 
 who are compelled to work, some twenty yawning 
 persons remaining in the house from mere idleness 
 after the curtain has fallen on ''the attraction of the 
 evening." 
 
 It is impossible to protest too strongly against this 
 custom — cruel to the poor actors, unjust to the author 
 of the ill-treated farce, and disrespectful to the remnant 
 of the audience who, however few, have paid for their 
 admission, and have a right to the best efforts of the 
 establishment. 
 
 In the previous June I had received from my 
 esteemed friend, Mr. Thomas Morton, the well-known 
 author of the comedies of " Speed the Plough," " The 
 Way to Get Married," " The School of Reform," and 
 many other sterling dramatic works, the following 
 letter : — 
 
 " My dear Planche, — 
 
 " The Drury Lane lessees have thought me worthy a 
 place in their cabinet. I have often been gratified by seeing 
 your plays. I hope to be gratified by reading one. I think 
 you will find our premier a very amiable person, and in the 
 
186 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 Master of the Revels a friend who would feel very great 
 pleasure in forwarding your wishes and smoothing the dra- 
 matic path generally rough enough. Pray favour me with 
 a call. 
 
 " Yours ever, 
 
 " Thos. Moeton." 
 
 At the same time matters had been satisfactorily 
 settled at Co vent Garden, and I had arranged to write 
 another Opera with Bishop. I had also promised Mr. 
 Morris a comedy for the Haymarket ; so, as I have 
 already stated, I had enough work on my hands. 
 However, I managed to get through it, producing a 
 farce ("The Jenkinses") at Drury Lane, 7th De- 
 cember, 1830, in which I had the pleasure of making 
 the acquaintance of a beautiful young actress, soon to 
 become one of the greatest favourites on the stage, 
 namely, Miss Mordaunt, better known as Mrs. Nisbett, 
 and eventually as Lady Boothby, of whom I retain 
 many pleasant recollections and one most painful, 
 which will be recorded in its proper place. My 
 Opera with Bishop, "The Romance of a Day" — the 
 last I had the pleasure of writing for that most 
 melodious and truly English composer, and containing 
 some of his most charming music — was produced at 
 Covent Garden, February 3* 1831 ; and " The Legion 
 of Honour," musical drama, at Drury Lane, on the 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 187 
 
 ICtli of April following, the cast comprising Liston, 
 Farren, Dowton, and Harley; Miss Poole, the still 
 popular vocalist, then only ten years of age, sus- 
 taining the part of a drummer, in which she played 
 the drum and sang most effectively. I had noticed 
 the child's ability and wrote the part expressly for 
 her, and on her quitting Drury Lane at the end of 
 the season, had the satisfaction of receiving a letter 
 from her master, Mr. James F. Harris, containing the 
 following sentence : — *' You, my dear Sir, have been 
 her best friend, and whatever money or fame either 
 she or I may gain, I shall always trace it back with 
 heartfelt gratitude to you the fount from which it 
 springs." As a substantial proof of his sincerity he 
 also presented me with a handsome silver snuff-box, 
 which, as I never took snuff, I handed to my excellent 
 step-mother who did. 
 
 I kept my promise to Mr. Morris by writing a two- 
 act comedy, " A Friend at Court," for a rising young 
 actress, Miss Taylor, who became Mrs. Walter Lacy, 
 for whom also I wrote a melodrama, entitled " The 
 Army of the North," produced at Covent Garden, 
 29th October, 1831 ; and, in addition to these, trans- 
 lated and arranged Scribe and Auber's opera, "Le 
 Philtre," for Miss Paton and Mr. Wood at Drury 
 Lane, which was first performed, under the title of 
 
188 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 "The Love Charm/' on the 6th of November following, 
 amounting altogether to twelve acts in less than twelve 
 months, independently of the revision of the " Olympic 
 Eevels," in which I had the assistance of Charles 
 Dance. All these pieces were fairly successful, with 
 the exception of "The Army of the North," which 
 was speedily disbanded and "The Love Charm," 
 which was in-operative, partly from the injudicious 
 haste in its production, in order to meet that of " Fra 
 Diavolo " at Co vent Garden, so that the principal 
 performers scarcely knew a word or a note in the last 
 act, and partly because of the brilhant success of " Fra 
 Diavolo " at the rival establishment the same evening. 
 A very proper lesson to managers, and as usual utterly 
 lost upon them. No theatre ever prospered or de- 
 served to prosper by such absurd and illiberal oppo- 
 sition, and yet the practice is still persevered in. Had 
 the managers of Drury Lane been actuated by a love 
 of art and a proper sense of the respect they owed to 
 the public instead of an ungenerous desire to damage 
 their neighbour, the delightful music of Auber would 
 have been as creditably executed at one house as at 
 the other, and the public have become as familiar with 
 the airs in " Le Philtre " as they are with those in 
 "L'Elisire dAmore," the same subject composed by 
 Donizetti which has taken possession of the operatic 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 189 
 
 stage, while of its predecessor nothing is known in 
 England by our playgoing public except the spirited 
 overture, w^hich is constantly performed, and should, I 
 think, induce some manager to give the Town an 
 opportunity of hearing the whole work — one of the 
 most agreeable of its class — and of studying the mode 
 of treatment of the same subject by two such cele- 
 brated composers. 
 
 The production of the " Philtre '* at one house 
 against " The EHsire " at another would be a wise 
 and laudable policy, honourable to both the com- 
 petitors for public favour and beneficial to art, while 
 the putting up a work simply because it is announced 
 by your rival, or rushing out anything in the same 
 style to anticipate his effect in the mere paltry spirit 
 of vexatious opposition, is unworthy of gentlemen and 
 impolitic in speculators, as it too frequently awakens 
 comparisons which are proverbially acknowledged to 
 be odious. 
 
 Although a considerable sufferer by this silly con- 
 duct, against which I remonstrated in vain, I sincerely 
 rejoiced at the well-merited success of " Fra Diavolo," 
 which was admirably put on the stage, and felt that 
 the failure of "The Love Charm" served the lessees 
 of Drury Lane perfectly right. 
 
 The year 1831 terminated with the production of 
 
190 BECOLLECTIONS AND REFLECTIONS. 
 
 our second classical burlesque burletta, " Olympic 
 Devils; or, Orpheus and Eurydice;" and on this oc- 
 casion another advance was made in the decorative 
 departments. The scenery of "The Revels" had 
 been limited to a few clouds, the interior of a cottage, 
 and a well-used modern London street, which was 
 made a joke of in the bill to anticipate criticism. 
 Haste and lack of funds had something to do with it ; 
 but we had now both time and money. It was sug- 
 gested that the scenery should be picturesque and in 
 keeping with the dresses. We had a most infernal 
 Tartarus, a very gloomy Styx, and a really beautiful 
 Greek landscape with the portico of the Temple of 
 Bacchus, the columns of which joined in the general 
 dance when 
 
 " Orpheus with his lute made trees," &c., 
 
 to the great delight of the audience. The Baccha- 
 nalian procession, arranged by Oscar Byrne, consider- 
 ing the size of the stage and numbers employed, has 
 never been surpassed for picture and animation. 
 
 The success of " Olympic Devils " exceeded, if pos- 
 sible, that of its predecessors, and the popularity of 
 this new class of entertainment was thoroughly esta- 
 blished. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 In 1832, Laporte became lessee of the Theatre Royal 
 Covent Garden, which he opened on the 1st of October 
 with a military spectacle, written by me at his sugges- 
 tion, and partly founded on an early incident in the 
 life of Marlborough, entitled "His First Campaign." 
 I wrote also by his desire a five-act play entitled 
 " Reputation," for Charles Kean and Miss Ellen Tree, 
 which was favourably received; but there seemed a 
 blight upon the theatre, and nothing brought money 
 sufficient to cover the enormous expenses ; and the 
 following season Mr. Bunn — " the Napoleon of the 
 drama," as he was proud of being called, as Elliston, 
 his old employer, had been before him — having suc- 
 ceeded to the throne of Old Drury on the failure of 
 Polhill and Lee, courageously grasped the sceptre 
 resigned in despair by Laporte, and reigned despoti- 
 cally over both those theatrical hemispheres. Much 
 amusement was created in the profession by Laporte's 
 declaration that " no English theatre would be wortli 
 
192 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 managing till that abominable Saturday was done 
 away with ! " What he meant, however, was, not 
 the abolition of pay-day altogether, but, in conformity 
 with the French system, making it monthly instead of 
 weekly, so as to give the manager a chance of a 
 higher average of the receipts, and enable him more 
 conveniently to meet his liabilities. 
 
 At this period Mr. Arnold, who had been burnt out 
 of the Lyceum in 1830, rented during the summer 
 months the Adelphi Theatre, and apphed to me to 
 undertake the acting management for the season 1833. 
 *'I am too old and too lazy, sir," he said, at our inter- 
 view at his house in Golden Square. " I want a man 
 of fresher mind and new ideas — I send you there in 
 my shoes." Unfortunately, the shoes proved to be 
 clogs — mais passons 1^-dessus. Mr. Arnold and I had 
 been too long friends for me to feel anything but 
 regi'et that I was prevented from serving him as I was 
 most anxious to do. 
 
 The only agreeable recollection I retain of this en- 
 gagement is of a friendship which accidentally arose 
 out of it ; and that, alas ! is saddened by the thought 
 of its brief endurance and melancholy termination. 
 As a privilege of my office, I had a small private box 
 in the proscenium of the theatre, which I had the 
 pleasure of frequently placing at the disposal of 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND REFLECTIONS. 193 
 
 Madame Malibran Garcia, who delighted in the rich 
 humour of John Reeve — certainly, when he was sober 
 or as nearly so as could be expected — one of the finest 
 low comedians on the stage at that, or perhaps any 
 other period. Often when I arrived at the theatre, I 
 was told, " Madame Malibran is in your box, sir ; " 
 for almost every evening she was disengaged she 
 would run down on the chance of finding a place in it. 
 Our mere bowing acquaintance rapidly ripened into 
 intimacy ; and some of the most enjoyable evenings of 
 my life were passed in the society of that brilliant and 
 fascinating woman. One, in particular, can never be 
 forgotten. I had dined with Bunn at Eagle Lodge, 
 Brompton, the only other guests being Mahbran, De 
 Beriot, and Thalberg. After dinner, the latter sat 
 down to the piano and extemporised several charming 
 melodies, to which Malibran sang — not words, of 
 course, but notes — while De Beriot played an accom- 
 paniment on the violin. Subsequently to these en- 
 chanting "Lieder ohne Worte," De Beriot gave us an 
 amusing description of the performance he had once 
 witnessed of a woman who had danced on the tight- 
 rope to her own playing of the French horn. Fasten- 
 ing a bunch of keys to the strings of his violin, he 
 chalked a line on the carpet, and went through all the 
 evolutions of a rope-dancer, imitating the French-horn 
 
194 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 on his own instrument to perfection. One " tour de 
 force " suggested another — the night rapidly and un- 
 heededly passed, and a lovely summer morning saw us 
 seated eating mulberries in the garden, under a fine 
 old tree that was the pride of it. 
 
 At Madame Malibran's request, I translated an 
 operetta for her, the music by Chelard, which was 
 performed at Drury Lane, June 4th, 1833, under the 
 title of "The Students of Jena;" and when she was 
 discontented with the effusions of "the Poet Bunn," as 
 "Punch" delighted to call him, she would send me 
 her music, superscribed, " Betterer words here." Her 
 early death was a fatal loss to English opera : her 
 genius imparting a vitality to the most mediocre com- 
 positions; and upon our stage it is improbable that 
 we shall ever see her like again. I transcribe here 
 her letter to Bunn on the subject of the aforesaid 
 opera, being the only relic of her handwriting I 
 possess : — 
 
 " Mr. Planche has just been readiQg to me his delightful 
 little opera, and I think, sans meilleur avis, nothing can be 
 better ; therefore I am satisfied completement ; but that is 
 only harlequin's marriage, if my advice stands single, and is 
 not ratified by yours. 
 
 " I remain, 
 
 " Your Columbine, 
 
 " Malibran." 
 
RECOLLECTIONS AND REFLECTIONS. iVj 
 
 Ou 25tli of Marcli iu tliis year I liad witnessed at 
 Covent Garden the closing scene of another great 
 genius. I was present at the last performance of 
 Edmund Kean. He acted Othello to his son Charles's 
 lago. In the third act, having delivered the fine 
 speech terminating with, " Farewell, Othello's occu- 
 pation's gone ! " with undiminished expression, and 
 seized, with his usual tiger-like spring, lago by the 
 throat, he had scarcely uttered the words, "Villain! 
 be sure—" when his voice died away in inarticulate 
 murmurs, his head sank on his son's breast, and the 
 curtain fell never again to rise upon that marvellous 
 tragedian. He expired at Richmond, on the 15th of 
 May following. 
 
 o 2 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 On the 10th of June, 1833, as I have previously 
 stated, the Royal assent was given to the Dramatic 
 Authors' Act, and a society was immediately formed to 
 facilitate the working of it, with the least possible in- 
 convenience to managers ; for the clear and simple 
 words of the Act, about which there could be no mis- 
 take, certainly placed the proprietors or lessees of pro- 
 vincial theatres in a very awkward situation. The 
 performance of any sort of dramatic entertainment, " or 
 any portion thereof/' without the consent in writing of 
 its author or his assignee, " rendered the parties repre- 
 senting, or causing it to be represented, hable to a 
 penalty of not less than forty shillings for every offence, 
 or an action for damages either to the amount which it 
 could be proved the author had suffered, or of what the 
 manager had gained by the representation, at the 
 option of the author, with double costs of suit." The 
 director of a theatre any distance from London, there- 
 fore, could not, under sudden and unexpected circum- 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 197 
 
 stances, cliange his bill, and put up a protected drama, 
 without incurring the penalty, or exposing himself to 
 an action for damages according to the terms of the 
 statute, as it would be impossible for him to obtain, in 
 the course of two or three hours, the written permission 
 required; and in any case he would be compelled to cor- 
 respond and make separate terms with every individual 
 author whose pieces he was desirous of producing. 
 
 It was, consequently, as much to the interest of 
 the managers as to that of the authors, if indeed not 
 more so, that some arrangement should be made by 
 which the obvious difficulty could be avoided. 
 
 By the establishment of a society in London, with a 
 secretary who should be authorised by the members 
 generally to grant conditional permission as the agent 
 of the author, and the fixing of a scale of prices, accord- 
 ing to the size of the theatre, for every class of protected 
 dramas, managers were enabled to play whatever they 
 pleased without fear of legal proceedings, and could 
 calculate exactly the expenses they were incurring. 
 Accustomed, however, for so many years to ignore the 
 rights of authors, the recognition of them by the law of 
 the land was anything but palatable to managers in 
 general, and it was really as pitiable as ludicrous to 
 observe the mean shifts and dishonest practices to 
 which many resorted to escape the payment of a few 
 
198 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 shillings to a poor dramatist, while they would have 
 considered it disgraceful to quit the town without pay- 
 ing the butcher or butterman's bill, or to leave their 
 landlord to whistle for the rent of his lodgings. 
 
 Of course there were freebooters, in this as well as 
 other professions, who had a more lofty disdain for the 
 distinctions of meum and tuum, and who, not being 
 worth powder and shot, carried on their depredations 
 openly with impunity. These unscrupulous persons 
 were thorns in the side not only of the authors, but of 
 respectable managers, under whose very noses they 
 opened portable theatres or booths, in which they 
 played for nothing pieces the others honestly paid for, 
 frequently anticipating their production at the regular 
 theatre, and therefore diminishing their attraction. 
 This was a very reasonable cause of complaint to the 
 society from honourable managers with whom we were 
 in regular communication. Unfortunately, however, 
 w^e had no power to protect them, as these offenders 
 w^ere, like the ghost in Hamlet — "here," "there," 
 and " gone " before a writ could be served upon them ; 
 so we were, and still are, obliged to grin and endure it. 
 The hardship of the case is this. We were told we 
 had the same remedy which the law gave to any other 
 persons possessing property, and who were robbed and 
 swindled. Granted ; but the important difference in 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 199 
 
 the cliaracter of the property was entirely over- 
 looked. 
 
 Personal effects may be protected from the clutches 
 of the area-sneak or the bolder burglar ; and the arti- 
 fices of the swindler may be foiled by the prudence of 
 the tradesman. But neither bolt nor chain, iron safe 
 nor private watchman, can prevent the theft of words, 
 and the utterance of them, nor any amount of caution 
 avail to secure the dramatic author from depredation, as 
 his refusal to trust a suspicious customer with intan- 
 gible, unsubstantial property, over which he has no phy- 
 sical control, is not of the slightest consequence. Nor, 
 however prompt may be his action, can he recover the 
 stolen goods, as he might his plate, his purse, his 
 watch, or a tradesman the wares he deals in; and, 
 therefore, though he can proceed against the offender, 
 and may possibly convict him, he is destitute of the * 
 means of prevention all other persons possess, and by 
 the neglect of which they can alone be injured. As no 
 legal enactment could possibly give him such means, I 
 contend that exceptional powers should be accorded to 
 him ; and as his property cannot be protected, the un- 
 authorised appropriation of it should be visited by much 
 more certain and summary punishment than an action 
 for penalties or damages, in which the onus probandi is 
 placed entirely on the shoulders of the i^laintiff, and 
 
200 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 who, even if he obtain a verdict, may be left minus the 
 penalties, and saddled with his own expenses. Some 
 glimpse of the hardship of this position no doubt in- 
 duced the original framers of the Act to insert " with 
 double costs of suit." And there is no doubt that it 
 had a salutary effect on the considerations of some who 
 might otherwise have questioned honesty being the best 
 policy ; but, in 1842, " double costs of suit " were 
 abolished in all cases, and, by a subsequent Act, con- 
 cerning " common law procedure," the dramatic 
 authors were deprived of one of their best weapons of 
 defence.* 
 
 The first step was, however, gained by English drama- 
 tists, after a long and dispiriting struggle, to place them- 
 selves on a footing with their continental brethren, 
 though the measure of relief was scanty indeed, when 
 * compared with the corresponding law of France ; and I 
 earnestly hope the day will yet come, when it will bo 
 considerably extended and improved, although per- 
 fect assimilation to the French Code Dramatique is 
 perhaps impossible. 
 
 In England the drama is a mere amusement, and its 
 
 * Lord CMef Justice Denman also, by a decision sliortly after the 
 passing of the Act, rendered nugatory the retrospective clauses, by 
 transferring the benefit clearly intended for the author to the pub- 
 lisher, who has in some instances given as little as two guineas for a 
 copyright now worth from fifty to a hundred. 
 
RECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 201 
 
 exhibition the speculation of private individuals. In 
 France it is a political engine. In times of great 
 political excitement the theatres in England are almost 
 deserted. In France, on the contrary, they are crowded 
 with the conflicting factions, who seek in the drama for 
 sympathy, and in the theatre an arena for the exposition 
 of their feelings. The direction of theatrical establish- 
 ments is connected with, and their produce partially 
 appropriated by, the Government. Latterly, it has 
 taken less interest in some of them ; but the " Academic 
 de Musique " (the Grand French Opera) and the 
 " Theatre Fran^ais " are still, I believe, in the receipt 
 of a subvention or grant of money from Government 
 for their support ; and, though its interference in the 
 management of others may be less direct, it still exer- 
 cises a surveillance over their receipts, and at the same 
 time that it claims one portion for the sustenance of the 
 poor (le droit des pauvres), it secures to the authors 
 their nightly shares (le droit d'auteur) as regulated by 
 the Code Dramatique, not only in Paris, but through- 
 out the French dominions. There is no misunder- 
 standing — no shuffling — no dunning. According to 
 the number of acts, the portion of the gross receipts of 
 the evening, as determined by the code, is subtracted 
 from the account rendered to Government, and the 
 .author, on repairing to the recognised agent, turns 
 
202 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 at once to his name or tlie title of his piece and 
 receives the money. 
 
 On the first introduction of our Bill, an outcry 
 was raised by the country managers of their inability, 
 in the depressed state of theatrical affairs, to bear 
 any, the smallest, additional burden. Upon the same 
 ground it might have been argued, that a man who 
 could not afford to purchase goods to retail, was 
 entitled to steal them. 
 
 The great champion of these dissentients, Mr. Wilkins, 
 an architect, and proprietor of several provincial thea- 
 tres, declared before the committee of the House of 
 Commons, that in his opinion no modern dramatist, Mr. 
 Knowles perhaps excepted, deserved to be paid ; while, 
 in the same breath ; he admitted that nothing but the 
 melodramas and other pieces successfully produced in 
 London by the writers he was insulting would draw 
 money in the country. On being examined before the 
 same committee, I commented on his self-convicting 
 evidence, and contended that if the performance of a 
 drama merely lessened the loss of the manager one 
 penny, the author of it was at least entitled to a 
 farthing. The manager was not compelled to play 
 the piece, and assuredly would not unless he believed 
 he should profit by it ; and If he did not, by what right 
 did he cause the author to be a sharer In his specula- 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 203 
 
 tions ? On the passing of the Bill, a dinner was given 
 by the newly formed society, at the Thatched House 
 Tavern in St. James's Street, to Mr. Edward Lytton 
 Bulwer and his brother Henry (now Lord Bailing) ; 
 and in the first year of the operation of the Act, the 
 money sent up from the various country theatres to 
 the agent of the society amounted to nearly £800, 
 independently of the payments merged in Mr. Knowles's 
 own engagement as an actor, which must have added 
 considerably to his portion. Trifling as this sum was, 
 compared with that drawn from the provinces during 
 the same period in France (M. Scribe alone receiv^- 
 ing more than three times that amount), it was at 
 least so much gained by those who would not other- 
 wise have got a shilling, and established a system 
 which, I trust, may one day produce to the widow or 
 child of a deservedly popular dramatist an income, 
 which the precarious nature of his profession renders 
 it all but impossible he should bequeath to them in the 
 more satisfactory form of " Three per cent. Reduced " 
 in the Bank of England. 
 
 It may be satisfactory to those of my readers who 
 are lovers of the theatre, and friends to all who labour 
 for the stage, to explain to them — for few are really 
 aware — the vast difference that existed, at the period I 
 speak of, between the position of the dramatic writer 
 
204 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 in England and that of liis brother in France, and 
 point out the many great advantages enjoyed by the 
 latter. First and foremost is the great fact that the 
 law having been laid down, Government itself took 
 care to enforce comphance with it, and the remunera- 
 tion of an author was as secure as it was liberal. In 
 his dealings with the manager, the petty chandler-shop 
 system of haggling for terms, which still disgraces 
 English theatrical transactions, was unheard of. The 
 acceptance of a drama ensured its performance within 
 a certain time, the manager being liable to an action 
 for damages proportioned to the delay and consequent 
 inconvenience to the author, and the performance 
 ensured the payment at the Theatre Frangais and 
 the Odeon (or second Theatre Francais) as follows : — 
 The gross receipts of the evening, including the 
 subscriptions for boxes let by the year or the night, as 
 well as those of the Royal Family and the ministers, 
 being ascertained, one-third was deducted for the ex- 
 penses of the management, and from the net producej 
 the author received — 
 
 For a piece in 4 or 5 acts one Stli part. 
 
 For a piece in 2 or 3 acts one 1 2tli part. 
 
 For a piece in 1 act one 16th part. 
 
 At the Opera Comique, according to the regulationj 
 
BECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 205 
 
 agreed upon October 1st, 1828, the scale of payment 
 was — 
 
 For a work in 5, 4, or 3 acts \ ^^ ^'' ''!'^' "^ ^^' ^'''' ''''^^ 
 
 ( each night of performance. 
 
 For a work in 2 acts . . . 6| per cent, on ditto. 
 
 For a work in 1 act . . . 6 per cent, on ditto. 
 
 And the author whose work or works formed the 
 entire representation of the evening was entitled to an 
 additional gratification of six per cent, on the gross 
 receipts. 
 
 The Vaudeville, the Gymnase, the Palais Royal, and 
 the Nouveautes varied but slightly from the above 
 regulations, twelve per cent, being taken from the 
 gross receipts and divided amongst the authors of the 
 evening's entertainments, with three per cent, on each 
 additional piece, if more than a certain number were 
 performed. The Academic Royale de Musique, the 
 Porte St. Martin, Gaiete, Ambigu, and other theatres 
 paid a stipulated sum nightly for each drama, accord- 
 ing to the number of acts. 
 
 Independently of these payments, the author was 
 allowed the benefit of the sale of a certain number of 
 admissions nightly ; and it is to be remembered that 
 these tickets were accorded by the management to the 
 author for the especial purpose of disposal, and in part 
 payment of his labour, and that consequently there 
 
206 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 was nothing disgraceful in his avaiHng himself of such 
 means of remuneration." 
 
 In addition to these saleable admissions, authors 
 who had produced two five-act pieces at the Fran^ais 
 or Odeon were entitled to personal free 'admission for 
 life ; the author or composer of a piece in five acts at 
 the Opera Comique was entitled to a personal free ad- 
 mission to any part of the theatre, before or behind the 
 curtain (except the pit and the private boxes) for five 
 years ; for four years, if the piece was in four acts ; 
 three, if in three ; and two, if in one or two acts. 
 Authors of two pieces in five, four/j]or three acts 
 obtained their admission for life ; the same for three 
 pieces in two acts, four, six, one, &c. Those who had 
 twice gained a free admission for life were entitled to a 
 second free admission, with the right of disposing of it 
 annually ; and at the same rate he might gain a third, 
 which he was privileged to alienate as the second; 
 but no more in any case whatever. After his death, 
 his widow or next heir retained one of the three ad- 
 missions for life ; but could not transfer it. At 
 all the other theatres the right of personal admis- 
 sion and sale of tickets was also legally recognised. 
 
 * I find it stated that in one year (1830) the farmer of Monsieur 
 Scribe's portion liad acknowledged to the pajTnent of 13,000 francs 
 (about £900 sterling) for it to that gentleman. 
 
 I 
 
RECOLLECTIONS AND REFLECTIONS. 207 
 
 Thus the petty and constantly occurrmg vexation of 
 the suspension of the free Hst was and is unknown m 
 France as affecting the privilege of authors or com- 
 posers. Here it is made alternately the instrument of 
 cupidity or injustice, the stale puff of a sinking esta- 
 blishment, or the mean vengeance of an offended 
 manager. I have spoken in the past tense of the 
 other privileges and regulations, because my informa- 
 tion is derived from an exhaustive pamphlet on this 
 subject, written by my friend Thomas James Thackeray, 
 author of " The Mountain Sylph " and other works, in 
 1832, his residence in Paris and intimacy with 
 French dramatists and managers affording him espe- 
 cial advantages for the purpose ; but, whatever slight 
 alterations or modifications may have taken place 
 since that period, the important part of the regulations, 
 viz., the security of payment and the inviolability ot 
 personal free admission, exists, I believe, even under 
 the unhappy circumstances France is at this moment 
 placed in ; and the difference between the position of the 
 French and Enghsh dramatists is deserving of more 
 serious consideration by all lovers of the drama than 
 has hitherto been accorded to it. 
 
 In conclusion, I will take the liberty of quoting 
 some few observations of my own in a notice of the 
 above-mentioned pamphlet at the time of its publica- 
 
208 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 tion in England — the present condition of the theatrical 
 world being in many respects less satisfactory than 
 even at that period. 
 
 " In this country of course we could not call upon 
 the law to interfere with the bargain to be made 
 between authors and managers, any more than with 
 the terms entered into between authors and their pub- 
 lishers, or with any other description of private contract; 
 but we think it would be decidedly for the advantage of 
 both parties that they should come, by mutual agree- 
 ment, to an arrangement similar to that which exists in 
 France. 
 
 " What is the grand obstacle to the adoption of such 
 an arrangement ? — an arrangement which would avoid 
 a thousand quarrels and heartburnings — an arrange- 
 ment eventually as beneficial to the management as 
 the author. We know but of one — the horror that 
 would be instantly expressed by the proprietor of a 
 theatre at the necessity of honestly showing his 
 receipts. It would be the ruin of the concern. And 
 why the ruin ? People would talk ; the wretched 
 accounts would be pubhshed ; and the public, like rats, 
 would shun a falling house. Do not the people talk 
 always ? Are not the wretched accounts published in 
 every dramatic coterie^ with all the exaggerations malice 
 or disappointment can invent? The pit may look 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 209 
 
 miserably empty, yet contain double the money that 
 ignorance or prejudice may proclaim. How often do 
 we hear it stated that there was not more than £20 
 in the house at Drury Lane or Covent Garden on such 
 and such an evening? Were the receipts . known 
 they would be found, perhaps, to amount to £120 — 
 a losing account, possibly, but still much less so than 
 report would make it. 
 
 ** And to whom, after all, need these documents be 
 shown ? To the author or his agent only. If a piece 
 was really not attractive, its writer would not be too 
 ready to proclaim the fact ; if it filled the treasury, he 
 would swell the cry of triumph, and do treble the good 
 to the theatre than is now obtained by the puffs of 
 ' unprecedented success ' and * overflowing audiences,' 
 which disgrace the play-bills of England only. It is 
 not as if managers were compelled to produce their 
 balance-sheets — the knowledge of their receipts, unat- 
 tended by that of their expenses, leaves their profit or 
 their loss as much a mystery as ever, and as to the 
 pubhc shunning an empty house, give them something 
 worth seeing and they will soon make it a full one. 
 
 *' * Managers,' said Beaumarchais, ' love their own 
 interests better than they understand them.' " 
 
 It is painful at the present moment to look upon the 
 circumstances in which the families of Douglas Jerrold, 
 
 VOL. I. P 
 
210 EECOLLECTIONS ANB EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 Robert and William Brougli, and Mark Lemon have 
 been left, and reflect on what they might have been 
 had a Code Dramatique, under the superYision of 
 Government, existed in England similar to that m 
 France. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Early in the winter season of 1833-34, my ver- 
 sion of Scribe and Auber's opera, " Gustave Trois," 
 was produced with great success at Covent Garden ; 
 but I was still hampered with actors who couldn't sing, 
 and compelled to cut my coat more in accordance with 
 my cloth, than with my inclination. 
 
 I also took the liberty to vindicate the character of 
 poor Madame Ankerstrom, who was actually living at 
 that period, and, as I was credibly informed, had been 
 extremely pained by the unnecessary slur cast upon her 
 own reputation, by representing her as struggling with 
 a guilty passion for the king — a king, too, who, it was 
 notorious, so far from seeking to inspire such a passion, 
 was insensible to it himself. " His affections did not 
 that way tend," and it was, therefore, a wanton falsifi- 
 cation of history, as well as an aggravation of the 
 distress of the unfortunate lady, whose feelings must 
 have been sufficiently wounded by the renewed publicity 
 
 p 2 
 
212 EECOLLECTIONS AND BEFLECTIONS. 
 
 dven to the almost foro-otten crime of her husband. 
 The author of the "Ballo in Maschera" has done still 
 better, by transferring the scene of action and incidents 
 to another country, and substituting fictitious for his- 
 torical personages ; but he had the advantage of fur- 
 nishing a hbretto for another composer, and I was 
 compelled to adhere to Gustavus III. and Sweden. 
 
 As in the case of '' Le Philtre " and '' L'Elisire," it 
 is a pity the brilliant music of Auber's " Gustave " has 
 no opportunity of being occasionally contrasted with 
 that of Verdi's "Ballo," equally dramatic and effective. 
 With the exception of the Christmas extravaganza at 
 the Olympic, I had not had any very gratifying success 
 for the last two years. I had not been disgraced by a 
 damnation, but I had not enjoyed a triumph. The re- 
 ception of " Gustavus III," was, however, all I could 
 desire. It was " a hit— a palpable hit," and " Secret 
 Service" at Drury Lane, admirably illustrated by 
 Farren, and "The Loan of a Lover" at the Olympic, 
 brought me up again " with a wet sail." 
 
 The latter piece, which is a standing dish to this day, 
 was, certainly, most perfectly acted by Madame Vestris 
 and dear old Robert Keeley, whom I had had the 
 pleasure to introduce first to EUiston and afterwards to 
 Charles Kemble. A more sterhng actor never trod 
 the stage — giving character and importance to the 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AKD EEFLECTIONS. 213 
 
 smallest part lie played, and never overstepping the 
 modesty of nature. 
 
 During the autumn of 1 834, accident led me to visit 
 a little theatre which had been opened in the " Court 
 Suburb/' as Leigh Hunt has called it, of Kensington. 
 In this curious little nook, wherein the drama had fur- 
 tively taken root, I witnessed the performance of a 
 piece, entitled " The Queen's Lover," by a company of 
 actors all previously unknown to me, even by name^ 
 but who generally exhibited talent, and one, in my 
 humble opinion, genius. 
 
 I was sufficiently impressed by what I had seen^ 
 to induce Madame Vestris to accompany me on a 
 second visit, and Mr. Bunn on a third; and I had 
 the pleasure to find my opinion confirmed by both 
 these important theatrical potentates. 
 
 Mr. Bunn, who at that time had just succeeded 
 to the throne of the united stage-kingdoms of Drury 
 Lane and Covent Garden, had arranged with me for 
 the adaptation of Fenimore Cooper's novel, " The 
 Bravo," introducing the music, by Maliarni, of an 
 ItaHan opera on the same subject, performed in Paris,, 
 and in which Madame Grisi had been greatly successful. 
 The old obstacle, the want of a singer who could act, 
 immediately presented itself. There was no longer at 
 Drury Lane a popular melo-dramatic performer like 
 
214 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 James Wallack; but in "The Queen's Lover" I fancied 
 I had discovered the man we wanted. Bunn thought 
 so too, and engaged him immediately. This was 
 Henry Gaskell Denvil; and had Mr. Bunn been 
 guided by common prudence, there was stuff enougli 
 of the right sort in this poor fellow — starving as he 
 was when I lighted upon him — to have recruited the 
 fortunes of Drury Lane Theatre, and to have made 
 his own. Instead, however, of reserving him for the 
 melodramatic character, which I designed him for, 
 Bunn, fancying he had secured a second Edmund 
 Kean, insisted on his making his first appearance as 
 Shylock. Denvil came to me in the greatest dis- 
 tress. " He is putting me," were his words, " on a 
 pinnacle to break my neck : but what can I do ? 
 I have, for weeks past, walked Kensington Gardens 
 without a dinner, in order that my wife and little 
 ones should not lose a crumb by me. Mr. Bunn 
 offers me five pounds per week, which is affluence to 
 Tis — salvation ! How can I refuse ? " How could he, 
 indeed? I could only encourage him to make the 
 attempt. 
 
 He did make it, and puzzled the press. The diver- 
 sity of opinion, not only as to the extent of his abilities, 
 but respecting almost every scene of his performance, 
 is, perhaps, scarcely to be equalled in the annals of 
 
 ii 
 
• EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 215 
 
 criticism. After three performances of Sliylock, lie 
 appeared in "Richard III." and "Bertram," with the 
 same result; the conflicting evidence of the " Times," 
 " Herald,'' "Chronicle," and " Morning Post," being 
 most amusingly summed up by the " True Sun," in the 
 evening. In these, and other characters, he had to 
 endure comparison with Edmund Kean ; but, in Lord 
 Byron's "Manfred," which was subsequently produced, 
 he had the advantage of an original part, and united 
 the suffrages of the critics. The remainder of his brief 
 career — his ill-treatment by Bunn, and melancholy 
 exit from the stage of Hfe, I must leave untold in these 
 pages. I have only here to express my regret that I 
 was deprived of the services of an excellent actor, whom 
 I had singled out for my hero, without the consolation 
 of seeing him permanently established in the higher 
 position which, notwithstanding many disadvantages, 
 he had attained, and might have secured under a more 
 judicious management. 
 
 I was, consequently, condemned to accept Mr. Cooper 
 as the only available exponent of my unfortunate 
 "Bravo"; one of those highly respectable actors who 
 are always " clean and perfect," and who may be 
 thoroughly depended upon for everything except acting. 
 John Cooper was a model of his class — a class, I 
 believe indigenous to England : natives to the manner 
 
216 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. • 
 
 born. I have seen on foreign stages, good, bad, and 
 indifferent actors ; but in tlie worst there was always 
 discernible a glimpse of the artist — a creditable concep- 
 tion of the character, however faulty might be the exe- 
 cution. The author was, at least, understood, and 
 more or less ably interpreted. Otherwise, indeed, the 
 actor would not have been permitted to appear on the 
 stage. Now, the misfortune of the "respectable actor " 
 in this country is, that, possessing fairly enough the 
 common-place qualifications for his profession, he plods 
 through his part to the satisfaction of the general 
 pubHc, but to the agony of the author, who, though 
 every syllable of it is distinctly spoken, scarcely recog- 
 nises his own language from the style of its delivery, 
 in many cases, as I know to my cost, conveying to the 
 audience an entirely different notion of the character it 
 was intended to illustrate. I remember asking Charles 
 Young one day, when I met him in Paris, how he 
 accounted for the superiority of the general run of French 
 actors to those of our own country. His answer was, 
 "My dear fellow, they understand the value of loords,'^ 
 No definition could be more perfect. That is " the 
 heart of the mystery." That is the precise knowledge 
 of which the class of actors I am alluding to are woe- 
 fully and hopelessly ignorant. They get the words by 
 heart, and utter them distinctly, and to the general ear 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 217 
 
 with sufficient propriety ; but of the effect to be im- 
 parted to the most common-place sentence, by some 
 particular emphasis or intonation, tliey have not the 
 slightest conception. Let me hasten to do justice to 
 the great body of actors of the present day — very few 
 of the class I have been describing are now to be found. 
 The "walking gentleman" of forty years ago has 
 walked off, and his successor is a gentleman who can 
 walk and talk like one ; and there is scarcely a theatre 
 in London where what used to be considered a " re- 
 spectable actor," could now command an engagement. 
 I have travelled terribly out of the record ; but my 
 old wounds began to bleed afresh at the recollection of 
 the mangling I have endured from " respectable actors." 
 To return to " The Red Mask,'' which will furnish me 
 with yet another cause for bestowing my tediousness on 
 the reader. The opera was produced on the 15th of 
 November, the principal music being allotted to Tem- 
 pleton, and the Bravo acted by John Cooper, exactly 
 as he acted Cortez, in my opera of that name. Major 
 Vanberg in " Charles XIL," and the Linen Draper in 
 " The Jenkins's." If he discovered any differences in 
 these characters, he ingeniously concealed it from the 
 public ; but I — or rather I should say Fenimore Cooper 
 — had one interpreter of his language, who left nothing 
 to be desired. Ellen Tree, who played the sister of the 
 
• 
 218 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 Bravo, in the scene wherein she supphcates the Doge 
 of Venice to save her brother, pleaded with a natural 
 earnestness that not only deeply affected the whole 
 house, but drew tears from the eyes of Richard 
 Younge, an excellent actor, who sustained the part 
 of the Doge, and declared to me afterwards that he 
 did not think he could have been more moved had 
 the situation been real instead of imaginary. 
 
 Those who are acquainted with the novel on which 
 this opera was founded, will remember that the dreaded 
 and execrated Bravo is an innocent man, who has never 
 shed a drop of blood, and is simply a helpless slave of 
 the infamous Council of Ten, and finally a sacrifice to 
 their hideous policy. On hearing of her brother's con- 
 demnation, his sister obtains an audience of the Doge, 
 and receives from him an assurance that the execution 
 shall not take place. The waving of a flag from a 
 window of the palace is to be the signal of mercy. The 
 poor girl departs full of joy and gratitude, but the 
 guilty tribunal can only escape conviction by the immo- 
 lation of their innocent servant, and the signal of mercy 
 is treacherously made the signal of death. As it has 
 been invariably my practice, I followed as closely as 
 possible the story I was dramatising. As the appointed 
 hour tolled from the Campanile, the troops formed a 
 hollow square, completely concealing the prisoner and 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 219 
 
 tlie headsman from the view of the audience. A flag 
 was waved from a window of the ducal palace. The 
 axe gleamed for an instant above the caps of the mul- 
 titude assembled round the fatal spot — it descended, 
 and the. crowd and the soldiery rapidly separating, the 
 masked executioner was seen standing alone beside the 
 block, and in front of a black cloth which covered the 
 body of the Bravo. 
 
 Every thing being thus left to the imagination of 
 the spectator, the effect was infinitely stronger than 
 the grossest exhibition could have produced. The 
 powerful interest of the story, wrought up to the 
 highest pitch by the admirable acting of Miss Ellen 
 Tree, added to the general excitement, and a vehe- 
 ment call for the alteration of the last scene was 
 raised by some forty or fifty persons, amidst the en- 
 thusiastic plaudits of the majority of the audience, 
 who were only struck by the novelty and effect of 
 the picture. Talk of the sensational dramas of the 
 present day! The scene witnessed in Drury Lane 
 Theatre on the night of the 15th of November, 1834, 
 has never been equalled in my recollection, unless, 
 perhaps, on the occasion of the first representation of 
 Mr. Charles Reade's drama, *' Never too Late to Mend," 
 at the Princess's, when, according to report (for I was 
 not present), there was an uproar which might possibly 
 
220 BECOLLECTIONS AND BEFLECTIONS. 
 
 have resembled it. In my case, the imagination of 
 some of the spectators was wrought to so extravagant 
 a pitch, that one man in the pit declared he had seen 
 a stream of red fluid, to imitate blood, pour down from 
 the block to the footlights ; and another, that a gory 
 head was exhibited to the public ! Mr. Francis Bacon, 
 one of the sub-editors of the "Times," came behind the 
 scenes, and strongly urged Bunn to induce me to alter 
 the termination of the opera, and similar remonstrances 
 appearing in the principal journals on the following 
 morning, the last scene teas altered, and the Bravo 
 saved by the interference of the Doge, in the most 
 approved melo-dramatic fashion, and contrary to all the 
 objects and moral of the story. 
 
 I sat up in the slips on the second night of perform- 
 ance, the house being crowded to suffocation, and 
 when the curtain fell, a gentleman, who had been sitting 
 near me, absorbed in the interest of the plot, jumped up 
 and exclaimed, "Confound it; they've spoiled the 
 piece ! " which was undoubtedly the fact. The voice ofg 
 the jDubKc, as it was presumed to be, had been most re- 
 spectfully obeyed — and what was the consequence ^ 
 The public were woefully disappointed, and the receipts] 
 fell off accordingly. I should be amongst the last toj 
 advocate any scenic representation in which good taste 
 and feeling were outraged for a mere coup-de-theatreJ 
 
RECOLLECTIONS AND REFLECTIONS. 221 
 
 or to propose any exhibition tending to brutalise the 
 people. They may be morbidly excited by the most 
 vivid representations of barbarous and bloody murders, 
 but the public were not allowed to fancy ^ for they 
 certainly were not permitted to see, the execution of 
 the Bravo, according to the popular novel on which 
 the opera was founded, and in illustration of the 
 fiendish policy of the Republic of Venice, which it 
 was the sole object of the author to expose and brand 
 with infamy. 
 
 To what is now distinguished as the sensational 
 drama, an objection is justifiably raised, on the ground 
 that the incidents are introduced for the purpose of 
 affecting the nervous system only, and not with the 
 higher motive of pointing a moral, or the development 
 of human passion. However cleverly constructed, they 
 appeal to the lowest order of intellect ; and the perils 
 and atrocities represented being those most familiar to 
 the pubhc, from their daily occurrence in real life, and 
 graphic descriptions in the newspapers, the more 
 naturally they are depicted, the more fearful and revolt- 
 ing is their effect. 
 
 What can be more dramatically sensational than the 
 tragedy of " Macbeth ? " But strip it of its romantic 
 accessories — reduce its magnificent poetry to the ordi- 
 nary prose of our day ; imagine a nobleman in modern 
 
222 KECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 costume rushing out of the bedroom of a venerable 
 guest, whom he has murdered in his sleep, with two 
 bloody carving-knives in his hands ! There is no 
 doubt the effect would be infinitely more horrible ; but 
 would such horror be desirable upon the stage ? To 
 any one possessing the smallest modicum of good 
 taste the sight would be simply loathsome. Had my 
 story been founded on the Cato Street conspiracy, and 
 terminated with the decapitation of Thistlewood in the 
 Old Bailey, no contrivance, however ingenious, by whiclr 
 the hideous circumstances were concealed from actual 
 sight, could have atoned for their introduction. But 
 distance of time and place, foreign scenery and costume, 
 and artistic indication of the catastrophe in the " Red 
 Mask," one demanded by the subject, without which the 
 pathetic story was naught, and the political lesson un- 
 read, should, I still humbly submit, have obtained for 
 the opera unqualified approbation, and a great pecu- 
 niary success. No drama, however interesting or well 
 acted, can survive, if the curtain falls on " a lame and 
 impotent conclusion." 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 In 1834, my " History of British Costume " — the 
 result of ten years' diligent devotion to its study, of 
 every leisure hour left me by my professional engage- 
 ments — was published by Mr. Charles Knight, as one 
 of the series of volumes issued by "The Society for 
 the Diffusion of Entertaining Knowledge." Amongst 
 my "Recollections and Reflections" few are more 
 agreeable to me, whether I take into consideration the 
 pleasure afforded to me by the pursuit of that study — 
 the stock of valuable and varied information I in- 
 sensibly acquired by the perusal of innumerable works, 
 I should otherwise never have known even by name — 
 the reputation it has obtained for me throughout the 
 artistic and antiquarian world, on the Continent, as 
 well as at home ; — or, last, but by no means least, the 
 service it has rendered to our English historical 
 painters, of which I am to this day receiving the most 
 gratifying proof in letters of acknowledgment from 
 many of the most eminent. That I am indebted 
 
224 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLEOTIONS. 
 
 for all this to tlie counsels and encouragement of 
 Mr. Douce and Sir Samuel Meyrick, I shall never 
 cease gratefully to proclaim ; and my pride in the 
 position it has gained for me in that special branch 
 of archaeology is, I trust, pardonable, as it is due to no 
 superior talent but a peculiar taste, born of an acci- 
 dental conversation, educated by the best masters, 
 and indulged in, not for fame — and heaven knows, not 
 for profit — but merely for the fascination I found 
 in it. 
 
 In 1872 it may surprise many persons to learn that 
 forty or fifty years ago our greatest painters, poets, 
 and novelists were, as far as regarded a correct idea of 
 the civil and military costume of our ancestors, 
 involved in Cimmerian darkness. To Sir Walter 
 Scott the honour is due of having first attracted 
 public attention to the advantages derivable from 
 the study of such subjects, as a new source of effect 
 as well as of historical illustration ; and though his 
 descriptions of the dress, armour, and architecture of 
 the Anglo-Norman and mediaeval periods are far from 
 correct, those in the romances and poems, the scenes 
 of which are laid in his own country or elsewhere 
 during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, are 
 admirable for their truth and graphic delineation ; but 
 though writers of fiction, inspired by his example, took 
 
KECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 225 
 
 more pains to acquire information on these points, 
 painters continued to perpetrate the grossest ab- 
 surdities and anachronisms, often knowingly, under 
 the mistaken idea that they were rendering their 
 productions more picturesque. Did West, the Pre- 
 sident of the Royal Academy, render his composition 
 more picturesque by representing Paris in the Roman 
 instead of the Phrygian costume? Did Etty gain 
 anything by placing a helmet of the reign of James 
 or Charles I. by the bedside of Holofernes? As 
 I have remarked elsewhere, "Is it pardonable in a 
 man of genius and information to perpetuate errors 
 upon the ground that they may pass undiscovered 
 by the million? Does not the historical painter 
 voluntarily offer himself to the public as an illustrator 
 of habits and manners, and is he wantonly to abuse the 
 faith accorded to him? " 
 
 As an example of the extraordinary hallucinations 
 which occasionally possess artists of first-rate ability, 
 my old friend John Listen called on me one day and 
 flattered me by expressing the request of Sir David 
 Wilkie, who was a connection of his, that I would pay 
 him a visit at Kensington and see his great picture 
 (now so well known) of " Knox preaching to his 
 Congregation," before it was sent to the Royal 
 Academy for exhibition, in order that I might point 
 
 VOL. I. Q 
 
226 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 out to him any little inaccuracy in the costume of the 
 figures he had introduced. I accompanied Listen with 
 great pleasure, and on being shown the picture, imme- 
 diately pointed out to Sir David that the armed men in 
 the gallery were depicted in helmets of the time of 
 Charles I. or Cromwell, instead of those of the period 
 of his subject. His answer was that he intended to 
 represent persons who were curious to hear the dis- 
 course of the preacher, but did not wish to be re- 
 cognised, and therefore came in armour. I could not 
 help smiling at this explanation, and asked him where- 
 fore, as such was his intention, he had not given them 
 the helmet of the sixteenth century, which, when 
 the vizor was closed, effectually concealed every 
 feature, in preference to that of the seventeenth, 
 with its simple nose-guard or slender triple bars, 
 which allowed the face clearly to be seen? He 
 mused a little, and then half promised to make the 
 alteration ; but he didn't ; and there is the picture and 
 the engravings from it handed down to posterity with 
 a wilful anachronism which diminishes the effect, 
 whilst it utterly defeats the object of the painter ! 
 
 But, it may be argued, the dresses of some periods 
 would detract from the expression of the figure, which 
 is the higher object of the painter's ambition. Such 
 and such colours are wanted for peculiar purposes, and 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 227 
 
 these might be the very tints prohibited by the critical 
 antiquary. To these and other similar objections my 
 answer has always been that the exertion of a tithe 
 of the study and ingenuity exercised in the invention 
 of dresses to satisfy the . painter's fancy would enable 
 him to be perfectly correct, and often, indeed, more 
 effective, from the mere necessity of introducing some 
 hues and forms which otherwise had never entered 
 into his imagination. Take for example a circum- 
 stance related to me by Sir Samuel Meyrick, many 
 years ago. Shortly after the publication of his 
 " Critical Inquiry into Ancient Arms and Armour," 
 in which the landmarks were first laid down for the 
 guidance of all future antiquaries, Mr. Abraham 
 Cooper, so well known for his spirited battle scenes, 
 called on him with the request that he would kindly 
 inform him what sort of caparisons were used for horses 
 in the reign of Richard III, as he was painting the 
 "Battle of Bosworth Field," and wished the details to 
 be as accurate as possible. Meyrick explained to him 
 that at that period the king's horse would have been 
 covered with housings of silk, embroidered with the 
 royal arms of France and England quarterly. " Oh ! " 
 exclaimed Cooper, in consternation, " that will never 
 do! My principal object is to paint 'White Surrey,' 
 and if he is to be muffled up in that manner there will 
 
 Q 2 
 
228 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 be notliing seen of him but bis hoofs ! " " Stop," said 
 the antiquary; " what particular incident in the battle 
 do you propose to represent?" "The last desperate 
 charge of Eichard," replied the artist, " in which he 
 slew Richmond's standard-bearer and unhorsed Sir 
 John Cheney." "Then," suggested Meyrick, "it would 
 be fair to suppose that in so fierce a conflict the 
 silken housings of the horse would by that time 
 have been almost in tatters, and display as much 
 of his body as would be necessary." The painter 
 seized the idea. The blue and scarlet housings, 
 slashed to pieces and streaming in the wind, increased 
 the effect of action in the steed, and contrasted 
 admirably with his colour. The picture was most 
 successful, and is, I believe, considered to this day one 
 of the best examj)les of our English Wouvermans. 
 
 Out of the many letters from distinguished artists 
 which from the time of the publication of my little 
 work I continued to receive on this subject, I have 
 selected the following as most interesting to the 
 general reader, the first two being those of a most 
 remarkable man, whose genius and enthusiastic love 
 of high art might have placed him at the head of 
 his profession, but for an overweening vanity, which 
 made " his life a warfare '' and his death a tragedy — 
 Benjamin Robert Haydon : — 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND REFLECTIONS. 229 
 
 SiK, 
 
 Without the honour of a personal introduction, may I 
 take the liberty of saying I am painting a picture of the 
 Black Prince thanking Lord Audley for his gallantry at the 
 battle of Poictiers, for a descendant of the family. 
 
 I agree with you in everything you say about costume, and 
 I shall be infinitely obliged if you will call and see the pic- 
 ture, and give me any advice. 
 
 I have got the arms and banners of Suffdlk, Salisbury, 
 Warwick, Cobham, but I cannot find those of Sir Walter 
 Woodland, the standard-bearer of the Prince. I have a back 
 view of one of Lord Audley's knights, and I want your advice 
 on the degree of plate covering, &c. ; in fact I wish to be 
 essentially correct. If you will excuse the liberty, let me 
 know the day you will honour me, I will take care to be in 
 the way. 
 
 I am, Sir, 
 With every apology, yours obediently, 
 
 B. R. Haydon, 
 
 4, Burwood Place, 
 
 Connaught Terrace, 
 
 Edgware Eoad. 
 — Planche, Esq. 
 
 I called on him, accordingly, corrected some few 
 inaccuracies of costume, and gave him the arms of 
 Sir Walter Woodland, inviting him at the same time 
 to my house to inspect my collection and the works of 
 Sir Samuel Meyrick. He did not keep his appoint- 
 ment, and the next day wrote as follows : — 
 
230 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 4, BuEWOOD Place, CoNNAroHT Teeeace, 
 April 8, 1836. 
 
 Dear Sir, 
 
 I hope you will pardon my apparent inattention, in 
 neglecting your summons last night. I was very much 
 fatigued with my lecture the night before, and this morning 
 all my remaining children have been attacked with the 
 measles. So what with attending and helping to ease Mrs. 
 Haydon, I asslire you I felt quite imequal to go out. Next 
 Thursday (as I do not lecture again till the 4th) I shall be 
 happy to meet you ; in the meantime I hope on Sunday you 
 will call on me. I have advanced the whole picture amaz- 
 ingly in consequence of your advice and assistance, and I beg 
 to thank you most sincerely for Sir Walter Woodland's arms. 
 I am now complete and shall finish as fast as I can. With 
 
 your help and Sir Merrick, we will make it a Standard 
 
 picture as to authority, setting aside its other qualifications. 
 
 I assure you, without affectation, I am much gratified by 
 your acquaintance ; the unaffected and kind manner in 
 which you have exerted yourself to keep me from error in 
 matters of Heraldry, entails on me an obligation it will take 
 some time to repay. 
 
 I ain, dear Sir, 
 
 Your obedient servant, 
 
 B. K. Haydon. 
 
 — Planche, Esq. 
 
 The next two, a little earlier in date, are froi 
 that excellent artist who has so recently been takei 
 from us — Daniel Maclise, the second containing a 
 most spirited sketch in pen and ink of the two figures 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 231 
 
 he proposed painting, and of which I have the pleasure 
 to subjoin a facsimile : — 
 
 63, Upper Charlotte Street, 
 
 FiTZROY Square. 
 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 T know very well I am going farther than our ac- 
 quaintance would authorize in writing to you, and to ask a 
 favour ; but you will I dare say rather hear my request than 
 my excuse. 
 
 Boldly then I would beg of you, if it were in your power, 
 to put me in the way of getting a dress of Charles I., by 
 borrowing or begging, or even if I knew the address of a 
 stage taifor I would give him an order and some black silk. 
 I am about to paint a picture of Charles and Cromwell and 
 Ireton, &c., and the dresses must be faithfully rendered. 
 The picture being life-size we are forced to have the materials 
 to paint from. I would give the world for a pair of large- 
 topped buff boots for Noll— a cuirass and a tunic— but I am 
 moderate— you will scarcely think so— and any information 
 you can give me will greatly oblige, 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 Yours very faithfully, 
 
 Dan. Maclise. 
 
 Jan. 1, 1836. 
 
 This was followed by a brief note, undated, to the 
 followingeffect:— "I just send this to your club, to 
 say that you will see what I want by the scratch on 
 the other side.'' 
 
232 EECOLLECTIONS AND BEFLECTIONS. 
 
 Here is a facsimile of *' the scratch," and it was 
 scarcely possible for him to indicate character more 
 distinctly even in his " life-size " painting, which was 
 exhibited at the Royal Academy that year. From 
 these and other circumstances my circle of ac- 
 quaintance was greatly increased in the world of 
 art, as well as of letters. 
 
 With Peyronet Briggs, who, in 1835, ceased to paint 
 history and took to portraiture,* I passed much happy 
 time at Goodrich Court, the seat of our mutual friend 
 Sir Samuel Meyrick, sketching together on the banks 
 of the Wye in the morning, and in the evening 
 making studies from the suits in the armoury, or 
 the mediaeval carvings in wood and ivory in the 
 Doucean collection, bequeathed to him by the vene- 
 rated antiquary whose name it bore. With William 
 Etty — for whom I purchased one of the finest suits of 
 armour of the reign of Henry VHI. I ever lighted 
 on — Samuel Prout, Brockedon, Uwins, the Landseers, 
 Edwin and Charles, Cattermole, Bennington, and many 
 others, I soon contracted friendships, of which I possess 
 many valued souvenirs. 
 
 * He paid me the compliment of selecting me for one of his first i 
 sitters, and the portrait was exhibited that year in company with 
 those of the Earl of Eldon, the Countess Dowager of Cork, Charles 
 Kemble, and Mrs. Jameson. 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 233 
 
 At the choice little dinners, also, of my friend 
 Thomas George Fonnereaii, in the Albany — a great 
 lover and liberal patron of art — I constantly met 
 Eastlake, Stanfield, Eoberts, MacKse, and Decimus 
 Burton, the architect, the latter of whom, I am happy 
 to say, I can still number amongst surviving friends. 
 There was a sketching society existing about that 
 period, held at the houses of the members alter- 
 nately, to the meetings of which I was frequently 
 invited, and most pleasant and interesting evenings 
 I found them. The two brothers Alfred and John 
 Chalon were constant attendants, and exceedingly 
 amiable men they were. A subject was given by the 
 host of the evening, and each member was allowed a 
 certain time— an hour, I think— to treat it according: 
 to his own fancy. 
 
 It was extremely interesting to walk round the table 
 and notice the variety of manner in which the same 
 incident was illustrated, according to the peculiar taste 
 and style of each of these eminent men. On one 
 occasion I remember the subject was the seizure 
 of Jaffier's goods and chattels by "the sons of 
 public rapine," as described by Pierre, in Otway's 
 tragedy of "Venice Preserved," act I., scene 1. 
 
 While one depicted the chambers and staircases of 
 the Palazzo, swarming with "filthy dungeon villains," 
 
234 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 dragging out or staggering under the weight of costly 
 furniture, 
 
 " ancient and domestic ornaments. 
 
 Eich. hangings intermixed and wrought with gold." 
 
 and another pourtrayed 
 
 *' a ruffian with a horrid face, 
 
 Lording it o'er a pile of massy plate 
 Tumbled into a heap for public sale." 
 
 Alfred Chalon contented himself with the single 
 figure of Belvidera, gazing sadly from a window "jour 
 a gauche" on the scene of spoliation supposed to 
 be passing below ; while Stanfield, true to his 
 instincts, made a spirited drawing of a canal alive 
 with gondolas, and just indicated the removal of the 
 goods from the water-gate of the mansion. 
 
 When the allotted time had expired, each sketch 
 was set up in its turn, finished or not finished, on the 
 table, with two candles before it, and subjected to the 
 criticism of the members — a process which was as 
 productive of good-natured fun and banter as of 
 valuable opinions and suggestions. After this came 
 supper, rigorously restricted to bread, cheese, butter, 
 and lettuce ; beer and brandy, or whisky and water, 
 and fortunately for me, no smoking. 
 
 I considered it a great privilege to be one of the/ 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND REFLECTIONS. 235 
 
 very few visitors admitted to these noctes, and my 
 recollection of tliem is only saddened by the reflection 
 that not one of that gifted and genial company is 
 now in existence. As the sketches of the evening 
 became the property of the member at whose house 
 they were made, it is probable that some night's work 
 may have been preserved in its integrity. What an 
 art-treasure it would be now ! 
 
 I have digressed a little by devoting this chapter 
 to matters of pictorial art : in the next I will return 
 to the dramatic ; apropos to which change of subject 
 I may mention that, in 1830, I was walking in the 
 gallery of the Louvre with Henri Monnier, a charming 
 French painter, who had just made his debut on the 
 stage, when the new King, Louis Philippe, entered, 
 and accosted him, expressing his regret that Monnier 
 had left off painting. My friend bowed and replied, 
 " Sire, je suis toujours artiste — je n'ai que change le 
 pinceau." 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 The year 1834 termmated with the production of 
 " Telemachus ; or, the Island of Calypso," on the 26th 
 of December, at the Olympic, being the last of the 
 classical burlesques, written jointly with Charles 
 Dance, for that theatre, in consequence of an engage- 
 ment I entered into with Mr. Bunn, to write for him 
 exclusively during the following season, at either 
 Drury Lane or Covent Garden, as he might require. 
 
 I had previously agreed to write a drama for him, 
 founded on Scribe and Halevy's opera, " La Juive," 
 which I had seen magnificently produced at the 
 Academic Eoyal de Musique in Paris, and which 
 was not to be included in the new arrangement. 
 I was, therefore, unable to comply with a pressing 
 request from Bishop, in a long letter to me from 
 Brighton, that I would write an opera for him. In 
 conclusion he says : — " It is quite a grand opera 
 I want, and full of a variety of musical situations. 
 If there is any arrangement we can make about it, 
 pray let me know. I am greatly anxious about the 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 237 
 
 thing, and know of no one I could feel such confi- 
 dence in as my collahorateur as yourself." It would 
 have given me great pleasure to have been once more 
 associated with him in a work of consequence, but 
 my hands were full, and I could not venture to 
 undertake so serious a task in view of the engage- 
 ments before me. On the 14th of March my musical 
 drama, "The Court Beauties," was first performed at 
 the Olympic, for the idea of which I was indebted to 
 Douglas Jerrold, and under no other management at 
 that period could it have been so tastefully presented 
 to the public. The scene in which " King Charles II. 's 
 Beauties " were represented in their frames, from the 
 well-known pictures at Hampton Court, by ladies 
 of the company, was a tableaux vivant as novel as 
 it was effective. The costume of the latter part 
 of Charles's reign was for the first time seen on 
 the Enghsh stage : plays of that period having been 
 previously dressed in the fashion more familiar to 
 the public — that of the Cavaliers of the time of 
 Charles I. and the Civil Wars. All the music was 
 of the seventeenth century ; and the dogs that fol- 
 lowed their royal master in " The Mall " were Madame 
 Vestris's own pets, and really of King Charles's breed. 
 A curious fact had crept out at the close of the two 
 national theatres last season. Captain Polhill, who 
 was supposed to have retired from Drury Lane, with 
 
238 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 his partner, Alexander Lee, in 1832, had remained 
 behind the curtain, and was the really responsible spe- 
 culator, while Bunn was the ostensible lessee, first of 
 Drury Lane only, and then of Covent Garden also. 
 The Captain's retirement now was an enforced one. He 
 had no more money to lose, having run through, as he 
 informed me with his own hps, the sum of £50,000 
 since his first connection with the theatre — a period of 
 only four years. Mr. Bunn was now left entirely to 
 himself, and having nothing to lose, went recklessly on 
 with the two theatres, although the experience of two 
 seasons had so lamentably proved the total failure of 
 the scheme, professionally as well as financially. A 
 tragedy had been weakened at one house, to spare 
 Mr. Warde to strengthen an opera at the other; 
 or the tragic company completely divided, to furnish 
 a scanty entertainment at both houses the same 
 evening. 
 
 Thus we had had Mr. Vandenhoff and Miss Clifton 
 playing at Covent Garden, against Mr. Denvil at Drury 
 Lane ; while Mr. Farren, who was engaged expressly 
 to perform at Drury Lane only, could not be included 
 in the cast of a comedy at Covent Garden. The 
 audience was sometimes kept waiting a quarter of an 
 hour and upwards at one house, while a performer was 
 finishing his part at the other. On some occasions, 
 indeed, the performer did not stay to finish it, but 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND REFLECTIONS. 239 
 
 made his escape before the Last scene of the play, 
 leaving speeches that were indispensable to be spoken 
 by another person ; and the whole corps de ballet was 
 frequently extracted from the last scene of a piece at 
 Drury Lane, and hurried over for the commencement 
 of one at Covent Garden. 
 
 My old friend George Raymond, in his lively 
 memoirs of EUiston, thus incidentally alludes to this 
 insensate speculation: — "Broad Court and Martlett 
 Buildings, from about half-past nine at night to a 
 quarter from ten, exhibited a most extraordinary scene. 
 Actors half attired, with enamelled faces, and loaded 
 with the paraphernalia of their art, were passing and 
 re-passing as busy as pismires, whilst the hurried 
 interchange of quaint words — "Stage waits," — "Music 
 on," — "Rung up," &c., — would have perplexed the 
 stranger with a thousand surmises. ... At the 
 season of Christmas, when this state of alternation 
 was at its height, the female figure-dancers pattered 
 from one house to another six times during the 
 evening, and underwent the operation of dressing 
 and undressing no less than eight."* 
 
 Bunn, however, was not the inventor of this 
 wretched system. He was merely imitating Elliston, 
 his old master, whom it seemed always his ambition to 
 
 * Life and Enterprises of Eobert William EUiston. Eoutledge, 
 London, 1857. 
 
240 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 rival, if lie could not surpass, in the audacity of his 
 speculations. At the time EUiston was lessee of the 
 Surrey Theatre and the Olympic, the actors, who were 
 common to both, had to hurry from St. George' s-in- 
 the-Fields over Blackfriars' Bridge to Wych Street, 
 and occasionally back again the same evening. But 
 EUiston was an admirable actor, a great favourite with 
 the public; while Bunn was personally unknown to 
 them — a fact which made considerable difference in 
 the calculation ; and as even the prestige of the former 
 failed to justify the experiment, what was to be 
 expected from the unnatural connection, of Drury Lane 
 and Covent Garden, under far more disadvantageous 
 circumstances as regarded pecuniary liabilities ? 
 
 It must surely be obvious to persons even unversed 
 in theatrical matters that the solitary chance of success 
 would have been derived from keeping the perform- 
 ances at one house thoroughly distinct from those 
 at the other : giving Tragedy and Comedy as strongly 
 cast as was possible at Drury Lane, and Opera and 
 Spectacle at Covent Garden ; but as I have already 
 shown, Bunn actually put up Tragedy against 
 Tragedy, dividing, instead of combining, his forces, 
 and opposing himself more fatally than any rival 
 could have done. 
 
 On the 16tli of November, 1835, my version of "La 
 Juive " was produced at Drury Lane, under the title of 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 241 
 
 *' The Jewess," a three-act drama in blank verse, and 
 got up with nearly as much splendour as tlic original. 
 Its success was great, and in conjunction with Balfe's 
 opera, " The Siege of Rochelle," crammed the house 
 till Christmas, the receipts averaging over £2,000 per 
 week. Thackeray, who was in my box for a short 
 time during the opera, made sketches of Balfe and 
 Seguin. I have, unfortunately, lost that of Seguin, 
 but here is '^ Signer Balfi," a fac-simile of the man as' 
 well as of the drawing. 
 
 ^i^urf ^oi^\- 
 
 VOL. r. 
 
242 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 To the published book of '^The Jewess " I thought 
 it necessary to append the following note : — 
 
 '' In the French opera, Eachel is plunged into the 
 furnace as the Cardinal for the last time beseeches 
 Eleazar to say where he may find his daughter. The 
 Jew triumphantly answers ' la voila ' and rushes up 
 the steps to execution as the Cardinal sinks horror- 1 
 struck on the stage, and the curtain falls on the picture. I 
 I feel it due to Mons. Scribe and to myself, not to 
 suffer these pages to go to press without recording in 
 them my deep regret, that it was considered vitally 
 important to the success of this drama on the Enghsh 
 stage, that truth, power, and poetical justice should be 
 all sacrificed, as in the recent case of the ' Red Mask,' 
 to a prejudice— an amiable one, I acknowledge— but 
 still a prejudice. I might almost say a caprice, look- 
 ing at the permitted catastrophes of many of our finest 
 tragedies and most popular living dramas. I take this 
 opportunity of stating also, that although I have 
 adhered pretty closely in every other respect to the 
 plot of ]\Ions. Scribe's drama, the language, such as it 
 is, is my own, bearing in all the principal scenes 
 scarcely even that general affinity to the French, which 
 in writing on the same subject and preserving the same 
 situations, it would be impossible altogether to avoid ; 
 and I mention this, not from any silly feehng of annoy- 
 
EECOLLECTIONtS AND EEFLECTIOXS. 24;3 
 
 ance at the absurd and thread-bare remarks respectmg 
 translations in which some who cannot even translate 
 console themselves by indulging — but for the protec- 
 tion of the property which others as well as myself 
 retain in the acting and printing copyrights of this 
 drama." 
 
 I have reprinted this note because it touches upon 
 two points of controversy, which nearly forty years 
 have not sufficed to settle, and which has recently been 
 reopened between authors and critics with unabated 
 acrimony.* On the first — that of sensational incidents 
 or catastrophes — I have little to add to the observa- 
 tions I have already made with reference to the termi- 
 nation of my opera " The Red Mask." Unwillingly as 
 I altered that of " The Jewess," I felt that there was 
 not so strong a motive for adhering to the original 
 story as was obvious in the previous instance. The 
 lesson to be read was not so great. The object of the 
 author was not so completely stultified. Still the ven- 
 geance of the Jew, whose sons had been burned at the 
 stake, was in strict accordance with the laws of his 
 nation — "an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth," 
 and the z(72christian persecution of the children oi 
 Israel during the middle ages, is an historical fact on 
 
 • Yide ** Dramatists of the Present Day," by Q. Eeprinted from 
 the ''Athenaeum." 
 
 R 2 
 
244 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 which no comment can be too severe — a crime for 
 which scarcely any punishment in this world could be 
 considered inordinate. And yet, the Cardinal is, by the 
 saving clause, introduced in the last act, " quitte pour 
 la peur," and is supposed to live happily with his 
 daughter ever afterwards — though what happiness the 
 poor girl could enjoy under the circumstances it is diffi- 
 cult to imagine. Her death as in the French opera, 
 has now been repeatedly witnessed by approving 
 crowds, in the Italian version at Covent Garden, and I 
 have not heard of any charge of " brutal realism " 
 brought by the press against the manager. On the 
 second point a much wider field of argument pre- 
 sents itself. Originality. The most vehement and 
 virulent denouncer of modern dramatists himself 
 admits " How far a man may avail himself of the 
 labours of another, in a work to which he attaches 
 his own name alone, is a question not easy of decision ^ 
 There can be no doubt it is a question of degree on 
 which it would be difficult to reconcile the opinions of 
 the writer and his critic : but our modern censor pro- 
 ceeds to remark — " It must not be supposed from what 
 I have been saying, that I object to the appropriation by 
 an author of extraneous aid. Shakespeare levied toll 
 upon mediaeval chronicles and Italian tales. Moli^re, 
 in composing ' Tartuffe,' plagiarised his plot and whole 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND llEFLECTIONS. 2 
 
 passages from a foreign original, and even Mr. Dion 
 Boucieault makes use of the labours of other men." 
 *' But then," he continues, *' Shakespeare gave vitality to 
 what he borrowed, and as I have admitted in my notice 
 of Mr. Boucieault, that prolific playwright adorns what 
 he touches." So then it is not only a question of quantity 
 but quality. On that head I will not waste a word — I 
 leave " Q." to enjoy his own opinion as to the literary 
 merits of the gentleman he attacks, being perfectly 
 satisfied that he is quite competent to defend himself^ 
 and that his reputation is not likely to be seriously 
 damaged by his anonymous detractor. I will confine 
 myself to the question of originality. Is the ridiculous 
 outcry about translation caused by the sins of modern 
 dramatists ? Let us go back to the reign of Charles II. 
 
 " And may those drudges of tlie Stage, whose fate 
 Is damned dull farce more dully to translate, 
 Fall under that excise the State thinks fit 
 To set on all French wares, whose worst is wit. 
 French farce, worn out at home, is sent abroad 
 And patched up here is made our English mode." 
 
 These lines were spoken by Nell Gwyn in the royal 
 23resence, and written to usher in the extravagant play 
 of " The Conquest of Grenada," the bombast of which 
 furnished the witty Duke of Buckingham with a hint for 
 his " Rehearsal," and would occasion it to be laughed 
 
24G EEC01.LECTI0XS AND EEPLECTIOXS. 
 
 off the stage iu five minutes iiow-a-da3'S. The same 
 carping and cavilling has always existed, and will 
 always exist. Our stage has always been indebted 
 more or less to that of the French, for every description 
 of drama except tragedy, which appears indigenous to 
 England ; but the intimacy established between the two 
 nations some fifty years ago, renders it almost impos- 
 sible for a writer now to escape detection, and the 
 increased demand for novelty drives the dramatist to 
 the foreign market, for such materials as may be most 
 speedily converted to the purpose required. 
 
 The crime, if it be one, carries its own punishment 
 along with it — a poor bald, literal translation fails, and 
 a clever, spirited one, succeeds. If the public are 
 amused, they come — if they are not, they stay away, 
 without caring one farthing whence that which they like 
 or dislike is derived. The mere literal translator, what- 
 ever may be the merit of his work, cannot, of course, 
 lay claim to its invention — if he do, he must take the 
 consequences of his dishonesty — but apart from that, 
 why is he to be assailed and reviled as if he had been 
 guilty of some crime against society ? Why is the term 
 " Translator " to be used as one of contempt and re- 
 proach against a dramatist, and applied with respect 
 and approval to him who skilfully renders any other 
 .species of foreign literature into good English ? There 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 247 
 
 is much more art required to make a play actable than 
 a book readable, and in cases of adaptation or recon- 
 struction, where only the plot, or but a portion of it has 
 been taken, and the dialogue wholly or the greater 
 part of it re-written — why is the dramatist, however 
 humble, to be denied the privilege so kindly accorded 
 by " Q." to Shakespeare, Moli^re, and Boucicault ? I 
 contend that he has made that play his own by the new 
 treatment of the subject and the language he has sup- 
 plied, whether good, bad, or indifferent ; that it is the 
 quantity and not the quality of the work he has done 
 which constitutes his claim to the property, and if that 
 claim is to be disputed in all cases, the number of 
 thoroughly original plays which have obtained any last- 
 ing success will be very small indeed, either here or on 
 the Continent, and the title of dramatist would scarcely 
 be allotted to " the swan of Avon," who was stigma- 
 tised by his jealous contemporary playwrights as a jay 
 dressed out in their feathers. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 The extraordinary success of " The Jewess " pro- 
 duced the usual effect of prosperity on Bunn, to whom, 
 contradictory as it may appear, good fortune was 
 always injurious. As if such fair weather was to en- 
 dure for ever, he went out of town, and made no prepa- 
 ration for a rainy day. Consequently, when the houses 
 dropped as usual after the Christmas holidays, nothing 
 was ready, and I was sent to Paris in hot haste to 
 witness the production of Meyerbeer's opera " Les 
 Huguenots," and make arrangements with the com- 
 poser for its representation in London. I was present 
 at the last general rehearsal, and of course at the first 
 performance, poor Nourrit, who destroyed himself, sus- 
 taining the part of Raoul, Levasseur (a basso molto 
 profondo) that of Marcel, Mdlle. Dorus Gras the Queen, 
 and the beautiful Mdlle. Falcon, Valentine. It was a 
 great triumph for all concerned ; but there was con- 
 siderable religious excitement in England at that 
 moment, and I doubted the effect of such a subject on 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 249 
 
 a general audience in an English theatre, even had 
 there been a chance of its passing through the office of 
 the lord chamberlain. My friend and neighbour George 
 Colman, was at that time Examiner of Plays, and that 
 celebrated wit and dramatist had, from long experience, 
 acquired too keen a sense of latent danger in ordinary 
 cases not to have been startled by a proposal to exhibit 
 at such a moment the massacre of St. Bartholomew. 
 He had had some qualms of conscience respecting the 
 opera of " Gustavus III.," which I had adapted for 
 Covent Garden Theatre in 1833. The assassination of 
 a monarch was an incident none the less objectionable 
 because it was an historical fact while the attempt of 
 Fieschi on the life of King Louis Philippe was an 
 atrocity of recent occurrence ; and we had some cor- 
 respondence on the subject, in which I remember the 
 incorrigible joker contended that " whether a ball was 
 shot at a king, or a king was shot at a ball," made little 
 difference in the mischievous effect it might have on an 
 excited spectator. It was not, however, for me to decide 
 upon the propriety of producing "Les Huguenots;" 
 my mission was only to negotiate. I had, therefore, 
 several interviews with M. Meyerbeer, who paid me the 
 great compliment of saying, " If you will undertake to 
 translate the libretto, and make such alterations in the 
 catastrophe as may be necessary in your opinion to 
 
250. EECOLLECTIONS AND REFLECTIONS. 
 
 ensure its safety in London, I will recompose the last 
 act for tlie English stage, direct the rehearsals, and 
 conduct the opera for the first three nights. You wrote 
 
 * Oberon ' for Weber, and successfully adapted 
 
 * Gustavus ' for England. I will therefore do this for 
 you and for nobody else." Highly flattering as was 
 such a declaration from such a man, it did not influence 
 my opinion that no alterations in the libretto which re- 
 spect for its celebrated author, M. Scribe, would permit 
 me to make, could possibly render the subject eligible 
 for performance in England under the existing circum- 
 stances, setting aside the important fact that no 
 English operatic company could have been got together 
 at that period equal to do justice to so magnificent a 
 work. Mr. Bunn viewing the matter in the same light, 
 the project was abandoned. The consequence of Bunn's 
 improvidence was the rushing out in the season of 
 Lent, and during my absence in Paris, of the melo- 
 dramatic spectacle of " Chevy Chase," which I had 
 prepared for production at Easter, so that when the 
 holidays arrived the piece was some three or four weeks 
 old, and the season, 1835 — 6, dragged its slow length 
 along unprofitably to its close, at which period also 
 terminated the unsuccessful connection of the two great 
 theatres. 
 
 I need scarcely say that I felt greatly relieved at 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 251 
 
 being released from an engagement wlilcli bound me 
 exclusively to a manager to whom, thougli we never 
 had any personal disagreement, I was in matters of 
 taste and general policy thoroughly antagonistical. 
 
 Fastidious as I might be considered by some, in my 
 opinions respecting costume, it may be imagined with 
 what feelings I saw Bunn mingle with the maskers in 
 ^' Gustavus " in the character of the Emperor Napo- 
 leon I., and stand with his arms folded as in the well- 
 known picture of the Exile of St. Helena, in front 
 of the dancers to attract the attention of the 
 audience, who laughed wliilst they applauded tlie 
 ridiculous anachronism — or the annoyance I experi- 
 enced at his introduction, in spite of all my remon- 
 strances, of a body of archers of the time of our 
 Henry VH., into the procession in "The Jewesg,''* 
 the period of which was coseval with the reign of our 
 Henry V. ! 
 
 His impolitic neglect of a piece after it had been 
 successfully produced was another vexation to one who 
 had worked in a theatre managed by Madame Vestris. 
 That lady, when not on the stage, was constantly in 
 her private box, watching the performance, noticing the 
 slightest imperfection, and seeking to increase effects 
 instead of allowing them to be gradually destroyed by 
 lime and carelessness. Many of our Christmas pieces 
 
252 EECOLLECTIOXS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 were thorouglily re-dressed twice during their riiu, and 
 consequently as brilliant on the last as on the first night 
 of their performance. Bunn, on the contrary, whose 
 hobby was spectacle, and who occasionally expended 
 considerable sums in "mounting" it, took not the 
 slightest care of the poor thing afterwards, but rode it 
 to death, starved, ragged, and shoeless. To such a 
 discreditable state of dilapidation w^ere the dresses of 
 the supers employed in the aforesaid procession in 
 "The Jewess" permitted to arrive, that the occu- 
 pants of the boxes nearest to the stage (there w^ere 
 no stalls in those days), amused themselves by iden- 
 tifying the men, as they reappeared in the various 
 scenes, by the particular number of holes in their 
 stockings. 
 
 . That such false economy or discreditable negligence 
 recoils upon a manager there can be no doubt, and Mr. 
 Bunn suffeiied more than once from it accordingly 
 — while Madame Vestris was a gainer both in purse 
 and reputation by the contrary policy, and but for 
 other circumstances, might have realised a splendid 
 fortune. 
 
 The hijudicious and untimely production of " Chevy 
 Chase," was a serious mortification to me, as well as a 
 misfortune for the theatre, as from tlie favourable recep- 
 tion it met with even in the dull season of Lent, and 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 253 
 
 notwithstanding many blunders and imperfections 
 owing to my absence, there is every probability that it 
 would have proved " a card," if offered as a novelty to 
 the lioliday audiences, for whom I had specially con- 
 structed it. The performance of George Wieland, a 
 3'oung pantomimist, who promised to be an English 
 ^lazurier, as a goblin-imp, was extremely effective, and 
 Harley and Mrs. Humby as deliciously humorous as 
 usual. The music by Macfarren was agreeable and 
 characteristic, and the overture is still occasionally a 
 feature in the programmes of benefit concerts. 
 
 There was a rough good humour in Bunn, par- 
 ticularly in his reverses, which rendered it impossible 
 for me to quarrel with him, especially as it was clear 
 he was by no means desirous to quarrel with me, so 
 the termination of my exclusive engagement was not 
 that of our professional connexion, which lasted nearly 
 as long as he was in management : but I was enabled 
 to employ my pen in the service of others whose tastes 
 were more congenial to me, and was soon busy again 
 writing for the Olympic, the company of which had been 
 strongly reinforced by my old friend Listen, and my 
 young friend Charles James Mathews, the latter of whom 
 had made his first appearance in public, and jumped 
 at once into favour with them on the 7th December, 
 1835. For Mathews I wrote " Court Favor," and for 
 
254 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 Liston and Matliews "The Two Figaros," and at 
 Christmas this year, 1836, " Riquet with the Tuft," the 
 first of the fairy extravaganzas, was performed at the 
 Olympic theatre, being an adaptation from the French 
 Feerie FoHe "Riquet a la Houppe," which I had seen 
 Potier in some years before in Paris, and the only one 
 of the long series for which I have been indebted to 
 the French stage. Mathews was Riquet, and Madame 
 Vestris Princess Emeralda. Both were exceedingly 
 doubtful of the result of what they considered a new 
 experiment, for hitherto the subject of the Christmas 
 pieces for six years had been invariably classical. 
 Having been prevented by my engagement with Bunn 
 as before mentioned, from writing for any other 
 theatre than Drury Lane or Co vent Garden during the 
 season 1835 — 36, Madame Vestris had applied to 
 Samuel Lover to furnish her with a Christmas piece 
 for 1835, and he had written her one on the subject of 
 Cupid and Psyche, entitled the "Olympic Pic-nic." 
 Charles Dance, therefore, declared that as some one 
 had been "walking in our sky," it w^as incumbent] 
 on us to change the venue. I proposed Fairyland,] 
 which hitting his fancy, I routed out my adapta-j 
 tion of "Riquet," which, like the " Olympic Revels," 
 had been declined at several theatres, and refreshening 
 it with new songs and concerted musical pieces, enter- 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 255 
 
 tained sanguine hopes of its success, from the novelty 
 of its cliaracter. A few days before its production 
 Charles Dance and I were summoned to a solemn con- 
 ference with Madame and Mathews, in the front parlour 
 of the private house attached to the theatre in Craven 
 Buildings, and it was seriously debated whether or not 
 It would be better, even at that eleventh hour, to revive 
 one of the classical favourites than risk the ruin of the 
 whole season by the failure of this mitried species of 
 entertainment. Not being able, however, to shake our 
 confidence, they in some measure regained their own, 
 and the success that attended their exertions was the 
 more gratifying to us all. 
 
 In these pieces, still, in consequence of the inconsis- 
 tent laws then aifecting the drama entitled Bur- 
 lesque Burlettas, James Bland established his reputa- 
 tion as the monarch of extravaganza, in which dominion 
 he so long exercised sovereign sway and master- 
 dom, and has never been surpassed by the successors 
 to his throne. His training in subordmate characters 
 under the best actors of the regular drama, imparted 
 to his tone and manner an earnestness, which, while 
 it gave point to the epigram, trebled the absurdity 
 of the language in which it was conveyed. He 
 made no effort to be " funny," but so judiciously 
 exaggerated the expression of passion indicated by 
 
256 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 the mock-lieroic language he had to clehver, that 
 while it became irresistibly comic, it never degene- 
 rated to mere buffoonery, but was acknowledged by 
 the most fastidious critic to be *' admirable fooling." 
 In this true and artistic perception of the nature of 
 burlesque, he has only been equalled by the late 
 Mr. Eobson, who, possessing histrionic powers of a 
 much higher order than Bland, occasionally, by his 
 intensity, reversed the well-known quotation, and 
 proved that there was " only one step from the 
 ridiculous to the sublime/' 
 
 The change in the character of the entertainment was 
 thus alluded to in the finale — a parody on the " Fine 
 old English Gentleman " — by Madame Vestris, as 
 the Princess Emeralda : — 
 
 " Old friends, I've the old prayer to make before it is too late, 
 With, your old kindness please to view this change in our old state, 
 Our old mythology, we thought, was getting out of date, 
 And so we've left Olympus old and all its Gods so great, 
 Por a fine old English Fairy Tale, one of the olden time." 
 
 The public cordially granted the prayer, and duly 
 honoured the bills we had drawn upon them to the end 
 of the season. 
 
 Shortly before the production of this piece I had to 
 lament the loss of my friend and neighbour, the great 
 comic writer to whom I was indebted for the idea ol 
 
BECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 257 
 
 my first Olympic burlesque. George Colman, tlie 
 younger, died in Brompton Square, on the 26th of 
 October, 1836, aged 74. The kindly interest he always 
 took in my success, and the encouraging approbation 
 to which it was frequently due, I shall ever remember 
 with pride and gratitude. 
 
 The following invitation to dinner, written by him 
 in 1797, was given me by a relative of the gentleman 
 to whom it was addressed. It is in his own hand- 
 wiiting — a parody on Captain Macheath's song in " The 
 Beggars Opera" — "The charge is prepared, the 
 lawyers are met," and all who are acquainted with the 
 original will admire the neatness and closeness of the 
 imitation : — 
 
 " The dinner's prepared, tlie party is met, 
 The dishes all ranged — not one is for show. 
 Then come undismayed — your visit's a debt. 
 A debt on demand— we won't take a " No." 
 You'll fare well, good sir, you can't fear a dew, 
 Contented you'll sleep 'twill be better for you ; 
 And sleeping you know is the rest of our lives, 
 And this way we'll try to please both our wives. 
 
 ** Come to Richmond to-morrow to dinner, or you have 
 lost your Kew for pleasing everybody here. 
 
 " G. C." 
 
 *'Eichmond, Tuesday night, 
 Dec. 1797." 
 
 VOL. I. S 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 It was in the summer of 1836, that I had the honour 
 of making the acquaintance of the Duchess-Countess of 
 Sutherland. Her Grace had purchased a curious paint- 
 ing of the 15th century, presumed to be a portrait of 
 Charles the Bold, Duke of Burgundy. On showing it 
 to Mr. Dominic Colnaghi, that eminent connoisseur 
 expressed a doubt on the subject, and paid me the com- 
 pliment of referring her Grace to me, as one who 
 might be able to throw some light on the question. I 
 received forthwith an invitation to breakfast in Hamilton 
 Place, and to examine the picture. I did so, and im- 
 mediately thought I recognised it as the original of a 
 drawing in the portfolio of Mons. de Gagnic3res, in the 
 Bibhoth^que at Paris, and of which there was an en- 
 graving in Pc3re Montfaucon's great work " Histoire de 
 la Monarchic Fran^.aise." On referring to a copy of the 
 book in the library of the Society of Antiquaries, my 
 opinion proved correct. I wrote to Thackeray, who 
 was at that time in Paris, and he kindly made me a 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 259 
 
 small copy of the drawing in Mons. dc Gagni^rc's collec- 
 tion, and I was thus enabled to satisfy her Grace that 
 the portrait she had purchased was not that of Charles 
 the Bold, but undoubtedly that of his illegitimate 
 brother, Anthony, called the " Bastard of Burgundy," 
 who fought the famous duel with Lord Scales in Smith- 
 field, in 1467, the fact being further confirmed by his 
 badge of a barbican in flames, mentioned by Olivier de 
 La Marche, the old Historian of Burgundy, wdiich I 
 found painted at the back of the picture. It was at 
 her Grace's table that I shortly afterwards had the 
 gratification of meeting Mr. Samuel Rogers ("that 
 anomalous personage, a rich poet," as Leigh Hunt used 
 to call him) and that brilliant conversationalist Mr. 
 Luttrell, with both of whom I remained on terms of 
 the greatest friendship to the end of their lives. The 
 latter was at that period my near neighbour, resid- 
 ing in Brompton Square ; and sliortly after our dining 
 together in Hamilton Place, I asked Mr. Rogers, 
 with whom I had breakfasted the following morning, 
 to favour Mrs. Planche and myself by breakfasting 
 with us in Brompton Crescent. I had just previously 
 been subpoenaed as a witness in the case of Jerrold v. 
 Morris, which was tried in the Court of Common 
 Pleas ; and instead of writing a note to Mr. Luttrell, 
 to ask him to meet Mr. Rogers, I sent him over-night 
 
 s 2 
 
260 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 the subpoena altered to suit tlie circumstances, with 
 which in his hand he punctually made his appear- 
 ance at ten in the morning. These two celebrated 
 men, without whom few dinner parties in high life 
 were considered comjDlete, were very differently gifted. 
 Eogers had an inexhaustible fund of anecdote of the' 
 most interesting, as well as amusing description, and 
 told his stories in the fewest words possible, so that 
 not only did they never weary you, but they might 
 have been printed without the slightest verbal altera- 
 tion. Luttrell rarely recounted anything he had heard 
 or seen, but charmed you by the sparkle of his lan- 
 guage and the felicity of his epithets. One evening 
 at a party, having accepted a verbal invitation to 
 dinner, under the idea that his son, who was present, 
 would also be asked, and finding subsequently that he 
 was not, he said, " Then who is going to dine there ? " 
 
 '' I really don't know, but I believe the Bishop of 
 
 for one." " The Bishop of ! " exclaimed Luttrell. 
 
 " Mercy upon me ! I don't mix well with the Dean, 
 and I shall positively effervesce with the Bishop." 
 
 Though great friends, for many years, and almost 
 constant companions, they would occasionally comment 
 on each other's peculiarities with humorous freedom. 
 At an assembly at Grosvenor House Mr. Luttrell in- 
 formed me Mr. Eogers had hurt his foot. On express- 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 261 
 
 iiig my regret at the cause of his absence, " Oh ! " said 
 Luttrell, " he'll he here to-night for all that; that old 
 man would go out with the rattles in his throat! " I 
 don't think Rogers was five years his senior. 
 
 Rogers had the reputation of being very ill-natured, 
 and many instances have been given to me by others. 
 I am bound to declare that during all the time I knew 
 him I never heard him say a really ill-natured thing of 
 any one ; but he by no means* denied the accusation. 
 " When I was young," he observed to me, " I used to 
 say good-natured things, and nobody listened to me. 
 Now that I am old I say ill-natured things and every- 
 body listens to me." So much has been written about 
 the " Poet of Memory," and so many of his anecdotes 
 circulated, both in print and conversation, that I shall 
 limit my contribution to the " Table-talk " I heard from 
 his own lips, and two or three anecdotes kindly com- 
 municated to me by Mrs. Procter. The following, 
 which he told me himself, I give as nearly as I can re- 
 collect in his precise words : — 
 
 " My old friend Maltby, the brother of the Bishop, 
 was a very absent man. One day at Paris, in the 
 Louvre, we were looking at the pictures, when a lady 
 entered who spoke to me and kept me some minutes 
 in conversation. On rejoining Maltby I said, ' That 
 was Mrs. . We have not met so long she had 
 
262 EECOLLECTIOXS AND BEFLECTIONS. 
 
 almost forgotten me, and asked me if my name was 
 Rogers/' Maltby, still looking at the pictures, said, 
 *' And was it 1 " 
 
 A man stop^^ed me one day in Piccadilly and said, 
 *' How do you do, Mr. Rogers ? " I didn't know liim. 
 '' You don't remember me, sir. I had the pleasure of 
 seeing you at Bath." I said, " Delighted to see you 
 again — at Bath." 
 
 " It was the fashion formerly to make your guests 
 drunk ; and there was a gentleman staying m a country 
 house, and they made him very drunk, and they tarred 
 and feathered him, and put him to bed. In the morn- 
 ing he woke, and he wasn't sober then. He rose and 
 went to a cheval-glass, and he looked at himself and 
 said, 'A bird, by ! '" 
 
 Mrs. Procter's reminiscences I shall also give 
 verbatim, from the notes with which she has favored 
 me. 
 
 *' Driving out with him," she writes, " I asked him 
 after Lady Matheson, who was continually making 
 him presents, and he said, ' I don't know Lady Mathe- 
 son.' He then pulled the check-string and said, 
 ' Henry, do I know Lady Matheson ? ' The servant 
 replied, 'Law, Sir! my lady comes to see you, and 
 sends you presents nearly every day.' We drove on, 
 I feeling very uncomfortable, and wishing I had never 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 263 
 
 mentioned the lady. Mr. Rogers took my hand, and 
 raising it to his lips said, ' At any rate, I have not for- 
 gotten you.' Once breakfasting with him, a man was 
 spoken of, and the whole party said, one after another, 
 what a nice man he was, &c., &c., &c. When it came 
 to me I said, * I don't like him.' * No more do I,' said 
 Rogers, * only I had not courage enough to say so.' " 
 
 " At his table the conversation never degenerated into 
 ^mall gossip. He always gave it a good tone. I once said 
 
 * I wonder How it is that the are able to keep a 
 
 carriage ? ' He immediately turned to his man Edmond 
 
 and said, * Go to Square, with Mrs. Procter's and 
 
 Mr. Roger's compliments, and they wish to know how 
 they contrive to pay for their carriage.' I felt this a 
 very proper rebuke." 
 
 Rogers had very peculiar notions respecting poetry. 
 The highly imaginative had no charm for him. He 
 could not appreciate the grandeur of oriental language 
 of the Old Testament, and constantly contrasted it with 
 the simple pathos of the New. He would quote the 
 celebrated description of the Horse in the Book of Job, 
 *' His neck is clothed with thunder, and he crieth 
 Ha! ha! to the lightning." "That's nonsense," he 
 said to me — then turning to the 11th Chapter of St. 
 John, he pointed to the two words which form the 
 35th verse, " Jesus wept." " Thafs poetry ! " 
 
264 EECOLLECTIOXS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 The same taste induced Mm, whilst he admired the 
 plays of Shakespeare to speak contemptuously of his 
 sonnets. At breakfast one morning, Mr. Procter and 
 I undertook their defence. Rogers challenged us to 
 repeat a line of them, and to his infinite amusement 
 neither of us were able. I got as far as " how much 
 more doth beauty," and there I stuck. Procter could 
 not remember a word. He who had sung the " Pleasures 
 of Memory " chuckled triumphantly. We whom it had 
 treacherously deserted sat humiliated, but " of the same 
 opinion still." 
 
 It was much the same with respect to music. 
 Simplicity and brevity alone had charms for him. ^'Is 
 not that delightful ? " I asked him one evening at Mrs-. 
 Sartoris's. It was an air by Sebastian Bach. " Yes, 
 and so short," was the reply. With Dr. Johnson, 
 he wished that everything "wonderful" in the way 
 of execution or ornamentation was " impossible." 
 During the performance of a " grand scena," no 
 matter who was the singer, it was his custom to askJ 
 any one who sat near him, " If you heard those 
 sounds in a hospital wouldn't you suppose somej 
 horrible operation was going on ? " 
 
 The jokes on his personal appearance never seemedj 
 to disturb his tranquillity. " Rogers, you're rich enough, 
 why don't you keep your hearse?" is a well-knowul 
 
EECOLLECTIOXS AND REFLECTIONS. 2G5 
 
 question addressed to him by some wicked ^Yag — I 
 think Lord Alvanley ; but he was as hard upon him- 
 self. He tried to cheer my wife, who was becoming a 
 confirmed invaUd, by assuring her that he never knew 
 what health was till he was fifty, and that when ho 
 was a young man he wore a yellow coat, and was 
 called the Dead Dandy. Smgularly enough, after 
 the accident which deprived him of the power of walk- 
 ing, it might truly have been said he kept his hearse, 
 for he was carried in his chair and put into his carriage 
 by a door made at the back of it, in perfect conformity 
 with that vehicle which drives us to the bourne from 
 which no traveller returns. The last time I break- 
 fasted with him, the other guests were Lord Glenelg, 
 Su' David Brewster, and Mr. Babbage ; but his strength 
 and memory were fast failing him, and he survived his 
 old friend Luttrell but a few years. London society 
 has yet to seek their successors. 
 
 Amongst the eminent personages I met in Hamilton 
 Place, one of the most interesting was the Eight Hon. 
 Thomas Grenville ; who, born in 1755, must, at the time 
 of my introduction to him, have entered his eighty- 
 second year, and certainly presented — as Dr. Holland 
 truly observed on that occasion — the finest example of 
 the mens sana in corpore sano, at that advanced age, 
 that had probably ever been known. This grand old 
 
266 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 man, in person as well as in mind, was one of the 
 guests at the first small dinner party to whicli I was in- 
 vited by tlie Duchess-Countess ; the others being her 
 Grace's eldest daughter the Countess of Surrey, after- 
 wards Duchess of Norfolk, and to whom I was ulti- 
 mately indebted for my position at the Heralds' College, 
 Lady Palk, Mrs. Holland, the accomplished daughter 
 of the Rev. Sydney Smith, and author of his biography, 
 and Mr. Richard Sneyed of Staffordshire ; Dr. Holland 
 (now Sir Henry) joining us towards the end of the 
 dinner. Mr. Grenville entertained us with several 
 stories of the eccentric Marchioness of Salisbury, who 
 was burnt to death at Hatfield, 27th November, 1835 
 — pious people declaring it a punishment for her play- 
 ing cards on Sundays. On the occasion of the first 
 great Handel Festival in Westminster Abbey, May, 
 1784, at which Mr. Grenville was present. Lady Salis- 
 bury arrived very late. The King (George HI.), 
 Queen Charlotte, and all the royal family were in their 
 j^laces, and the performance had begun. In the midst 
 of a piece of music, a loud hammering was heard, which 
 disturbed and offended the audience, who expressed 
 their displeasure promptly and vehemently : but in 
 vain. On went the hammering without intermission. 
 The music ceased ; the assembly rose in an uproar ; 
 and their Majesties despatched Lord Salisbury — at that 
 
EECOLLECTIOXS AND EEFLECTIONS. 267 
 
 time Lord Chamberlain — to ascertain the cause of so 
 indecent a distm-bance. It proved to be his own wife. 
 On entering the box reserved for the Lord Chamberlain 
 and his family, her ladyship found it had been divided, 
 to accommodate another party, and liad 'insisted on 
 carpenters being sent for and compelled to pull down 
 the partition, in utter disregard of King, Queen, Lords, 
 and Commons, singers, fiddlers, and the awful Britisli 
 public ! 
 
 Going with her daughters to the Chapel Royal St. 
 James's, one Sunday morning, and not being able to 
 find a seat, she said, in answer to the question of 
 ^' Where shall we go, mamma ? " '' Home again, to 
 Le sure ! If we can't get in, it's no fault of ours. 
 We've done the civil thing." 
 
 Mr. Grenville survived the Duchess-Countess, and 
 occupied the house in Hamilton Place, where he died, 
 leaving the whole of his magnificent library to the 
 British Museum. Her Grace was my warm friend to 
 the end of her life, never losing an opportunity of show- 
 ing me a courtesy or doing me a service. Rogers 
 always spoke of her to me as " Our Friend — that very 
 great lady." And she was as gracious as she was 
 great. Lord Byron, who was introduced to her in 
 Paris when she was Marchioness of Stafford, says in 
 one of his letters, " Her manners are princessly ; " and 
 
268 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 the term happily conveys the idea of that natural dig- 
 nity of demeanour combined with the most charming 
 affability which was her peculiar characteristic. Her 
 Grace cultivated as well as patronised the arts: not 
 only drawing and painting, but etching on copper, 
 with great ability. A privately printed folio volume 
 of views in Orkney and Sutherlandshire drawn and 
 etched by herself, and presented to me early in our 
 acquaintance, is a cherished and valuable memorial of 
 her kindness. 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 It was also in the year 1836 that I became ac- 
 quainted with the Countess of Blessington. Having 
 received a kind invitation from her ladyship to visit her 
 in Seamore Place, May Fair, where she then resided, I 
 went one evening with Charles Mathews, who had 
 travelled with Lord and Lady Blessington and been 
 their guest on the Continent, and *' kissed hands on 
 presentation." From that evening to the day of her 
 departure from England — never to return — I was her 
 constant visitor in Seamore Place and at Gore House, 
 to which she shortly afterwards removed, and was 
 present at the latter on two very remarkable occasions, 
 which will be spoken of in their proper chronological 
 order, as I must now proceed with my recollections of 
 1837. They are not very agreeable to me. Impri- 
 mis, I had been unfortunately compelled to be one of 
 the first to put the Dramatic Authors' Act in force 
 against a gentleman for whose talent I had every re- 
 spect, and with whom I had been for some years on 
 
270 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 terms of intimacy as a neighbour, as well as an emi- 
 nent member of tlie theatrical profession. 
 
 Mr. Braham, who had obtained the sanction of His 
 Majesty, King William IV. for the erection of a new 
 theatre in King Street, St. James',* was ill-advised 
 enough to produce the opera of Oberon, in which he 
 had been the original Huon, and knowing that I stood 
 pledged to the Proprietors of Covent Garden not to 
 allow the performance of my libretto at any other 
 theatre in London, employed Mr. Gilbert A'Becket ta 
 write a new one to the music of Weber. This he had 
 a perfect right to do, however opinions might differ a& 
 to the taste or delicacy of the proceeding; but, as 
 may naturally be imagined, however, the difficulty 
 might be surmounted as regards the spoken dialogue, 
 it was next to impossible to divorce from such music as 
 Weber's, the words he had so wonderfully wedded to* 
 it, and which Braham, at whose express solicitation- 
 Weber had composed the scena " 0, 'tis a glorious 
 sight," should surely have been the last man to have' 
 put asunder. The consequence was that nearly all the 
 vocal portions were given with the original words, and] 
 not with those printed in the books sold in the house. 
 The Proprietors of Covent Garden called upon me ta| 
 
 * Erected for liim, after the designs of Samuel Beazley, andj 
 opened in 1835. 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 271 
 
 execute my part of the contract with them and pro- 
 hibit the performance at the St. James'. I was bound 
 both legally and morally, to protect their interests. I 
 expostulated with Mr. Braham, who denied, in writing, 
 that any words of mine were sung, although I, myself, 
 Charles Dance (who had attended with a book and 
 marked the pieces) and many others had heard them. 
 
 I had, therefore, no remedy left me but the law, 
 which I most unwillingly had recourse to. The Hon- 
 orable Henry Fitzharding Berkeley and Mr. Angelo 
 Selous,"' both at the time utter strangers to me per- 
 sonally, had been present at the first representation, 
 and most handsomely came forward in my behalf. The 
 evidence of Dance, Oxenford, and several others of my 
 brother dramatists was objected to on the ground that 
 they were interested witnesses ; but the case was so clear 
 that I obtained a verdict, and a subsequent motion for 
 a new trial being unsuccessful, Mr. Braham had to pay 
 very dearly for his experiment. As no pecuniary 
 benefit could, under any circumstances, have occurred 
 to me, while had I lost the action I should have been 
 saddled with ruinous expenses, it must be obvious that 
 
 * Brother of the weU-known artist, and who has subsequently 
 distinguished himself as a di-amatist, by the production of "True to 
 the Core," a nautical melo-drama, which obtained the first prize of 
 £100, under the will of the late Mr. T. P. Cooke, and was performed 
 with great success at the Surrey Theatre, in 1865. 
 
272 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 I was Simply actuated by an honourable sense of what 
 was due to those who bad paid me liberally for my 
 labour, and relied upon me for the protection of their 
 rights. It is to record these facts, in justice to myself, 
 that I have adverted to one of the most disagreeable 
 recollections of my professional life. 
 
 An amusing occurrence during the trial is worth 
 mentioning, as a similar retort has been put into the 
 mouth of Claude Melnotte in " The Lady of Lyons." 
 Mr. Adolphus, who was the leading counsel for the de- 
 fendant, in his cross-examination of Mr. Berkeley, who 
 had deposed to his perfect recognition of my words, 
 quoted a passage from Shakespeare, and sneeringly 
 asked him if he recognised those words? *' Certainly 
 not, as you pronounce them," answered Mr. Berkeley 
 contemptuously, raising a general laugh at the ex- 
 pense of the learned gentleman, which he carefully 
 avoided provoking again that morning. 
 
 In June, 1837, my English version of "Norma" was 
 produced at Drury Lane. . I had translated the opera 
 by Bunn's desire expressly for the appearance of] 
 Madame Schroeder, the celebrated German Prima 
 Donna, whom he had induced to make her appearance on. 
 the English stage. My labour was perfectly unnecessary 
 as far as the lady was concerned, for not a single word 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 273 
 
 of English did she ever attempt to utter throughout 
 the performance. 
 
 This eccentric experiment, and the thoroughly dis- 
 graceful representation by a most incompetent company 
 at the commencement of the following season of Beau- 
 mont and Fletcher's fine play of " Bonduca," revived 
 under the title of -'' Caractacus," with a last scene 
 which Bunn engaged me to add for the introduction of 
 a Eoman triumph, on which he had set his heart and 
 staked^ the success of the piece, were nearly the last 
 flounderings of that extraordinary mzsmanager in the 
 Slough of Despond, to which he had mainly helped to 
 reduce the two great national theatres. 
 
 Of all his reckless acts, none to my knowledge ever 
 •equalled his production of " Caractacus." The actors, 
 poor as they were, had not the slightest chance allowed 
 them. Everything was neglected for the procession, 
 of which he undertook the whole arrangement and re- 
 sponsibiKty. Day after day the stage was occupied by 
 crowds of supers, horses, goats, and other animals, and 
 eventually the play was produced positively without one 
 complete rehearsal. The performers were alternately 
 quizzed and hissed, — a clever little boy, who played 
 the son of Caractacus with great spirit and intelligence, 
 nearly retrieving once or twice the fortunes of the 
 play ; and the procession — the grand Roman triumph, 
 
274 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 the magnificence of whicli had been puffed for weeks — 
 was deservedly roared at and hooted. A more dull^ 
 dreary, disjomted, ineffective, tedious *' march past " 
 I never witnessed, and the curtain descended amid a 
 storm of disapprobation. 
 
 Although I had little to do with the piece in any 
 way, and had repeatedly expressed my dissatisfaction 
 to Bunn as regarded the capabilities of his company, 
 and my serious misgivings respecting the effect of the 
 procession — the classical costume, however well* repre- 
 sented, not being comparable to the mediaeval in mag- 
 nificence — I was extremely distressed at my name being 
 mixed up with so ignominious a failure. Nor could I help 
 pitying even the unfortunate impresario, much as he 
 deserved the disaster he had so obstinately courted; 
 for, in addition to his loss and vexation as a manager, 
 he was at the moment sufiering severely from an 
 excruciating complaint to which he was subject, and 
 having no stage manager competent to assist him, it 
 was really astonishing he did not break down in the 
 midst of his self-imposed labour and incessant anxiety. 
 
 To do him justice, Bunn had all the courage as well 
 as the recklessness of the inveterate gamester, and 
 bore his misfortunes with more equanimity, indeed, than 
 he did his successes. He was never so good humoured, 
 or even so jocular, as after a decided failure, and, how- 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 275 
 
 ever provoklngly lie might involve others in his 
 embarrassments, it was almost impossible to be angry 
 with him. 
 
 His endurance of physical agony was equally re- 
 markable; and it was only in good health and prosperity 
 that I ever knew him inactive or ill-tempered. 
 
 My last transaction with him took place this season. 
 I undertook to make an English version of the " Zau- 
 berflote," or "II Flauto Magico," for him ; and it 
 was very creditably performed on the 10th of March, 
 1838, under the title of "The Magic Flute," with the 
 whole of the music by Mozart, under the superinten- 
 dence of my old friend, Tom Cooke. Templeton was 
 the Tamino ; Henry Phillips, Sarastro ; Gubilei, Mon- 
 astatos ; and Balfe, Papageno. The difficult music of 
 the "Queen of Night" was fairly executed by Mrs. 
 E. Seguein ; and Miss Komer, who had profited by her 
 careful study of Madame Malibran, made an agreeable 
 Pamina. As this opera is rarely performed in Italian 
 without considerable censure being cast on the absur- 
 jdity and want of interest in the plot, I will take the 
 iberty of reprinting a few observations I appended to 
 my "Book of the Songs," &c. — all that was pub- 
 lished of the English opera, simply in justice to the 
 original author and the composer, who has immor- 
 ahzed his libretto. 
 
 T 2 
 
276 
 
 EECOLLECTIOXS AND REFLECTIONS. 
 
 " The object of the manager of Drury Lane Theatre 
 being to introduce for the first time Mozart's magnifi- 
 cent opera, 'Die Zauberflote,' with English words to 
 an English audience, the writer of those words con- 
 sidered himself bound to adhere, notwithstanding its 
 assumed want of interest, to the original story in its 
 main features, and to follow the march of the princi- 
 pal incidents, in the behef that the very peculiarity of 
 the material which Mozart had chosen to illustrate 
 would render it a work of infinite hazard, not to say 
 of presumption, to endeavour to substitute any other 
 subject, however superior it might be in dramatic effect. 
 He has consequently confined his alterations to the 
 working out, as well as in him lay, of the allegory 
 dimly shadowed forth by the German author, and 
 utterly lost sight of by his Italian traducer. 
 
 " According to Plutarch, the Egyptians held two 
 principles-one good, the other evil. The good 
 principle consisted of three persons-Osins, Isis, and 
 Orus their son. The evil principle was Typhon, to 
 whom all bad passions, diseases, tempests, and earth- 
 quakes were imputed. Osiris was synonymous with 
 reason and light; Typhon, with the passions withoul 
 reason, and therefore with darkness : and the whole pld 
 of the opera turns upon the struggle between these twc 
 oldest of contending parties for the mastery ovei 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIOXS. 277 
 
 Pamina, tlie daugliter of an Egyptian enchantress, and 
 priestess of Typhon, ycleped the Queen of Night. 
 The magic flute, by the agency of which Tamino is 
 destined to acquire an influence over the mind of 
 Pamina, has the power of inspiring love, the most 
 potent of human passions. Bestowed on him by the 
 powers of darkness and evil, it is of course merely 
 sensual ; purified by the powers of light and reason^ 
 its magic is made subservient to the best and 
 holiest of purposes, and guides the faithful pair through. 
 all worldly dangers to the knowledge of heavenly 
 Tkuth, as typified by their initiation into the mysteries; 
 of Isis." 
 
 Surely the triumph of Truth and perfect Love over 
 the delusions and degrading passions of this world, 
 even though veiled in allegory and tinged with a little 
 Teutonic transcendentalism, is no ignoble theme for 
 either the poet or the musician ; and those who have 
 studied the national character of our German kinsfolk 
 will feel that it was a captivating one to the young com- 
 poser, who thoroughly entered into the feeling and un- 
 derstood the object of the author. At the same time it 
 is no wonder that amongst the thousands who have 
 only acquired their knowledge of the story from the 
 wretched stuff professing to be a translation of the Italian 
 version, sold in our opera-houses, the majority should 
 
278 BECOLLECTIOXS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 not only fail to find any interest in the story, but feel 
 utterly unable to comprehend it. The favourable re- 
 ception of "The Magic Flute" put upon the stage 
 with appropriate scenery and costume, the authorities 
 for which were kindly pointed out to me by Mr. Petti- 
 grew, who "was learned in all the wisdom of the 
 Egyptians," consoled me for the contretemps of "Carac- 
 tacus," and brought my business transactions with Mr. 
 Bunn to a creditable close. 
 
CHAPTER XXL 
 
 I NOW approacli with considerable reluctance a sub- 
 ject on which I would willingly be silent, but that it 
 has been more than once distantly alluded to in the 
 public press, and directly mentioned in the letters of 
 that celebrated composer, Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy, 
 a translation of which was pubhshed by Lady Wallace 
 some eight or ten years ago. 
 
 In January, 1838, I was honoured by an invitation 
 from Messrs. Chappell, the well-known music-publishers 
 of New Bond Street, to write an opera for Mendelssohn, 
 with whom I was personally acquainted, having met 
 him frequently in society during his second visit to 
 England in 1832 ; and after some preliminary negocia- 
 tion, a mutual agreement was signed on the 24th of 
 February, which, that the case may be understood, I 
 transcribe verbatim. 
 
 " Memorandum of an agreement made this 24th day of 
 February, 1838, between E. Chappell, of the one part, and J. 
 E-. Planche on the other. 
 
280 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 " Mr. Planch^ engages to write a full opera for musical per- 
 formance at one of the large theatres, on the following 
 terms : — 
 
 " 1st. That the copyright of the said opera shall remain the 
 property of the said J. K. Planche, except as hereinafter 
 mentioned. 
 
 "2ndly. That the price for the performance of the said 
 opera to be charged by Mr. Planche to managers of country 
 theatres (that is, of all theatres in the United Kingdom 
 except those in, or within five miles of, London) shall not 
 exceed the sum of twenty shillings nightly.* 
 
 " Srdly. That the sum to be paid the said J. R Planchd by 
 the said E. Chappell for writing the said opera shall be three 
 hundred pounds, lawful money of Great Britain, to be paid in 
 the following manner, viz., fifty pounds on the signature of 
 the present agreement, a second sum of fifty pounds within 
 a month of this date, one hundred pounds on the delivery of 
 the complete manuscript of the said opera, and the remaining 
 sum of one hundred pounds on the day following the first 
 night of the performance of the said opera. 
 
 " 4thly. That the said E. Chappell shall have all the pro- 
 fits and benefits arising from the right of representation of 
 the said opera in London, or within five miles thereof, and 
 shall be at liberty to make arrangements with any manager 
 for its performance within the aforesaid distance from 
 London. 
 
 " 5thly. That the said E. Chappell shalJ have the entire 
 and exclusive right of publishing, with the music, all the 
 poetry or words of the vocal portions of the said opera, for the 
 sole benefit of the said E. Chappell, but not the right of 
 
 * The object of this stipulation being that the amount of the charge 
 should not prevent the performance of the opera. 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIOXS. 281 
 
 publishing such poetry or words independently of the 
 music. 
 
 " And the said E. Chappell doth hereby agree for the pur- 
 chase of the said opera, at the price and under the regulations 
 aforesaid, the said J. R Planche also agreeing to deliver the 
 complete manuscript of the said opera within six months of 
 the present date, under the penalty of one hundred pounds. 
 
 " Provided always, that the said J. R. Planche is not pre- 
 vented completing the manuscript by the necessity of altera- 
 tions or additions suggested by the composer of the music of 
 the said opera, which alterations or additions the said J. R. 
 Planche, how^ever, engages to make (to any reasonable 
 extent) previous to the first performance of the said opera. 
 
 (Signed) " E. Chappell. 
 
 "Witness, \V. Chappell." 
 
 I had previously written to Mendelssohn to express- 
 my pleasure at having been selected to write an opera 
 for him, and received from him the following reply : — 
 
 Leipzig, 12th Feb., 1838. 
 
 Pear Sir, 
 
 I was very happy to receive the information in 
 your letter of the 31st (1. m.), that you had kindly con- 
 sented to write the opera which I am going to compose 
 for the English stage. A good, truly poetical libretto which 
 inspires me at once was, since long, the great object of my 
 wishes, and I may now look for^vard to its speedy realiza- 
 tion, as yovu have undertaken it. I dislike the five acts, 
 as you do : it should be three or two. I prefer three acts, 
 but think there could be a subject which would require to- 
 be divided into two ; and then I should have no objection. 
 
282 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 I wish it, as you already know, to be a kind of historical 
 opera ; serious, but not tragical — at least, not with a tra- 
 gical end : but as for dangers, fears, and all sorts of pas- 
 sions, I cannot have too much of them. I should also like 
 to have some persons, if not comical, yet of a gay and 
 lively character in it ; and last, not least, I wish for as 
 TYiany choruses, and as active ones, as you may possibly 
 bring in. I should like to have a whole people, or the 
 most different classes of society and of feelings, to 
 express in my choruses, and to have them as a kind of 
 principal persons opposed to the solo singers. Could such 
 a subject be found ? Before all, I wish the subject had no 
 likeness whatever to any of the now-popular operas : they 
 have something so exhausted in them which I disUke. 
 As you ask me to name a model, I should say a subject 
 between " Fidelio " and " Les Deux Journees," of Cherubini 
 would suit me most — more like the first with regard to the 
 internal plot — to the development of passion ; and like the 
 second in the historical basis — the activity of the choruses 
 and the serene atmosphere which breathes throughout the 
 whole, notwithstanding all the perils and the narrow escapes 
 which occur in it. In short, could you find me a subject 
 in which some virtuous, heroical deed was celebrated (as it is 
 in '' Fidelio "), which (as " Fidelio" is the triumph of faithful 
 love) represented the triumph of some noble, striving feeling, 
 equally known to every one of the hearers who knows at all 
 any feeling, and who could then see his own internal life on 
 the stage, but more concentrated — in short, translated into 
 poetry (of course, it ought not to be a common or base feel- 
 ing, as they have now so often in the opera-house — for of 
 this every one has quite enough at home, and should not find 
 it elsewhere, at least not in art) ; and if that same story 
 happened in a country, or time, and a people which could 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 283 
 
 •give a lively background to the whole (be it dark or not), 
 Avhich, in reminding us of history, could in the same time 
 remind us of our present time (as, for instance, the dark 
 figure of Cardinal Mazarin forms a background in the " Deux 
 •Journees " ; but it could be more prominent still), and if 
 every act of the opera had its own effects, its own poetical 
 point which comes to issue in the finale (as also in " Les 
 Deux Journees," at least in the first and second acts). If 
 you could find such a subject, that would be the one I 
 %vish for ; and if ever I can succeed, I should be sure to 
 do it with such a subject. Query, can it be found ? — and 
 to this question I most anxiously expect your answer. 
 
 Excuse my confused description — I would hardly be able 
 to give a good one in my own language; till now, it is 
 more a matter of feeling than of knowing with me ; but of 
 this I am sure, if such a subject as I think of should be 
 found, it would force me at once to compose the music. 
 I could not do otherwise ; and that, I think, would be the 
 best and most promising way of beginning my task. Your 
 assistance, I trust, will lead to the realisation of this long- 
 felt wish of mine ; and thanking you for your kindness, 
 and hoping to receive a speedy answer, I am, my dear Sir, 
 
 Very truly yours, 
 Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy. 
 
 I have to add that I should be at liberty to begin the 
 music about the end of summer. Whether I shall be able to 
 bring it to England myself is very uncertain, as I have never 
 an idea in what time I shall finish a work ; and whether my 
 •engagements will then allow me an absence from my country, 
 — I hope so, however. 
 
 I need scarcely say ^vith what avidity I read, or how 
 
284 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 carefully I studied, this long and interesting letter, or 
 with what dihgence I set to work in the earnest desire 
 to find a subject which would thoroughly satisfy the re- 
 quirements of my gifted correspondent, who, by his. 
 question of " Can such a subject be found ? " appeared 
 to doubt the possibility himself. 
 
 However, after a few weeks' cogitation, I fancied I 
 had found one, and on the 11th of April forwarded to 
 him a sketch of the plot and my idea of the characters, 
 the former being original, and built on an historical 
 basis, viz., the siege of Calais by Edward III. — the 
 story serious but not tragical, and the trial and triumph 
 of faithful love, as well as the celebration of heroic 
 deeds and the illustration of noble passions, forming 
 exactly the combination he had so minutely described 
 as the kind of opera which would inspire him at once,, 
 of course, presuming I could work out my own concep-^ 
 tions successfully. 
 
 To this communication I received, on the 4th of May, 
 the following : — 
 
 Leipzig, IStli April, 1838. 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 Accept my thanks for your letter of the 15th, which 
 
 I received three days ago,* and the contents of which I re- 
 
 * The 15th, therefore, was the date of the receipt, and not of the 
 writing of my letter, of which I have no copy. It seems strange in 
 these days to find it took five days for a letter to reach Leipzig- 
 from London. 
 
r.ECOLLECTIOXS AND EEFLECTIOXS. 285 
 
 peatedly thought of siuce the receipt. I am not versed enough 
 in poetry, fully enough to understand the development of 
 those ideas of which your letter gives me the sketches. Parti- 
 cularly the first act is still indistinct for me, as I do not un- 
 derstand how the lover in disguise, and in the Queen's train, 
 will be able to give an interest to the whole of an act ; and 
 whether his escape and arrival in the town are events so im- 
 portant in themselves as to keep the interest alive during it. 
 But of this you are of course the better judge, and I am only 
 not able to imagine by myself those things which are familiar 
 to you. 
 
 The subject w^hich is to form the basis seems to be a 
 l>eautiful one, and the devotion of those patriots, together 
 with the contrasts you pointed out, will certainly afford many 
 £ne situations for music ; particularly in the second act. I am 
 able to trace them already by myself. Also in the third, 
 in which, however, I do not quite understand the motive why 
 one of the lovers resolves to take his rival's place (or are they 
 ±0 be friends from the beginning ?), and the means by which 
 lie makes him forget his duty. From all this you may con- 
 ceive how anxiously I expect to hear from you, and to know 
 more of the scenes which you intend to distribute in the 
 opera, and more of the whole idea of it. I hope you will soon 
 let me have a plan of the scenes of the whole, when I shall be 
 able to form a distinct idea of the opera, which I am not skil- 
 ful enough to do at present, by those hints you pointed out. 
 Let me also thank you for the interest you take in procuring 
 me a subject so quite in accordance to my wishes, and for the 
 kindness you show me thereby. I should be sure to prove to 
 you by my music how grateful I feel, and how great an im- 
 portance I attach to this proof of your kindness, if in arts the 
 will could be taken for the deed ; but as unfortunately this 
 cannot be, it is only left for me to wish I could write a music 
 
286 EECOLLECTIOXS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 worthy of your poetry, and expressive of those motives which 
 you will so abundantly afford me. I hope to hear soon from 
 you, and beg you will direct your letter to Berlin (Leipzig 
 Strasse, No. 3), for which place I intend to start to-morrow, 
 and where I shall stay during the next month. Believe me^, 
 always to be, 
 
 Yours veiy truly, 
 Felix Mendelssohn Baetholdy, 
 
 I had now but four months left, within which I wa& 
 bound under a penalty of one hundred pounds to deliver 
 the MS. of the opera complete to Mr. Chappell, and, 
 with another important engagement pending, there 
 was no time to be lost ; so briefly explaining to him the 
 few points which he had not clearly comprehended, and 
 expressing my gratification at his approval of the sub- 
 ject and opinion that it presented many fine situations 
 for music, I went to work with a will, and by the end 
 of July the two first acts were forwarded to him by 
 Mr. Chappell. 
 
 The receipt of them was acknowledged by Mendels- 
 sohn in the following letter : — 
 
 Leipzig, 12th August, 1838. 
 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 I received the two first acts of the opera last week, 
 and you [may] imagine how eagerly I perused them im- 
 mediately. I was struck with the many beauties they contain, 
 and have to thank you most sincerely for the delightful pro- 
 spect which such a poetry holds out to my music. My only 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 287 
 
 Avish is that I might be able to do justice to it, as T feel it 
 ought to be done. My particular favourites are Gaultier's 
 scena and Guillaume's air, in the first act ; and before all the 
 ensemble in the second, and the duet which follows. I also 
 like Guillaume's air, which you call a sacrifice to the galleries ; 
 and the second finale of course. What a brilliant occasion 
 for the display of different passions in music they afford ! I 
 only hope you will soon send me the last act, that I may have 
 a view of the whole, to see the issue to which you intend to 
 bring it. There are some alterations which I could wish, 
 which I shall take the liberty to state, as you kindly allow 
 me to do so at the end of your letter. They relate principally 
 to the character of Marrant, which I think could become, 
 perhaps, more prominent and active, and would afford perhaps 
 a kind of contrast to the great quantity of serious characters 
 and music, and to a few parts of the first act ; but of all this I 
 can only speak when I know the whole, and therefore (as well 
 for my anxious wish) I beg you will soon send it, and allow 
 me then to avail myself of your kindness in case I should then 
 still wish for any alterations. I must also thank you for the 
 beautiful verses, which are so truly musical, that I have 
 nothing more to wish for in this respect ; and upon the whole 
 there are so many, so great beauties in this work, that I anti- 
 cipate the gi'eatest delight from the composition, and wish I 
 might soon be able to begin it. 
 
 May I request you to inform Mr. Chappell of my receipt 
 of the two acts, and to ask him to send the rest by the same 
 occasion to Berlin (Leipzig Strasse, No. 3) ? My family for- 
 ward it immediately to this place. 
 
 Believe me, very sincerely yours, 
 
 Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy. 
 
288 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 Was it possible to receive a more gratifying letter? 
 Could any one have anticipated, after perusing the 
 .glowing encomiums contained in it, " the change" which 
 gradually "came over the spirit of his dream," and the 
 dying out of all his enthusiasm ? 
 
 The third act of the opera was completed and 
 delivered to Mr. Chappell in due time, and forwarded 
 as had been requested. Shortly after Mendelssohn 
 received it, he appears to have been attacked by the 
 measles, and was, as he informed us on the 4th of; 
 October, by the hand of a friend, unable to use his eyes 
 either for reading or writing. 
 
 On the 10th of December he addressed the following 
 letter to Mr. Chappell :— 
 
 Dear Sir, 
 
 Being quite recovered from my illness, I have now 
 perused Mr. Planche's libretto with the attention it deserves 
 but the subject is of so great an importance to me, that 
 must address you a few questions which I hope you wil 
 answer quite sincerely and openly, as tbey are of consequence 
 for the success of the opera, in which you are as interestec 
 as I am. 
 
 I should not like to begin my task before I am quite at 
 my ease on the subjects of these questions. You sent me 
 copy of the MS., so I suppose you are fully acquainted with] 
 it, and may tell me whether an opera so thoroughly serious, 
 without any comical or even lighter character in it, would do 
 for an Enghsh audience. And then I hear, by an intimate! 
 
RECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 289 
 
 friend of mine, to whom I communicated the poem, that there 
 already exists a theatrical piece on the same subject as the 
 opera, and universally known in that form in England. If 
 that is the case, great part of the interest would be lost, and 
 I do not know if I should be right in writing the music when 
 the chance would be against its success. Of course I cannot 
 put these questions to Mr. Planche himself (whose beautiful 
 verses and thorough skill I admired in this as in his other 
 works), but I want to have an impartial opinion, and think 
 it your own interest to give it me. To others I would not 
 Avrite, because things like these ought to be kept secret. I 
 beg you w^ill not mention anything of this letter to Mr. 
 Planche, and answer it as soon as you possibly can. 
 
 I am, very truly yours, 
 Felix Mendelssohn Baktholdy. 
 
 This letter reached London in the absence of Mr. W, 
 Chappell, who was at that time in Germany, and re- 
 ceived there another communication from Mendelssohn 
 a few days afterwards, having had a personal inter- 
 view with him at his house in Leipzig : — 
 
 Leipzig, 29tli Dec, 183S. 
 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 The questions I put to you about Mr. Planchd's 
 3pera, and which you w^ished to have WTitten down, for think- 
 ing of them, were materially these. 
 
 I expressed a doubt whether a poem so entirely consist- 
 ng of serious personages, without a more lively character in 
 t (or a characteristic, romantic, comical, &c., &c., one), would 
 38 able to give sufficient interest to the English public as 
 ;hey now are in the theatres. I wished to know your opinion 
 
 VOL. T. u 
 
290 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLEOTIONS. 
 
 on that subject, as you are not less interested in it than I am 
 myself. When Mr. Planche first proposed the story, I was 
 pleased to find it one of the Middle Ages, because had it 
 been earlier (Roman, for instance), anything like characteristic 
 occupation, or parts (like soldiers, boatmen, &c.), could not 
 have been introduced to vary as much as possible the inci- 
 dent and style throughout. 
 
 I thought, when I only had the two first acts, that for 
 instance Marrant w^as to be a character which could be con- 
 sidered as forming a contrast to the nobler ones, which are 
 so beautifully drawn, that he would give occasion to a 
 brighter, more characteristic, perhaps more comical style, at 
 least to a more contrasted one. I missed something which 
 gave an insight into the time and the customs of that time, 
 not only in the heroical sphere. 
 
 As it is, he (Marrant) gradually disappears from the action ; 
 and I do not know if the uniformity of sentiment which now 
 pervades the wdiole, necessary as it may be, would be able to 
 produce that animation amongst the hearers, which they 
 always seem to feel when a series of different and equally 
 striking characters is developed before them. I admired the 
 concerted pieces, and the poetry throughout, and think it 
 most beautiful. It suggested to me in several places musical 
 deas, which I noted down w^hile reading, and found then how 
 adapted to music these flowing and expressive verses are. The 
 only wish I had was the one 1 uttered before ; some character 
 or other that might bring more stirring passions into action, 
 create a greater contrast, and also a greater suspense, till it is 
 brought to issue. 
 
 All this is already expressed and asked in a letter of mine, 
 which you will now find in London, as it was sent during 
 3^our absence. I hope before all things that these objections 
 will not make you think me too assuming, or asking for im- 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 291 
 
 possible things. I thought it right, with so important a work, 
 to go as safely as might be, and try to express my feelings 
 and the objections I might have rather beforehand, than to 
 feel them during the task, and when it is too late to be 
 remedied. Whether, and how that can be done (if you admit 
 the justice of my remarks), is the question to which I most 
 anxiously await your answer. 
 
 Your obedient servant, 
 Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy. 
 
 Wm. Chappell, Esq., 
 
 Hotel de Baviere. 
 
 This second letter to Mr. Chappell, purposely written 
 for my consideration, was handed to me on his return 
 to London, and although its perusal caused me certain 
 misgivings of a foregone conclusion in the mind of 
 Mendelssohn, I, at Mr. Chappell' s request, wrote to him 
 immediately, answering the questions he had asked, 
 and endeavouring to explain to him points which he 
 appeared to have misapprehended. A copy of this 
 letter unfortunately I did not keep, but a subsequent 
 one will suffice to indicate its character, which was 
 simply explanatory. After a lapse of nearly/ four 
 months a letter was received by Mr. Chappell, and to 
 the following effect : — 
 
 Leipzig, 23rd April, 1839. 
 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 I am excessively sorry that the affair of the opera 
 has turned out as I anticipated when you were here ; and I 
 
 u 2 
 
292 EECOLLEOTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 cannot tell you how deeply I regret it. Mr. Planche, in his 
 last letter, declines those alterations which I thought so 
 necessary to the success of the work, and says that this sub- 
 ject could not be treated differently, in his opinion ; that it 
 had light and shade enough, and that I was to dismiss all 
 fears on that subject. After having perused the poem once 
 more with the greatest care and anxiety, I am not only still 
 of my former opinion, but begin to fear that we both may 
 be right. That the subject is treated by Mr. Planche as it 
 ought to be ; but that in itself it does not afford me those 
 advantao-es which I consider as essential to the success of a 
 dramatic piece — that variety of human character — of situa- 
 tions — of feelings. You tell me you are pledged to take the 
 opera beforehand ; but I would not do you a service if I 
 composed it under the impression which I have of it at 
 present, and I cannot therefore do anything else than send 
 back the MS., which I hereby do, and promise that nobody 
 shall hear a word of it from me till it is brought out and set 
 to music by another composer. I adopt that course rather 
 than to try, lose time, and produce a work which would neither 
 content you, nor Mr. Planche, nor myself, and by which every 
 one of us three would be injured, more or less. You know 
 how deeply I wished to compose some of Mr. Planche's 
 beautiful verses, and you may form an idea with how great 
 a reluctance I come at last to the conclusion which I now 
 have communicated to you. 
 
 Kecollect the promise you gave me here at my German 
 stove, not to give up this idea, even if the first attempt should 
 fail. Believe me, that I consider it as very important to me, 
 that I do not wish anything more anxiously than to compose 
 a good dramatic music to a good dramatic poem, and that I 
 should be extremely sorry if I must give up the hope of 
 seeino- this wish realised by you. I must leave off writing 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 293 
 
 to-day. I am going to Frankfort to-morrow, at Avhicli place 
 all communications will reach me till the end of June, 
 directed " Poste Restante." 
 
 Believe me always, 
 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 Yours very truly, 
 Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy, 
 Wm. Chappell, Esq., 
 Music Publisher, 
 
 Bond Street, 
 Oxford Street. 
 
 By the same post another of the same date reached 
 me : — 
 
 Leipzig, 28th April, 1839. 
 My DEAR Sir, 
 
 I cannot sufficiently express to you how sorry I 
 was to learn, by your last letter, that you decline to make 
 those alterations of which I pointed out my ideas to Mr. 
 Chappell, and which of course were not derived from a pro- 
 pensity to comic parts in a serious plot, and less still from a 
 desire to find fault with a poem written by you, in which I 
 admire so many and most exquisite beauties, but only from 
 a feeling of which I could not get rid, from a kind of instinct, 
 which, however wrong it might be, spoke loud enough not to 
 be overheard,* and of which I tried to explain the reason, as 
 w^ell as I could, in those lines to Mr. Chappell. Finding, 
 however, that you entirely differ in opinion about every one 
 of the above-mentioned alterations, and giving your expe- 
 rience and views of the subject the preference to my own (as 
 indeed I ought to do, and always shall), I gave the matter 
 all the consideration it deserved, perused the opera with 
 
 * /. c. , too loud for anything to be heard above it. 
 
294 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 your remarks, and your last letter once more as minutely as 
 I could, and tried to overcome the objections which again 
 and again occurred to my mind. I am sorry to say I have 
 not been able to do so ; and as you positively affirm that the 
 subject ought not to be treated differently, I begin to fear 
 that the subject is not such as I could hope to compose with 
 success. Indeed, I am afraid I should not do justice to your 
 verses, if I was to set them to music under the impression 
 which I have of the opera, and of which I have not been able^ 
 to get the better ; and my talent, I know, is not great enough .] 
 to produce something worthy of yourself and your country,, 
 and the demands which I make, if I should force myself to 
 the task without feeling the impulse, and being compelled 
 by it. Believe me, that nothing could have been more 
 according to my long-felt wishes than to compose an opera 
 by you, and that I cannot give up this hope but with the 
 greatest reluctance. However, I would not be true to you 
 and myself, if I had not stated to you my sincere view of the 
 question, and I hope, by the sincerity of this avowal, you 
 will believe me how deeply I regret it, and how truly I hope 
 and wish to find another opportunity of composing your 
 beautiful verses, and a subject about which our opinions and 
 feelings perfectly agree, and which will hold out a chance 
 for my composing it as successfully as all your works deserve,, 
 and as my powers may allow me to do. 
 
 I shall not be able to cross over to England ; businesses. 
 of every kind will not allow me to do so ; but let me hope for 
 some future period when I shall meet you, and when we may 
 talk over all that which I can but imperfectly express in 
 writing. 
 
 Believe me always 
 
 Very truly yours, 
 Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy. 
 
 I 
 
KECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 295 
 
 Prepared as I was for a hitch of some description, 
 from the tone of his letter to Mr. Chappell of the 
 10th of December, and the subsequent memorandum, 
 as it may be called, of the 29th, which foreshadowed 
 hesitations and apprehensions of more or less im- 
 portance, this decided rejection and return of the 
 opera astounded as much as mortified me, there 
 being no foundation whatever for the reason he as- 
 signed as his principal motive, viz., my having declined 
 making the alterations he had vaguely suggested. I 
 had done nothing of the sort. A reference to my 
 agreement with Mr. Chappell, which I have printed 
 expressly for this purpose, will show that I had no 
 power to decline ; but, on the contrary, was bound 
 to make alterations " to any reasonable extent, pre- 
 vious to the first performance of the opera," and as 
 the extent of those alterations had not been clearly 
 defined, I had no grounds in this stage of the pro- 
 ceedings for objecting to make them on the plea of 
 their extent being unreasonable. Kor should I have 
 availed myself of them, had they existed, as the con- 
 clusion of the correspondence will prove. I would 
 have made any sacrifice or concession sooner than 
 have had my opera definitively rejected. 
 
 The above letters were enclosed to me, with the 
 accompanying note from Mr. Chappell : — 
 
296 EECOLLECTIOXS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 We are placed in a most unfortunate dilemma by 
 Mendelssohn's returning the opera with the enclosed letters. 
 I wrote to him, urging the completion of the work, and this 
 is his answer. In these circumstances I place myself entirely 
 in your hands, as I really know not what to do about it. 
 Have you another you could offer him in lieu of it ? 
 Believe me, dear Sir, 
 
 Yours very truly, 
 
 Wm. Chappell. 
 
 I saw Mr. Chappell immediately on tlie subject, and 
 lie wrote by that day's post to Mendelssohn : — 
 
 Sth May, 1839. 
 
 Dear Sir, 
 
 On receipt of your letter, I immediately saw Mr. 
 Planch^ who regretted as much as I do that you should have 
 returned the MS., as he had not declined making alterations, 
 but had expressed his opinion that the opera would not be 
 objected to by the English public on account of not having a 
 comic part, and that he considered it w^ould be better without 
 it. He is, however, perfectly willing to give way, if you deem 
 it necessary for your music, provided he can alter it to his 
 own satisfaction ; for which purpose he has taken back the 
 manuscript to reconsider the whole, and I most anxiously 
 wish he may succeed to your expectations, as it will be a con- 
 siderable loss to me to have the opera, for which I have 
 already paid, thrown upon my hands. 
 
 I am, dear Sir, 
 
 &c., &c., &c. 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 297 
 
 The following day I wrote to Menclelssolm myself: — 
 
 20, Brompton Cbescent, 
 Near London, 
 
 May 9tli, 1839. 
 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 No words of mine can express the regret and 
 surprise with which I received the information contained in. 
 your letter of the 23rd nit. I immediately called on Mr. 
 Chappell (who, having paid me a considerable sum for the 
 opera, is by your rejection of it placed in a most unlooked- 
 for and disagreeable position), to see what could be done to 
 prevent the heavy loss he must experience by your declining 
 to compose the work — a decision which I am sure you must 
 bave come to from some misconstruction of my last letter. 
 Unfortunately, I did not keep a copy of that letter, and am 
 consequently unable, at this distance of time, to remember 
 the exact expressions contained in it ; but of its spirit I am 
 fully aware, and can assure you that nothing was further from 
 my intention than positively to " decline making'' any altera- 
 tions in the opera, as a reference to your own letters of the 
 10th and 29th of last December to Mr. Chappell will prove. 
 In those letters, to which mine was a reply, you do not 
 request me to make any alterations — you simply ask for " an 
 impartial opinion " upon two points on which you are in 
 doubt, and you put them in the form of questions, thus : 
 1st, " Whether an opera so thoroughly serious, without any 
 comiccd, or even lighter character in it, would do for an 
 English audience?" 2ndly, In reference to the existence of 
 " a theatrical piece on the same subject," whether you " should 
 be right in writing the music " to mine ? And in your second 
 letter of the 29th, after recapitulating your doubts on the 
 :first point, you say, " whether and how that can be done " 
 
298 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 
 (the introduction of comic relief) "if you admit the justice of 
 "my remarks, is the question to which I most anxiously await 
 your answer." Now, my dear Sir, my letter was only written 
 to satisfy your mind upon these doubts — to answer your two 
 questions by assuring you that an opera thoroughly serious 
 would do for an English audience, who have quite changed 
 their natures of late upon this subject, and invariably repro- 
 bate the introduction of comic parts in serious operas — 
 witness the failure of Mr. Rooke's opera of " Henrique " last 
 week, at Covent Garden, in consequence of the attempt to 
 weave comic with serious interest ; and the great success in 
 England of " La Sonnambula," " Anna Bolena," " I Puritani,'* 
 "Marino Faliero," "Massaniello," "Guillaume Tell," "The Red 
 Mask," "The Jewess," &c., all without a single comic situation 
 or piece of music (spirit and melody being all that is re- 
 quired), and that the very drama to which you allude, on the 
 same subject, would, if now produced, run the risk of being 
 damned for its comic characters alone. It has no pretension 
 to the title of an opera, and is never played now-a-days, and 
 even if it were, would have no more to do with an opera than 
 the performance of the tragedy of " Othello " has with Rossini's 
 opera of the same name. 
 
 Thus much for matters of 02oinion, on which alone you 
 desired information. Now for matters of fact. Although I 
 naturally objected to make alterations, if I could succeed in 
 convincing you that your fears were ill founded, yet I by no 
 means decline endeavouring to make them when you say, as 
 you noAv for the first time have done, that they are indis- 
 pensable to your comfort and inspiration. Let me therefore 
 beg of you to reconsider this subject, and let me know as 
 soon and as nearly as possible the number and nature of the 
 alterations you require, and if I can in any way manage to 
 make them, be assured I will do so. I put it to your good 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 299 
 
 feeling, both to me and to Mr. Chappell, wlio must be a great 
 sufferer by your relinquishing the task, to take a brighter 
 view of the matter, and to remember that (as you say) we are 
 all equally interested in the success of the work, and there- 
 fore we can have no reason for misleading you as to facts, or 
 for thwarting your wishes. 
 
 You have spoken most flatteringly of the two first acts. 
 Will making Marrant more prominent in the third — render- 
 ing him the agent of Gaultier in the misleading and detention 
 of Guillaume, be sufficient for your purpose ? What style of 
 coonic effect do j^ou desire ? — a joyous drinking song ? Pray 
 give me a hint on which I may work directly, as it is no use 
 my beginning to alter till I know more precisely what sort 
 of alteration will be most satisfactory to you ; and believe me, 
 my dear Sir, with every sentiment of regard and respect, 
 Your sincere friend and admirer, 
 
 J. E. Planche. 
 
 To this I received no answer till the 17tli of June, 
 when arrived the following : — 
 
 June 17tli, 1839. 
 My DEAR Sir, 
 
 From your letter of the 12th uli, which I have 
 just received, it appears how difficult a task it is to combine 
 a work, the two parties living at a great distance, and one of 
 them expressing himself but so imperfectly, as I do, in a 
 foreign language. After what you say, I must have mis- 
 understood your last letter but one, but I also am certain 
 that my last communication to you through Mr. Chappell 
 must have appeared to you in a different light to what I 
 intended it to be, for your answer to it (that last letter but 
 
300 EECOLLEOTIONS AND EEFLEOTIONS. 
 
 one) stated plainly your difference of opinion, and dissuaded 
 me from asking for alterations. I could not but think your 
 ■view of the subject contrary to mine. You quote those 
 letters of mine which I have written before I had the third 
 act, or before I had been able to peruse the whole poem with 
 the attention it required. Afterwards I saw Mr. Chappell, 
 tried to explain my ideas and wishes to him, tried to write 
 them down because he wanted me to do so, and that was the 
 first time I was able to express my idea of the whole work, 
 and of those alterations I thought necessary. Your answer 
 related more to my former letters (as I now see) than to my 
 •conversation and the written memoranda which Mr. Chappell 
 took with him for you ; and although I am now aware that I 
 have misunderstood your meaning, and fully appreciate your 
 kindness in offering to comply with my wishes, yet there 
 must still be a misunderstanding, confirmed by my want of 
 skill in expressing myself, for you speak of comic pieces, 
 comic situations and characters — of the public not liking 
 clowns introduced in a serious piece ; while I never thought 
 of asking for comic scenes, for comic persons who might 
 •excite the laughter and merriment of the gallery. Nothing 
 can be further of my meaning than this. But while I write 
 this, I feel the difficulty of expressing myself more accurately 
 than I must have done. I might have quoted comic scenes 
 as an example, but the real objection I had in view was the 
 want of what I may call characteristic scenes, a full display 
 of one or different lively and living characters. I wanted 
 ■somebody to excite, not the merriment, but the eager interest 
 of the gallery as well as of every hearer, and I even think, in 
 my communications to Mr. Chappell, I always used the word 
 characteristic in preference to comic situations. The leading 
 characters of the opera, excepting Gaultier, seemed to me to 
 act as men more bound by the necessity of the poem, of the 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 301 
 
 plot, than by their own human feeling, as real living people 
 do. Even Gaultier's heroic deed in favour of that brother 
 whom he hardly knows, and whose character is as little 
 developed before our eyes, loses, by that reason, much of its 
 effect ; but there is particularly the detention of Guillaume, 
 the way in which it is performed, which I may quote as an 
 example of what I mean, if I ask for more character in the 
 situation. I see only the stage and its necessities in the 
 whole of the proceeding. The same feeling occurs to me in 
 the first meeting of Blanche and Guillaume in the first act ; 
 also in the conclusion of it, when Guillaume is made prisoner. 
 Even in the scene of Gaultier and the King — of which I 
 admire so many beauties, as the whole depends on the King's 
 magnanimity and pardon, and as the doubt of it (or the 
 leaving these qualities uncertain for the sjDectator) would 
 chiefly induce us to fear the death of the surrendered — I 
 think the reiterated pardon must weaken the effect the 
 second time it is granted, of (on T) w^hich depends the whole 
 opera. When I only had the two first acts, I did not know 
 the manner in which the development would take place. I 
 thought my objections were only relating to incidents, and 
 the whole of the characters would be proved necessary in the 
 third act. I could then dwell upon the great beauties I 
 found in the concerted pieces and the poetry everywhere, 
 and could not form an idea of the whole and of its meaning. 
 As soon, however, as I perused it as a whole, and the more 
 often I did so, the same objections would occur to my mind. 
 The making Marrant more prominent in the third act, ren- 
 dering him Gaultier's agent, and involving him in the in- 
 trigue, would certainly meet my wishes much more than 
 the introducing of comic character would have done. But I 
 am afraid this alteration would only lead to others ; and the 
 question is, whether the improving one part of the drama 
 
302 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLEOTIONS. 
 
 would not hurt others, and give no better effect to the whole ? 
 The best way for us to agree would have been (or I hope I 
 may say, would be) to settle in the first instance the plot, the 
 different scenes and actions, with the distribution of the con- 
 certed pieces ; for, if we are agreed on that subject, I have 
 seen enough of your poetry to know that I should then have 
 no further objection to make, and that your verses are as 
 easily composed as read. Perhaps you will say that the plot, 
 '' la marche de la piece," is nothing to the composer ; but you 
 will not say so, knowing better than I do how important it is 
 that no verses, no music, can make up for a want of strength 
 in that quarter. 
 
 Once more I say, and, believe me, it is no compliment, 
 but a heartfelt truth, that you are by very far the best judge 
 in these things ; that, in every other question of the kind, I 
 would much rather be guided by your opinion than by my 
 own ; but here, when both must combine their efforts, I feel 
 that I should not be able to overcome the impression which 
 I tried to describe to you, and which has become stronger 
 the more I read and thought of the poem. Could I hope to 
 have one day an opera by you produced in the way I men- 
 tioned before ? I mean, in which we agreed about the plot 
 before the verses, and all the rest were written — in which we 
 then advanced, step by step, so that no misunderstanding 
 could take place, as we live unfortunately at such a distance 
 from each other — could I preserve that hope, it would be a 
 true happiness to me, and I should consider that view as 
 a most wished -for and delightful prospect. If you think 
 all this could be done with the opera, pray send me that 
 " plan" you mentioned, in order to go hand in hand from the 
 present time. If you think (as I do) that such a rebuilding 
 would be rather dangerous, you will not only find one, but 
 many composers, who will be too happy to have a work frona 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. a03 
 
 your pen, to whom you might give it, and perhaps at a 
 leisure hour would feel disposed to think of a plot, which you 
 would then send me, and which would lead to the result 
 which I am so anxious to obtain. 
 
 Now, my dear Sir, believe me that only a sense of what 
 is due to yourself and Mr. Chappell, as well as to myself, 
 could induce me to write to you all this at such a length. 
 Excuse me, and believe me to remain, 
 
 Your very sincere admirer, 
 Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy. 
 
 It would be an easy though a long task for me to 
 shatter this elaborate letter to pieces, and to demon- 
 strate that where it was not defective in argument, 
 it was glaringly opposed to fact. 
 
 Had I been a rich man, I would have immediately 
 returned to Mr. Chappell the £200 he had paid me for 
 four months' hard and anxious labour ; and, recovering 
 my property, have briefly expressed my regret to 
 M. Mendelssohn that I had failed in my endeavour to 
 write an opera to his satisfaction, and that he had so 
 long delayed coming to that conclusion ; but I was not 
 in a position to act so high-handedly. I had conscien- 
 tiously earned my money — I had written what I felt 
 ought to succeed ; and, mortified and irritated as I was 
 by Mendelssohn's conduct, I suppressed my feelings, 
 and determined to give him no chance of evading his 
 promise to Mr. Chappell. AVith this determination, 
 I answered Mendelssohn thus : — 
 
304 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 20, BKO^kiPTON Crescext, 
 Juno 27tli, 1839. 
 
 My dear Sie, 
 
 I have just received 3^our letter of the iTth instant^ 
 and without hesitation accept your proposal of reconstructing 
 the opera, as I am determined that no objection of mine shall 
 cause you to decline the work, if there is a possibility of 
 meeting your wishes, and I prefer remodelling the present 
 opera to writing one on another subject, for two reasons. In 
 the first place, it would be some time, perhaps, before I could 
 find another stor}" so completely combining all the elements- 
 for the particular kind of opera you described to me in your 
 first letter ; and, secondly, I feel that, could I directly find 
 one, the same difficulties might arise, and I should in addi- 
 tion have to compose every i^ortion of the poetry, while in 
 this, if I can manage to please you in the conduct of the plot, 
 most of the Ipical pieces may be allowed to stand. To lose 
 no time, therefore, I have requested Mr. Chai3pell to send you 
 back the copy of the ojDera, as I have the original, and can 
 therefore refer to any alterations you may propose ; for the 
 best way would be, if you would be kind enough to take the 
 opera, scene by scene, and tell me exactly where the altera- 
 tion should commence, and of what nature it should be. I 
 will suppose, for instance, that you have no objection to the 
 opening chorus, — the amval of the Queen and the introduc- 
 tion of Gaultier. In that case, I gather from your last letter 
 that your first objection is to the King's magnanimity in- 
 pardoning Gaultier, as in some measure tending to weaken 
 the effect of the last act. Now, before you decide upon this 
 point, allow me to show you my reasons for having so ar- 
 ranged it. In the first place, the circumstance of Edward's 
 giving a safe conduct to the bearer of the intercepted lettei 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND REFLECTIONS. 305 
 
 is historical (the anecdote is in Avesbury) ; and secondly, I 
 ilo not see how it weakens the effect of the pardon in the 
 third act, because that part of the denouement is so notorious 
 that you cannot mislead the audience into any supposition 
 that he (the King) will act otherwise by representing him of 
 a more cruel or passionate disposition in the first act. It is 
 only the incidents that lead to it that can be new to the 
 audience, do what you will with it, and surely when you 
 desire characteristic situations, you would not make Edward 
 do that which would be anything hut characteristic, mag- 
 nanimity and high chivalric feeling being the grand historical 
 features of that monarch's character ; to say nothing about 
 the fact that I have endeavoured to work in every incident 
 mentioned by the chroniclers of the period, and that this 
 particular one is highly dramatic. Edward's permitting the 
 poor creatures who were turned out of Calais to pa.<s in safety 
 through his lines, and giving them also food and money, is 
 another instance of his magnanimity on record, and mixed 
 up with the plot of the opera. You seem to think that on 
 the second pardon depends the whole opera — my notion was 
 very different. I considered the opera depended upon the 
 story of the two brothers ; the historical portion being merely 
 the ground upon which it is worked, according, indeed, to 
 your own words in your first letter, where you say, " The dark 
 figure of Cardinal Mazarin forms a background to the Deux 
 Journees, but it could be more prominent still." King 
 Edward is my Cardinal Mazarin, and I have tried to render 
 him more prominent. The nobility of his father's blood 
 showing itself in the illegitimate burgess— his heroical deed, 
 not, as you say, " in favour of a brother uhom he hardly 
 knoius" but to ensure the happiness of the woman he adores, 
 by saving the life of a favoured rival at the expense of his 
 own— the greatest proof of love which any man could give — 
 
 VOL. I. X 
 
306 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEt LECTIONS. 
 
 the stiTiggles between love, duty, and gratitude in the breast 
 of Blanche — the doubt cast upon the real intentions oi 
 Gaultier — these are the points on which I thought the 
 interest of the opera depended — these are the situations 
 which I thought characteristic, and which would be strong 
 enough to sustain it were we to cast the historical cadre alto- 
 gether away. 
 
 If I have failed in the execution or in making them cleai 
 to you, as your widely different view of Gaultier's motive 
 above mentioned makes me think must be the case, I musi 
 endeavour to remedy the evil ; but at the same time must in 
 this way point out to you what my intentions were. Witt 
 regard to the way in which the detention of Guillaume ij 
 managed in the third act, I do not like it Tnyself, and shall 
 be most happy to alter it ; but to keep up the interest of the 
 piece it still must be done without the audience, or at leasi 
 Avithout the other characters being aware of Gaultier's object 
 He must be considered as intending to make away with hi 
 rival, not to save him. However, let us settle the first act 
 and something may arise out of our alterations which ma- 
 help us. 
 
 You will not, I am sure, misconstrue my motives i 
 defending my view of the plot, as it is only by this sort ( 
 discussion of the disputed points that we shall be able t 
 come to a clear understanding. It will be a long busines 
 but I hope satisfactory in the end ; as I trust you will me( 
 me in the same spirit, and allow for ni}^ feelings and preji 
 dices, as I am willing to do for yours. 
 
 Ever, my dear Sir, 
 
 Yours truly, 
 
 J. R Planch^. 
 
 Nearly four months elapsed before Mendelssohn a( la 
 
EECOLLECnOXS AND EEFLECTIONS. 307 
 
 inowleclged the receipt of this letter. At length came 
 ►ne dated : — 
 
 Leipzig, Oct. ITtli, 1839. 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 Since I received your last letter of the 27th June, 
 waited daily for the copy of the opera which Mr. Chappell 
 i^as going to send me back as you mentioned therein ; but as 
 his has not been done till this day, I avail myself of an 
 pportunity to answer your kind lines, to tell you how very 
 Quch obliged I am to you, and to ask how the thing stands 
 t present, as I do not receive a communication from Mr. 
 yhappell. I must confess that, notwithstanding the kind- 
 less and indulgence with which you meet my wishes, I think 
 he work of remodelling the plot scene by scene an extra- 
 ordinary difficult one, and do not know how it might bo 
 [one without injuring the work as it now is. Had your 
 eisure allowed you to think of another story (either con- 
 lected with the same historical event or not), and had you 
 )een able to communicate to me the plot beforehand, I am 
 ure that in a few weeks, and with a few letters, the affair 
 iTould have been brought to the issue which I so heartily 
 dsh for, and it would have saved you the trouble of recon- 
 tructing a work which in its present shape might find many 
 riends and admirers, and to which my objections might be 
 aerely personal, and arising from my individuality. Could 
 t still be the case, and could Mr. Chappell's delay in sending, 
 he manuscript contribute to your compliance with my wish,. 
 '. should think the chance a lucky one, and am certain 
 uccess would prove it such. But I need not tell you how 
 lorry I should be if the delay had another cause and other 
 iffects, and if you were tired of my objections, my wishes,. 
 md the whole thing. Let me hope that such may not be 
 
308 EECOLLECTIONS AND REFLECTIONS. 
 
 the case, that I may still look out for a pleasure which I cer- 
 tainly know how to appreciate, and with which I could nol 
 part without the greatest regret. Pray give me soon ai 
 answer, and believe me always very truly and gratefully 
 yours, 
 
 Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy. 
 
 To this I replied by return : — 
 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 I hasten to acknowledge your letter of the 17tl 
 ultimo. I certainly understood Mr. Chappell to say that h( 
 had returned or would return the MS., but I now find upoi 
 inquiry that he w^aited your bidding to do so. I have nov 
 desired him to forward it to you without delay, and am stil 
 constant to my purpose of endeavouring to alter the presen 
 opera to meet your wishes if possible. If I cannot do so, w< 
 only remain where we are, and the opera is still actable in it 
 present shape. My reasons for preferring this mode to writini 
 an entirely new one are these. In the first place, 1 like m; 
 subject, and, according to your first letter (and even you 
 second letter) you liked it too. With regard to the treatmer 
 of it, I cannot hope to be more fortunate in any othe 
 opera, as I did describe to you all the principal situatior 
 previously to my commencing this one, and received, £ 
 I imagined, your full sanction for them. I might therefoi 
 again fall into as unfortunate a mistake, and that I could n( 
 afford. 
 
 As it is merely in details that we differ, I am willing t 
 hope that I can meet your wishes with less trouble than yo 
 imagine. At all events, we will try one act, and I shall the 
 see better than by any other mode your real objections. E 
 so kind, therefore, on the receipt of the MS. to send me a li; 
 
RECOLLECTIONS AND EEELECTIONS. ^09 
 
 of the alterations you require in the first act, and we shall 
 soon come to a clear understanding one way or the other. 
 Believe me, 
 Dear Sir, 
 
 Yours very truly, 
 
 J. R Planche. 
 
 The MS. was forwarded to him ; but from that time 
 forth I never had a line from him on the subject. No 
 list of required alterations was sent me, and the affair 
 fell to the ground with the immediate loss of £200 to 
 Mr. Chappell, and a prospective one to me beyond 
 calculation, setting aside the £100 I was to receive 
 after the first performance of the opera. Infinitely 
 more serious to me than any pecuniary disappointment 
 was the blighting of the hopes I had every reason to 
 entertain of my name being associated with Men- 
 delssohn's as it was with Weber's. What the former 
 could have meant by this observation in his letter to 
 Klingeman, dated August 10th, 1839, " Planche's 
 opera gets on very slowly, and possibly I may have a 
 new oratorio ready before his text is completed,""-' I 
 am utterly unable to comprehend, as my " text " was 
 completed and delivered to Mendelssohn according to 
 agreement in 1838, and in August, 1839, I was 
 anxiously awaiting his reply to my letter of the 27th 
 
 * ** Letters of Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy, vol. ii. p. 160. 
 
(310 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 of June respecting his suggested alterations. Still 
 more incomprehensible is his assertion in a letter to 
 Furst, of Berlin, dated January 4th, 1840: "Planche's 
 text can never, even with the best will on both sides, 
 become such a work as I want."* If that was his de- 
 cided opinion, why did he not frankly state it either to 
 Mr. Chappell or me? — and if it be to my opera he 
 alludes when he says in continuation, " I would rather 
 never compose an opera at all, than one which from 
 the very first I considered indifferent ^^^ how am I to 
 reconcile this with the flattering eulogiums of his 
 letter to me of the 12th of August, 1838, in which he 
 declares that he " was struck with the many beauties " 
 contained in the two first acts, and thanks me for " the 
 delightful prospect which such a poetry holds out " to 
 his music, and, in reference to the finale of the second 
 act, exclaims, " What a brilliant occasion for the dis- 
 play of different passions in music they afford! " con- 
 cluding with, " I must also thank you for the beautiful 
 verses, which are so truly musical that I have nothing 
 more to wish for in this respect, and, upon the whole, 
 there are so many, so great beauties in this work, that 
 I anticipate the greatest delight from the composition, 
 ^nd wish I might soon be able to begin it"? I repeat 
 
 * Letters of Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy, vol. ii., p. 181. 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 311 
 
 the question — if these words were sincere, is this 
 an opera which he thought ^' indifferent from the 
 first''? 
 
 Even in his " Memoranda," addressed to Mr. Chap- 
 pell the 29th December following, he says, " I admired 
 the concerted pieces and the poetry throughout, and 
 think it most beautiful ; it suggested to me in several 
 places musical ideas which I noted down while reading, 
 and found then how adapted to music these flowing 
 and expressive verses are." What more could a com- 
 poser of genius require? I am not going to imitate 
 Sir Fretful Plagiary, who, when Dangle ventures to 
 suggest that the interest of the play rather falls off in 
 the fifth act, exclaims, " Rises, I believe you mean, 
 sir! " Granting, for the sake of argument, that Men- 
 delssohn's objections were well founded — had I not 
 promised — vv^as I not bound to remedy them if in my 
 power, and did he ever afford me an opportunity? 
 Did he reallv know himself what he wanted ? I am 
 very much inclined to believe he did not. In his argu- 
 ments with his fi:iend Furst, from whom he was en- 
 deavouring to obtain the libretto of an opera, he says, 
 *'I have resolved, unless we first agree about the 
 scenanuMj never to beguile any poet into undertaking 
 so laborious a work which may after all prove vain. 
 This scenarium may be prolix or brief, detailed or 
 
312 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 merely sketched."* Now, in my case he had the 
 scenarmm^ first merely sketched, and then, as he evi- 
 dently misunderstood it, detailed in a second letter ; 
 and during four months he never wrote a line in the 
 way of objection, nor raised the least difficulty till I 
 had completed the opera and some "intimate friend" had 
 frightened him by the inteUigence that " there was a 
 theatrical piece universally known in England " on 
 the same subject and in the same form as my opera. 
 This, of course, must have been Mr. Colman's " Sur- 
 render of Calais," which his friend ought to have told 
 him never had any pretension to be called an opera, 
 had long ceased to be acted, and the plot of which had 
 not the slightest resemblance to mine, nor contained a 
 single incident in common with it, beyond that of the 
 surrender. Had there been anything really objection- 
 able in my libretto — any peril to be apprehended from 
 its subject, or any risk of a failure which might com- 
 promise his reputation, there might have been some 
 reason for his excuses. There was nothing of the sort. 
 No demerits of my drama could have interfered with 
 the success of his music. The language he pronounced 
 ** beautiful," "exquisite," "suggestive," in the highest 
 degree. Of the " stage and its necessities," which he 
 
 * TJbi supra, p. 182. La Muette de Portici (MassanieUo) found as 
 little favour in his eyes. Yol. i., p. 288. 
 
 J 
 
EECOLLECTIONS AND REFLECTIONS. 313 
 
 disregarded, it is clear he knew notliing — had not the 
 remotest idea of the importance of that attention to 
 them which had already enabled me to place upwards 
 of one hundred dramas of nearly every description 
 successfully on the stage, and had obtained for me the 
 grateful thanks of Weber, the flattering confidence of 
 Meyerbeer, and the continued co-operation of Bishop. 
 In proof of this, read his description to his mother 
 of Victor Hugo's powerful play of "Ruy Bias," to 
 which he refused composing an overture, as the piece 
 was " detestable and more utterly beneath contempt 
 than you can believe ; "* and his opinion that the 
 " Guillaume Tell " of Scribe is neither " good nor 
 dramatic;" and that ^his " Robert le Diable " is "a 
 cold^ formal extravaganza^'' to which he " cannot 
 imagine how any music could be composed."! It is 
 no humiliation to be condemned in such company, and 
 it should be some consolation to me to know that 
 neither in France, England, nor Germany could he find 
 a man " capable of writing the libretto of an opera." 
 In 1831 he was disappointed by Immerman of Dussel- 
 dorf, and in 1840 by Furst of Berlin ; and at the time 
 of his death, in 184^ was just screwing up his courage 
 
 * Letters, vol. i., p. 154. 
 
 + Letters of Felix Mendelssohn Bartlioldy, vol. i., p. 317. 
 
314 EECOLLECTIONS AND EEFLEOTIONS. 
 
 to set Geibel's "Loreley," "an ideal theme/' which lias 
 been described by a competent critic, "as assuredly 
 not calculated to please a modern operatic public, who 
 prefer flesh and blood characters. "''■•' 
 
 I must apologize to the general reader for the length 
 to which I have protracted this chapter; but to the 
 musical public, now so numerous, to the admirers ot 
 Mendelssohn, who are almost equal in number, this 
 correspondence will not be without interest. In the 
 ' Athenaeum ' of the 9th of December last, in a notice 
 of the Mendelssohn concerts, the writer, after ob- 
 serving that " something more than the fastidiousness 
 of Mendelssohn must have operated to prevent the 
 composition of an opera," adds that " as he could have 
 had the assistance of Scribe and Mr. Planche, it is 
 certainly curious that his abstinence was so prolonged," 
 but discredits the idea prevailing in Germany that his 
 objections and hesitations arose from a dread of com- 
 petition with Meyerbeer. I will not undertake to say 
 what was the particular dread which possessed him ; 
 but that it was fear^ and nothing else, that influenced 
 his conduct, I am thoroughly convinced. He yearned 
 to compose for the stage — to add his name to those 
 of his great countrymen, Gluck, Mozart, Beethoven, 
 
 * Atlienseuni, December 9, 1871. 
 
 I 
 
EEOOLLECTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 315 
 
 Weber, and Meyerbeer ; but invariably shrunk from 
 the eifort the moment an opportunity presented 
 itself. 
 
 " Letting I dare not wait upon I would, 
 Like tlie old cat in the adage." 
 
 In 1845 he expressed to Mr. Frederick Chappell 
 a desire to write a cantata with me ; but I was then 
 too much occupied, could I even have had any confi- 
 dence in his promises, and in 1847 he died, to the 
 universal regret of the musical world, without com- 
 posing an opera. His treatment of mine caused me 
 the keenest mortification, and inflicted on me the 
 greatest disappointmeiit I have ever endured. 
 
 My libretto was eventually transferred by the Messrs. 
 Chappell, whose property it is, to Mr. Henry Smart, 
 and a considerable portion of it was in score when a 
 grievous calamity — a serious affection of the eyes — 
 prevented his completion of the work. 
 
 It is very doubtful that a National Opera House 
 will ever be successfully estabKshed in England — at 
 any rate in my time ; but, vain as I may appear, I 
 have still faith in my unfortunate opera, which, not- 
 withstanding the rapid progress of musical taste and 
 knowledge in this country during the thirty years that 
 
316 EECOLLEOTIONS AND EEFLECTIONS. 
 
 tave elapsed since it was written, would require little, 
 if any, alteration in its construclion to render it con- 
 formable to the most advanced ideas of the Lyrical 
 Drama. 
 
 END OF VOL. T, 
 
 BRADBURY, KVANS, AND CO., PR1NT£KS, WniTEIRlARS. 
 
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