It is suggested that the celebrations of 
 the “ Daily Telegraph’s ” seventy-fifth 
 birthday should include some specimens 
 of the literary style of George Augustus 
 Sala. This is how he describes the scene at 
 Evans’s Supper Rooms: — 
 
 See the pyramids of 'dishes arrive; thi 
 steaming succession of red-hot chops, witii 
 their brown, frizzling, caudal appendage s 
 sobbing hot tears^of passionate fat. bee the 
 serene kidneys, unsubdued though grilled, 
 smiling though cooked, weltering proudly in 
 their noble gravv, like warriors who have 
 fallen upon the field of honour . . Mark 
 how the russet leathern-coated baked potato 
 at first defies the knife, then gracefully 
 cedes, and through a lengthened gash yields 
 its farinaceous effervescence. The only 
 refreshments present open to even a 
 suspicion of effeminacy are the poached 
 eggs, glistening like suns in a firmament ot 
 willow-pattern plate. 
 
 If Sala was as sloppy with his soup as he 
 is with his adjectives, he must have been 
 an unpleasant neighbour. 
 
 OBSERVATOR. 
 
 
 U N I VLR.5 ITY 
 or ILLI NOIS 
 
 914.21 
 
 Evl6 
 
 NATIONAL SPORTING 
 CLUB’S OLD HOME 
 
 FREEHOLD SOLD 
 
 The National Sporting Qub’s old 
 premises in King-street, Covent Garden, 
 concerning the future of which there have i 
 been several reports, are to be converted 
 into fruit sales rooms. 
 
 Messrs. George Munro Ltd., who have | 
 premises next door to the club, have pur- 
 chased the freehold and intend to carry 
 out extensive alterations in order to 
 adapt the building to its new uses. The 
 sale of the freehold was carried through 
 by Messrs. E. A. Shaw and Partners, 
 estate agents. Bow-street, W .C. 
 
 In October, 1929, it was announced 
 that the premises liad been sold and that 
 a theatre was to be built on part of the , 
 site. This scheme did not mature, and 
 before the sale to Messrs. Munro was | 
 effected an alternative scheme for con- 
 verting the whole of the premises into | 
 shops and offices was considered. 
 
 The Earl of Stirling lived at one tune 
 at No. 43, King-street, and later it 1 
 . became the residence of Sir Kenelm 
 Digby. In 1696 the Earl of Orford occu- | 
 pi^ the house, and in it he is said to have I 
 held the first Cabinet Council ever 
 known in this country. | 
 
 The National Sporting Club moved out 
 of No. 43, King-street at the beginning of ^ 
 last year., 
 
 NATIONAL SPORTING 
 CLUB REVIVED , 
 
 O' f .. I 
 
 MANY TURNED AWAY 
 
 More than 10,000 people arrh^Ml att he 
 Empress Stadium, Earl’s Court, last night 
 to welcome the return as boxing promoters 
 of the National Sporting Club, which has 
 been revived umder new management and 
 with a new advdsoi^^ board headed by Lord 
 Decies. 
 
 Many were turned a\vay, for the hall was 
 packed to capacity. The ringside was 
 crowded with celebrities, among them being, 
 a number of members of the old club \^hen 
 its headquarters were in Covent Garden. 
 
 In the chief fight, Jimmy Walsh, of 
 Cliester, retained his British light-weight 
 title against a former holder, Harry Mizler, 
 of London. Hundreds came from Chester 
 to support Walsh with a war-cry all their 
 own. 
 
CLUBS OF THEATRELAND 
 
 Sir — As one of the survivors of the 
 habitues of Evans’s supper rooms, and also 
 a member of the Arundel and Reunion 
 clubs, I should like to endorse Mrs. Clement 
 Scott’s statement that Evans’s was not in 
 Leicester-square. 
 
 I cannot find any record that the Savage 
 Club was ever there. Evans’s was never 
 a restaurant. There were books of the 
 words of songs on the tables. One was a 
 history of Covent Garden, and another a 
 history of madrigals. 
 
 These books are exceedingly scarce, but 
 there is a set of three in the librajry of the 
 London Museum. — Yours &c., 
 
 HARRY PLOWMAN. 
 
 Steele’s-roa,d, N.W., Aug. 24. 
 
 SOCIAL CREDIT rt 
 
 t JUNE 10, 1937. 
 
 HOME WANTED FOR 
 A STAIRCASE 
 
 Two ornate chimney pieces Have neen j 
 skilfully renovated and transferred to more 1 
 visible positions, while Admiral Russell’s ' 
 staircase, unsuitably tortuous for the hustle | 
 of a modern business house, has been i 
 I moved and is temporarily in the care of an 
 antique furniture expert. | 
 
 WAR TROPHY FROM 
 FRENCH FRIGATE 
 
 FROM A SPECIAL CORRESPONDENT 
 
 “ Wanted— suitable home for 18th- 
 century semi-circular teak staircase, 
 removed from a French frigate by 
 Russell, first Earl of 
 
 from 
 Adml. Edward 
 Orford.” _ 
 This is not a 
 but the record 
 
 dealer’s announcement, 
 of a peculiar problem 
 of a remarkable 
 
 facing the owner 
 antique. 
 
 The owner told me yesterday that he does 
 not wish to sell his staircase, nor is he in 
 any great hurry to dispose of it. 
 
 Two things will govern his choice of a 
 home: The staircase must go either to a 
 museum or building architecturally worthy 
 of it, and in no circumstances is it to be 
 taken abroad. 
 
 The staircase belongs to the firm of 
 Covent Garden fruit and vegetable sales- 
 men who, six years ago, purchased No. 43, 
 King-street, for many years the head- 
 quarters of the National Sporting Club. 
 
 “ Admiral Russell, who beat the French 
 at La Hogue, is believed to have taken the 
 staircase from one of the frigates he cap- 
 tured,” a director of the firm said. 
 
 Sir — We have read with interest the 
 article on the origin of Covent Garden by 
 Mr. Arthur Dasent. There is a paragraph 
 in the middle of it on which we should like 
 to comment. Mr. Dasent states, with refer- 
 ence to the old house of the first Earl of 
 Orford : 
 
 “ The house had a fine semi-circular stair- 
 case of oak, said to have been taken from 
 a French man of war of the period, and 
 some highly ornate chimney-pieces, all of 
 which w ere sol d a few years ago by_ a 
 wholesaleTruiterer, who gutted the interior 
 of the house for business purposes.” 
 
 We should like to point out that neither 
 the staircase, the chimney-pieces, nor any 
 of the characteristic decorations of the 
 building have been sold. Although it had to 
 be taken down, we still have the staircase 
 (incidentally, it is of teak and not oak), and 
 the chimney-pieces having been carefully 
 restored now adorn some of our directors’ 
 offices. 
 
 We have taken considerable care in pre- 
 serving all the old mural decorations of the 
 building. 
 
 Your contributor might like to know this, 
 and that the parts of the premises “ gutted ” 
 were the bars, the kitchen, and changing- 
 rooms of the old National Sporting Club. — 
 Yours faithfully, 
 
 EDWIN G. MONRO, Director. 
 
 Geo. Monro Ltd., Covent Garden Market, 
 W.C. 2, June 7. 
 
 THIRTY COATS OF PAINT 
 
 We were sitting in what must be one of 
 I the most unusual board-rooms in London. 
 
 1 Covent Garden retains little of its ancient 
 
 i splendour, and there is nothing in King- 
 street to prepare one for this perfect 18th- 
 century saloon, with the original carved 
 plaster medallions on the walls and a huge j 
 Waterford glass candelabra hanging from 
 the ceiling. 
 
 In adapting the building to its present 
 purpose, as few alterations as possible were 
 made. In the board-room the condition 
 ;of the plasterwork was improved and 30 
 coats of paint were scraped off the doors 
 and shutters of fine old oak. 
 
rpHEKE is a small room to the light of the 
 **• entrance, when yon have gone through 
 the wooden turnstile at the National Sporting 
 Club. It is the room where on champion- 
 ship nights the seating plan is kept, On the 
 walls are i>ortraits of Fitzsimmons, Jim Dris- 
 coll, and Jimmy Wilde when, though a cham- 
 pion, he looked a tiny little boy, and a series 
 of snapshots of the fight between Kid Lewis 
 and the Aiustralian, Frankie Bums. 
 
 There are portraits, too, of that fighting 
 character Bat Mullins and of that picturesque 
 Iris-hman — his name has slipped me — ^who is 
 shown in silk hat and long, trailing astrachan 
 co-at. 
 
 It was in this room that last night I had 
 an interval talk with Lord Harris, who at 75 
 will not give the age when a cricketer should 
 entirely abandon the game. 
 
 The Plated Seats. 
 
 T OBD HARRIS had come with Sir Frede- 
 rick Milner to the annual boxing com- 
 petition between the Royal Navy (Nore Com- 
 mand) and the Household Brigade, which 
 last night was in aid of Sir Frederick Mil- 
 ner’s homes for mentally disabled ex-Service 
 men. Major-General Lord Ruthven, who com- 
 mands the London District, was there to give 
 the prizes. He sat during the fights with 
 Lord Tweedmouth, Lieut.-Commander C. A. 
 Kershaw, the “ Rugger ” international, that , 
 cheery individual Lieut.-Commandex New- 
 comb, and Lieut. R. M. V. Ponsonby, of the 
 Welsh Guards, were among those who did 
 duty as judges. I eaw another naval 
 “ Rugger ” international in Tiny ” Harri- 
 son, who was no bad boxer either; and the 
 veteran Sir Claude de Crespigny— umbrella in 
 hand and the attractive Mrs. Birbeck, sister 
 of Major Ulick Alexander, Lord Athlone’s 
 comptroller, by his side— sat in the committee 
 stalls, some of which bear brass plates indi- 
 cating that they belong to life members of the 
 N.S.C. 
 
 ** Monkey** Hornby and Jem Mace. 
 
 “ T DON’T suppose,” said Lord Harris, 
 ” that many people are here to-night 
 who came when this place was Evans’s. I 
 came quite a dozen times. You could have 
 supper, and there was singing. I heard Vance 
 here, and sometimes there were glees sung by 
 choir boys from a neighbouring church. And 
 Paddy Green, the proprietor, used to sit by 
 the door there saying ‘ Good night * as you 
 went out. 
 
 ” Do you remember * Monkey * Hornby, the 
 Lancashire captain,” he went on. ” Hornby 
 was a man always hard as nails and very 
 lively on his feet, I saw him box Jem Mace 
 once. He got as close to Mace as this ” — 
 that was less than a yard off— “ and I don't 
 think he touched him once. All that Mace 
 did was to move his head and sway slightly 
 with his body. But, then, they used to say 
 that there never had been a boxer like Jem 
 Mace.” 
 
 [London) 5.28 p.m. 
 
 Si 
 
 Newspapers, with their wonderful news 
 services and their appeal to readers and 
 advertisers alike-, will completely revo- 
 lutionise provincial evening journalism. 
 
 Good-bye to the 
 Old N.S.C. 
 
 W HENEVER an old building in or 
 ^ near the centre of London is 
 
 closed in these days it seems inevitable 
 that its successor must be a bank — or a 
 theatre. In August The Evening News 
 foretold that the National Sporting Club 
 premises would be rebuilt as a theatre. 
 Now the sale for that purpose has been 
 completed. So definitely passes away 
 the body of the most famous sporting 
 club in history, though its soul and 
 membership still survive elsewhere. 
 
 There are shadowy legends about the 
 ancient history of the club site. But 
 its relatively modern story is pictur- 
 esque enough. Old Londoners recalled 
 in these pages years ago the gay nights 
 in Evans’s Supper Rooms and the at- 
 tached Cave of Harmony. One old 
 gentleman told us how, youthfully 
 awed by the occasion, he was introduced 
 to Mr. Dickens and Mr. Thackeray there 
 on the one night. 
 
 ^ The shade of the late “ Peggy ” Bet- 
 tinson must be lamenting the passing of 
 the Club’s home. In this time of big 
 boxing purses the* N.S.C. must find a 
 place that will be at once a homely club 
 and a great hall to hold thousands of 
 spectators — no easy nor inexpensive 
 matter. 
 
 The farewell to the Covent Garden 
 place IS a sad event in boxing History. 
 May its members find a new home 
 worthy of the traditions of the old. 
 
Y /y. i 
 
 t j I >0 
 
 EVANS’S SUPPER-ROOMS, CO VENT-GARDEN. 
 
 W 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF EVANS’S HOTEL, OF 
 :OVENT GARDEN, AND OF THE SURROUNDING 
 
 NEIGHBOURHOOD. 
 
 Descending the high steps of Evans’s Hotel, Covent- 
 arden Market is bfefore ns. A stroll through its Piazzas 
 nd its neighbouring streets is full of historical interest, 
 
 \ we be so fortunate as to secure the company of a chatty 
 fiend who can tell us somewhat of the former inha- 
 bitants and their varying fortunes. There are several such 
 welcome companions in the shape of books. Smith’s 
 Streets of London ’ * contains many interesting details, 
 le says — 
 
 This little spot of ground (Covent-garden) will detain us 
 mg. Within its small area, all the wits, since the davs of 
 'lharles, were accustomed to meet : and, leaving the public 
 areer of the players for the moment out of the question, we 
 hall make acquaintance with them in the comfortable arm 
 ihairs and places of honor in tavern ])arlonrs, — we shall dis- 
 ourse upon the literary reminiscences of Will’s and Button’s 
 -visit the place where Boswell was lirst inti oduccd to Jolmson 
 -look into the house where Dryd(m spent his evenings— visit 
 he burial-place of the author of Jludihras — stand upon the 
 looiway of the house of Sir Peter Lely — and take a peep at 
 he place when; Voltaire had lodgings when he visited England. 
 
 To retxamt the various reminiscences of all the taverns 
 nd coffee-houses ai’ound Covent -gai'den, would require a 
 olume. f rom the days when this place was first built on, until 
 ur ovvii, these tavenis liave been the resort of men about 
 |Owin ot playwriglits, tragedians, comedians, painters, clowms, 
 ;asliing wits, and men of pleasure. 
 
 ^ ■ :)' I ,-i:r ;] hy rir ;;y. Tz-ixlojl. 
 
 Thus far Mr. Smith; but we propose to enlist another 
 companion for our stroll — no other than the fascinating 
 Leigh Hunt himself, that best of talkers on such subjects: 
 witness his papers originally contributed to The London 
 Journal, entitled ‘ The Streets of the Metropolis, their 
 Memories and Great Men,’ and afterwards published in 
 a collected form, called ‘ The Town ; ’* also the papers 
 relative to Kensington, &c., entitled ‘ The Old Court 
 Suburb.’ t 
 
 Taking largely from Leigh Hunt’s ‘ Streets of the 
 Metropolis’ the passages relating to our immediate Avalk, 
 we have preferred to let him speak for himself, as far as 
 our space will allow, of this immediate neighbourhood, 
 and have little doubt but the samples here offered will 
 induce many readers to buy the books themselves, and 
 so extend their intellectual walk through “the streets of 
 the metropolis ” with the pleasant guide we thus introduce 
 to them. He says — 
 
 At the beginning of the reign of Elizabeth, Covent-garden 
 (nr, as it would be more properly spelt, Coraren^-garden) ex- 
 tended from Drury-lane to St. Martin’s-lane, and was sur- 
 lounded by a brick wall. It had lately belonged to the 
 /Vbbots of Westminster, wdiom it supplied, doubtless, wdth 
 fi'Liit and vegetables, as it has since done the metropolis, and 
 hence its appellation. The reader will see it in the old print 
 of London by Aggas. There was a break into it on the south- 
 •vfst, made by the garden of Bedford house, which stood 
 f;icing the Strand between the present Bedford and South- 
 ampton-streets. On the dissolution of the monasteries. Covent 
 gaiden w'as given to the Duke of Somerset, and on his fall, to 
 John, Earl of Bedfoid, whose family converted it into a pas- 
 ture ground, including Long Acre, then part of the fields 
 leading to St. Giles's. His descendant Francis, about seventy 
 years aftertvards, let the wdiole pasture on a building lease, 
 and built the old church for the intended inhabitants. The 
 architect was Inigo Jones. To the same hand we are indebted 
 for the portico of the north-eastern quarter, which still re- 
 mains. There was a continuation of it on the south-east, 
 which was burnt down. It was to have been carried all round 
 the square, and the absence of it might be regretted on the 
 score of beauty ; but porticos are not Mt for this climate, unless 
 where the object is to furnish a w'alk during the rain. Covered 
 wulks devoted to that purpose, and conveniently distributed, 
 might be temptations to out-of-door exercise in bad weather ; 
 if they succeeded, they would effect a very desirable end. 
 But covered \valks, however beautiful, wJiich are not used in 
 that w^ay, are rather to be deprecated in this cold and humid 
 climate. In Italy, where the summer sun at noon-day burns 
 like a cauldron, nothing can be bettei-; but the more sun we 
 can get in England the better. Luckily, there is a convenience 
 in this portico, as far as the theatre is concerned : otherwise 
 the circuit thci e would be more agreeable without it, and the 
 coffee-houses wordd be more light and cheerful. 
 
 Of the style of building observed in the church, there is a 
 well-known stoiy. “ The Earl is said to have told Inigo 
 Jones he wnshed to have as plain and convenient a structure 
 as possible, and but little better than a barn: to which the 
 architer-t replied, he would build a barn, but that it should be 
 the handsoTuest in England.” 
 
 Inigo Jones’s church was burnt dovm in the year 1795, 
 owing to the carelessness of some plumbers who w^ere mending 
 the roof. “ When the flames were at their height,” says 
 Malcolm, “ the portico and massy pillars made a gi and scene, 
 
 * ‘ The Town, its memorable characters and events.' By Leigli liunt, 
 
 2 vols. Smith, Elder, and Co., Cornhill. 
 
 + ‘The Old Court Suburb.’ By Leigh Hunt. Hurst and Bla.kett, 
 Great Marlborough street 
 
2 
 
 EVANS’S SUPPER-SOOMS, CO VENT-GARDEN. 
 
 projected before a back-ground of liquid fire, which raged 
 with so much uncontrolled fury, that not a rragment of wood, 
 in or near the walls, e.scaped destruction.” 
 
 The barn-like taste, or in other words the Grecian (for use- 
 fulni'ss and simplicity are the secrets of it, and the Temple of 
 Theseus and a common barn liave tlie same principle of struc- 
 tLiie). was copied in the new edifice. By a passage quoted in 
 the ‘ Londinium Redivivum’ from the • Weekly Journal’ of 
 April 22, 1727, it appears that the portico of the old church 
 had been altered by the inhabitants, and restored by the Earl 
 of Burlington, “ out of regard to the memory of the celebrated 
 Inigo Jones, and to prevent our countrymen being exposed 
 for their ignorance.” The sj^irit of this portico has been re- 
 tained, and the church of St. Paul’s, Covent-garden, is one of 
 the most pleasing structures in the metropolis. 
 
 A great many actors have been buried in this spot ; among 
 them, Estcourt, the famous mimic, Edwin, Macklin, and King. 
 ATe shall speak of one or two of them presently, but it is 
 de.sirable, especially in a work of this kind, to observe a chrono- 
 logical order ; the mere observance itself conveys information. 
 Among the variety of persons buried here, may be mentioned, 
 first : — 
 
 Car, Earl of Somerset, in the old church. We shall speak 
 of Ills infancy when we come to Whitehall and the court of 
 James 1, His burial in Covent-garden was, doubtless, owing 
 to his connexion with the family of Russell, his daughter 
 having married William, afterwards Earl and Duke of Bed- 
 ford, father of the famous patriot. It is said that his lady was 
 hred up in such ignorance of the dishonour of her parents, that, 
 having met by accident with a book giving an account of it, 
 she fainted away, and was found in that condition by her 
 <iomestics. Her lover’s family were veiy averse to the match, 
 but wisely allowed it upon due trial, and had no reason to 
 repent their generosity. To read the histoiy of the foolish 
 and unprincipled Countess of Somerset, who would suppose 
 that her daughter was to give birth to the conscientious martyr 
 for liberty ! But the blood which folly makes wicked, a good 
 education can render noble. 
 
 Butler in the church-yard. The popular notion that he was 
 starved is unfounded ; but he was very ill-treated by a court 
 whom his wit materially served. It is said that Charles, once 
 and away, gave him a hundred pounds. This is possible ; but 
 it is at least as possible that he gave him nothing, though he 
 would willingly have done it, perhaps, had his debaucheries 
 left him the means. Charles, in his way, was as poor as 
 Butler, though not as honourably so, for it does not appear 
 that the poet was unwilling to labour for his subsistence. 
 There is a mystery, however, in Butler’s private affairs. He 
 once appears to have had some office in the family of the 
 Countess of Kent. Perhaps he was not a very good man of 
 business, though the learning exhibited in ‘ Hudibras’ showed 
 how he could work on a favorite subject. When men succeed 
 to this extent in what nature evidently designed them for, 
 great allowance is to be made for their disinclination to other 
 tasks ; and Butler had no children to render the neglect of 
 his fortune criminal. The Duke of Buckingham, who once 
 undertook to “ do something for him,” and had a meeting for 
 the purpose at a coffee-house, saw a pander of his go by the 
 window with a “ brace of ladies,” and going after him, we 
 hear no more of his grace. Luckily, to prevent him from 
 stai’vation, Butler found a friend in the excellent Mr. Longue- 
 ville, of the Temple, a scholar and a real gentleman, who did 
 not confine his generosity to an admiration of him in books, 
 dhie poet is unti<irstood to have been indebted to him for sup- 
 port dunng the latter part of his life ; and it was he wlio 
 buried him in this church-yard. It is to Mr. Longuevillc that 
 we are indebted for the publication of Butler’s ‘Remains,’ 
 which are quite worthy of the wit of ‘ Hudibras,’ and deserve 
 to be more generally known. Butler was the greatest wit that 
 ever wrote in verse; perhaps the greatest that ever wrote at 
 all, meaning by wit the union of remote ideas. He was un- 
 doubtedly the most learned. His political poem is out of date ; 
 and much of the humour that delighted the cavaliers must, of 
 necessity, be lost to us ; but passages of it will always be re- 
 peated ; and it is difficult to hear his name mentioned, without 
 quoting some of his rhjmies. He was the first man tliat gave 
 rhyme itself an air of wit. His couplets are not only witty 
 thenxselves, but seem to add a new idea to their imagery in 
 the ver\’ sounds at the end of them. His startling turns of 
 thought are accompanied by as surpiising a turn in the ca- 
 
 dence, as if the echo itself could not help laughing. Thus 
 his doctor’s shop is 
 
 “ stored vntli deletery medicines, 
 
 Which whosoever took is dead since : ” 
 his sour religionists 
 
 “ Compound for sins they are inclined to, 
 
 By damning those they have no mind to.” 
 
 His most quoted rhyme, when 
 
 “ Pulpit, drum ecclesiastic, 
 
 Was heat wich fist instead of a stick,” 
 
 is, singularly enough, no rhyme at all; Imt the sm-pri.se of 
 the echo, and the truth conveyed in it, affect us as if it were 
 perfect. 
 
 Mrs. Pilkington tells us that Sv’ift took down a ‘ Hudibras’ 
 one day, and ordered her to examine him in the book, when, 
 to her great surprise, she found he remembered “ every line, 
 from beginning to end of it.” Mrs. Pilkington is a lady whose 
 word is to be taken cum multis grants ; nor is it very likely she 
 should ever have heard the Dean repeat a whole volume 
 through ; but if Swift know any author entire, Butler is likely 
 to have been the man. Butlei’ had the same politics, the same 
 love of learning, the same wit, the same apparent contempt of 
 mankind, the same charity underneath it, and the same im- 
 patient wish to see them wiser. His style of writing is 
 evidently the origin of Swift’s. 
 
 Sir Peter Lely, the painter of the meretricious beauties of 
 the court of Charles II. Pope’s couplet on him is well known : 
 “ Lely on animated canvass stole 
 The sleepy eye that spoke the melting soul.” 
 
 The canvass is more sleepy than animated, and the ladies 
 more like what they were in inclination than in features. 
 However, there is great likeness on that very account. They 
 are all of a sisterhood : — qualem non decet esse sororurn. 
 A master of pictorial criticism has said of the collection of 
 them at Windsor Castle, that “ they look just like what they 
 were— a set of kept-mistresses, painted, tawdry, showing off 
 their theatrical or meretricious airs and graces, without one 
 trace of real elegance or refinement, or one spark of sentiment 
 to touch the heart. Lady Grammont is the handsomest or 
 them ; and, though the most voluptuous in her attire and 
 attitude, the most decent. The Duchess of Portsmouth 
 (Cleveland), in her helmet and plumes, looks quite like a 
 heroine of romance, or modern Amazon ; but, for an air of 
 easy assurance, inviting admiration, and alarmed at nothing 
 
 but being thought coy, commend us to my Lady above, 
 
 in the sky-blue drapery, thrown carelessly over her shoulders I 
 Sir Peter was a W estphalian, of a family named Vander Vaas. 
 His father was an officer in the army, who, having been born 
 in a perfumer’s house which had a lily for its sign, got the 
 name of Captain Du Lys, or Lely, and the cognomen was re- 
 tained by his son. He aimed at magnificence in his style of 
 living, probably in imitation of his predecessor at the English 
 court, Vandyke ; but there was a certain coarseness about him 
 which showed the inferiority of his taste in that particular, as 
 well as in the rest. 
 
 Wycherly in the church. See Bow-street. 
 
 Southern, one of those dramatic writers who, without much 
 genius, succeed in obtaining a considerable name, and justly, 
 by dint of genuine feeling for common nature. He began in 
 Dryden’s time, who knew and respected his talents, was known 
 and respected by Pope, and lived to enjoy a similai- regard 
 from Gray. ” I remember,” says Oldys, “ this venerable old 
 gentleman, when he lived in Covent-garden, and used to fre- 
 quent the evening prayers in the church there. He was always 
 neat and decently dressed, commonly in black, with his silver 
 sword and silver locks.” Gray, in a letter to Walpole, dated 
 Burnham, in Buckinghamshire, 1737, says : “ We have old 
 ]\Ir. Southern at a gentleman’s house, a little way off’, wlio 
 often comes to see us ; he is now seventy-seven years old, and 
 has almost wholly lost his memory ; but is as agreeable an old 
 man as can be ; at least I j)ersuade myself so when I look at 
 him, and think of Isabella and Oroonoko.” Southern died 
 about nine years after this period, aged about eighty-five. 
 
 .loc Haynes, the comedian. See Drury-lane. 
 
 Estcourt, the comedian, — or mimic, rather, — for, like most 
 players who devote themselves to mimiciy, which is a kind of 
 caricature j)ortrait-painting, his comedy or general humour 
 was inferior to it. He was, however, a man of wit as well as 
 a mimic ; and in spite of a talent which seldom renders men 
 favorites in private, was so much regarded, that, when the 
 Beefsteak (’liib was set up (which a late author says must not 
 be confounded with the Beefsteak Club held in Covent-garden 
 
EVANS’S SUPPER-ROOMS, CO VENT-GARDEN. 
 
 3 
 
 theatre and the Lyceum), Estcourt was appointed provveditore 
 or caterer, and presented, as a badge of distinction, with a 
 small gridiron of gold, wliicli he wore about his neck, fastened 
 to a green ribbon. He is said at one time to have been a 
 tavern-keeper, in which quality (unless it was in the other) 
 Parnell speaks of him in the beginning of one of his poems : 
 
 Gay Bacchus liking Estcourt’s wine, 
 
 A noble meal bespoke us ; 
 
 And for the guests that were to dine, 
 
 Brought Comus, Love, and Jocus. 
 
 The best account we are acquainted with of the various 
 Beefsteak Clubs, has been given us by the good-humoured 
 author of ‘ Wine and Walnuts.’ His book is an antiquarian 
 fiction, but not entirely such ; and the present account, among 
 others, may be taken as fact. George Lambert, Rich’s scene- 
 painter at Covent-garden, says he “ being a man of wit, and 
 of reptite as an artist, was frequently visited by persons of 
 note while at his work in the scene-room. In those days it 
 was customary for men of fashion to visit the green-room, and 
 to indulge in a morning lounge behind the curtain of the 
 theatre. Lambert, when preparing his designs for a panto- 
 mime or new spectacle (for which exhibitions the manager. 
 Rich, was much renowned), would often take his chop or 
 steak cooked on the German stove, rather than quit his occu- 
 pation for the superior accommodation of a neighboming 
 tavern. Certain of his visitors, men of taste, struck with ihe 
 novelty of the thing, perhaps, or tempted by the savoury dish, 
 took a knife and fork with Lambert, and enjoyed the treat. 
 Hence the origin of the Beefsteak Club, whose social feasts 
 were long held in the painting-room of this theatre, which, 
 from its commencement, has enrolled among its members per- 
 sons of the highest rank and fortune, and many eminent pro- 
 fessional men and distinguished wits. The Club subsequently 
 met in an apartment of the late theatre, then it moved to the 
 Shakespeare Tavern ; thence again to the theatre ; until, being 
 burnt out in 1812, the meetings adjourned to the Bedford. 
 At present the celebrated convives assemble at an apartment 
 at the English Opera House in the Strand. 
 
 “ At the same time this social club flourished in England, 
 and about the year 1749, a Beefsteak Club was established at 
 the Theatre Royal, Dublin, of which the celebrated Mrs. 
 Margaret Woffington was president. It was begun by Mr. 
 Sheridan, but on a very different plan to that in London, no 
 theatrical performer, save one female, being admitted ; and 
 though called a Club, the manager alone bore all the expenses. 
 The plan was, by making a list of about fifty or sixty persons, 
 chiefly noblemen and members of Paiiiament, who were in- 
 vited, Usually about half that number attended, and dined 
 in the manager’s apartment in the theatre. There was no 
 female admitted but this Peg Woffington, so denominated by 
 all her contemporaries, who was seated in a great chair at the 
 head of the table, and elected president for the season. 
 
 “ ‘ It will readily be believed,’ says Mr. Victor, who was 
 joint proprietor of the house, ‘ that a club where there were 
 good accommodations, such a lovely president, full of wit and 
 spirit, and nothing to pay, must soon grow reinai kably fashion- 
 able.’ It did so — but we find it subsequently caused the 
 theatre to be pulled to pieces about the manager’s head, 
 
 “ Mr. Victor says of Mrs. Margaret ‘ she possessed capti- 
 vating chaniis as a jovial, witty bottle companion, but few re- 
 maining as a mere female.’ We have Dr. Johnson’s testi- 
 mony, however, who had often gossipped with Mrs. Margaret 
 in the green-room at old Drury, more in the lady’s favour. 
 
 “ This author (Victor) says, speaking of the Beefsteak Club, 
 
 ‘ It was a club of ancient institution in every theatre ; when 
 the principal performers dined one day in the week together 
 (generally Saturday), and authors and other geniuses were 
 admitted members,’ 
 
 The Club in Ivy-lane, celebrated by Dr. Johnson, was 
 originally a BeefsteakP 
 
 Closterman, in the church-yard. He was an indifferent, 
 but once popular artist, whom we mention on account of his 
 painful domestic end. He had a mistress whom he thought 
 devoted to him. She robbed him of everything she could lay 
 her hands on, — money, plate, jewels, and movables, and fled 
 out of the kingdom. He pined away with an impaired under- 
 standing, and was soon brought to the grave. Closterman 
 was once set in competition with Sir Godfrey Kneller. He 
 painted the family of the Duke of Marlborough, and had so 
 many disputes about the picture with the Duchess, that Marl- 
 bnr mgh said to him, “ It has given me more trouble to re- 
 concile my vdfe and you, than to fight a battle.” 
 
 Arne, the celebrated musician, in the churcli-yard. See 
 King-street. 
 
 Sir Robert Strange, tlie greatest engraver, perhaps, this 
 country has seen ; that is to say, supposing the merits of an 
 engraver to be in prop.)ortion to his relish tor and imitation of 
 his originals. Other men may have drawn a finer mechanical 
 line, but none have surpassed Strange in giving the pi-oper 
 diversit}^ of surfaces, or ecpiallcd him in transfeii-ing to hard 
 copper the roundness and delicacy of flesh. His engravings 
 from Titian almost convey sometliing of the colours of that 
 great painter. Like all true masters, Strange took pains with 
 whatever he did, and bestowed attention on every part of it; 
 so much indeed, that his love foi’ his art appears to have been 
 an exhausting one, and he was anxious to keep the burin out 
 of the hands of his children. He had seen a great deal of the 
 woi’ld, and was a very amiable as well as intelligent man. 
 When young, he was a great Jacobite, and fought sword-in- 
 hand for the Pretender; though it is said that a main cause 
 of his ardour was the hope of attaining the hand of a fair 
 friend, equally devoted to the cause. It is pleasing to add, 
 that he did attain it, ai'.d that she made him a good wife. Sir 
 Robert was a Scotchman of a good family; but his knight- 
 hood came from George the Third, a few years before the 
 artist’s death. 
 
 Macklin, the comedian, in the church-yard, at the age of one 
 hundred and seven, and upwards. His long age in the midst 
 of cities and theatres, is very remarkable. It seems to have 
 been owing to the inheritance of a robust constitution, — the 
 great cause of longevity next to temperance, perlups the 
 greatest, unless contradicted by the reverse. (Most persons 
 wdro have been long-lived, have had long-lived progenitors; 
 but somebody must begin. The foundation is always tem- 
 perance. Macklin must have been very lucky in his physical 
 advantages, for he did not keep any very strict rein over his 
 temper; nor does he appear to have followed any regimen, 
 till latterly, and then he consulted the immediate ease of his 
 stomach, and not the quality of what he took. However, his 
 habits, whatever they were, were most likely regular. It 
 had been his constant rale,” says his biographer, “ for a period 
 of thirty years and upw^ards, to visit a public-house called the 
 Antelope, in White Hart-yard, Covent-garden, where his 
 usual beverage was a pint of beer called stout, which was made 
 hot and sweetened with moist sugar, almost to a syrup. This, 
 he said, balmed his stomach, and kept him from having any 
 inward pains.” 
 
 Dr. Walcot, better known by the name of Peter Pindar. 
 He was a coarse and virulent satirist, and content to write so 
 many common-places, that they will stifle his works with pos- 
 terity, with the exception of a few pieces. His humour, how- 
 ever, was genuine of its kind. His caricatures are striking 
 likenesses ; and the innocent simplicity which he is lond of 
 affecting, make a ludicrous contrast with his impudence. Dr. 
 Walcot’s largest poems are worth little, and his serious worth 
 nothing : what we think are likely to last in the collections, 
 are his ‘ Bozzy and Piozzi,’ his ‘ Royal Visit to Whitbread’s 
 Brewhouse,’ one or two more of that stamp, some of his ‘ Odes 
 to Academicians,’ and the immortal ‘ Pilgrims and the Peas,’ 
 the hero of which is a.ssuredly hobbling to this day, and will 
 never ar’rive. Dr. Walcot was a man of taste in the fine arts, 
 and produced some landscapes, which we believe do credit to 
 his pencil. We have never seen them. His critical good 
 taste is not to be disputed ; though the Academicians, at one 
 time, would have given a great deal to find it wanting. He 
 was latterly blind, but maintained his spirits to the last He 
 had a fine skull, which he was not displeased to be called 
 upon to exhibit, — taking his wig off, and saying “ There,” 
 with a lusty voice ; which formed a singular contrast with the 
 pathos attached to the look of blind eyes. 
 
 Covent-garden market has always been the most agreeable 
 in the metropolis, because it is devoted exclusively to fruit, 
 flowers, and vegetables. A few crockeiy-ware shops make no 
 exceptions to this “ bloodless” character. The seasons here 
 regularly present themselves in their most gifted looks, — witli 
 evergreens in winter, the fresh verdure of spring, all the hues 
 of summer, and whole loads of desserts in autumn. The 
 country girls, who bring the things to market at early dawn, 
 are a sight themselves worthy of the a^les and the roses ; 
 the good-natured Irish women, who attend to carry baskets 
 for purchasers, are not to be despised, with the half-humorous, 
 half-pathetic tone of their petitions to be employed ; and the 
 ladies who come to purchase, crown all. No walk in London, 
 on a fine summer’s day, is more agreeable than the passage 
 
4 
 
 EVANS’S SUPPER-EOOMS, COVENT-GAPDEN. 
 
 through the flowers here at noon, when the roses and green 
 leaves are newly watered, and blooming faces come to locjk at 
 them in those cool and shady avenues, while the hot sun is 
 basking in the streets On these occasions we were very well 
 satisfied with the market in its old state. The old sheds, and 
 irregular avenm^s, when dry, assorted Nvell with the presence 
 of leaves and fruits. They had a careless picturesque look, 
 as if a bit of an old suburban garden had survived from 
 ancient times. 
 
 Nothing, however, but approbation can be bestowed on the 
 convenient and elegant state into which the market has been 
 got by the magnificence of the noble proprietor, whose arms 
 we are glad to see on the side next James-street. They are 
 a real grace to the building and to the owmer, for they are 
 a stamp of liberality. In time we hope to see the roofs of the 
 new market covered with shrubs and flowers, nodding over 
 the balustrades, and fruits and red berries sparkling in the 
 sun. As an ornament, nothing is more beautiful in com- 
 bination than the fluctuating grace of foliage and the stability 
 of architecture. And, as an utility, the more air and sun 
 the better. There is never too much sun in this country, 
 and every occasion should be seized to take advantage of it. 
 
 The space betw-een the churcli and the market is the scene 
 of Hogarth’s picture of the ‘ Frosty Morning.’ (See cut.) Here 
 in general take place the elections for Westminster. Sheridan 
 has poured forth his good things in this spot, and Charles Fox 
 won the hearts of multitudes. It would be an endle.ss task 
 to trace the recollections connected with the coffee-houses 
 under the portico. Perhaps there is not a name of celebrity 
 in the annals of wit or the stage, between the reigns of 
 Charles II. and the present Queen, which might not be found 
 concerned in the clubs or other meetings which they have 
 witnessed, particularly those of Garrick, Hogarth, and their 
 contemporaries. Sir Eager de Coverley has been there, — a 
 person more real to us than nine-tenths of them. When in 
 town, he lodged in Bow-street. 
 
 Opposite the Bedford Coffee-house a tragical scene took 
 place fifty years back, the particulars of which are interesting. 
 Tlie Earl of Sandwich, grandson of Charles the Second’s 
 Earl of Sandwich, and first loid of the Admiralty during the 
 North administration, had for his mistress a Miss Ray, whom 
 he had rendered as accomplished as she was handsome. Some 
 say that she was a daughter of a labourer at Elstree, others 
 of a stay maker in Coven t- garden. Her father is said to have 
 had a shop in that way of business in Hohwvell-street in the 
 Strand. Miss Ray was apprenticed at an early age to a 
 mantua-maker in Clerkenwell close, with whom she served 
 lier time out, and obtained a character that did her honour. 
 A year or two after the expiration of this period she was 
 taken notice of by Lord Sandwich, who gave her a liberal 
 education ; rendered her a proficient in his favourite arts of 
 music and singing ; and made her his mistress. He was old 
 enough to be her father. 
 
 Lord Sandwich was in the habit of having plaA^s and music 
 at his house, particularly the latter. At Christmas the musical 
 performance was an oratorio, for, “ to speak seriously,” says 
 jMr. Cradock, “ no man was more careful than Lord Sandwich 
 not to trespass on public decorum.” This gentleman, in his 
 memoirs, lately published, has furnished us with accounts 
 which will give a livelier idea of the situation of Miss Ray in 
 his lordship’s house, than any formal abstract of them. 
 
 “ Plays at Hinchinbrook bad ceased before 1 had ever been 
 in company with Loi'd Sandwich, and oratorios for a week at 
 Christmas had been substituted. Mi.ss Ray, who was the 
 first attraction, was instructed in music by Mr. Bates and 
 Signor Giardini. Norris and Champness regularly attended 
 the meeting, and there were many excellent amateur per- 
 formers ; the Duke of Manchester’s military' band assisted, 
 a!id his lordship himself took the kettle-drums to animate 
 the Avhole. ‘ Non nobis Domine’ was sung after dinner, and 
 then catches and glees succeeded ; all was well conducted, 
 for whatever his lordship undertook, he generally ac- 
 complished, and seemed to have adopted the emphatic advice 
 of Longinus, ‘ always to excel.’ Miss Ray, in her situation, 
 was a pattern of discretion : for when a lady of rank, between 
 one of the acts of the oratorio, advanced to conver^^e with 
 l\er, she expressed her embarrassment; and Lord Sandwi h. 
 turning privately to a friend, said, ‘ As j’ou are well acquainted 
 with that lady, 1 wish you w'ould give her a hint, that there 
 is a boundar}’ line in my family 1 do not wish to see exceeded ; 
 such a tre.spa.ss might occasion the overthrow of all our music 
 meetings.’ 
 
 “From what I have collected. Miss Ray was born in 
 Hertfordshire, in 1742, and that his lordship first saw her in 
 a shop in Tavistock-street, where he was purchasing some 
 neckcloths. This w'as all that IMr. Bates seemed to have 
 ascertained, for both his lordship and the lady were equally 
 cautious of communicating anything on the subject. From 
 that time her education was particubuly attended to, and she 
 proved worthy of all the pains that were taken with her. 
 Her voiee was powerful and pleasing, and she has never been 
 excelled in that fine air of Jephtha, ‘Brighter scenes I seek 
 above;’ nor was she less admired when she executed an 
 Italian bravura of the most difficult description.” 
 
 Again : — “ I did not know his lordship in early life, but 
 this I can attest, and call any contemporary to ratify who 
 might have been present, that we never heard an oath, or 
 the least profligate conversation at his lordship’s table, in our 
 lives. Miss Ray’s behaviour was particularly circumspect. 
 Dr Green, Bishop of Lincoln, always said, ‘ 1 never knew so 
 cautious a man as Lord Sandwich.’ The Bishop came too 
 soon once to an oratorio ; we went to receive him in the 
 dining-room, but he said, ‘No; the drawing-room is full of 
 company, and I will go up and take tea there.’ Lord 
 Sandwich was embarrassed, as he had previously objected to 
 Lady Blake speaking to jMiss Ray between the acts ; and as 
 the Bishop would go up, a coneequence ensued just as 1 ex- 
 pected. Some ^severe verses were sent, which Mr. Bates 
 intercepted. ******* 
 
 “ The elegant Mrs. Hinchcliffe, Lady of the Bishop, at- 
 tended one night with a party. She had never seen Miss 
 Ray before, and she feelingly remarked afterwards, ‘ I was 
 really hurt to sit directly opposite to her, and mark her 
 discreet conduct, and yet to find it improper to notiee her. 
 She ^vas so assiduous to please, was so very excellent, yet so 
 unassuming, I was quite charmed with her ; yet a seeming 
 craelty to her took off the pleasure of my evening.’” 
 
 While Miss Ray was thus situated, his lordship, through 
 the medium of a neighbour. Major Reynolds, became ac- 
 quainted with a brother officer of the Major’s, a Captain 
 Hackman, and invited him to his house. The Captain fell 
 in love with Miss Ray, and Miss Ray is understood not to 
 have been insensible to his passion. He was her junior by 
 several years, though the disparity was nothing like the 
 reverse one on the part of Lord Sandwich. Sir HeiReit Croft, 
 who wrote a bistoiy of their intimacy and corre.spondence, 
 under the title of ‘ Love and Madness,’ represents the attach- 
 ment as mutual. According to his statement, Hackman 
 urged her to marry him, and Mis Ray was desirous of doing 
 so, but fearful of hurting the feelings of the man who had 
 educated her, and who is repi esented as a sort of Old Robin 
 Gray. In this sentiment, Hackman, with all his passion, is 
 represented as partaking. Sir Herbert’s book, though founded 
 on fact, and probably containing more truth than can now be 
 ascertained, is considered apocryphal; and IMr. Cradock, who 
 is as cautious in his way as his noble acquaintance, doubts 
 whether any man was really acquainted with the particulars. 
 All that he could call to mind relative to either party was, 
 that for three w'eeks after the Captain’s introduction, till his 
 military pursuits led him to Ireland, he was observed to bow 
 to Miss Ray whenever she went out ; and th^ Miss Ray, 
 during the latter part of her time at the Admiralty, did not 
 continue to speak of her situation as before. “ She com- 
 plained,” he says, “of being greatly alarmed by ballads that 
 had been sung, or cries that had been made directly under 
 the windows that looked into the park ; and that sucli was 
 the fury of the mob, that she did not think eitlier herself or 
 Lord Sandwich was safe, whenever they went out; and 
 I must own that I heard some strange insults offered : and 
 that 1 with some of the sciwants once suddenly rushed out, 
 but the offenders instantly ran away ami escaped. One 
 evening afterwards, when sitting with Miss Ray in the great 
 room above stairs, she ajipeared to be much agitated, and at 
 last said, ‘she had a particular favour to ask of me ; that as 
 her situation was very precarious, and no settlement had been 
 made upon her, she wished I would hint something of the 
 kmd to Lord Sandwicli.’ 1 need not express my smprise, but 
 I instantly assured her, ‘ that no one but herself could make 
 such a proposal, as 1 knew I,ord Sandwich never gave any one 
 an op])ortunity of interfering with him (Ui so delicate a subject.’ 
 She urged that her wish was merely to relieve Loid Sandwich 
 as to great expense about her ; for as her voice was then 
 the best, and Italian music was particubuly lier forte, she was 
 given to understand she might succeed at the Oj)era-lmuse 
 
EVANS’S SUPPER-ROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN. 
 
 and as Mr. Glardini then led, and I was intimate with 
 Ml'S. Brooke and Mrs. Yates, she was certain of a most 
 advantageous engagement. 1 then instantly conjectured who 
 one of the advisers must have been; and afterwards found that 
 three thousand pounds and a free benefit had been absolutely 
 held out to her, though not by the two ladies who managed 
 the stage department. Whether any proposals of marriage 
 at that time or afterwards, were made by Mr. Hackman, 
 
 I know not.” Be this as it may, Hackman’s passion was un- 
 doubted. He was originally an apprentice to a merchant at 
 Gosport ; was impatient of serving at the counter, entered 
 the army at nineteen, but during his acquaintance with Miss 
 Bay, exchanged the army for the church, “as a readier road 
 to independence,” and was presented to the living of Wyverton, 
 in Norfolk. 
 
 Whatever was the nature of the intimacy between these 
 unfortunate persons, a sudden stop appears to have been put 
 to Hackman’s final expectations, and he became desperate. 
 By what we can gather from the accounts. Lord Sandwich, 
 either to preserve her from her lover or , herself, thought 
 proper to put Miss Ray under the charge of a sort of duenna. 
 Hackman grew jealous either of him or some other person ; 
 he was induced to believe that Miss Ray had no longer a 
 regard for him, and he resolved to put himself to death. In this 
 resolution, a sudden impulse of frenzy included the unfortunate 
 object of his passion. 
 
 On the evening of the fatal day, Miss Ray went with her 
 female attendant to Covent-garden theatre to see ‘ Love in 
 a Village.’ Mr. Cradock thinks she had declined to inform 
 Hackman how she was engaged that evening. Hackman, 
 who appears to have suspected her intentions, watched her, 
 and saw the carriage pass by the Cannon coffee-house (Cock- 
 spur-street, Charing-cross), in which he had posted himself. 
 Singularlv enough, Mr Cradock happened to be in the same 
 coffee-house, and says that he wondered to see the carriage 
 go by without Lord Sandwich. This looks as if there was 
 more in Hackman’s suspicion than can now be shown. 
 Hackman followed them. 
 
 “ The ladies sat in the front box,” says Mr. Cradock ; 
 “ and three gentlemen, all connected with the Admiralty, 
 occasionally paid their compliments to them ; Mr. Hackman 
 was sometimes in the lobby, sometimes in an upper side box, 
 and more than once at the Bedford coffee-house to take 
 brandy-and -water, but still seemed unable to gain any in- 
 formation; and I can add, as a slight circumstance, that in 
 the afternoon 1 had myself bee i at the coffee-house (Cockspur- 
 street Charing-cross), and, observing the carriage pass by, 
 had remarked to my friend that I wondered at seeing the 
 ladies on their way to the theatre without Lord Sandwich; 
 that I meant to have dined at the Admiralty, but had been 
 prevented ; so that it appears now that most of the cir- 
 cumstances must have been accidental. The dreadful con- 
 summation, however, was, that at the door of the theatre, 
 directly opposite the Bedford coffee-house ; Mr. Hackman 
 suddenly rushed out, and as a gentleman was handing Miss 
 Ray into the carriage, with a pistol he first destroyed this 
 most unfortunate victim, and, though not at the time, fell 
 a most dreadful sacrifice himself. 
 
 “ Mi.ss Ray,” says the Introduction to ‘ Love and INTadness,’ 
 “ was coming out of Covent-garden theatre in order to take 
 her coach, accompanied by two friends, a gentleman and a 
 lady, between whom she walked in the piazza. Mr. Hackman 
 stepped up to her without the smallest previous menace or 
 address, put a pistol to her head, and .shot her instantly dead. 
 He then fired another at himself, which, however, did not 
 prove equally effectual. The ball grazed upon the upper part 
 of the head, but did not penetrate sufficiently to produce any 
 fatal effect ; he fell, however, and so firmly was bent on the 
 entire completion oif the destruction he had meditated, that 
 he was found beating his head with the utmost vi(dence with 
 the butt-end of the pistol, by Mr. Mahon, apothecary, of 
 Covent-garden, who wrenched the pistol from his hand. He 
 was carried to the Shakespeare, wluu'e his wound was 
 dressed. In his pocket were found two letters ; the one a 
 copy of a letter which he had written to Miss Ray, ami the 
 other to Frederick Booth, Esep, Craven-street, Strand. When 
 he had so far recovered his faculties as to be capable of speech, 
 he inquired with gieat anxiety concerning Miss Ray ; and 
 being told she was dead, he de.-ired her poor remains might 
 not be expo.sed to the observation of the curious multitude. 
 Al)niit, fivo o’cb)c,k in the luoi'ninc. Sir John Fieidinu came 
 
 to the Shakespeare, and not finding his wounds of a dangerous 
 nature, ordered him to Tothill-fields Bridewell. 
 
 “ The body of the unhappy lady was carried into the 
 Shakespeare tavern for the inspection of the Coroner.” 
 
 The whole of the circumstances connected with this 
 catastrophe are painfully dramatic. “ The next morning,” 
 says Mr. Cradock, “ I made .several efforts before I had 
 resolution enough to see any one of the Admiralty; at last 
 old James, the black, ovei'whelmed with grief, came down 
 to me, and endeavoured to inform me, that when he had 
 mentioned what had occurred. Lord Sandwich hastily replied, 
 
 ‘ You know that I forbad you to plague me any more about 
 those ballads : let them sing or say whatever they please 
 about me!’ ‘ Indeed, my lord,’ I said, ‘ I am not speaking of 
 any ballads ; it is all too true.’ Others then came in, and all 
 was a scene of the utmost horror and distress. His lordship 
 for a while stood, as it wore, petrified ; till suddenly seizing 
 a candle, he ran up stairs and threw him.self on the bed ; and 
 in an agony exclaimed, “ Leave me for a while to myself — 
 
 I could have borne anything but this ! ’ The attendants re- 
 mained for a considerable time at the top of the staircase, till 
 his Lordship rang the bell and ordered that they should all 
 go to bed. They assured me that at that time they believed 
 fewer particulars were known at the Adrniialty than over 
 half the town besides ; indeed, all was confusion and astonish- 
 ment ; and even now I am doubtful whether liOrd Sandwich 
 was ever aware that there was any connexion between Mr. 
 Hackman and Miss Ray. His lordship continued for a day 
 or two at the Admiralty, till, at the earnest request of those 
 about him, he at last retired for a short time to a friend’s 
 house in the neighbourhood of Richmond.” 
 
 Hackman was executed at Tyburn. He confessed at the 
 bar that he had intended to kill himself, but protested that 
 but for a momentary frenzy ho should not have destroyed 
 her, “who was more dear to him than life.” It appears, 
 however, that he was furnished with two pistols, which told 
 against him on that point. “On Friday,” says Boswell, 
 
 “ I had been present at the trial of the unfortunate Mr. 
 Hackman, who, in a fit of frantic, jealous love, had shot Miss 
 Ray, the favourite of a nobleman. Johnson, in whose 
 company I dined to-day, with some other friends, was much 
 interested by my account of what passed, and particularly 
 with his prayer for mercy of heaven. He said in a solemn, 
 fervid tone, ‘ I hope he shall find mercy.’ In talking of 
 Hackman, Johnson argued as Judge Blackstone had done, 
 that his being furnished with two pistols was a proof that he 
 meant to shoot two persons. Mr. Beaucleik said, ‘No; 
 for that every wise man who intended to shoot himself, took 
 two pistols, that he might be .sure of doing it at once. Lord 
 
 ’s cook shot himself with one pistol, and lived ten days 
 
 after in great agony. Mr. , who loved buttered muffins, 
 
 but durst not eat them because they disagreed with his 
 stomach, resolved to shoot himself, and he then eat three 
 buttered muffins for breakfast before shooting himself, knowing 
 that he should not be troubled with indigestion ; he had two 
 charged pistols ; one was found lying ciiarged upon the table 
 by him, afrer he had shot himself with the other.’ ‘Well 
 (said Johnson with an air of triumph), you see here one pistol 
 was sufficient.’ Beauclerk replied smartly, ‘ Because it hap- 
 pened to kill him.’” 
 
 It is impossible to settle this point. The general impression 
 will be against Hackman ; but, perhaps, the second pistol, 
 though not designed for himself, might have been for IMiss 
 Ray. His victim was buried at Elstree, where she had been 
 a lowly and happy child, running about with her blooming 
 face, and little thinking what trouble it was to cost her. 
 
 In Mr. Cradock’s book we again hear of Lord Saridwich, 
 on whom this story has thrown an interest. On his return 
 from Richmond, Mr. Cradock Avent to see him, and was ad- 
 mitted into the study where the portrait of IMiss Ray, an 
 exact resemblance, still hung over the chimney-piece. “ I 
 fear,’’ says Mr. Cradock, “ 1 rather started on seeing it, which 
 Lord Sandwich perceiving, he instantly endeavoured to speak 
 of some unconnected subject: but he looked so ill, and I felt 
 so much embarrassed, that as soon as 1 possibly could, I most 
 respectfully took my leave. 
 
 “ His loi'dshi}) rarely dined out anywhere ; but after a great 
 length of time he was per.suaded by our open-hearted fiiend, 
 Lord Walsingham, to meet a select party at his house. All 
 passed off exceedingly well for a while, and his lordship ap- 
 peared more cheerful than could have been expected; hut 
 after coffee, as Mr. and Mrs. Bates were nresent, somethia , 
 
6 
 
 EVANS’S SUPPER-ROOMS, CO VENT-GARDEN. 
 
 was mentioned about music, and one of the company requested 
 that Mrs. Bates n-ould favour them with ‘ Shepherds, 1 have 
 lost my love.’ This was unfortunately the very air that had 
 been introduced by Miss Ray at Hinchinbrook, and had been 
 always called fur by Lord Sandwich. Mr. Bates immediately 
 endeavoured to prevent its being sung, and by his anxiety 
 increased the distress, but it was too late to pause. Lord 
 Sandwich struggled to overcome his feelings, but they were 
 so apparent that at last he went up to Mrs. Walsingham, and 
 in a very confused manner said, he hoped she would excuse 
 him not staying any longer at that time, but that he had 
 just recollected some pressing business which required his 
 return to the Admiralty j and bowing to all the company, 
 rather hastily left the room. Some other endeavours to 
 amuse him afterwards, did not prove inuch more successful.” 
 His lordship afterwards lived in retirement, and died in 1792. 
 
 It does not appear that Lord Sandwich’s disinclination to 
 be amused arose from excessive seiisibiliU’. Mr. Cradock 
 represents him in his political character as bearing daily 
 insults and misrepresentations as a stoic rather than an injuj'ed 
 and feeling man,” and he describes his calmness of mind in 
 retirement, and his enjoyment of solitude. The same writer 
 who calls him “ a steady friend,” speaks highly of his classical 
 attainments, and his accomplishments as a modern linguist and 
 an amateur, to which he added great caution (as the Bishop 
 siiid), a love of bii.dgering,” and an incompetency for the 
 personal graces. Wiien he played his part in the oratoiios, it 
 was on the kettle-drum. He related the following anecdote of 
 himself : “ When I was in Paris I had a dancing-master ; the 
 man was very civil, and on taking leave of him, I offered him 
 any service in London. ‘ Then,’ said the man, bowing, ‘ I 
 should take it as a particular favour, if your lordship would* 
 never tell any one of whom you learned to dance.’” 
 
 Upon the whole we have no doubt that he was a cold and 
 supei 'ficial person, and that Miss Ray would not have been 
 sorry had Hackman succeeded in retaining her heart ; for, as 
 to Hackman, the great cause of his mischance, according to 
 the passage in Boswell, appears to have been the violence of 
 his temper, — the common secret of most of those outrageous 
 love stories. He was not a bad-hearted man, merely selfish 
 and passionate, or he would have meditated no mischief 
 against himself. 
 
 “He that beats or knocks out brains, 
 
 The devil’s in hira if he feigns,” 
 
 says the poet. But he was weak, wilful, and, by his readiness 
 to become a clergyman from a captain, perhaps not very 
 principled. The truest love is the truest benevolence ; it 
 acquires an infinite patience out of the very excess of its 
 suffering, and is content to merge its egotism in the idea of 
 the beloved object. He that does not know this, does not 
 know what love is, whatever he may know of passion. 
 
 In Henrietta-street Mrs. Clive once resided. She was the 
 favourite Nell of the stage in the ‘ Devil to Pay,’ and similar 
 characters; and, according to Gan’ick, there was something 
 of the Devil to Pay in all her stage life. She might have 
 been Macklin’s sister for humour, judgment, and a Bturdiness 
 of purpose amounting to violence, not unmixed with gene- 
 rosity. The latter part of her life she spent in retirement at 
 Strawberry Hill, where she was a neighbour and friend to 
 Horace Walpole, whose effeminaey she helped to keep on the 
 alert. It always seems to us, as if she had been the man of 
 the two, and he the woman. 
 
 Henrietta-street was most probably named after the queen 
 of Charles L, and James-street after her father-in-law. In 
 both these streets lived the egregious almanack-maker and 
 quack doctor, the butt of the wits of his time. He died in 
 Salisbury-street, Strand, which is the scene ?)f his posthumous 
 behaviour, — his pretending to be alive, when Bickerstaff had 
 declared him dead. Partridge had foretold the death of the 
 French king. Swift, under the name of Bickerstaff, foretold 
 Partridge’s, and, when the time came, insisted he was dead. 
 Partridge gravely insisted that he was alive. The wits, the 
 friends of Swift, maintained the contrary, wondering at the 
 dead man’s impudence; and the whole affair was hawked 
 about the streets, to the ludicrous distress of poor Partridge, 
 who not only highly resented it. and repeatedly adverti^ed 
 his existence, but wa-; lairly oblig'al to give np alniauack- 
 making. “ Th* ])cr.sisted, indc(>d, stuidily in his refusal to be 
 buried till 171o; but he actually died , an alm.inaek inakei- 
 m 1709, ids almanack for that y<-ai- 1; 'ing the 1 ;st, and the 
 only one he wrote after this odd misfortune befell him.” 
 
 In King-street lived the father of Arne and Mrs. Cibber. 
 He was an upholsterer, and is said to have been the original 
 of the Quid-nunc in the ‘ Tatler,’ and the hero of Murphy’s 
 farce of the ‘Upholsterer, or What News?’ His name is 
 connected also with that of the four ‘ Indian Kings,’ as they 
 were called, v ho came into this country in Queen Anne’s 
 time, to ask her assistance against the French in Canada. 
 “ They were clothed and entertained,” says a note in the 
 ‘ Tatler,’ “ at the public expense, being lodged, while they 
 continued in London, in a handsome apartment,” perhaps 
 in the house of Mr. Ame, as may be inferred from ‘ Tatler,’ 
 155, and note. Certainly their landlord was an upholsterer 
 in Covent-garden, in a new street, which seems at that time 
 to have received the name of King -street, which it retains to 
 this day, in common with many other streets so called, in 
 honour of Charles 11. The figures of these four Indian kings 
 or chiefs are still preserved in the British Museum. The 
 names and titles of their majesties are recorded here and in 
 the ‘ Annals of Queen Anne,’ but with the following diff’er- 
 ences from the account of them in this paper ; Tee Yee Neen 
 Ho Ga Prow, and Sa Ga Yean Qua Prali Ion, of the Maquas; 
 — Blow Oh Kaom, and Oh Nee Yeath Ion No Proio, of the river 
 Sachem, and the Ganajoh-hore Sachem. On the 18th of April, 
 1710, according to Salmon, on the 19th according to Boyer, 
 these four illustrious personages were conveyed in two of the 
 Queen’s coaches to St. James’s, by Sir Charles Cotterel, master 
 of the ceremonies, and introduced to their public audience by 
 the Duke of Shrewsbuiy, then lord chamberlain. They made 
 a speech by an interpreter, which Major Pidgeon, an officer 
 who came over with them from America, read in English to 
 her Majesty. The curious may see this speech at full length 
 in the ‘Annals of Queen Anne,’ year 9th, p. 191 et seq., 8vo. 
 Their names are like a set of yawns and sneezes. 
 
 Young Ame, who was bom in King-street, was a musician 
 against his father’s will, and practised in the garret, on a 
 muffled spiunet, when the family had gone to bed. He was 
 sent to Eton, which was probably of use to him in confirming 
 his natural refinement, but nothing could hinder, his devoting 
 himself to the art. It is said the old man had no suspicion of 
 his advancement in it, till, going to a concert one evening, 
 he was astonished to see his son exalted, bow in hand, as the 
 leader. Seeing the praises bestowed on him, he suffered him 
 to become what nature designed him for. Ame w'as the most 
 flowing, Italian -like musician of any we have had in Eng- 
 land ; not capable of the grandeur and profound style of 
 Purcell, but more sustained, continuous, and seductu'e. His 
 ‘Water parted’ is a stream of sweetness; his song, ‘When 
 daisies pied,’ tmly Shakesperian, full of archness and origi- 
 nality. Like many of his profession, who feel much more 
 than they reflect, he became, in some measure, the victim of 
 his sense of beauty, being excessively addicted to women. 
 His sister, IMrs. Cibber, whose chamiing performances on the 
 stage we have before noticed, did not escape without the 
 reputation of a like tendency ; but she had a bad husband 
 (the notoi-ious Theophilus Cibber), and, on the occasion that 
 gave rise to it, is understood to have been the victim of his 
 mercenary designs. 
 
 Southampton-street we have noticed in speaking of the 
 Strand. Godfrey’s, the chemist’s, ui this street, is an esta- 
 blishment of old standing, as may be seen by the insciiptioii 
 over the door. A hundred years ago, IMr. Ambrose Godfrey, 
 w'ho lived here, proposed to extinguish fires by a new method 
 of “ explosion and suffocation;” that is to say, a mixture of 
 water and gunpoicder. Tavistock-street (where Lord Sand- 
 wich first saw Miss Ray) was once the great emponum of 
 millinery and mantua-making. Macklin died there; he lived 
 many years in Wyld-street. In Maiden-lane Voltaire lodged, 
 when in England, at the sign of the White Pemke, probably 
 the house of a fashionable French peruquier. In ‘ Swift’s 
 Works,’ there is a letter to him, in English, by Voltaire, 
 and dated from this house. The English .seems a little too 
 perfect. There is another following it which looks more 
 authentic. But there is no doubt that Voltaire, while in 
 England, made himself such a master of the language, as to 
 be able to write in it with singular correctness for a foreigner. 
 He was then young. He had been imprisoned in the Bastile 
 for a libel; came over here, on his release; procured many 
 subscriptions for the ‘Henriade;’ published, in English, ‘An 
 Es.say on Epic Poetiy;’ and remained some years, during 
 which he became accpiaintcd with the principal men of let- 
 ters — Pope, Congreve, and Young, He is said to have talked 
 so indecently at Pope’s table (probably no more than waa 
 
EVANS’S SUPPER-ROOMS, GO VENT-GARDEN. 
 
 7 
 
 tlioughr, decent by the belles in France), that the good old 
 lady, the poet’s mother, was obliged t<> retire. 
 
 During his residence in Maiden- lane, there is a story of 
 Voltaire’s having been beset, in one of his v/aiks, by the 
 people, who ridiculed him as a Frenchman. He got upon 
 the steps of a door-way, and harangued them in their own 
 language in praise of English liberty and the natiorr; upon 
 which, the story adds, they hailed him as a fine fellow, and 
 carried him to his lodgings on their shoulders. The treat- 
 ment of foreigners at this time in the streets of London (and 
 every foreigner was a Frenchman) was very much the reverse 
 of what the inhabitants took it for. Thanks to the progress 
 of knowledge, nations have learnt to understand one another’s 
 common cause better, and to suspect that the most ridiculous 
 thing they could do is to forget it. 
 
 Long Acre is a portion of the seven acres before mentioned. 
 The great plague of London began there, in some goods 
 brought over from Holland*; but as tliat calamity made its 
 principal ravages in the city, we shall speak of it under 
 another head. During the battles of the Whigs and Tories, 
 Long Acre was famous for its Mug-houses, where beer-drink- 
 ing clubs were held, and politics “sung or said.” Cheapside 
 was another place of celebrity for these meetings. There is 
 a description of them in a Journey through England in 1721, 
 quoted by Sir. Slalcolm in his ‘ IManners and Customs of 
 London during tlie Eighteenth Century.’ 
 
 “ Grentlemen, lawyers, and tradesmen,” says the account, 
 “used to meet in a great room, seldom under a hundred. 
 They had a president, who sat in an arm-chair some steps 
 higher than tlie rest of the company, to keep the whole room 
 in order. A harp played all the time at the lower end of the 
 room ; and, every now and then, one or other of the company 
 rose and entertained the rest with a song, and (by the by) 
 some were g;ood masters. Here was nothing drank but ale, 
 and every gentleman had his separate mug, which he chalked 
 on the table where he sate as it was brought in ; and every 
 one retired when he pleased, as from a coffee house. 
 
 “ The rooms w^ere always so diverted with songs, and 
 drinking* from one table to another one another’s healths, 
 tliat there was no room for anything that could sour con- 
 versation. 
 
 “ One was obliged to be there by seven to get room, and 
 after ten the company were for the most part gone. 
 
 “ This was a winter’s amusement agreeable enough to a 
 stranger for once or twice, and he was well diverted with the 
 different humours when the mugs oveiHow. 
 
 “ <.)n King tieorge’s accession to the throne, the Tories 
 had so much the better of the friends to the Protestant suc- 
 cession, that they gained the mobs on all public days to their 
 side. This induced this set of gentlemen to establish mug- 
 houses in all the corners of this great city, for well-affected 
 tradesmen to meet and keep up the spirit of loyalty to the 
 Protestant succession, and to be ready upon all tumults to 
 join their forces for the suppression of the Tory mobs. Many 
 an encounter they had, and many were the riots, till at last 
 the Parliament was obliged by law to put an end to this City 
 strife, which had this good effect, that, on pulling down the 
 mug-houses in Salisbury-court, for which some boys were 
 hanged on this Act, the City has not been troubled with 
 them since.” 
 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds lived successively in St. Martin’s-lane, 
 and on the north side of Great Newport-street, before he 
 settled finally in Leicester-square. In Newport-street was 
 born the celebrated Horne Tooke, the son of a poulterer in 
 the adjoining market ; which made him say, that his father 
 was a “ Turkey merchant.” He was, perhaps, the hardest- 
 headed man that ever figured in the union of literature and 
 politics ; meaning, by that epithet, the power to discuss, and 
 impenetrability to objection. He died at his house at Wim- 
 bledon, and was buried at Ealing. His history trenches too 
 closely on the politics of our own day, to allow us to expatiate 
 upon it in a work expressly devoted to the past. 
 
 Bow-street was once the Bond-street of London. Mrs. 
 Bracegirdle began an epilogue of Dryden’s with saying — 
 
 “ I’ve had to-day a dozen billet-doux 
 
 From fops, and wits, and cits, and How-street beaux; 
 
 Some from Whitehall, but from the 'I'emple more : 
 
 A Covent-garden porter brought me four.” 
 
 Sir Walter Scott says, in a note on the pas.sage, “With 
 a slight alteration in spelling, a modern poet would have 
 written Bond- street beaux. A billet-doux from Bow-.sticet 
 would now be more alarming than tlattering.” 
 
 Mrs. Bracegirdle spoke this epilogue at Drury-lane. There 
 was no Covent-garden theatre then People of fashion 
 occupied the houses in Bow-street, and mantuas floated up 
 and down the pavement. Tliis was towards the end of 
 the Stuarts’ reign, and the beginning of the next eentury,- 
 the times of Dryden, _ Wycherly, and the Spectator. The 
 beau of Charles’s time is well known. He wore, when in full 
 flower, a peruke to imitate the flowing locks of youth, a S[)anish 
 hat, clothes of slashed silk or velvet, the slashes tied with 
 ribands, — a coat resembling a vest rather than the modern 
 coat, and silk stockings, with rose.s in his shoes. The Spani.sh 
 was afterwards changed for the cocked hat, the flowing peruke 
 for one more compact; the coat began to stitfen into the 
 modern shape, and when in full dre.ss, the beau woe his hat 
 under his arm. One of these perukes would sometimes cost 
 forty or fifty pounds. 
 
 A tavern in Bow-street, the Cock, became notorious flu’ 
 a frolic of Sir Charles Sedley, Lord Buckhurst, and others, 
 frequently mentioned in the biographies, but too di.sgusting 
 to be told. For this misdemeanour they were indicted, and 
 Sedley was fined five hundred pounds; what was the sentence 
 of the others is not known Sedley’ employed Killigrew and 
 another to procure a remission of the King, but (mark the 
 friendship of the dissolute ! ) they begged the fine for theiii- 
 selves, and exacted it to the last groat.” 
 
 Opposite this tavern lived Wycheily, with his wife, the 
 Countess of Drogheda. Charles paid him a visit there, before 
 Wycherly knew tiie lady; and showed him a kindness which 
 his marriage is said to have interrupted. The story begins 
 and ends with B(Av-street, and, as far as concerns the lady, 
 is curious. 
 
 “Mr. Wyclierly,” says the biographer, “happened to he 
 ill of a fever at his lodgings in Bow-street, Covent-gai deu : 
 during hij^ sickness, the King did him the honour of a visit; 
 when, finding his fever indeed abated, but his body extremely 
 weakened, and his spirits miserably shattered, he commanded 
 him to take a journey to the south of France, believing that 
 nothing could conti’ibute more to the re.storing his former 
 state of health than the gentle air of Montpelier during the 
 winter season : at the same time, the King assured him, that as 
 soon as he was able to undertake tliat journey, he would oi der 
 five hundred pounds to he paid him to defray the expenses of it. 
 
 “Mr. Wycherly accordingly went to Fi'ance, and returned 
 to England the latter end of the spring following, with his 
 health entirely restored. The King received him with the 
 utmost marks of esteem, and shortly after told him, he liad 
 a son, who he resolved should be educated like the son of 
 a king, and that he could make choice of no man so proper 
 to be his governor as Mr. Wycherly; cand that, for this service, 
 he should have fifteen hundred pounds a-year allotted to him ; 
 the King also added, that when tlie time came that his office 
 should cease, he would take care to make such a provision for 
 him as should set him above the malice of the world and 
 fortune. These were golden prospects for Mr. Wycherly, 
 but they were soon by a cross accident dashed to pieces. 
 
 “ Soon after this promise of his majesty’s, Mr. Dennis tells 
 us that Mr. Wycherly went down to Tunbridge, to take 
 either the benefit of the waters or the divei sioiis of the place; 
 M’hen, walking one day upon the wells- walk with his friend, 
 Mr. Fairhread, of Gray's Inn, jinst as he came up to tlie 
 bookseller’s, the Countess of Drogheda, a young widow, rich, 
 noble, and beautiful, came up to the bookseller and inquired 
 for the ‘ Plain Dealer.’ ‘ Madam,’ says Mr. Faiibread, ‘since 
 you are for the ‘ Plain Dealer,’ there he is for you,’ pushing 
 Mr. Wycherly towai'ds her. ‘Yes,’ says ]\Ir. Wycherly, ‘this 
 lady can bear plain dealing, for she appears to be so ac- 
 complished, that what would be a compliment to others, when 
 said to her would he yilain dealing.’ ‘No, truly, sir,’ said 
 the lady, ‘ 1 am not without iu,y faults more than the rest of 
 my sex; and yet, notwiihslaiiding all my faults, I love plain- 
 dealing, and am never more fond of it than when it tells me 
 of a fault.’ ‘ Then, madam,’ says Mr. Fairhread, ‘you and 
 the plain dealer seem designed by heaven for each other.’ 
 In short, Mr. Wycherly accompanied her upon the walks, 
 waited upon her home, visited her daily at her lodgings 
 whilst she stayed at Tunhridge: and after she went to London, 
 at her lodgings in Hatton garden : where, in a little time, he 
 obtained her consent to many her. This he did, by his 
 father’s command, without acquainting the King; for it was 
 reasonably sujqiosed, that the lady’s having a great inde- 
 {HOidi'iit estate, and n<J)le and powerful relations, the ae- 
 1 quaintiiig the King with intended match would be the 
 
8 
 
 EVANS’S SUPPER.ROOMS, OOVENT-GARDEN 
 
 likeliest way to prevent it. As soon as the news was known 
 at court, it Was looked upon as an affront to the King, and 
 a contempt of his Majesty’s orders; and Mr. Wycherly’s 
 conduct after marrying made the resentment fall heavier 
 upon him : for being conscious he had given offence, and 
 seldom going near the court, his absence was construed into 
 ingratitude. 
 
 “ The Countess, though a splended wife, was not formed 
 to make a husband happy : she was in her nature extremely 
 jealous ; and indulged in it to such a degree, that she could 
 not endure her husband should be one moment out of her 
 sight i'heir lodgings were in Bow-street. Co vent-garden, 
 over against the Cock tavern, whither, if Mr. Wycherly at 
 any time went, he was obliged to leave the windows open, 
 hat his lady might see there was no woman in the company.” 
 
 “The Countess,” says another writer, “made him some 
 amends, by dying in a reasonable time.” His title to her 
 fortune, however, was disputed, and his circumstances, though 
 lie had property, were always constrained. It is well known 
 that he married a young woman a few days before he died, 
 to disappoint a troublesome heir ; and that in his old age he 
 became acquainted with Pope, then a youth, who vexed him 
 by taking him at his word, when asked to correct his poetry. 
 AVycherly showed a candid horror at growing old, natural 
 enough to a man who had been one of the gayest of the gay, 
 very handsome, and a “Captain.” He was captain in the 
 regiment of which Buckingham was colonel. 
 
 Tonson, the great bookseller of his time, had a private 
 house in Bow-street. Rowe, in an amusing parody of Horace’s 
 dialogue with T^ydia, has left an account of old Jacob’s visitors 
 here, and of his style of language, 
 
 Tonson got rich, but he was penurious ; and his want of 
 generosity towards Drvden (to say the least of it) has done 
 him no honour with posterity. It may be said he cared little 
 for posterit}’- or for anything else, provided he got his money; 
 but a man who cares for money (unless he is a pure miser) 
 only cai-es for power and consideration in another shape ; and 
 no man chooses to be disliked by his fellow-creatures, living, 
 or to come. In the correspondence between Tonson and 
 Dry den we see the usual painful picture (when the bookseller 
 is of this description) of the tradesman taking all the ad- 
 vantages, and the author made to suffer for being a gentleman 
 and a man of delicacy. This is the common, and perhaps, 
 the natural order of things, till society see better throughout ;- 
 though there have been, and still are, some handsome ex- 
 ceptions, as in the instance of Dodsley, the late Mr, Johnson, 
 and others. The bookseller generally behaves well, in pro- 
 portion to his intelligence ; nothing being so eager to catch 
 all petty advantages, as the consciousness of having no other 
 ground to go upon. It may be answered that Dryden’s 
 patience with Ton.son sometimes got exhausted, and he became 
 “ captious and irritable and it is always to be remembered 
 that the book.seller need not pretend to be anything more 
 than a tradesman seeking his allowed profits ; but he should 
 not on every occasion retreat into the sti’ongholds of trade, 
 and yet claim the merit of acting otherwise; and Tonson, 
 who undei took to be tlie familiar friend of Rowe and Congreve, 
 ought not to have been able to insult the man whom they 
 both respected, because he was not so well off as they. 
 
 Fielding lived some time in Bow-street, probably during 
 his magistracy. 
 
 We turn out of Bow-stre-t into Russell-street, so called 
 from the noble family of that name, who possess great property 
 in this quartei’. It is pleasant to think that the name is not 
 liostile to the reputation of the place, for we are more than 
 ever in the thick of wits and men of letters, especially of 
 a race whicli was long peculiar to this country, literaiy 
 politicians. At the north-east corner of the two streets was 
 the famous Will's coffee-house, forin'o-ly the Rose,* where 
 Drvden presided over the literature of the town; and on tlie 
 other side of the way, on a part of tha site of the pre.sent 
 Hummums, stood Button’s coffee-house, no le.ss celebrated as 
 the re.sort of the wits and poets of the time of Queen Anne, 
 
 Dryden is identitied with the neighbourhood of Covent- 
 garden, He presided in the chair at Ru.s.sell -street ; ids 
 
 * The Treason Club, as it was con-nionlycalled, at the Rose Tavern, 
 in Covent-irardcn, where they freqn ntly met, to consult with I.ord Col- 
 clivster. Mr. '1'homas Wiiattun, Colonel Talniash, Coloiiel Godfrey, and 
 many others of their party ; and it was tlierc resolved, that the rogi.nent 
 under Lieutenant-Colonel Langsion^-’s command, shoulil d.-sert entire, 
 us they did, on Sunday, — \ov., \(iiiS.—Macphcrsu7i's oj Euylaud, 
 
 Vol. 111. — Oriyinal Papers. 
 
 plays came out in the theatre at the other end of it ; he lived 
 in Gerrard-street, which is not far off'; and, alas for the anti- 
 climax ! he was beaten by hired bravos in Rose-street, now 
 called Rose-alley. Great men eome down to posterity with 
 their proper aspects of calmness and dignity ; and we do not 
 easily fancy that they received anything from their con- 
 temporaries but the grateful homage w'hich is paid them by 
 ourselves. “ But the life of a wit,” says Steele, “ is a warfare 
 upon earth.” Sir Walter Scott speaking of the beautiful 
 description given by Dryden of the attic nights he enjoyed 
 with Sir Charles Sedley and others, obseiwes “ He had not 
 yet experienced the disadvantages attendant on sueh society, 
 or learned how soon literary eminence becomes the object >f 
 detraction, of envy, of injury, even from those who can best 
 feel its merit, if they are diseouraged by dissipated habits 
 from emulating its flight, or hardened by perverted feeling 
 against loving its possessors.” 
 
 The outrage pei-petrated upon the saered shoulders of the 
 poet was the work of Lord Rochester, and originated in 
 a mistake not creditable to that would-be great man and 
 dastardly debauehee. The following is Sir Walter’s account 
 of the matter: “ The ‘Essay on satire’ (by Lord Mulgrave, 
 afterwards Duke of Buckinghamshire), though written, as 
 appears from the title-page of the last edition, in 1675, was 
 not made public until 1679, with this observation : — ‘I have 
 sent you herewith a libel, in which my own share is not the 
 least. The King, having perused it, is no way di.ssatisfied 
 with his. The author is apparently Mr. Dr [yden] his patron 
 Lord M [ulgrave], having a panegyrie in the midst.’ From 
 hence it is evident that Dryden obtained the reputation of 
 being the author ; in consequence of which, Rochester medi- 
 tated the base and cowardly revenge which he afterwards 
 executed; and he thus coolly expressed his intention in 
 another of his letters; — ‘You write me word that I am out 
 of favour with a eertain poet, whom 1 have admired for the 
 disproportion of him and his attributes. He is a rarity which 
 I cannot but be fond of, as one would be of a hog that could 
 fiddle, or a singing owl. If he falls on me at the blunt, 
 which is his very good weapon in wit, I will forgive him if 
 you please, and leave the repartee to black Will with a cudgel.' 
 
 “ In pursuance of this infamous resolution, upon the night 
 of the 18th December, 1670, Dryden was waylaid by hired 
 ruffians, and severel}’’ beaten, as he passed through Rose- 
 street, Covent- garden, returning from Will’s coffee-house to 
 his own house in Gerrard-street. A reward of fifty pounds 
 was in vain offered in the ‘ London Gazette’ and other news- 
 papers, for the discover}” of the perpetrators of this outrage. 
 The town was, however, at no loss to pitch upon Rochester 
 as the employer of the bravoes, wil«h whom the public sus- 
 picion joined the Duchess of Portsmouth, equally concerned 
 in the supposed affront thus avenged. In our time, were a 
 nobleman to have recourse to hired bravoes to avenge his 
 personal quarrels against any one, more es})eeially a person 
 holding the rank of a gentleman, he might lay his account 
 with being hunted out of society. But, in the age of Charles, 
 the ancient high and chivalrous sense of honour was esteemed 
 Quixotic, and tlie civil war had left traces of ferocity in the 
 manners and sentiments of the jieople. Encounter.s. where 
 the assailants took all advantages of number and weapons, 
 were as frequent, and held as honourable, as regular duels. 
 Some of these approached closely to as.sassination ; as in the 
 famous case of Sir John Coventry, who was waylaid and had 
 his nose slit by some young men of rank, for a rellection upon 
 the King’s theatrical amours. 'I'’liis occa.rioncd tni' famous 
 statute again.st maiming and wounding, called the Coventry 
 Act — an act highly ru'ccssary : for, .si' fir did our ani'cstoi-s’ 
 ideas of manly forbeaninec differ from ours, that Killigrew 
 introduces the hero of one of his comedies, a cavalii'r, and 
 the fine gentleman of the jiicee. lying in wait for and slashing 
 the face of a poor courtezan who had cheated him. 
 
 “ It will cci'tainly be admitted, that a man surprised in the 
 dark, and beaten by ruffians, lo.ses no honour by such a mis- 
 fortune. But if Drvden had leceivcd the same discipline 
 from Rochester’s own hand without re.senting it, his dnibbing 
 could not have been more frequently made a matter of 
 reproach to him ; a sign, surely, of the pcniuy of subjects 
 for satire in his life and character, since an aci-idi'iit, which 
 might have happened to the greate.'t hero that ever lived, 
 was resorted f; as an inquitatiou on his hi>n<>ur. Tin; llo'c- 
 allev ambuscade became almost pn vi-rl ial ; and even i\Iul- 
 grave, the real author of the satire, and upon whose shoulders 
 the blows ougiit in justice to have descended, mentions the 
 
JOYOUS CABARET AT 
 THE PLAYERS’ 
 
 NEW FUN WITH OLD SONGS 
 
 “ Ridgeway’s Late Joys ” is one of the 
 most amusing entertainments of its kind 
 I have seen for many a day. The Players’ 
 Theatre forms part of the buildirfg Xvhich 
 in tlie first half of last century was occu- 
 pied by Evans’s Song and Supper Rooms, 
 and the f)Te?eht show is a very successful 
 attempt to produce a replica of the 
 “ cabaret ” of those days. 
 
 Peter Ridgeway has chosen his pro- 
 gramme very cleverly; the songs are for 
 the most part familiar without being j 
 hackneyed. The audience thoroughly 
 enjoys itself by joining in the swinging 
 choruses of “ The Boy I Love is up in 
 the Gallery,” “Not for Joseph,” “ The i 
 City Toff,” “ Slap Bang, Here We Are 
 Again,” and by contributing its own 
 witticisms. 
 
 The guest artist was Lea Seidl, who 
 caught the intimate spirit of the show 
 and sang very delightfully three 
 Viennese songs of the same period. 
 Richard Haydn’s pathetic recitation, 
 
 “ Ostler Joe,” was a gem, and as an 
 encore he gave the fish-imitating mono- 
 logue which scored its first success at the 
 Gate Theatre Revue a week or so ago. 
 
 “ The Siege of Delhi,” with commen- 
 tary and effects by Virginia Winter and 
 Megs Jenkins, was another brilliant 
 piece of fooling, and there were other 
 delightful numbers by Robert Eddison, ' 
 Eve Lynd, Eric Christmas, Gabrielle 
 Brune and Peter Ridgeway. Altogether 
 this is an ideal after-theatre entertain- 
 ment, and one which may easily create 
 a fashion. D. D 
 
»jwwwiig^]Lui.,iuu 3-iu, Attemptt^re' 
 
 ^eate some outstanding events in television since first 
 programmes were transmitted from Alexandra Palace in 
 !\ugust, 1956; commentary, Leslie Mitchell. 
 
 ROYAL NAVY 
 
 The following appointments are notified: 
 
 I Lts. — E. D. G. Lewm (F/O.. RAF) to Victory, for 
 IrAF, Gosport, for crse., Jan. 8; C. Leonard, to 
 "Excellent. Jan. 24. 
 
 Mids. — A R. Barrow, to Cornwall; R. G. King, to 
 Ajax; A. F. Davi'^s, to Rodney, Jan. 1. 
 
 Cd. Gunner. — J. H. Scrivens, to Victory (ship), 
 Jan. 6. T ^ 
 
 [ Bosns — C. J. Lake, to Cardiff. Jan. 21; L. J. G. 
 laker, to Ganges. Jan. 22. 
 
 Sig Bosn — F R. Mathews, to Victory, Signal 
 Uooi Jan. 13. entries 
 
 D G Caley, R H. H. Brunner. J. Blake, J. Nash. 
 
 P e' Greenland M. T H. Bonner, P. A. Rolls, P. E. N. 
 Griffiths, D. J. R- F. Nash. R. L. Hall, R. C. Leslie, R. G, 
 ‘^dmSs, E. A. S Manners, R. C. Pearson, R. B. 
 i^tin C. C. F. Scarlett. J. S. Launders. D. A, 
 'ustace J K H Freeman, F. E. Ashmead-Bartlett, 
 .usta^ee.^d.^^^ L; k. Hathaway. M. W Antrobus. 
 A.' E. Bath D. Crabbie J. Catchpole, R. H. Bun, 
 
 P Rogers R. A. M. Thomson, ,M. J. L. Duff, u. B. 
 dlen T V G PhiiAps, e tered as Naval Cad^s Special 
 Jntry (executive), sen,. Jan. 1, and apptd. to Erebus for 
 raining. 11. „ 
 
 T G Dyer, J. P. Drake, C. S. T. Piers, W. H. 
 
 awden T^F. J- Le Vierge, D. J.’ I. G^stin. W. T. 
 
 IcKee ’f. E. Pepper, J. I. Ferrier, R. D. Cooper, J. H. 
 larry 'j. A. C. Uniacke, D. K. Hanson, A. J. R. P®S-er, 
 
 > a' Wells I C. Dalzell, entered as Naval Cadets 
 Special Entry (engineering), seny. Jan. 1 and apptd. to 
 Irebus for training, 11. 
 
 J F E. Lynes. J. P. Banbury, R. J. E. Haynes, P. 
 ioddard. C. J H. Genge. P. R. L. Bizley R. H- Shar^, 
 C Davies I. P. Goodwin, R. C. Qmnton M. M. 
 
 pDhsOT M L Cully, J. P- Mollett entered, as Payr. 
 
 aS s^V Jan 1, and apptd. to Vindictive tor 
 
 T P Duckworth, J. G. Roe, J. R. H. Haddow J. H. 
 rroom entered as Naval Cadets Direct Entry (execu- 
 te) sen^jL. 1. and apptd. to Erebus for training, 
 
 ^P E H. Thomas. J. M. Phillips, J. S. B. Geddes, 
 [itei-ed' as Naval Cadets Direct Entry (engineering), 
 my. Jan. 1 and a,jptd. to Erebus for training, 11. 
 
 MOVEMENTS OF SHIPS 
 Cicala arrived Junction Channel Dec. 29. 
 
 1 Delhi and Penelope left Palma Dec. 29. Devonshire 
 nd London arr ved Palma Dec. 29. , ^ 
 
 Exeter left Montevideo for Mar del Plata Dec. 28. 
 Hero and Hasty 'eft Skyros Dec. 29. Hyperion 
 Ind Hereward arrivea Srcyros Dec. 29. 
 
 Inglefield. Icarus. Imogen and Ilex arrwed Gibraltar 
 lec 28. Ivanhoe and Imperial arrived Oran Dec. 28. 
 ^bhi arriveo Hong Kong Dec. 29. Rochester left 
 Harcourt Dec. 28. 
 imew arrived CautOQ_Bg 
 
MR. EUGENE CORRI 
 
 TOTAL INCOME OF £2 4s 
 A WEEK 
 
 Mr. Eugene Corri, the boxing referee, 
 who is living in retirement at Eastern 
 Esplanade, Thorpe Bay, was summoned at 
 Southend County Court yesterday in 
 respect of a judgment obtained in connec- 
 tion with a butcher’s bill for £10. 
 
 A bailiS said that he had inteiwiewed 
 Mr. Corri, who was unable to attend the 
 court, as he was suffering from heart dis- 
 ease. Mr. Corri was 74, and had a wife, 
 although there were no children dependent I 
 on him. His total income was £2 4s a | 
 week, and his rent was 30s, leaving a bal- I 
 ance of 14s a week to live on. He had 
 given witness authority tq make an offer 
 of 4s a month. 
 
 An order for the committal of Mr. Corri to 
 prison for eight daj^s was suspended while 
 he paid 4s a month. 
 
poration Ltd. ana cnairman ot scottcis: 
 Dyes Ltd., Mr. Morton has been able to 
 co-ordinate the experience and resources of 
 dye manufacturers and dye users, with 
 obvious benefit to all concerned. Fadeless 
 fabrics are now the rule rather than the 
 exception, but the “ Sundour ” trade mark 
 still carries high repute and the same 
 unqualified guarantee. 
 
 ^ ^ ^ ^ 
 
 ‘TV W *7r 
 
 The fabrics manufactured by Morton, 
 Sundour, cairjdng as they do a guarantee 
 that is extremely comprehensive, and em- 
 bracing a range of colours and textures of 
 great beauty, have an obvious appeal to 
 the more discerning purchaser. 
 
 Messrs. Harvey Nichols and Co. Ltd., of 
 Knightsbridge, S.W., experience a steady 
 demand for “ Sundour ” fabrics at all 
 times, but exceptional interest attaches to 
 the attractive offers that are being made 
 during the period of the sale, which ends on 
 July 23. Many of these famous fabrics are 
 offered at considerably reduced prices, and 
 if particular materials, not in stock, out of 
 the wide range manufactured by Morton, 
 
EVANS’S SUPPER-ROOMS, CO VENT-GARDEN. 
 
 9 
 
 circumstance in his ‘ Art of Poetry,’ with a cold and self- 
 sufficient sneer : — 
 
 ‘ Though praised and punish’d for another’s rhymes, 
 
 His own deserve as great applause sometimes' 
 
 To which is added in a note, ‘ A libel for which he was both 
 applauded and v/ounded, though entirely ignorant of the 
 whole matter.’ This flat and conceited couplet, and note, 
 the noble author judged it proper to omit in the corrected 
 edition of his poem.” 
 
 We dismiss this specimen of the times, that we may enjoy 
 the look of Dryden as posterity sees it, — that is to say, as 
 that of the first poet of his class, presiding over the tastes 
 and aspirations of the town. Milton sat in his suburban 
 bower, equally removed from outrage and compliment, and 
 contemplating a still greater futurity. 
 
 Will’s Coffee-house was at the western corner of Bow- 
 street, and is now a ham and beef shop. It first had the 
 title of the Red Cow, then of the Rose, and, we believe, is 
 the same house alluded to in the pleasant story in the second 
 number of the ‘ Tatler:’ — 
 
 “ Supper and friends expect we at the Rose.” 
 
 The Rose, however, was a common sign for houses of public 
 entertainment. The company, of which our poet was the 
 arbiter, sat up-stairs in what was then called the dining, but 
 now the drawing room ; and there was a balcony, to which 
 his chair was removed in summer from its prescriptive corner 
 by the fire-side in winter. “ The appeal,” says Malcolm, 
 
 “ was made to him upon every literary dispute. The com- 
 pany did not sit in boxes, as at present, but at various tables 
 which were dispersed through the room. Smoking was per- 
 mitted in the public room : it was then so much in vogue, 
 that it does not seem to have been considered a nuisance. 
 Here, as in other similar places of meeting, the visitors divided 
 themselves into parties ; and we are told by Ward, that the 
 young beaux and wits, who seldom approached the prin- 
 cipal table, thought it a great honour to have a pinch out of 
 Dryden’s snuffbox,” 
 
 A lively specimen of a scene with Dryden in this coffee- 
 house has been afforded us by Dean Lockier. “ I was about 
 seventeen when I first came up to town,” says the Dean, 
 “ an odd-looking boy, with short rough hair, and that sort of 
 awkwardness which one always brings up at first out of the 
 country with one. However, in spite of my bashfulness and 
 appearance, I used, now and then, to thrust myself in to 'Will’s, 
 to have the pleasure of seeing the most celebrated wits of that 
 time, who then resorted thither. The second time that ever 
 I was there. Mr. Dryden was speaking of his own things, as 
 he frequently did, especially of such as had been lately 
 published. ‘ If anything of mine is good,’ says he, ’tis “ Mac- 
 ’Flecno; ’ and 1 value myself the more upon it, because it is 
 the first piece of ridicule written in heroics.’ On hearing 
 this, I plucked up my spirit so far as to say, in a voice but 
 just loud enough to be heard, Ohat “Mac-Flecno” was a 
 very fine poem, but that I had not imagined it to be the first 
 that was ever writ that way.’ On this, Dryden turned short 
 upon me, as surprised at my interposing ; asked me how long 
 I had been a dealer in poetry; and added, with a smile, 
 
 ‘ Pray, sir, what is it that you did imagine to have been 
 writ so before?’ I named Boileau’s ‘Lutrin’ and Tassoni’s 
 ‘ Secchia Rapita,’ which I had read, and knew Dryden had 
 borrowed some strokes from each. ‘ ’Tis true,’ said Dryden ; 
 
 ‘ I had forgot them.’ A little after, Dryden went out, and, 
 in going, spoke to me again, and desired me to come and see 
 him the next day. I was highly delighted with the invita- 
 tion, went to see him accordingly, and was well acquainted 
 with him after, as long as he lived.” 
 
 Dryden’s mixture of simplicity, good-nature, and good 
 opinion of himself, is here seen in a very agreeable manner. 
 It must not be omitted, that it was to this house Pope was 
 taken, when a boy, by his own desire, on purpose to get a 
 sight of the great man ; which he did. According to Pope, 
 he was plump, with a fresh colour and a down look, and not 
 very conversible. It appears, however, that what he did say 
 was much to the purpose ; and a contemporary mentions his 
 conversation, on that account, as one of the few things for 
 which the town was desirable. He was a temperate man ; 
 though, for the last ten years of his life, Davies informs us 
 that he drank with Addison a great deal more than he used 
 to do, “ probably so far as to hasten his end.” 
 
 It is curious, considering his peculiar sort of reputation 
 with posterity, that Addison’s name should be found so con- 
 nected in his own time with this species of irregularity. The 
 
 same cause is supposed to have hastened his own end ; and it 
 is related by Pope, that he was obliged to avoid the Russell- 
 street cotfee-house and the bad hours of Addison, otherwise 
 they might have hastened his. 
 
 Will’s Coffee-house was the great emporium of libels and 
 scandal. The channels that have since abounded for the 
 dregs of literature had scarcely then begun to exist; and 
 instead of purveying for periodical publications, the retailers 
 of obloquy attended among the minor wits of this place, and 
 distributed the last new lampoon in manuscript. There was 
 a drunken fellow of that time, named Julian, who acquired 
 an infamous celebrity in this way. Sir 'Walter Scott, in his 
 edition of Dryden, has given the following account of him 
 and his vocation : — 
 
 “ Upon the general practice of writing lampoons, and the 
 necessity of finding some mode of dispersing them, which 
 should diffuse the scandal widely while the authors remained 
 concealed, was founded the self-erected office of Julian, secre- 
 tary, as he calls himself, to the Muses. This person attended 
 Will’s, the Wits’ Coffee-house, as it was called, and dispersed, 
 among the crowds who frequented that place of gay resort, 
 copies of the lampoons wliich had been privately communi- 
 cated to him by their authors. ‘ He is described,’ says Mr. 
 Malone, ‘ as a very drunken fellow, and at one time was con- 
 fined for a libel.’ Several satires were written in the form of 
 addresses to him. There is one among the ‘ State Poems,’ 
 beginning — 
 
 ‘ Julian, in verse, to ease thy wants I write.’ 
 
 Another, called a ‘ Consoling Epistle to Julian,’ is said to 
 have been written by the Duke of Buckingham. 
 
 “ From a passage in one of the letters from the ‘ Dead to 
 the Living,’ we learn, that after Julian’s death, and the 
 madness of his successor, called Summerton, lampoon felt a 
 sensible decay ; and there was no more that ‘ brisk spirit of 
 verse, that used to watch the follies and vices of the men and 
 women of figure, that they could not start new ones faster 
 than lampoons exposed them.’ ” 
 
 These “brisk spirits” have still their descendants, and 
 always will have till their betters eease to set the example of 
 railing, or to encourage it. There is a difference, indeed, 
 between the lampoons of such men and those of Dryden, or 
 the literary personalities to which some ingenuous minds will 
 give way, before they well know what they are about, out of 
 mere emulation, perhaps, of the names of Pope and Boileau. 
 But it is not to be expected that the others will stop where 
 they do, or refine with the progress of their years and know- 
 ledge. The most generous sometimes find it difficult to leave 
 off saying ill-natured things of one another, out of shame of 
 yielding, or the habit of indulging their irritability. They 
 endeavour to reconcile themselves to it by trying to think 
 that the abuse has a utility; but when they come to this 
 point, the doubt is a proof that they ought to forego it, and 
 help to teach the world better. Honest contention, however, 
 is one thing, and scandal is another The dealer in the latter 
 has always a petty mind and inferior understanding, most 
 likely accompanied with eonscious unworthiness; the great 
 secret of the love of scandal lying in the wish to level others 
 with the calumniators. 
 
 “ Will’s continued to be the resort of the wits at least till 
 1710,” says Mr. Malcolm. “ Probably, Addison established 
 his servant [Button] in a new house about 1712, and his 
 fame, after the production of ‘ Cato,’ drew many of the Whigs 
 thither.” 
 
 “ Addison,” says Pope, “passed each day alike, and much 
 in the manner that Dryden did- Dryden employed his morn- 
 ings in writing, dined ere Jainille, and then went to Will s : 
 only he came home earlier a’ nights.” — And again ; “Addison 
 usually studied all the morning; then met his party at But- 
 ton’s; dined there, and staid there five or six hours, and 
 sometimes far into the night. I was of the company for 
 about a year, but found it too much for me : it hurt my 
 health, and so 1 quitt(;d it.” 
 
 Button had been a servant of the Countess of Warwick, 
 whom Addison married. It is said that wlien the latter was 
 dissatisfied with the Countess iwe believe, during the period 
 of his courtship), he used to withdraw the company from her 
 servant’s coffee-house. Unfortunately, it is as easy to believe 
 a petty story of Addison as a careless one of Steele. Addison, 
 intellectually a great man, was complexionally a little one. 
 He was timid, bashful, and reserved, and in.^tinct'vely sought 
 success by individual chaniicfs and disingenuous measiues. 
 
 B 
 
10 
 
 EVANS’S SUPPER.ROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN. 
 
 Under the influence of these eminent persons, Button’s 
 became the head- quarters of the Whig literati, as Will’s had 
 been that of the Tory. Steele, however, dated his poetical 
 papers in the ‘ Tatler’ from Will’s, as the old haunt of the 
 town muse. Perhaps the Whiggery of Button’s was one of 
 the reasons why Pope left off going there, as he did not wish 
 to identify nimself with either party. Ambrose Phillips is 
 said to have hung up a rod at that coffee-house, as an inti- 
 mation of what Pope should receive at his hands in case the 
 satirist chose to hazard it. A similar threat is related of 
 Cibber. The behaviour of both has been cried out against 
 as unhandsome, considering the little person and bodily infir- 
 mities of the illustrious offender : but as the threateners were 
 so much his inferiors in wit, and he exercised his great powers 
 at their expense, it might not be difficult to show that their 
 conduct was as good as his. Why attack a man, if he is to 
 be allowed no equality of retaliation? The truth is, that 
 personal satire is itself an unhandsome thing, and a childish 
 one, and there will be no eiid to childish retorts, till the more 
 grown understandings reform. Pope accused Phillips of pil- 
 fering his pastorals, and of “ turning a Persian tale for half- 
 a-crown the one an offence not very likely, unless, indeed, 
 all common-places may be said to be stolen ; the other no 
 offence at all, though it might have been a misfortune. These 
 littlenesses in great men are a part of the childhood of society. 
 They show us how young it still is, and what a parcel of 
 wrangling schoolboys (in that respect) a future period may 
 consider us. 
 
 One of the most agreeable memories connected with But- 
 ton’s is that of Garth, a man whom, for the sprightliness and 
 generosity of his nature, it is a pleasure to name. He was 
 one of the most amiable and intelligent of a most amiable 
 and intelligent class of men — the physicians. 
 
 Armstrong, another poet and physician, and not unworthy 
 of either class, for genius and goodness of heart, though he 
 had the weakness of affecting a bluntness of manners, and of 
 swearing, drew his last breath in this street. He is well 
 known as the author of the most elegant didactic poem in 
 the language — the ‘ Art of Preserving Health.’ The affecta- 
 tions of men of genius are sometimes in direct contradiction 
 to their best qualities, and assumed fo avoid a show of pre- 
 tending what they feel. Armstrong, who had bad health, 
 and was afraid, perhaps, of being thought effeminate, affeeted 
 tlie bully in his prose writings ; and he was such a swearer, 
 that the late Mr. Fuseli’s indulgence in that infirmity has 
 been attributed to his keeping company with the Doctor when 
 in youth. We never met with an habitual swearer in whom 
 the habit could not be traced to some feeling of conscious 
 weakness. Fuseli swore as he painted, in the hope of making 
 up for the defects of his genius by the violence of his style. 
 
 At No. 8, Russell-street, Boswell was introduced to his 
 formidable friend, of whom he became the biographer. The 
 house then belonged to Davies the bookseller. The aceount 
 given us of his first interview is highly characteristic of both 
 parties. Boswell had a thorough specimen of his future 
 acquaintance at once, and Johnson evidently saw completely 
 through Boswell. 
 
 “ Mr. Thomas Davies, the actor,” saith the particular Bos- 
 well, “ who then kept a bookseller’s shop in Little Russell- 
 street, Covent-garden, told me that Johnson was very much 
 his fiiend, and came frequently to his house, where he more 
 than once invited me to meet him ; but, by some unlucky 
 accident or other, he was prevented from coming to us. 
 
 “ At last,” continues Mr. Boswell, “on the 16th of May, 
 when I was sitting in Mr. Davies’ back pai-lour, after having 
 drank tea with him and Mrs. Davies, Johnson unexpectedly 
 came into the shop, and Mr. Davies having perceived him 
 through the glass-door in the room in which we were sitting, 
 advancing towards us, — he announced his awful appioach 
 somewhat as an actor in the part of Horatio, when he addresses 
 Hamlet on the appearance of his father’s ghost, ‘ Look, nxy 
 lord, it comes.’ 1 found that I had a very perfect idea of 
 Johnson’s figure, from the portrait of him painted by Sir 
 Joshua Reynolds soon after he had published his ‘Dictionary,’ 
 in the attitude of sitting in his easy chair in deep meditation; 
 which was the first picture his friend did for him, which 
 Sir Joshua very kindly presented to me j\lr. Davies mentioned 
 niy name, and respectfully introduced me to him ; I was 
 much agitated, and recoliecting his prejudice against the 
 Scotch, ofwhicli I had heard much, 1 said to Davies, ‘Don’t 
 tell where I come from,’ — ‘From Scotland,’ cried Davies, 
 roguishly. ‘Mr. Johnson, said 1, ‘i do indeed come from 
 
 Seotland, but I cannot help it.’ I am willing to flatter 
 myself that I meant this as light pleasantry to soothe and 
 conciliate him, and not as humiliating abasement at the 
 expense' of my country. But however that might be, this 
 speech was somewhat unlucky; for with that quickness of 
 wit for which he was so remarkable, he seized the expression 
 * come from Scotland ! ’ which I used in the sense of being of 
 that eountry ; and, as if I had come away from it, or left it, 
 retorted, ‘ That, sir, I find, is what a great many of your 
 countrymen eannot help.’ This stroke stunned me a good 
 deal ! and when we had set down, I felt myself not a little 
 embarrassed, and apprehensive of what might eome next. 
 He then addressed himself to Davies : ‘ What do you think 
 of Garrick ? he has refused me an order for the play for Miss 
 Williams, because he knows the house will be full, and that 
 an order will be worth three shillings.’ Eager to take any 
 opening to get into eonversation with him, I ventured to say, 
 
 ‘ O, sir, I cannot think Mr. Garrick would grudge such 
 a trifle to you.’ ‘ Sir, (said he, with a stern look,) I have 
 known David Garrick longer than you have done ; and 
 I know no right you have to talk to me on the subject.’ 
 Perhaps I deserved this check ; for it was rather presumptuous 
 in me, an entire stranger, to express any doubt of the subject 
 of his animadversion upon his old acquaintance and pupil. 
 
 I now felt myself much mortified, and began to think that 
 the hope that I had long indulged of obtaining his ac- 
 quaintance was blasted. And, in truth, had not my ardour 
 been uncommonly strong, and my resolution uncommonly 
 persevering, so rough a reception might have deterred me 
 for ever from making any further attempts. Fortunately, 
 however, I remained upon the field, not wholly discomfited.” 
 ****«! -y^ag highly pleased with the extraordinary 
 vigour of his conversation, and regretted that I was drawn 
 aw^ay from it by an engagement at another place. 1 had, for 
 a part of the evening, been left alone with him, and had 
 ventured to make an observation now and then, which he 
 received very civilly; so that I was satisfied that, though 
 there w^as a roughness in his manner, there was no ill-nature 
 in his disposition. Davies followed me to the door, and when 
 I complained to him a little of the hard blows which the 
 great man had given me, he kindly took upon him to console 
 me by saying, ‘Don’t be uneasy. I pan see he likes you 
 very well.’” 
 
 The Hummums Hotel and Coffee-house which occupies the 
 south-w^est corner of this street, and stretehes round into 
 Covent-garden market, is so called from an eastern word 
 signifying baths. It w^as one of the earliest houses set up in 
 England of that kind, and thence called bagnios; and one of 
 the few that retained their respectability. The generality 
 were so much the reverse, that the word bagnio came to mean 
 a brothel. It appears from a story we are about to relate, 
 that people went to the Hummums not only to bathe, but to 
 get themselves cupped. Bathing is too much neglected in 
 this country ; but the consequences of our sedentary habits 
 have forced upon us a greater degree of attention to it, and 
 the imitation of the Turkish system of cleanliness has been 
 earned further in vapour baths and the startling luxury of 
 shampooing, which makes people discover that they have in 
 general tw^o or three skins too many. Englishmen, in the 
 pride of their greater freedom," often wonder how Eastern 
 nations can endure their servitude. This is one of the secrets 
 by wdiich they endure it. A free man in a dirty skin is not 
 in so fit a state to endure existence, as a slave with a clean 
 one ; because nature insists, that a due attention to the clay 
 which our souls inhabit, should be the first requisite to the 
 comfort of the inhabitant. Let us not get rid of our freedom ; 
 let us teach it rather to those that want it; but let such of us 
 as have them, by all means get rid of our dirty skins. There 
 is now a moral and intellectual commerce among mankind, 
 as well as an interchange of inferior goods ; we should send 
 freedom to Turkey as well as clocks and watches, and import 
 not only figs but a fine state of the pores. 
 
 Of the Hummums there is a ghost-story in Boswell — a thing 
 we should as little dream of in this centre of the metropolis, 
 as a ghost at noon -day. The reader will see how huch credit 
 is to be given it, by the style of the narrator, who, with all 
 his good will towaids superstition (and it is no less a person 
 that speaks than Dr. .Johnsonl, had an inveterate love of 
 truth, which led him to defeat his own object. 
 
 “Amongst the numerous ])iints,” says Boswell, pasted on 
 the walls of the dining room at Streatham, was • Hogarth’s 
 iModern .Midnight Conversation.’ 1 asked him what he knew 
 
EVANS’S SUPPER-ROOMS, CO VENT-GARDEN. 
 
 11 
 
 of Parson Ford, who makes a conspicuous figure in the 
 riotous group. Johnson. ‘ Sir, he was iny acquaintance and 
 relation, — my mother’s nephew. He had purchased a living 
 in the country, but not simoniacally. I never saw him but 
 in the country. I have been told that he was a man of great 
 parts ; very profligate, but *1 never heard he was impious.’ 
 Boswell ‘ Was there not a story of his ghost having appeared ?’ 
 Johnson. ‘ Sir, it was believed. A waiter at the Hummums, 
 in which house Ford died, had been absent for some time, 
 and returned, not knowing that Ford was dead. Going down 
 to the cellar, according to the story, he met him; going down 
 again he met him a second time. When he came up, he 
 asked some people of the house what Ford could be doing 
 there. They told him Ford was dead. The waiter took 
 a fever, in which he lay for some time. When he recovered, 
 he said he had a message to deliver to some women from 
 Ford ; but he was not to tell what, or to whom. He walked 
 out; he was followed; but somewhere about St. Paul’s they 
 lost him. He came back, and said he had delivered the 
 message, and the women exclaimed. Then we are all undone! 
 Dr. Pellet, who was not a credulous man, inquired into the 
 truth of this story, and he said. The evidence was irresistible. 
 My wife went to the Hummums (it is a place where people 
 get themselves cupped) ; I believe she went with the in- 
 tention to hear about this story of Ford. At first they were 
 unwilling to tell her ; but after they had talked to her, she 
 came away satisfied that it was true. To be sure the man 
 had a fever; and this vision may have been the beginning of 
 it. But if the message to the women, and their behaviour 
 upon it, were true as related, there was something supernatural. 
 That rests upon his word ; and there it remains.’ ” 
 
 And here again we reach the steps of Evans’s Hotel; 
 and, as we enter, we will recall what is known of this 
 house. Its facade forms a prominent object in Hogarth’s 
 celebrated engraving, ‘ Morning ; ’ which has been en- 
 graved on wood for the headpiece of the present paper. 
 Amongst the eminent persons who resided here have 
 been — 
 
 Sir William Alexander, Earl of Stirling, the poet; he was 
 living here, in the north-west angle, in 1637. — Thomas 
 Killigrew, the wit ; he was living in the north-west angle, 
 between 1637 and 1643, and in 1660 — 1662. — Denzill Holies; 
 in 1644, under the name of “ Colonel Hollis and in 1666 
 and after, in a house on the site of Evans’s Hotel, afterwards 
 inhabited by Sir Harry Vane, the younger, (1647), and by 
 Sir Kenelm Digby, (1662). 
 
 Digby spent the remainder of his life at his house in Covent- 
 garden, where he was much visited by the lovers of philosophy 
 and mathematical learning. At the breaking out of the first 
 troubles, his library, which was justly considered a most 
 valuable one, had been removed into France, and improved 
 there at a very considerable expense ; but, as he was not a 
 subject of his Most Christian Majesty, the library became the 
 property of the Crown, according to that branch of the pre- 
 rogative which the French call Droit J AuhainJ — Bio. Die. 
 
 “Since the restauration of Ch. II. he (Sir Kenelm Digby) 
 lived in the last faire house westward in the north portico of 
 Covent Garden, where my Lord Denzill Holies lived 'since. 
 He had a laboratory there. I think he dyed in this house. 
 Sed qu.” — Aubrey's Lives, ii. 327. 
 
 The above-named Holies was a man of extraordinary cou- 
 rage, of which several instances are related. Being one day 
 engaged in a veiy hot debate in the House, in which some 
 rude expressions fell from Ireton, he persuaded him to walk 
 out with him, and then told him, that he should presently go 
 over the water, and fight him. Ireton replied, “ his conscience 
 would not suffer him to fight a duel.” Whereupon Holies in 
 choler pulled him by the nose, telling him, “ if his conscience 
 would keep him from giving men satisfaction, it should keep 
 him from provoking them.” — Guthrie’s History of England, 
 Vol. III.,p. 176. 
 
 Nathaniel Crew, the last Lord Crew, and Lord Bishop of 
 Durham ; from 1681 to 1689, in the same house. It appears, 
 from the books of St. Paul’s, Covent-garden, that almost alll 
 the foundlings of the parish were laid at the door of the-- 
 house of the Bishop of Durham. — Aubrey de Vere, tha 
 twentieth and last Earl of Oxford ; in the north-east angle, 
 from 1663 to 1676 ; he lived in what was Killigrew’s house. 
 — Russell, Earl of Orford. 
 
 “ Hard by the church and at the end of the Piazzas (now 
 Evans’s Hotel) is the Earl of Orford’s house. He is better 
 known by the name of Admiral Russell, who in 1692 defeated 
 Admiral de Tourville, near La Hogue, and ruined the French, 
 fleet.” — Cunninghams Hand-hook of London. 
 
 The fine old staircase of the present hotel is formed of 
 part of the vessel Admiral Russell commanded at La Hogue, 
 
 ‘ the Brittannia,’ 100 guns. It has handsomely- carved 
 anchors, ropes, the coronet and initial letters of Lord 
 Orford. 
 
 The house was not entirely built, hut altered into its 
 present shape by the above Lord. Subsequently lived hera 
 Lord Archer. — See Stowe. 
 
 “ Why do you not admire my daughter ?” said the late 
 Lady Archer to a nobleman. * ‘ Because,” replied he, “ I am 
 no judge of painting.” “ But surely,” rejoined her lady- 
 ship, not in the least disconcerted by his rude reflection, 
 “you never saw an angel that was not painted?” — Court 
 Anecdotes 
 
 Andrew, Lord Archer, married Sarah, the daughter of 
 Mr. West, m July, 1761. 
 
 Mr. West’s library, sold in this house, occupied the auc- 
 tioneer six weeks in the disposal of it. Books of the greatest 
 literaiy value were sold for shillings. His MSS. are in the 
 possession of the Marquis of Lansdowne. His books, including 
 many with important antiquarian notes by Bishop White 
 Kennet, were sold by auction by Mr. Landlord, — the catalogue 
 arranged by Mr. Paterson. His prints and drawings were sold 
 in thirteen days ; coins and medals in seven. Mr. West was 
 an early member and one of the vice-presidents of the Anti- 
 quary Society; also, first treasurer, and subsequently president 
 of the Royal Society. The sale began March the 29th, 1773. 
 
 After the sale, the, house was used as an hotel, when tha 
 first family hotel in London was established in Covent-garden, 
 in 1773, by a person of the name of David Low. 
 
 About 1790, Mrs. Hudson became proprietor. Her adver- 
 tisements were curious : one ends thus, — “ with stabling for 
 one hundred noble-men and horses.” 
 
 Mr. Richardson succeeded the above. Mr. Joy followed • ; 
 and the late Mr. W. C. Evans, of Covent-garden Theatre ! 
 (who died in September, 1854), resigned it into the hands ol * 
 the present U’opi’ietor in 1844. 
 
 Several actors have been inhabitants of this house. Amon'gsfc 
 others, “ Little Knight,” as he was familiarly called : and, 
 during Mr. Charles Kemble’s residence, it is asserted that Mrs. 
 Fanny Kemble was born in the room which forms the Gallery 
 to the New Music Hall. 
 
 At the beginning of the pi’esent century, and some years 
 afterwards, the late singing-room was famous as a dinner and 
 coffee-room. It was called the “ Star,” from the number of’ 
 men of rank who frequented it. One of the servants now 
 living asserts “ that it was no uncommon thing for nine dukes 
 to dine here in one day.” This w^as before the formation of 
 clubs. 
 
 About THE Magnificent New Room which has just 
 been added by the present Proprietor to the many com- 
 forts of Evans’s Hotel, we need say nothing — you can 
 judge for yourself while seeking repose after your stroll : 
 the appetite gained by exercise can be satisfied by “ mine 
 host’s ” good viands, while your ears are delighted with 
 the sweet sounds of intellectual music, and your eyes are 
 wandering over the surrounding fair proportions and 
 architectural beauty. 
 
12 
 
 EVANS’S SUPPER-ROOMS, OOVENT-OARDEN. 
 
 A SELECTION OF MUSIC. 
 
 GLEES, MADRIGALS, &c. 
 
 1 — Now Spring in all her Glory. Madrigal. 
 
 Jacques Arkadel. a.d. 1545. 
 
 Now Spring in all glory, 
 
 With blessings from on high, 
 
 Descends to comfort ev’ry heart, 
 
 And gladden ev’ry eye. 
 
 Stern Winter, dark and froi\Tiing, 
 
 Has left us for awhile, 
 
 And Spring with life and vigorous youth, 
 
 Does make creation smile. 
 
 The streams no longer frozen. 
 
 Their peaceful course pursue j 
 And buds and Oj^ning blossoms now 
 Receive the morning dew. 
 
 2 — Lady, when I behold. Madrigal. 
 
 Wilhye, 1598. 
 
 Lady, when I behold the roses sprouting. 
 
 Which, clad in rosy mantles, deck the arbours ; 
 
 And then behold your lips, where sweet love harbours ; 
 Mine eyes present me with a double doubting ; 
 
 For viewing both alike, hardly my mind supposes. 
 Whether the roses be your lips, or your lips the roses. 
 
 3 So SAITH MY FAIR. MaDRIGAL. ' 
 
 Luca 3IarenziOj 1599. 
 
 So saith my fair and beautiful Lycoris, 
 
 When now and then she talketh 
 With me of love. 
 
 Ijove is a sprite that walketh, 
 
 That soars and flies ; 
 
 And none alive can hold him. 
 
 Nor touch him, nor behold him. 
 
 Yet when her eyes she turncth, 
 
 I spy where he sojourneth. 
 
 In her eyes, there he flies, 
 
 But none can touch him. 
 
 Till from her lips he fetch him. 
 
 4 — Madrigal. . . . T. Morley, 1588. 
 
 April is in my mistress’ face, 
 
 And July in her eyes hath place ; 
 
 Within her bosom is September, 
 
 But in her heart a cold December. 
 
 5 — A Garden is my Lady’s Face. Madrigal. 
 
 It. Atterhury. 
 
 A garden is my lady’s face, 
 
 Where roses and white lilies blow ; 
 
 A heav’nly paradise is that place, 
 
 Wherein the fairest fruits do grow. 
 
 , There cherries be that none may buy, 
 
 ’Till “cherry ripe” themselves do cry. 
 
 (The first verse only sung.) 
 
 Those cherries fairly do disclose, 
 
 Of Orient pearls, a double row ; 
 
 Which, when her lovely laughter shows. 
 
 They look like rosebuds fill’d with snow. 
 
 Yet them no peer nor prince may buy, 
 
 ’Till “cherry ripe” themselves do ciy. 
 
 Her eyes like angels watch them still ; 
 
 Her brows like bended bows do stand, 
 Tlm^at’ning with pierciiig frowns to kill 
 All that approach, with eye or hand, 
 
 Those sacred cherries to come nigh, 
 
 ’Till “cheiTy r!pe” themselves do cry. 
 
 6— Madrigal. . . • . T . Morley, 1588. 
 
 , Lady, those eyes of yours, 
 
 Those fine eyes that shine so clearly, 
 
 Why do you hide them from me. 
 
 That bought their beams so dearly ? 
 
 Think not, when thou exil’st me. 
 
 Less heat in me sojourneth. 
 
 Oh no ! when thou beguil’st thee, / 
 
 Love doth but shine in thee, 
 
 But oh ! in me he burneth. 
 
 7 — Madrigal. . . Constantins Festa, 1541. 
 
 Full Choir. 
 
 Down in a flowiy vale, all on a summer morning, 
 Phillis I spied, fair Nature’s self adorning ; 
 
 Swiftly on wings of love I flew to meet her. 
 
 Coldly she welcom’d me, when 1 did greet her. 
 
 I v/arbled thus my ditty : — 
 
 “ O, shepherdess ! have pity. 
 
 And hear a faithful lover 
 His passion true discover. 
 
 Ah ! why art thou to me so cruel ? ” 
 
 Then straight replied my jewel : — 
 
 “ If gold thou hast, fond youth, ’twill speed thy suing ; 
 But if thy purse be empty, come not to me a v/ooing.” 
 
 8 — My Mistress is as fair as fine. Madrigal. 
 
 John Bennet, 1614. 
 
 FULL CHOIR. 
 
 My mistress is as fair as fine, 
 
 With milk-white hands and golden hair; 
 
 Her eyes the radiant stars outshine, 
 
 Lighting all things far and near. 
 
 Fair as Cynthia, not so fickle ; 
 
 Smooth as glass, tho’ not so brittle. 
 
 My heart is like a ball of snow. 
 
 Fast melting at her glances bright ; 
 
 Her ruby lips like night-worms glow. 
 
 Sparkling through the pale twilight. 
 
 Neat she is, no feather lighter ; 
 
 Bright she is, no daisy whiter. 
 
 9 — Madrigal. . . . Dr. Wilson, 1600. 
 
 ( Words from Shakespeare.) 
 
 O, by rivers, by whose fiiUs 
 Melodious birds sing madrigals, 
 
 The shepherd swains shall dance and play. 
 
 For thy delight on each May-day. 
 
 With a fa, la, la. 
 
 Where silver sands and pebbles sing 
 Eternal ditties to the Spring, 
 
 There shall you pass the welcome night, 
 
 In sylvan pleasure and delight. 
 
 With a fa, la, la. 
 
 10 — Lo ! where with flow’ry head. IMadrigal. 
 
 T. Morley, 1595. 
 
 Lo ! where with flow’ry head, and haii' all brightsome, 
 Rosy-cheek’d, crystal-eyed, e’en weeping lightsome. 
 
 The fair Aurora springeth. 
 
 And wanton Flora llingeth 
 Amorous odours 
 L"nto (he winds delightsome. 
 
 Ah ! for pity and anguish, 
 
 Only my heart doth langui'<h 
 
EVANS’S SUPPER-ROOMS, CO VENT-GARDEN. 
 
 13 
 
 11 Madrigal. ( Words from Shakespeare . ) 
 
 Who is Sylvia, ? what is she, 
 
 That all our swains commend her? 
 
 Holy, fair, and wise is she ; 
 
 The heavens such grace did lend her, 
 
 That she might admired be. 
 
 Is she kind as she is fair ? 
 
 For beauty lives with kindness : 
 
 Love doth to her eyes repair, 
 
 To help him of his blindness, 
 
 And, being help’d, inhabits here. 
 
 Then to Sylvia let us sing, 
 
 That Sylvia is excelling ; 
 
 She excels each mortal thing 
 Upon the dull earth dwelling. 
 
 12 — There is a Lady. . Thomas Ford, 1607. 
 There is a lady sweet and kind, 
 
 Was never face so pleas’d my mind ; 
 
 I did but see her passing by. 
 
 And yet I love her till I die ! 
 
 Her gestures, motions, and her smile, 
 
 Her wit, her voice, my heart beguile } 
 
 Beguile my heart, I know not why ; 
 
 And yet I love her till I die ! 
 
 Cupid is winged, and doth range 
 Her country, so my love doth change ; 
 
 But chang’d be earth, or chang’d be I, 
 
 I yet will love her till I die ! 
 
 13 — Fine Knacks for Ladies. Madrigal. 
 
 John Douland, 1600. 
 
 Fine knacks for ladies ; cheap, choice, brave, and new. 
 
 Good pennyworths, but money cannot move ; 
 
 I keep a fair, but for the fair to view : 
 
 A beggar may be liberal of love. 
 
 Tho’ all my wares be trash, the heart is true. 
 
 Great gifts are guiles, and look for gifts again ; 
 
 My trifles come like treasures from my mind ; 
 
 It is a precious jewel to be plain ; 
 
 In mdest shell the rarest pearl we find. 
 
 Tho’ all my wares be trash, the heart is true. 
 
 14 — In going to my lonely bed. Madrigal. 
 
 Richard Edwards, 1560. 
 
 In going to my lonely bed. 
 
 As one that would have slept, 
 
 I heard a wife sing to her child. 
 
 That long had moan’d and wept. 
 
 She sighed sore, and sang full sweet. 
 
 To lull the babe to rest ; 
 
 That would not cease, but cried still 
 Upon its mother’s breast. 
 
 She was full weary of her watch. 
 
 And grieved with her child ; 
 
 She rocked it, and rated it. 
 
 Till that on her it smiled. 
 
 Then did she say. Now have I found 
 This proverb true doth prove : 
 
 The falling out of faithful friends 
 Renewing is of love. 
 
 In Evans's Old Ballads, Vol. III., 1784, the following verses are 
 inserted, without name, date, or comment. Sir Egerton Brydges con- 
 sidered the poem, “In going to my naked bed,” without reference to 
 the age in which it was produced, as among the most beautiful in our 
 language. Edwardes’s play, Damon and Pilhias, may he seen in Dodsley. 
 The Renuing of Love. 
 
 In going to my naked bedde. 
 
 As one that would have slept, 
 
 I heard a wife sing to her child. 
 
 That long beforehad wept. 
 
 She sighed sore, and sang full sweete. 
 
 To bring the babe to rest. 
 
 That would not cease, but cried still. 
 
 In sucking at her breast. 
 
 She was full weary of her watch. 
 
 And greved with her child ; 
 
 She rocked it and rated it. 
 
 Till that on her it smilde. 
 
 Then did she saie, Jiow have I founde, 
 
 This proverbe true to prove — 
 
 The falling out of faitlifull frends, 
 
 Renuing is of love. 
 
 Then tooke I paper, penne, and ynke, 
 
 This proverbe for to write. 
 
 In register for to remaine, 
 
 Of such a worthie wight. 
 
 As she proceeded thus in song, 
 
 Unto her little bratte. 
 
 Much matter uttered she of waight, 
 
 In place whereat she sattfe ; 
 
 And proved plaine there was no beaste, 
 
 Nor creature bearing life. 
 
 Could well be known to live in love, 
 
 Without discorde and strife. 
 
 Then kissed she her little babe. 
 
 And sware by God above, 
 
 The falling out of faithfull frends, 
 
 Renuing is of love. 
 
 She said that neither king nor prince, 
 
 Nor lord could live aright. 
 
 Until their puissance they did psove — 
 
 Their manhood and their might ; 
 
 When manhood shal be matched so. 
 
 That feare can take no place — 
 
 When wearie works makes warriours 
 Eche other to embrace. 
 
 And leave their forse that failed them, 
 
 Which did consume the rout. 
 
 That might before have lived their tyrae. 
 
 And their full nature out. 
 
 Then did she sing, as one that thought 
 No man could her reprove. 
 
 The falling out of faithfull frends, 
 
 Renuing is of love. 
 
 She said she sawe no fishe, no foule, 
 
 Nor beast within her haunt. 
 
 That mett a straunger in their kinde. 
 
 But could give it a taunt. 
 
 Since fleshe might not endure. 
 
 But reste must wrathe succeed, 
 
 And forse who fight to fall — to play 
 In pasture where they feede ; 
 
 So noble nature can well ende 
 The works she hath begane. 
 
 And bridle well that will not cease 
 Her tragedy in some. 
 
 Thus in her songe she oft reherst. 
 
 As did her well behove, ;; 
 
 The falling out of faithfull frends, 
 
 Renuing is of love. 
 
 15 -Die not, fond man. Madrigal. Ward, 1613. 
 
 Die not, fond man, before thy day j 
 Love’s cold December 
 Will surrender 
 To succeeding jocund May. 
 
 And then, then, sorrow shall cease ; 
 
 Comforts abounding, , 
 
 Cares confounding. 
 
 Shall conclude a happy peace. 
 
 16 — Sing we, and chant it. — Madrigal. 
 
 Thomas Morley, 1595 
 
 Sing we, and chant it. 
 
 While love doth grant it ; 
 
 Not long youth lasteth. 
 
 And old age haste th ; 
 
 Now is best leisure 
 
 To take our pleasure. Fa, la, la. 
 
 All things invite us. 
 
 Now to delight us ; 
 
 Hence care, be packing. 
 
 No mirth be lacking : 
 
 Let’s spare no treasure. 
 
 To live in pleasure. Fa, la, la. 
 
 17 — The Miller’s Daughter. Glee. 
 
 It is the Miller’s Daughter, 
 
 And she is grown so dear. 
 
 That I would be the jewel 
 That trembles in her ear. 
 
 For hid in ringlets day and night, 
 
 I’d touch her neck so warm and white. 
 
 And I would be the girdle. 
 
 About her dainty dainty waist. 
 
 And her heart would beat against me, 
 
 In sorrow and in rest. 
 
 And I should know if it beat right, 
 
 I’d clasp it round so close and tight. 
 
 And I would be the necklace. 
 
 And all day long to fall and rise 
 Upon her balmy bosom, 
 
 With her laughter or her sighs. 
 
 And I would lie so light, so light, 
 
 I scarce should be unclasped all night. 
 
u 
 
 EVANS’S SUPPER-KOOMS, 00 VENT-GARDEN. 
 
 18 DArNTY FINE SWEET NyMPH. MaDRIGAL. 
 
 Thomas Morley, 1595. 
 
 Dainty fine sweet Nymph delightful, 
 
 While the sun aloft is mounting, 
 
 Sit we here our loves recounting ; 
 
 With sugred gloses,* 
 
 Among these roses. 
 
 Fa, la, la. 
 
 Why, alas I are you so spiteful. 
 
 Dainty Nymph, but oh! too cruel. 
 
 Wilt thou kill my dearest jewel? 
 
 Kill then, and bless me. 
 
 But first come kiss me. 
 
 Fa, la, la. 
 
 * After the introduction of sugar into this country, the epithet sugred 
 was much used in poetry. Gloses are flattering speeches. 
 
 19 All CREATURES NOW ARE MERRY-MINDED. 
 
 Madrigal. John Bennet, 1599. 
 
 All creatures now are merry-minded, 
 
 The shepherds’ daughters playing. 
 
 The nymphs are fa-la-la-ing ; 
 
 Yon bugle was well-winded. 
 
 At Oriana’s presence each thing smileth. 
 
 The flowers themselves discover, 
 
 Birds over her do hover, 
 
 Music the time beguileth. 
 
 See where she comes, with flow’ry garlands crown’d; 
 Queen of all Queens renown’d ; 
 
 Then sang the nymphs and shepherds of Diana, 
 
 ‘ ‘ Long live fair Oriana.”* 
 
 * Queen Elizabeth. 
 
 20 V There were three Ravens. Madrigal, 1611. 
 
 There were three ravens sat on a tree. 
 
 They were as black as they might be j 
 The one of them said to his mate, 
 
 Where shall we our breakfast take ? 
 
 Down in yonder greeny field 
 
 There lies a knight slain under his shield ; 
 
 His hounds they lie down at his feet, 
 
 So well they can their master keep ; 
 
 His hawk's they fly so eagerly. 
 
 There is no fowl dare him come nigh. 
 
 Down there came a fallow doe, 
 
 As great with young as she might go ; 
 
 She lifted up his bloody head. 
 
 And kiss’d his wounds that were so red : 
 
 She got him up upon her back, 
 
 And carried him down by yon lake ; 
 
 She buried him before the prime — 
 
 She was dead herself ’ere ev’n-song time. 
 
 God send every gentleman 
 
 Such hawks, such hounds, such a leman.* 
 
 * Mistress. 
 
 21 — Welcome, sweet pleasure. Madrigal. 
 
 Thomas Weelltes, 1608. 
 
 Welcome, sweet pleasure. 
 
 My wealth and treasure ; 
 
 To haste our playing. 
 
 There’s no delaying. No, no, no. 
 
 This mirth delights me, 
 
 When sorrow frights me. 
 
 Then sing we all Fa, la, la. 
 
 Sorrow, content thee ; 
 
 IMirth must prevent thee ; 
 
 Tho’ much thou grievest. 
 
 Thou none rclievest. No, no, no. 
 
 Joy, come delight me, 
 
 Tho’ sorrow spite me. 
 
 Then sing we all Fa, la, la. 
 
 Grief is disdainful, 
 
 Sottish and painful ; 
 
 Then wait on pleasure, 
 
 And lose no leisure. No, no, no. 
 
 Heart’s case it lendeth. 
 
 And comfort sendeth. 
 
 Then sing we all Fa, la, la. 
 
 22 — 0 Bird of Eve. Glee. Lord Mornmgton, 
 
 (Father of the Great Duke of Wellington.) 
 O bird of eve, whose love-sick notes 
 I hear across the dale. 
 
 Who nightl}' to the moon and me 
 Dost tell thy hapless tale. 
 
 O hear a brother mourner’s plaint. 
 
 To Chloe’s window fly. 
 
 Tell her I bleed for love of her. 
 
 For love of her I die. 
 
 23 — Madrigal. . . Thomas Morley^ 1559. 
 
 My bonny lass she smileth, 
 
 W'"hen she my heart beguileth. 
 
 Fa, la, la. 
 
 Smile less, dear love, therefore. 
 
 And you shall love me more. 
 
 Fa, la, la. 
 
 When she her sweet eye turneth, 
 
 O how my heart it burneth. 
 
 Fa, la, la. 
 
 Dear love, call in their light. 
 
 Or else you burn me quite. 
 
 Fa, la, la. 
 
 24 — The Curfew. Glee. . Thomas Attwood, 
 
 Hark ! the curfew’s solemn sound. 
 
 Silent darkness spreads around ; 
 
 Heavy it beats on the lover’s heart, 
 
 Who leaves with a sigh his tale half told. 
 
 The poring monk and his book must part ; 
 
 And fearful the miser locks up his gold. 
 
 Now, whilst labour sleeps, and charmed sorrow. 
 
 O’er the dewy green. 
 
 By the glow-worm’s light, 
 
 ■Unheard, unseen. 
 
 Dance the elves of night ; 
 
 Yet where their midnight pranks have been, 
 
 The circled turf betrays to-mon ow. 
 
 25 — Let the lively Banja play. 
 
 Sir Henry JR. Bishop, 
 Solo, Soprano. 
 
 Let the lively banja play. 
 
 Let the voice of mirth resound ; 
 
 ’ • While to measures light and gay, 
 
 Nimble footsteps beat the ground. 
 
 Let the voice of mirth resound. 
 
 \_Repeatfor Chorus. 
 
 Solo, Tenor. 
 
 Zuna ! dear Zuna ! you must stay. 
 
 Solo, Soprano. 
 
 My duty calls me now away. 
 
 chorus. 
 
 Let the lively l>anja, &c. 
 
 Tenor Recitative. 
 
 If e’er your infant’s life was dear, 
 
 A more imperious duty calls you here. 
 
 Duet and Chorus. 
 
 My duty calls me now away. 
 
 Dear Zuna ! you must stay. 
 
 Trio, Tenor and Sopranos. 
 
 Rapture, without alloy, 
 
 While mirth, without alloy, 
 
 Here in ev’ry breast shall burn ; 
 
 While we hail, with purest joy. 
 
 You must quit this scene of joy. 
 
 Our lady’s health — our lord’s return. 
 
 And with your ]\Iirvan now return. 
 
 Duet, Tenor and Soprano, with Chorus. 
 
 Tho’ the lively banja play — 
 
 Tho’ the voice of mirth resound, 
 
 must to other scenes away. 
 
 Where perils dire our child surround. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Let the lively banja, &c. 
 
EVANSES SUPPER-ROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN. 
 
 15 
 
 26 0 PRESERVE AND BLESS THE QuREn ! 
 
 f New National Hymn.) Vincent Wallace. 
 
 Queen Victoria, God protect! 
 
 And her mind and heart direct ; 
 
 Peace and jo)’’ her steps attend, 
 
 Heaven her sacred rights defend ; 
 
 Holy Power, upon her smile, 
 
 Guard her from each traitor’s wile : 
 
 In thy care our trust hath been ; 
 
 Oh, preserve and bless the Queen I 
 Should her enemies conspire, 
 
 Crush them ’neath thy righteous ire : 
 
 Strike to earth the rebel down. 
 
 That would dare assail the crown. 
 
 God, in thee our trust hath been j 
 Oh, preserve and bless the Queen ! 
 
 God, in Thee our trust hath been ; 
 
 Oh, preserve and bless the Queen ! 
 
 God preserve and bless the Queen ! 
 
 27 — Chorus. . . Sir Henry R. Bishop, 
 
 Words by Sir Walter Scott. 
 
 Hail to the chief who in triumph advances. 
 
 Honour’d and bless’d be the ever-green pine ; 
 
 Long may the tree, in his banner that glances, 
 
 Flourish, the shelter and grace of our line. 
 
 Heaven send it happy dew. 
 
 Earth lend it sap anew. 
 
 Gaily to bourgeon and broadly to grow ; 
 
 While every highland glen, 
 
 Sends our shout back again, 
 
 Khoderich Vich Alpine, Dhu ho iero 1 
 
 Kow, brothers, row, for the pride of the highlands, 
 Stretch to your oars for the ever-green pine; 
 
 Oh, that the rose-bud that graces yon islands, 
 
 Honour’d and bless’d in their shadow might grow ! 
 Loud should Clan Alpine then 
 King from her deepest glen, 
 
 Khoderich Vich Alpine, Dhu ho iero I 
 (Sung in the Inner Room.) 
 
 28 — Prayer. ( Masaniello.) 
 
 Hear, holy saint I o’er lowliest victims spreading. 
 Boundless in mercy, thy protecting wing ; 
 
 Light o’er the darkling ivand’rer timely shedding ; 
 Soothing the anguish of oppression’s sting. 
 
 Thee we implore, thee we adore, 
 
 Thy strength be with us now, 
 
 And we are slaves no more. 
 
 29 — Market Chorus. ( 3fasaniello.) 
 
 Come hither, all who wish to buy. 
 
 For here you’ll find the best of fare ; 
 
 Sweet flowers and fruit, come taste and try. 
 
 Rich purple grapes, and melons rare. 
 
 Come buy my olives, none so fine ; 
 
 Rosolio and sparkling wine ; 
 
 Here’s fish alive, and none can sell 
 You finer for your money. 
 
 If daintily you wish to dine. 
 
 Who’ll show you poultry fat as mine ? 
 
 Who’ll buy my pease ? Who’ll buy my cheese ? 
 Who’ll buy my maccaroni ? 
 
 Come hither all who wish to buy, 
 
 ’Tis I that sell the best, taste and try, 
 
 Come here and buy. 
 
 30 — The Cloud-cap’t Towers. Glee. Stevens. 
 
 ( Words from Shakespeare.) 
 
 The cloud-cap’t towers. 
 
 The gorgeous palaces, 
 
 The solemn temples. 
 
 The great globe itself, 
 
 Yea, all which it inherit, 
 
 Shall dissolve ; 
 
 And, like the baseless fabric of a vision, 
 
 Leave not a wreck behind. 
 
 31 — Is IT THE Tempest that we hear ? 
 
 Sir Henry R. Bishop, 
 
 Solo, Soprano. 
 
 Is it the tempest that we hear, 
 
 Or is it bold invaders near ? 
 
 Say, sister, say. 
 
 ’Tis not the tempest that you hear, 
 
 It is bold invaders near! 
 
 Hush ! hush ! I hear ! 
 
 Solo, Tenor. 
 
 Oh ! vestals, hear my fervent prayer : 
 
 From all surrounding danger. 
 
 From storm, from darkness, and despair, 
 
 Oh ! save a wayworn stranger 
 
 Sopranos. 
 
 Sure, ’tis some wayworn stranger ! 
 
 No, no, some dreadful danger I 
 Tenor. 
 
 Oh ! save a wayworn stranger. 
 
 Oh ! save from all surrounding danger ! 
 
 Quartett. 
 
 Lightning flashing I thunder crashing ! 
 
 Tenors and Sopranos. 
 
 Oh 1 befriend us 1 Ah ! if we dare, 
 
 Death must end us ! Sister, forbeai ! 
 
 Quintett. 
 
 For aid, for aid, we pray. 
 
 Duet and Chorus. 
 
 We dare not stay ! In pity stay ! 
 
 Quintett. 
 
 Save us 1 save us I 
 In mercy save us, 
 
 From this angry glare of fire. 
 
 Proclaiming awfully, 
 
 Our God’s avenging ire ! 
 
 Oh I give us hope, thou’lt mitigate thy rage, 
 
 This wild and elemental war assuage ! 
 
 Quartett. 
 
 He hears, and bids it cease ! 
 
 The storm is gently lull’d to peace, 
 
 Quintett. 
 
 Hark 1 again it louder raves. 
 
 And dread volcanos pour forth burning waves. 
 
 32 — Sestett. . . . Sir Henry R. Bishop, 
 
 Oh ! bold Robin Hood is a forester good. 
 
 As ever drew bow in the merry greenwood ; 
 
 At his bugle’s shrill singing. 
 
 The echoes are ringing. 
 
 The wild deer is springing for many a rood : 
 
 Its summons we follow 
 Through brake, over hollow. 
 
 The shrilly-blown summons of bold Robin Hood. 
 
 And what eye hath e’er seen. 
 
 Such a sweet maiden queen. 
 
 As Marian, the pride of the foresters’ green ? 
 
 A sweet garden flower. 
 
 She blooms in the bower, 
 
 Where alone to this hour the wild rose hath been. 
 
 We hail her, in duty. 
 
 The queen of all beauty I 
 
 We will live, we will die by our sweet maiden queen 
 
 And we’ve a grey friar, 
 
 ^ Good as heart may desire, 
 
 To absolve all our sins, as the case may require ; 
 
 Who with courage so stout, 
 
 Lays his oak plant about. 
 
 And puts to the rout all the foes of his choir ; 
 
 For we are his choristers. 
 
 We merry foresters. 
 
 Chorusing still with our militant friar : 
 
 Robin and Marian ! Robin and Marian ! 
 
 Drink to them one by one, drink while you sing ; 
 Robin and Marian ! Robin and Marian! 
 
 Long with their glory old Sherwood shall ring. 
 
16 
 
 EVANS’S SUPPER-ROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN. 
 
 33 — The Village Blacksmith. J. L. Hatton 
 
 ( Words hy H. W. Longfellow.) 
 
 Under a spreading chestnut-tree, the village smithy stands, 
 The smith, a mighty man is he, with large and sinewy hands. 
 And the muscles of his brawny arms are strong as iron bands. 
 His hair is crisp, and black and long ; his face is like the tan ; 
 His brow is wet with honest sweat, he earns whate’er he can, 
 And looks the whole world in the face, for he owes not any man. 
 Week in, week out, from morn till night, you can hear his 
 bellows blow. 
 
 You can hear him swing his heavy sledge, with measured 
 beat and slow. 
 
 Like a sexton ringing the village bell, when ev’ning sun is 
 low. 
 
 And children coming home from school, look in at the open 
 door, 
 
 They love to see the flaming forge, and hear the bellows roar; 
 And catch the sparks that fly like chaff from a thrashing floor. 
 
 He goes on Sunday to the church, and sits amongst his boys ; 
 He hears the pai’son pray, and preach; he hears his daughter’s 
 voice 
 
 Singing in the village choir, and it makes his heart rejoice ; 
 
 It sounds to him like her mother’s voice, singing in Paradise : 
 He needs must think of her once more, how in the grave she 
 lies, 
 
 And with his hard rough hand he wipes a tear from out his 
 eyes. 
 
 Toiling, rejoicing, sorrowing, onward thro’ life he goes ; 
 
 Each morning sees some task begin, each evening sees its close ; 
 Something attempted, something done, has earned a night’s 
 repose. 
 
 Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend, for the lesson thou 
 has taught ; 
 
 Thus, at the flaming forge of life, our fortunes must be wrought ; 
 Thus, on its sounding anvil shap’d, each burning deed, each 
 thought. 
 
 34 — Behold blest Peace. 
 
 Arranged from Itossini, hy J. Green. 
 
 Behold blest Peace, tho’ banish’d long, 
 
 It reigns with us once more ; 
 
 Thunders no more the cannon strong ; 
 
 The storm at length is o’er. 
 
 Thrice happy land, O lovely Peace 
 Now hails thy blest domain. 
 
 Solo. 
 
 Fair commerce now in bounteous share. 
 
 Again its blessings pours ; 
 
 Contentment lightens ev’ry care. 
 
 And bliss complete is ours. 
 
 Cnonus. 
 
 Thrice happy land, O lovely Peace 
 Now hails thy blest domain, 
 
 And sees with joy that long shall last. 
 
 The clouds disperse again. 
 
 Behold blest peace, &c. 
 
 35 — Stay, pr’ythee Stay. Sestett. 
 
 Sir Henry R. Bishop. 
 
 Duet. 
 
 Stray, pr’ythee stay, the night is dark. 
 
 The cold wind whistles — hark ! hark ! hark ! 
 Chorus. 
 
 Pray come away ; we must away. 
 
 Bass Solo. 
 
 The ford is deep, the boat is gone. 
 
 And mountain torrents swell the flood. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 And robbers lurk within the wood ; 
 
 Stay, pr'ythec stay, the way is lone. 
 
 Here must stay till morning bright 
 
 Breaks thro’ the dark and dismal night. 
 
 And merrily sings the lising laik; 
 
 And hark! the night bird — hark! hark! hark 
 
 Here must stay, &c. 
 
 36 — Glee for 5 voices. ( Ossian.) 
 
 R. J. S. Stevens. 
 
 “ Some of my heroes are low,” I hear the sound of death 
 on the harp. Bid the sorrow rise ; that their spirits may fly 
 with joy to Morven’s woody hills ; “ bend forward from your 
 clouds,” ghosts of my fathers, bend ! Lay by the red terror 
 of your course, receive the falling chief; whether he comes 
 from a distant land, or rises from the rolling sea. And oh ! 
 let his countenance be lovely, that his friends may delight in 
 his presence. Bend forward from your clouds, “ghosts of my 
 fathers,” bend ! 
 
 37 — Now BY day’s retiring lamp. Glee. 
 
 Sir Henry R. Bishop, 
 
 Now by day’s retiring lamp, 
 
 Lo ! the vapour dense and damp. 
 
 Through the misty aether spreads ; 
 
 Every harm the trav’ller dreads. 
 
 Hark ! 1 hear the wanderer’s song. 
 
 As he winds the hills among. 
 
 Hark ! I hear the ciy of fear ; , 
 
 W olves howl around him ; 
 
 Storm is near. 
 
 When, from the deep and distant dell. 
 
 He hears'the convent’s matin bell. 
 
 Bim, borne, bell. 
 
 And soon the morn’s inspiring rays 
 His well-known cot, his home displays ; 
 
 When, from the deep and distant dell, 
 
 He hears the convent’s matin bell. 
 
 Bim, borne, bell. 
 
 38 — The Hungarian Serenade Polka. 
 
 La, la, la! 
 
 Come to me, joyous be, love. 
 
 From my heart dispel each care ; 
 
 Merrily dance with me, love; 
 
 Let us join the young and fair. 
 
 List ! the polka’s note so thrilling, 
 
 Ev’ry soul with pleasure filling j 
 See ! the mirth-inspiring throng. 
 
 What charms unto the dance belong. 
 
 Come to me, &c. 
 
 ■ Let me not languish 
 Under love’s smart; 
 
 Calm thou this anguish, 
 
 Soothe my lone heart. 
 
 O ! gentle lady. 
 
 Say thou’it be mine ; 
 
 Answer me fondly, 
 
 “ Love, I am thine ! ” 
 
 Dearest, to the dance repair. 
 
 Come to me, &c. 
 
 39 — Pirate’s Solo and Chorus. . . Balfe. 
 
 Hither we come to our chieftain’s will ; 
 
 And whether in crowded hall. 
 
 By lonely inn, or ruined wall. 
 
 We hear that chieftain’s voice. 
 
 Thither we go, his will to fulfil. 
 
 Recit. 
 
 My brave companions, who so oft have shared in perils past, 
 And death as oft have dared for me, as for my father. 
 
 For by you fulfilled is now the task we liad in view ; 
 
 Dear as you w^ere to liim, you ne’er could be more loved by 
 Telles than you are by me ; 
 
 Ever be happy and light as thou art. Pride of tire Pirate’s 
 heart ! 
 
 Long be thy reign o’er land and main, by the glaive, by the 
 chart. 
 
 Queen of the Pirate’s heart ! 
 
 Solo. 
 
 My task is ended, and again 
 Keturn we to the boundless main ; 
 
 - The safest place— the only home 
 Where exile hath the power to roam ; 
 
 Within whose unpolluted breast, 
 
 He takes unwatched his final rest. 
 
 Ever be Irappy and light as thou art, 
 
 Piide of the I’irate’s heart ! 
 
EVANS’S SUPPER.ROOMS, OOVENT-GARDEN. 
 
 17 
 
 40 — Non Sdegnare, 0 Bella Venere. 
 
 Chorus and Solo. ( Elena Paride.) Gluck, 
 
 Non sdegnare, O bella Venere, 
 
 Queste rose e quasto fior : 
 
 A1 tuo guidice, al tuo Paride, 
 
 Non negare il tuo favor. 
 
 Bolo. 
 
 Come consuma I’avida flamma, 
 
 Ch’arde sul tripoda Tarabo odor ; 
 
 Cosi per Elena tutto s’inflamma, 
 
 Si sente struggere in mezzo al cor, 
 
 Non negar gli, O bella Venere, 
 
 II tuo lume, il tuo favor. 
 
 ' Chokus. 
 
 Non negar gli, 0 bella Venere, 
 
 Il tuo lume, il tuo favor. 
 
 Solo. 
 
 Su queste sponde sfavilli un tremedo, 
 
 Soave raggio del tuo splendor, 
 
 E la vi vi scherzino, teco le grazie, 
 
 E le sue faccioie vaccenda Amor, 
 
 Non negar gli, O bella Venere, 
 
 Il tuo lume, il tuo favor. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Non negar gli 0 bella Venere, 
 
 Il tuo lume, il tuo favor, 
 
 41 — The Chough and Crow. Glee. 
 
 Sir Henry R. Bishop. 
 
 Solo. 
 
 The chough and crow to roost are gone, — 
 
 The owl sits on the tree, — 
 
 The hush’d winds wail with feeble moan, 
 
 Like infant charity. 
 
 The wiki fire dances o’er the fen, — 
 
 The red star sheds its ray ; 
 
 Uprouse ye then,. my merry men. 
 
 It is our op’ning day. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Uprouse ye then, &c. 
 
 Solo. 
 
 Both child and nurse are fast asleep, 
 
 And clos'd is every flower ; 
 
 And winking tapers faintly peep 
 High from my lady’s bower. 
 
 Bewilder’d hind with shorten’d ken. 
 
 Shrink on their murky way ? 
 
 Uprouse ye then, &e. 
 
 Bass Solo. 
 
 Nor bound nor garner own we now. 
 
 Nor roof, nor latched door. 
 
 Nor kind mate bound by holy vow 
 To bless a good man’s store. 
 
 Noon lulls us in a gloomy den. 
 
 And night is grown our day ; 
 
 Uprouse ye then, my meiTy men, 
 
 And use it as ye may. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Uprouse ye then, my merry men. 
 
 It is our op’ning day. 
 
 42 — Tiger Chorus. . Sir Henry R. Bishop. 
 
 The tiger couches in the wood, 
 
 And waits to shed the trav’ler’s blood. 
 
 And so couch we. 
 
 We spring upon him to supply. 
 
 What men to our wants deny. 
 
 And so springs he. 
 
 43 — Glee. . . . Sir Henry R. Bishop. 
 
 Sleep, gentle lady, the flowers are closing, 
 
 The very waves and winds reposing ; 
 
 Oh ! may our soft and soothing numbers 
 Wrap thee in sweeter, softer slumbers! 
 
 Peoce be around thee, lady bright. 
 
 Sleep while we sing “ Good night, good night 1” 
 
 44 — Home 1 there’s a storm. Glee. 
 
 Sir Henry R. Bishop. 
 
 Home ! there’s a storm in the whistling blast. 
 
 Home ! the sun is sinking fast ; 
 
 The wild bird is rocking in his nest ; 
 
 Sinks on the moss, the deer to rest. 
 
 Now for the fire-side’s cheerful blaze. 
 
 Songs of mirth, and tales of fays. 
 
 * Home, home ! 
 
 45 — Merry Boys, away. Glee. 
 
 Sir Henry R. Bishop. 
 
 Merry boys, away, away. 
 
 Market shall our toil repay ; 
 
 None so happy, then, as we. 
 
 Who draw our treasures from the sea. 
 
 Tho’ oft when stillness calms the sullen deep. 
 
 When winds are hush’d, and murmuring billows sleep, 
 
 rove forlorn upon the silent shore, 
 
 Or ply in dull despair the oar. 
 
 But when the breeze springs up. 
 
 Each takes a cheering cup ; 
 
 Then hoist the sail, to meet the gale ; 
 
 And all in hurry, bustle, noise. 
 
 We skim upon the deep, like merry boys. 
 
 Solo. 
 
 Sometimes the porpoise rolls his clumsy form 
 Round our light smacks, and prophecies the storm. 
 Chorus. 
 
 Then haste we home, whilst distant thunders rise, 
 
 And soon the tempest rolls, and rolls along the skies. 
 Thus we all live so happy together. 
 
 In spite of the chances of weather. 
 
 With our messmates, our children. 
 
 Our sweethearts, and wives, 
 
 That no lives are so happy, 
 
 As fishermen’s lives. 
 
 46 — The Last Rose of Summer. 
 
 Words by Moore. Arranged by Neithardt, Berlin. 
 ’Tis the last rose of summer 
 Left blooming alone ; 
 
 All her lovely companions 
 Are faded and gone ; 
 
 No flower of her kindred, 
 
 \ No rosebud is nigh, 
 
 To reflect back her blushes. 
 
 Or give sigh for sigh. 
 
 I’ll not leave thee, thou lone one. 
 
 To pine on thy stem ; 
 
 Since the lovely are sleeping. 
 
 Go, sleep thou with them ; 
 
 Thus kindly I scatter 
 Thy leaves o’er the bed, 
 
 Where thy mates of the garden 
 Lie scentless and dead. 
 
 So soon may I follow. 
 
 When friendship decay, 
 
 And from Love’s shining circle 
 The gems drop away ! 
 
 When true hearts lie wither’d, 
 
 And fond ones are flown. 
 
 Oh ! who would inhabit 
 This bleak world alone ! 
 
 47 -Cold, oh! the March winds be. Glee. 
 
 Written and Composed by Alfred B. Richards, Esq. 
 
 Cold, oh I cold the March winds be ; 
 
 High up in a leafless tree 
 
 The little bird sings, and wearily twits 
 
 The woods with peijury. 
 
 But the Cuckoo knave sings bold his stave, 
 
 Cuckoo, Cuckoo, Cuckoo. 
 
 The Spring comes ever merrily, 
 
 And oh I poor fool sings he — 
 
 For this is tire way in the world to live, 
 
 To mock when a friend has no more to give, 
 Whether in hall or tree. 
 
18 
 
 EVANS’S SUPPER-ROOMS, COVENT GARDEN. 
 
 48 — Long Lms the Queen, Chorus. 
 
 ( Gustavus.) Auher. 
 
 Hail ! all hail ! to our patriot Queen ; 
 
 With joy we’ll make the welkin ring, 
 
 All who love your country, sing 
 
 Long live the Queen ! 
 
 Fenc’d round by grateful hearts, 
 
 What danger should she dread ? 
 
 Fell treason backward starts, 
 
 And hides abash’d her head. 
 
 Hail to our lov’d monarch ! 
 
 Her nation’s joy and gloiy ; 
 
 Her name shall live for ever, 
 
 Rever’d in latest story ! 
 
 49 — What ho ! Clansman, ho ! Glee. 
 
 Sir Henry R, Bishop, Words hy Sir Walter Scott. 
 What ho ! clansman, ho ! 
 
 The time’s awry to whine and^sigh; 
 
 Pray looks it like a soldier bold. 
 
 In dalliance soft his arms to fold? 
 
 No ! comrade, no ! 
 
 Solo, Second Tenor. 
 
 Why ho ! clansman, ho ! 
 
 No time’s amiss to snatch a kiss ; 
 
 Pray looks it like a soldier’s friend. 
 
 To mar the sport he cannot mend ? 
 
 No! comrade, no! 
 
 Solo, Soprano, and Chorus. 
 
 Now troop it away, o’er mountain or brae, 
 
 Delay by your chieftain’s forbid. 
 
 Solo, Tenor, and Chorus. 
 
 His favour we bind, if the Douglas we find, 
 
 And perchance in that cave he lies hid ; 
 
 We’ll enter here; 
 
 Solo, Soprano. 
 
 Fell spirits abound; 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Let them appear. 
 
 Solo Soprano, 
 
 ’Tis haunted ground : 
 
 Mortals, forbear ! 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 We will, in mercy spare. 
 
 And rather face King James’s train, 
 
 Than hear those awful sounds again; 
 
 And rather toil and danger brave. 
 
 Than venture near the goblin’s cave. 
 
 Solo and Chorus. 
 
 ’Tis done ! she’s safe, farew’ell, 
 
 Awsiy from fiend and spell. 
 
 50 —In the Merry Month of May. Glee. 
 
 Hr. Cooke. 
 
 In the merry month of May, 
 
 On a morn by break of day. 
 
 Forth I walked by the wood-side, 
 
 Whereas May was in her pride ; 
 
 TViere I spied, all alone, 
 
 Phillida and Cory don. 
 
 Much ado there was, God wot I 
 He would love, and she would not. 
 
 She said, never man was true ; 
 
 He said, none was false to you ! 
 
 He said, he had lov’d her long ; 
 
 She said, love should have no wrong. 
 
 Corydon would kiss her then ; 
 
 She said, maids must kiss no men, , 
 
 Till they did for good and all. 
 
 Then she made the shepherd call 
 All the heav’ns to witness truth. 
 
 Never lov’d a truer youth. 
 
 Thus, with many a pretty oath. 
 
 Yea and nay, and faith and troth. 
 
 Such as seemly shepherds use, 
 
 When they will not love abuse. 
 
 Love, which had been long deluded, 
 
 Was with kisses sweet concluded, 
 
 And Phillida, with garlands gay, 
 
 Was made the lady of the I\Iay. 
 
 51 — Glee for 4 voices. . Sir H. R. Bishop. 
 From “ Maid Marian." 
 
 Solo. 
 
 Hart and hind are in their lair. 
 
 Couch’d beneath the fern they lie ; 
 
 And the moon, our mistress fair, 
 
 Is riding through the cloudless sky. 
 
 Solo. 
 
 O’er the lake the night wind steals ; 
 
 About the oak the blind bat wheels ; 
 
 Come, sit we round our trysting-tree, 
 
 ' Daring outlaws as we be. 
 
 Solo. 
 
 Now in dark and narrow cell. 
 
 Now in chamber rich and rare, 
 
 Lowly monk his beads doth tell, 
 
 Lordly abbot patters pray’r ; 
 
 ’Neath our leafy covering 
 Let us now our vespers sing ; 
 
 Come troll we catch, and chaunt we glee,. 
 
 Daring outlaws as we be. ■ ' 
 
 Now in stately castle hall, 
 
 Baron proud, and gallant knight, 
 
 For the courtly harpers call, 
 
 And pace a measure with lady bright. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Blither sports in greenwood bow’r 
 Know we at this moonlight hour ; 
 
 Come, drink we deep, and feast we free. 
 
 Daring outlaws as we be. 
 
 52 — Ancient Part-Song, for 5 voices. 
 
 From a Rare Collection of Manuscripts. Written about 1600. 
 
 Arranged and Edited hy Thomas Oliphant, Esq. 
 
 To pitch our toils go we, i 
 
 With pleasant mirth and glee ; 
 
 Bows are bent with arrows keen, 
 
 All to please our forest queen. 
 
 Up goes tlie deer, and o’er the vale he flingeth. 
 
 While with the echo all the greenwood ringeth. 
 
 Horns and bugles blow, 
 
 Tantara, tan, tan, tantivy, ho ! 
 
 Thro’ the woods they fl}’-, 
 
 Follow boys, come follow boys, they cry. 
 
 And when tlxe chace is o’er, 
 
 * Of venison good store 
 
 On our backs we homeward bring. 
 
 Dainty food for queen or king. 
 
 Tiien ev’ry man his merry carol singeth. 
 
 While with the echo all the greenwood ringeth. 
 
 Seated all a row, 
 
 Tantara, tan, tan, tantivy, ho ! 
 
 While tlie bugles sound. 
 
 Pledge a bumper round. 
 
 53 -When the Wind Blows. Glee. W. Horsley. 
 
 When the wind blows in the sweet rose-tree, 
 
 And the cow lows on the fragrant lea. 
 
 And the stream flows all bright and free, 
 
 ’Tis not for thee, ’tis not for me, 
 
 ’Tis not for any one here I trow. 
 
 The gentle wind bloweth. 
 
 The happy cow loweth. 
 
 The meriy stream floweth, 
 
 For all below. 
 
 Oh ! the Spring, the Ixxuntiful Spring, 
 
 She shineth and smileth on ev’ry thing. 
 
 Where come the sheep } To the rich man’s moor. 
 Where cometh sleep ? To the bed that’s poor. 
 Peasants ixuist weep, and Kings endure ; 
 
 Tl'hat’s a fate that none can cure. 
 
 Yet Spring doeth all she can, 1 trow. 
 
 She brings the bright hours. 
 
 She weaves the sweet flowers, 
 
 She dresseth her bowel’s for all below. 
 
 Oh ! the S[)ring, the bountiful Spring, 
 
 She .shineth and smileth on ev’ry thing. 
 
EVANS’S SUPPER-ROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN. 
 
 19 
 
 54 — Bird of the Wilderness. Glee. 
 
 Melody hy Dr, Clarke Whitfeld, harmonized hy Greatorex. 
 Bird of the wilderness, blithesome and cumberless, 
 
 Sweet be thy matin o’er moorland and lea ! 
 
 Emblem of happiness, blest is thy dwelling-place. ' 
 
 Oh ! to abide in the desert with thee. 
 
 Wild is thy lay, and loud, far in the downy cloud. 
 
 Love gives it energy, love gave it birth ! 
 
 Where on thy dewy wing, where art thou journeying ? 
 
 Thy lay is in heaven, thy love is on earth. 
 
 O’er fell and fountain sheen, o’er moor and mountain green, 
 O’er the red streamer that heralds the day. 
 
 Over the cloudlet dim, over the rainbow's rim, 
 
 Musical cherubim, hie thee away. 
 
 Then, when the gloaming comes, love in the heather blooms. 
 Sweet will thy welcome and bed of love be ; 
 
 Bird of the wilderness, blest is thy dwelling-place. 
 
 Oh ! to abide in the desert with thee. 
 
 55 — Tee Hunt is up. 3Iusic hy John L. Hatton. 
 
 The first stanza of this ancient ditty is taken fiom an in- 
 teresting little book called “The Household of Sir Thomas 
 Moore,” being a Diary kept by his Daughter Margaret, 
 wherein the Fourth of September, a.d., 1523, is thus chro- 
 nicled. “ Supped with my Lord Sands Wound up the 
 
 evening with musick Lord Sands sang us a new ballad. 
 
 The King's Hunt's up, which father affected hugelie. 1 
 lacked spirit to sue my Lord for the words, he being so 
 free-spoken as alwaies to dash me ; howbeit I mind they ran 
 somewhat thus. The Hunt is up, ” Breaking off at the 
 end of ten lines, the fair Diarist concludes with “ The rest 
 hath escaped me, albeit 1 know there was some burden of 
 Hey-tanatarra, where my Lord did stamp and snap his 
 fingers. He is a merry heart.” The second stanza is added 
 by me, to give sufficient length to the song. — T. Oliphant. 
 Tantara, tantara, the hunt is up. 
 
 And it is well nigh day ; 
 
 Harry our King has gone hunting. 
 
 To bring the deer to bay. 
 
 The east is bright with rosy light. 
 
 And darkness it is fled ; 
 
 The merry horn awakes the morn 
 To leave his idle bed. 
 
 Arise, arise, unclose your eyes. 
 
 To meet the golden ray ; 
 
 Happy and free, right merrily. 
 
 We’ll mount and ride away. 
 
 The birds they sing, the deer they fling. 
 
 The eager hunters fly ; 
 
 The merry horn awakes the morn, 
 
 Then up and join the cry. 
 
 The hunt is up, the hunt is up, 
 
 And now ’tis perfect day : 
 
 Harry our King has gone hunting. 
 
 To bring the deer to bay. 
 
 Puttenham, in his Arte of English Poetry (1589, p. 12), 
 mentions “ one Gray ” as having grown unto good estimation 
 with King Henry VHI., and afterwards with the Duke of 
 Somerset, the protector, “for making certaine merry balladas, 
 whereof one chiefly was. The hunt is up, the hunt is up.” 
 Is this it ? 
 
 The hunt is up. 
 
 The hunt is up. 
 
 And now it is almost day ; 
 
 And he that’s in bed with another man’s wife, 
 It’s time to get him away. 
 
 A foolish practice (which this little piece has brought to 
 mind,) was introduced by the Puritan reformers, of moralising 
 as they called it, popular songs; that is, parodying all but a 
 few lines at the beginning of the song, to favour their par- 
 ticular superstition, or the innovation they wished to effect. 
 The above is from Ritson’s Dissertation on Ancient Songs 
 and Music, and he adds the following fanatical trash : — 
 
 With hunt’s up, with hunt’s up. 
 
 It is now perfect day ; 
 
 J s our King has gone a hunting. 
 
 Who likes to speed they may. 
 
 Percy says, “ It is a received tradition in Scotland, that at 
 the time of the Reformation ridiculous and obscene songs 
 were composed, to be sung by the rabble to the tunes of the 
 
 most favorite hymns in the Latin service. ‘ Green Sleeves 
 and Pudding Pies,’ designed to ridicule the Catholic Clergy 
 is said to be one of these metamorphosed hymns ; ‘ Moggy 
 Lauder,’ another ; ‘John Anderson my Joe,’ was a third. The 
 adoption of solemn Church Music to these ludicrous pieces, 
 and the jumble of ideas thereby occasioned, will account for 
 the following. From the Record of the General Assembly in 
 Scotland, called ‘ The Universal Kirk,’ p. 90, July 7, 1568, 
 it appears that Thomas Bassendyne, printer in Edinburgh, 
 printed a Paslme Buik, in the end whei’eof was found ane 
 b y sang called ‘ W elcome foriune.’ — Percy, vol, III.p. 229. 
 
 56 — Blessed be the Home. Serenade. Benedict. 
 Blessed be the home where love makes his dwelling, 
 Pleasure and peace his footsteps invite : 
 
 Oh ! with what joy each bosom is swelling. 
 
 When two in one tie thus fondly unite. 
 
 Friendship’s offering now we bring to thee. 
 
 We hail this happy hour: 
 
 Calm and sunny may life’s pathway be, 
 
 And strewn with many a flower. 
 
 Blessed be the home where Love makes his dwelling. 
 Pleasure and peace crown this happy hour. 
 
 Fa, la, la. 
 
 57 — Selection from Euryanthe. Glee. 
 
 a M. Weher. 
 
 Solo — Euryanthe. 
 
 Songs sweetly sounding. 
 
 Throngs gaily bounding. 
 
 Welcome the heroes whom our duty and gratitude crown. 
 Chorus. 
 
 Songs sweetly sounding, &c. 
 
 Friends blithely meeting, 
 
 All kindly greeting. 
 
 Here twine the garlands of love and renown. 
 
 Quartett. 
 
 Tmsting, yet fearing. 
 
 How all endearing. 
 
 Now comes to aid me, the hope of my soul : 
 
 Shall behold him, 
 
 Proudly enfold him 
 Blessings, 
 
 tj n Riy heart its warfare 
 How slicill 1 , till • 1 contiol. 
 
 our hearts their pleasure 
 
 This guilty seeming 
 (Past all redeeming) 
 
 Hurls on to win the hope of her soul. 
 
 Captive I'll hold him, 
 
 Spell-bound enfold him, 
 
 How shall my heart all its triumph control. 
 Through chances veering. 
 
 Now dark, now cheering, 
 
 Long have I led thee, sweet hope of my soul. 
 Chorus. 
 
 Songs sweetly sounding, &c. 
 
 Solo — Euryanthe, and Chorus. 
 Hope comes to aid thee, my lab’ring soul, 
 
 Oh ! grant me power this joy to control. 
 
 Songs sweetl}" sounding, &c. 
 
 58-1 SAW LOVELY PhILLIS. MaDRIGAL. 
 
 Words and Music by R, L. Pear sal, Esq. {Willsbridge.) 
 I saw lovely Phillis lying on lilies. 
 
 And fairer was she than her llow’iy bed ; 
 
 But when she did spy me, 
 
 0 then she did fly me. 
 
 Not heeding nor hearing one word that I said. 
 
 Why did she fly when 1 wish’d her to stay ? 
 
 It is not well done to drive lovers away; 
 
 For they’ll sing, fa, la, la, &c. 
 
 And when 1 next meet her. 
 
 How shall 1 greet her, 
 
 If she should come siniling forward to me? 
 
 No, no, 1 will s})ite he'-, 
 rH shun her, and sligh’’ her, 
 
 And cold and unfeeling as marble will be. 
 
 What do I care, e’en tin nigh she despair : 
 
 Her hands let her ring. 1 v. ill merrily sing, 
 
 1 will merrily sing, i'a,Ja, li, 
 
20 
 
 EVANS’S SUPPER-ROOMS, COVENT>GARDEN. 
 
 59 — Glee. . . . Earl of Mornington. 
 
 (Father of the Great Duke of Wellington.) 
 Here in cool grot and mossy cell, 
 
 We rural fays and fairies dwell : ^ 
 
 Tho’ rarely seen by mortal eye, 
 
 When the pale moon, ascending high, 
 
 Darts thro’ yon limes her quiv’ring beams, 
 
 We frisk it near these crystal streams ; 
 
 Her beams reflected from the wave. 
 
 Afford the light our revels crave ; 
 
 The turf with daisies ’broider’d o’er 
 Exceeds, we wot, the Parian floor ; 
 
 Nor yet for artful strains we call, 
 
 But listen to the waterfall. 
 
 60 — Blow, Gentle Gales. Glee. 
 
 Sir Henry E. Bishop. 
 
 Blow, gentle gales, and on your wing, 
 
 Our long-expected succours bring. 
 
 Look, look again. 
 
 ’Tis all in vain. 
 
 Lo ! behold a pennant waving. 
 
 ’Tis the sea-bird’s pinions laving. 
 
 Hark ! a signal fills the air. 
 
 ’Tis the beetling rock rebounding, 
 
 ’Tis the hollow wave resounding, 
 
 Wild as our hope and deep as our despair. 
 
 No. 1. — Four-pakt Songs. 
 
 61 — Hunting Song. . . . Mendelssohn. 
 
 Now mom advancing 
 Looks over the hill ; 
 
 Her radiance is glancing 
 On valley and rill. 
 
 Homs gaily are playing 
 The call to depart ; 
 
 The coursers are neighing — 
 
 Now they start, now they start. 
 
 Now rapidly bounding. 
 
 The hunters are seen ; 
 
 The full cry resounding, 
 
 Sheds life o’er the scene. 
 
 Hounds eagerly flying, 
 
 Rush after the prey ; 
 
 The huntsmen are crying 
 Hark away ! hark away ! 
 
 See, now farther and farther they bound along. 
 
 The woodlands and valleys re-echo their song. 
 
 Like gales o’er the heather, 
 
 They sportively stray ; 
 
 Hearts bounding together. 
 
 While steeds bound away. 
 
 No. 2. — Four-part Songs. 
 
 62- T ’other Morning very early. 
 
 The Melody composed by Thibaut, Kiny of Navarre, 1250. 
 Adapted to English Words by Thomas Oliphant, Esq. 
 T’other morning very early. 
 
 As thro’ grove and mead I stray’d. 
 
 Cross my path right clearly, 
 
 Came a nieny village maid. 
 
 Light of heart she tripp’d along, 
 
 Love the burden of her song. 
 
 Her sweet lay with magic art. 
 
 So beguil’d my glowing heart, 
 fl’hat forthwith approaching nigh, 
 
 IMaiden fair, good day, said 1. 
 
 My respectful salutation 
 • She return’d with modest grace, 
 
 While the lily and carnation 
 Mingled in her blushing face. 
 
 If, quoth I, thou wilt be mine. 
 
 Cold and jewels shall be thine. 
 
 She replied, 1 fear a snare, 
 
 Ijordly vows are light as air; 
 
 Shepherd Pierre is my delight. 
 
 More than rich deceit fnl knight. 
 
 63-Music from MACBETH. 
 
 Is^ Witch . — Speak, sister, speak ! is the deed done ? 
 
 2nd Witch. — Long ago, long ago, above twelve glasses since 
 have ran. 
 
 Ill deeds are seldom slow or single, 
 
 But following crimes on horrors wait : 
 
 The worst of creatures fastest propagate. 
 
 Isi Witch. — Many more, many more murders must this one 
 ensue ; 
 
 Dread horrors still abound 
 In every place around. 
 
 As if in death were found, propagation too. 
 
 He must, he will, he shall 
 Spill much more blood, 
 
 And become worse, to make his title good. 
 Chorus. — He must, he will, &c. 
 
 Witch . — Now let’s dance. 
 
 2nd Witch. — Agreed! 
 
 Witch. — Agreed! * 
 
 Chorus. — Agreed ! 
 
 We should rejoice when good kings bleed. 
 
 2nd Witch. — When cattle die, about, about we go : 
 
 When lightning and dread thunder 
 Rend stubborn rocks asunder. 
 
 And fill the world with wonder, 
 
 What should we do ? 
 
 Chorus . — Rejoice ! rejoice ! we should rejoice ! 
 
 1st Witch: — Let’s have a dance upon the heath. 
 
 We gain piore life by Dimcan’s death : 
 Sometimes like brindled cats we show, 
 
 Having no music but our mew, 
 
 To which we dance in some old mill, 
 
 Upon the hopper, stone, or wheel, 
 
 To some old saw or Bardish rhyme, 
 
 Where still the mill-clock does keep time. 
 Where still the, &c. 
 
 2nd Witch. — Sometimes about a hollow tree, 
 
 Around, around, around dance we : 
 
 Thither the chirping crickets come, 
 
 And beetles sing in drowsy hum. 
 
 Sometimes we dance o’er ferns or furze, 
 
 To howls of wolves, or barks of curs : 
 
 Or if none of these we meet. 
 
 We dance to the echoes of our feet. 
 
 Chorus. — We dance, &c. 
 
 At the raven’s dismal voice, 
 
 When others tremble, we rejoice ; 
 
 And nimbly, nimbly dance we still. 
 
 To the echo of sojjie hollow hill, 
 
 Isf Witch . — Hecate! Hecate! Hecate, come away ! 
 
 Hecate .- — Hark! hark! Pm called: 
 
 My little, airy spirit see, see. 
 
 Sits in a foggy cloud, and waits for me. 
 
 Witch . — Hecate ! Hocate ! 
 
 Hecate. — Thy chiiping voice I hear. 
 
 So pleasing to mine ear. 
 
 At which 1 haste away. 
 
 With all the speed I may. 
 
 Where’s Puckle ? 
 
 Zrd Witch . — Here ! 
 
 Hecate. — Where’s Stradling ? 
 
 2nd Witch. — Here ! 
 
 Hecate. — And Hopper too ? and ITellway too ? 
 
 Isf Witch. — We want but you ! we want but you ! 
 
 Chorus. — Come away ! come away ! make up the account ! 
 Hecate. — With new'-fallen dew 
 From churchyard yew, 
 
 I will but ’noint. 
 
 And then I’ll mount. [flight. 
 
 Now I’m furnish’d, now I’m furnish’d for my 
 Now I go. Now, now 1 fly, 
 
 IMalkin, my sNveet spirit, and I. 
 
 Oh ! what a dainty pleasure is this. 
 
 To sail in the air. 
 
 When the moon shines fair. 
 
 To sing, to dance, to toy, and kiss. 
 
 Over woods, high rocks, and mountains. 
 
 Over hills and misty foimtains, 
 
 Over steeples, towers, and turiets, 
 
 We fly by night ’mongst troops of spirits. 
 Chorus. — We fly by night, &c. 
 
21 
 
 EVANS’S SUPPER-ROOMS, COVENT-GARUEN. 
 
 64 — ViLLANELLE. ( 3Iarie Stuart.) 
 
 L. JSf eider meyer. 
 
 Duet. — Marie and Bothwell. 
 
 Pour les attraits de noble dame 
 Au viel epoux, triste et jaloux ; 
 
 Brule en secret, d’ardente flamme, 
 
 Pauvre Isolier simple ecuyer. 
 
 L’honneur lui dit, pars au plus vite ; 
 
 L’honneur lui dit, fuis imprudent. 
 
 Mais quand vient I’lieure, il tremble, il hesite, 
 
 Et semble dire en soupirant. 
 
 Solo. — Marie. 
 
 S’il n’est que dans I’absence, 
 
 Kemede a ma soufFrance; 
 
 La nuit, le jour, j’ai beau souffrir, 
 
 J’n’en veux jamais guerir. 
 
 Quartett. — GeorgeSy Kennedy, Bothwell, and Rizzio. 
 
 S’il n’est que dans I’absence, 
 
 Remede a ma souffrance ; 
 
 La nuit, le jour, j’ai beau souffrir, 
 
 J’n’en veux jamais guerir. 
 
 Duet. — Marie and Bothwell. 
 
 Sans de plaisir, la noble dame 
 
 Voit tant d’amour. Puis un beau jour 
 S’interrogant. trouve en son ame. 
 
 Non sans terreur pareille ardeur. 
 
 L’honneur lui dit, faut au plus vite 
 Chassez I’amant, cruel tourment ; 
 
 Mais elle aussi balanze, hesite, 
 
 Et semble dire en soupirant. 
 
 Solo. — Bothwell. 
 
 S’il n’est que dans I’absence, 
 
 Remede a ma souffrance ; 
 
 La nuit, le jour, j’ai beau souffrir, 
 
 J’n’en veux jamais guerir. 
 
 Quintett. — Marie, Georges, Kennedy, Bothioell, and Rizzio. 
 S’il n’est que dans I’absence, 
 
 Remede. a ma souffrance ; 
 
 La nuit, le jour, j’ai beau souffrir, 
 
 J’n’en veux jamais guerir. 
 
 65 — Oh ! WHO WILL o’er the Downs so free. 
 (Rickenstirn’s Song.) R. L. Pearsall, Esq. {Willshridge.) 
 
 O who will ride o’er the Downs so free, 
 
 O who will with me ride, 
 
 0 who will up and follow me. 
 
 To "win a blooming bride ? 
 
 Her father he has lock’d the door. 
 
 Her mother keeps the key ; 
 
 But neither door nor bolt shall part 
 My own true love from me. 
 
 1 saw her bow’r at twilight grey, 
 
 ’Twas g-uarded safe and sure ; 
 
 I saw her bow’r at break of day, 
 
 ’Twas guarded then no more. 
 
 The varlets they were all asleep, 
 
 And none was near to see. 
 
 The greeting fair that passed there 
 Between my love and me. 
 
 I promised her to come at night. 
 
 With comrades brave and true, 
 
 A gallant band with sword in hand. 
 
 To break her prison through. 
 
 I promised her to come at night. 
 
 She’s waiting now for me ; 
 
 And ere the dawn of morning light. 
 
 I’ll set my true love free. 
 
 N.B. — The words of this song are written in allusion to an event supposed 
 to have taken place in the neighbourhood of Winterborne, in Gtoucester shire. 
 One Hiclcenstirn ( or Hickers Stirn, as he is called by the common people,) 
 who lies buried in the church'ihere, is said to have been a knight who lived 
 by pillage. He fell in love with a neighbour’s daughter, won her affections, 
 was refused by her parents, but, with the assistance of his friends, carried 
 her off from her father’s house. Such events were not uncommon in the 
 middle ages. 
 
 66 — The Halt op the Caravan. Glee. 
 
 Sir Henry II. Bishop. 
 
 Halt, halt, halt ! 
 
 Now the sun is at its height. 
 
 Where the waving palm-trees fan 
 From our head the burning gale. 
 
 Halt the caravan. 
 
 Solo, Trio, and Chorus. 
 
 Some may sleep, and some may weep. 
 
 This, his tale of travel tells. 
 
 Some may smoke, and some may joke. 
 
 Some may quaff, and some may laugh, 
 
 Ha, h^a, ha ! 
 
 While jing, jang, clang, the camel- bells. 
 
 Halt, halt, halt ! 
 
 Solo, Trio, and Chorus. 
 
 Many hearts in silent dreams. 
 
 Distant o’er the desert roam. 
 
 Oh ! the pang, to wake and feel 
 All are absent, friends and home. 
 
 Yes! ’tis sweet ev’n then to greet, 
 
 Where no rested mortal dwells, • 
 
 Features known, and like our own, 
 
 While they quaff, and while they laugh, 
 
 Ha, ha, ha 
 
 And jing, jang, clang the camel bells. 
 
 Halt the caravan I 
 
 67 — Comrade, your hand. Duet. 
 
 Thaddeus and Devilshoof. 
 
 D. — Comrade, your hand. 
 
 We understand each other in a breath. 
 
 This grasp secures its owner’s yours 
 In life, in life, and until death. 
 
 T — The scenes and days to me, 
 
 Which seem’d so blest to be. 
 
 No time can e’er restore. 
 
 Glee. 
 
 In the Gipsy’s life you read. 
 
 The life that all would like to lead. 
 
 T. — My wants are few ; 
 
 D . — Want we ne’er knew. 
 
 But what we could supply, 
 
 T. — Then what is worse, 
 
 I have no purse ; 
 
 D. — We nothing have to buy. 
 
 T. — My heart, ’twill wring ; 
 
 D. — That is a thing 
 
 In which we never deal. 
 
 T. — But all I need ; 
 
 D. — ’Twere but indeed. 
 
 To borrow, beg, or steal. 
 
 T. — My heart ’twill ring ; 
 
 D. — That is a thing 
 
 In which we never deal. 
 
 Glee. 
 
 In the Gipsy’s life you read. 
 
 The life that all would like to lead. 
 
 T . — These scenes and days to me, 
 
 D. — Comrade, your hand, we understand, 
 
 T. — Which seem’d so blest to be, 
 
 D . — We understand each other in a breath, 
 
 T . — No time can e’er restore. 
 
 D . — This grasp secures its owner’s yours, 
 
 T . — No time can e’er restore. 
 
 D . — In life and until death. 
 
 T . — The scenes and days to me, 
 
 D . — Then rest you here while we explore, 
 
 T . — Which seem’d so blest to be, 
 
 D . — What luck, what luck there is in store. 
 
 T . — No time can e’er restore, 
 
 D . — Then rest you here while we explore, 
 
 T . — No time can e’er restore, 
 
 D . — And see what luck there is in store. 
 
 T . — No time can e’er restore, 
 
 B . — Then rest you here while we explore. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 In the Gipsy’s life you read. 
 
 T . — No time can e’er restore, 
 
 />.— What luck thei ’e is in store, 
 
 T . — The life that all would like to lead. 
 
22 
 
 EVANS’S SUPPER-ROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN. 
 
 08 — Live Henri Quatre ! Chorus, &c. 
 
 Sir Henry R. Bishop. 
 
 Live Henri Quatre ! long live our valiant King ! 
 
 His triple art right loyally we’ll sing : 
 
 He’ll never shrink, 
 
 Who has the rare talent to fight and drink, 
 
 And be a gay gallant. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Allegiance we swear to his high commands ; 
 
 Bold are their hearts, and steady their hands. 
 
 Solo, Soprano. 
 
 Henri, adieu, my King, farewell, 
 
 Do not forget your Gabrielle. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Allegiance we swear, &c. 
 
 Solo, (Soprano), and Chorus. 
 
 Bemember the signal, you join the throng 
 When Notre Dame tolls out ding, dong. 
 
 69 — Finale to Fidelio. . L. Yon Beethoven. 
 
 . Hail ! happy day, hail ! happy hour. 
 
 So long desir’d, but all in vain ; 
 
 When mercy, hand in hand with power. 
 
 Unbinds the captive, breaks his chain. 
 
 Hail, hail, hail ! 
 Quintett and Chorus. 
 
 O joy, O sweet felicity. 
 
 Great pow’r, how just is thy decree ; 
 
 Let none repine, tho’ hai d their lot. 
 
 He chasteneth, yet deserteth not. 
 
 Chorus 
 
 Love and truth are now required, 
 
 Think no more on sorrows past ! 
 
 No, no ! 
 
 Faithful pair, again united. 
 
 Happiness is your’s at last. 
 
 Duet, — Fidelio and Florestan. 
 
 Thou alone by heav’n protected, 
 
 Angel-like didst hover near ; 
 
 True love still my steps directed. 
 
 True love knows no coward fear. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Loud tlm sound of triumph raise, « 
 
 Sing fair Fidelio’s praise. 
 
 70 — La Carita. (Charity.) Glee. Rossini. 
 
 Thou that impartest peace to the soul, 
 
 Calming the waters of strife’s angry sea ; 
 
 Thou that shouldst guide us, 
 
 When stoims have tried us ; 
 
 Blest be thy sweet voice, soft Charity. 
 
 Though friends may fail us, and fortune may flee. 
 Safe treads the footstep that’s guided by thee. 
 
 Solo, Soprano. 
 
 Heav’n in thy presence hallows this earth ; 
 
 From thy pure essence Hope has her birth : 
 
 . He in whose bosom thou hast a home, 
 
 Teems, like the blossom, with fulness to come. 
 Chorus. 
 
 O thou that sheddest peace o’er the soul, &c. 
 
 Solo, Soprano. 
 
 When o’er the earth thy voice shall prevail, 
 
 Wars shall be ended, and faction shall fail, 
 
 And hatred and pride, in that blest day, 
 
 All shall be banished by thy gentle sway. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Come, thou that breathest calm o’er the soul. 
 
 Stilling the waters of strife’s angiy sea ; 
 
 Thou that shouldst guide us. 
 
 When storms have tried us ; 
 
 Come, with thy sweet voice, soft Charity. 
 
 , Though fiiends may fail us, and fortune may flee, 
 
 Safe treads the footstep that’s guided by thee ; 
 
 Heav’n in thy presence hallows this earth. 
 
 Thou canst beguile sorrow to smile, 
 
 Weeping thy gentle self the while ; 
 h’rom thy pure essence Hope has her birth. 
 
 Thomcanst beguile, &c. 
 
 71 — The Blue-Bells oe Scotland. 
 
 Arranged by A. Reithardt, Berlin, 
 
 O where, and O where is your Highland laddie gone ? 
 
 He's gone to fight the Russ for our Queen upon the throne. 
 And ’tis O, in my heart, I wish him safe at home. 
 
 O where, and 0 where did your Highland laddie dwell ? 
 
 He dwelt in merry Scotland, at the sign of the Blue-Bell. 
 
 And ’tis O, in my heart, I love my laddie well. 
 
 Suppose, and suppose, your Highland lad should die? 
 
 The bagpipes shall play o’er him, I’d lay me down and cry. 
 And ’tis 0, in my heart, I wish he may not die. 
 
 No. 3. — Four-part Songs. 
 
 72 — Remembrance. . . . Mendelssohn, 
 
 New verdure comes o’er hill and dale, 
 
 And flowers foith are springing : 
 
 Again the plaintive nightingale 
 Her songs of old is singing. 
 
 O happy those for whom the Spring i 
 
 Has cared, that they may laugh and sing. 
 
 And all that erst in slumber lay, 
 
 To life anew is waking; 
 
 The buds that hang on every spray 
 The sunbeams now are breaking. 
 
 But how for blossoms can I care. 
 
 When thou art wanting everywhere, 
 
 0 dearest heart, must 1 for e’er 
 Thy memory from me banish ? 
 
 To me gay Spring proves dark and drear, 
 
 And songs and flowers vanish. 
 
 Then what are vernal joys to me, 
 
 Where thou art not, no Spring can be. 
 
 73 - The Seasons. 
 
 Words by W. Whitney. Music by C. Lucas. 
 Solo, Soprano. 
 
 Hail to the new-born Spring ! 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Hail to the new-born Spring ! 
 
 Now with lightsome step advancing. 
 
 See her youthful form is glancing 
 Merrily o’er the lea. 
 
 Lo ! her ear is charmed with pleasure. 
 
 As she lists the caroll’d measure 
 Of warbling minstrelsy. 
 
 Solo, Alto. 
 
 Hail to the Summer sun ! 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Hail to the Summer sun ! 
 
 Clad in robes of dazzling splendour. 
 
 Summer comes lier joys to render. 
 
 And chase the clouds away. 
 
 She paints the flow’rs with rainbow dyes; 
 
 And gilds the birds and butterflies; 
 
 And tints the morn and ev’ning .skies, 
 
 With rare and heavenly ray. 
 
 Solo, Tenor. 
 
 Hail to to the Autumn moon ! 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Hail to the Autumn moon ! 
 
 Solo, Tenor. 
 
 Hail to the beauteous orb that sheds 
 Her golden light on rustic heads ! 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 llejoice merrily. 
 
 Where blue-c 3 ’ed mirth and rosy glee. 
 
 And rural dance and minstrelsy. 
 
 Make liarvest revehy. 
 
 Solo, Bass. 
 
 And thou, grim Winter, hail 
 Who leads the old and weaiy }^car 
 To rest, and in the ice-cold bier, 
 
 Tlic dainty flowers hide. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 And there they sleej) in deep repose, 
 
 Till Spring again their foims disclose; 
 
 Till Spring again their forms disclose 
 In blooming life and pride. 
 
EVANS’S SUPPER-ROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN. 
 
 23 
 
 74 — The Gipsy Glee. {Bohemian Girl.) Balfe. 
 
 In the Gipsy’s life you read, 
 
 The life that all would like to lead ; 
 
 Sometimes under roof, and sometimes thrown 
 Where the wild wolf makes his lair. 
 
 For he who’s no home to call his own 
 Will find a home somewhere. Ah! Ah! 
 
 ’Tis the maxim bold of man, 
 
 What’s another’s prize to claim. 
 
 Then to keep, then to keep all he can : 
 
 We Gipsies do the same. 
 
 Thus a habit once, ’tis custom grown : 
 
 Ev’iy man will take care, 
 
 If he has no home to call his own, 
 
 To find a home somewhere. Ah ! Ah ! 
 
 75 — The Hardy Norseman’s House of Yore. 
 
 A Norse National Song.* 
 
 Arranged hy R. L. Pearsall^ Esq. ( Willshridge.) 
 The hardy Norseman’s house of yore, 
 
 Was by the ftjaming wave ! 
 
 And there he gather’d bright renown, 
 
 The bravest of the brave. 
 
 Oh, ne’er should we forget our sires. 
 
 Wherever we may be ; 
 
 They bravely won a gallant name, 
 
 And rul’d the stormy sea. 
 
 Too narrow was their native land, 
 
 • For hearts so bold and free ; 
 
 From bay and creek they sailed forth. 
 
 And conquer’d Normandy. 
 
 Then let their glory oft be sung, 
 
 In thrilling haimony ; 
 
 And let it aye be borne in mind, 
 
 They rul’d the stormy sea. 
 
 A thousand years aie nearly past, 
 
 Sinee erst a Norman band 
 At Hastings fought, and won the crown 
 Of Saxon Engle-land. 
 
 The sceptre of the main they left 
 To their posterity. 
 
 Who, mindful of their ancient fame, 
 
 Have rul’d the stormy sea. 
 
 The Norman and the Saxon foe. 
 
 Are, long since, dead and gone ; 
 
 Their language and their races both 
 Are blended into one ; 
 
 And we, their children, still maintain 
 Their old supremacy ; 
 
 Wherever vessel spreads a sail, 
 
 W e rule the stormy sea. 
 
 * The above melody was given to me by the late Joseph Pinnay, of Vienna, 
 who heard it at a family festival in the interior of Norway, and noted it on 
 the spot. It was there described to him as a very ancient popular song, 
 referable to Ihe times of the Kempions. or Sea Kings, and as being always 
 sung with the greatest enthusiasm. The words, for want of better, are my 
 own, founded on a rough guess at what the original Norse might mean; for 
 being able to make out but a word or two, here and there, I could not 
 pretend to translate it. 
 
 No. 4. — Four-part Songs. 
 
 76 — April Showers. . . John L. Hatton, 
 
 Patter, patter ! Let it pour ; 
 
 Patter, patter ! Let it roar. 
 
 Down the steep roof let it rush, 
 
 Down the hill-side let it gush. 
 
 ’Tis the welcome April show’r. 
 
 Bringing forth the sweet May flow’r. 
 
 Patter, patter ! Let it pour ; 
 
 Patter, patter ! Let it roar. 
 
 Let the glancing lightning flash, ' 
 
 Let the pealing thunder dash. 
 
 ’Tis the welcome April show’r 
 Bringing forth the sweet May flow’r. 
 
 Patter, patter ! Let it pour ; 
 
 Patter, patter ! Let it roar. 
 
 Soon the clouds will burst away. 
 
 Soon will come a bright Spring day. 
 
 ’Tis the welcome April show’rs, 
 
 Which bring forth tlie sweet May flow’rs. 
 
 No. 5. — Four-part Songs. 
 
 77 — The Red Rose. .‘ . John L. Hatton, 
 
 Oh, ray love is like the red red rose 
 That’s newly sprung in June ; 
 
 Oh, my love is like the melody 
 That’s sweetly played in tune. 
 
 As fair art thou, my bonnie lass. 
 
 So deep in love am I, 
 
 That I will love thee still, my dear, 
 
 Tho’ all the seas gaaig diy. 
 
 Tho’ all the seas gang dry, my dear. 
 
 And rocks melt with the sun. 
 
 Yet I will love thee still, my dear, 
 
 AVhile the sands of life shall run. 
 
 Then fare thee well, my bonnie lass, 
 
 Then fare thee well, awhile ; 
 
 And I will come again, my dear, 
 
 Tho’ it were ten thousand mile. 
 
 No. 6. — Four-part Songs. 
 
 78 — Beware ! . . , John L, Hatton, 
 
 I know a maiden fair to see. Take care ! 
 
 She can both false and friendly be. Beware ! 
 
 Trust her not, she is fooling thee. 
 
 She has two eyes so soft and brown. Take care ! 
 
 She gives a side-glance and looks down. Beware I 
 Trust her not, she is fooling thee ! 
 
 And she has hair of golden hue. Take care ! 
 
 And what she says it is not true, Beware !' 
 
 Trust her not, she is fooling thee ! 
 
 She gives thee a garland woven fair. Take care ! 
 
 It is a foolscap for thee to wear. Beware ! 
 
 Trust her not, she is fooling thee I 
 
 79 — Victoria! Victoria!. 
 
 Finale to Act \ of Fra Diavolo,** 
 Victoria ! Victoria ! rejoice I 
 Joy now reigns around ; 
 
 Kaise the grateful voice. 
 
 They come with victo^^ crown’d. 
 
 Victoria ! Victoria ! Victoria ! 
 
 Solo. 
 
 Again I hear my friend. 
 
 Our anxious torment end. 
 
 In deep silence proceeding, 
 
 The daring band we track’d ; 
 
 And their retreat impeding. 
 
 We their numbers attack’d 
 With fury — first, at bay, 
 
 Brave and dauntless they stood ; 
 
 But ere long twenty lay 
 Expiring in their blood. 
 
 Oh, revenge ! soon the rest from us fly, 
 
 In fear and wild defeat ; 
 
 While thus our joyous ciy 
 
 Echoes around repeat. Victoria ! 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Victoria ! Victoria ! Victoria ! 
 
 Joy now reigns around. 
 
 Raise the grateful voice, 
 
 They come with victory crowned. 
 
 Victoria! Victoria! Victoria! 
 
 Solo. 
 
 Let’s on to conquest, friends, again. 
 
 They depart — we safe remain. 
 
 Farewell ! Farewell ! 
 
 Hope in my heart once more is smiling. 
 
 Past ills fortune will repay. 
 
 Solo. 
 
 Love, each care now beguiling, around us will play. 
 
 Ere the dawning of day, their precautions beguiling, 
 Will make them our j)rey. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Let each heart rejoice. Pleasure around ; 
 
 Raise the grateful voice, raise each grateful voico- 
 They’ll come with victory crown’d. 
 
 Victoria 1 
 
 Still let that cry aloud resound. 
 
24 
 
 EVANS’S SUPPEB-ROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN. 
 
 80 — The Cavalier’s Glee. {Cromwell^ 
 Composed hy A. B. Richards, Esq. Arranged with Piano- 
 forte Accompaniment hy Leigh Smith. 
 
 Noll’s red nose, in a bumper here goes, 
 
 To Belzebub, his own master ; 
 
 With the pikes at his flank, 
 
 Of our foremost rank, 
 
 And the devil to find him plaister. 
 
 Fairfax and Harrison, on them our malison, 
 
 But drink and sing, here’s a health to the King! 
 Gentlemen, steady I fill, and be ready ! 
 
 He shall have his own again. 
 
 No. 7. — Four-part Songs. 
 
 81 — The Happiest Land. . John L. Hatton. 
 
 Translated from the German hy Longfellow. 
 
 There sat one day in quiet, 
 
 By an alehouse on the Ehine, 
 
 Four hale and hearty fellows, 
 
 And drank the precious wine. 
 
 The landlord’s daughter filled their cup, 
 
 Around the rustic board ; 
 
 Then sat they all so calm and still. 
 
 And spake not one rude word. 
 
 But when the maid departed, 
 
 A Suabian raised his hand, 
 
 And cried, all hot and flush’d with wine, 
 
 “ Long live the Suabian land ! 
 
 The greatest kingdom upon earth. 
 
 Cannot with that compare ; 
 
 With all the stout and hardy men. 
 
 And the nut-brown maidens there !” 
 
 “ Ha!” cried a Saxon, laughing. 
 
 And dashed his beard with wine, 
 
 “ I’d rather live in Lapland, 
 
 Than that Suabian land of thine ; 
 
 The goodliest land on all this earth, 
 
 It is the Saxon land ; 
 
 There have I as many maidens. 
 
 As fingers on my hand ! ” 
 
 “ Hold your tongues, both Suabian and Saxon !” 
 
 A bold Bohemian cries ; 
 
 “ If there’s a heaven upon the earth, 
 
 In Bohemia it lies ; 
 
 There the tailor blows his flute. 
 
 And the cobbler blows the horn. 
 
 And the miner blows the bugle. 
 
 Over mountain, gorge, and bourn.” 
 
 And then the landlord’s daughter 
 Up to heav’n rais’d her hand, 
 
 And said, “ Ye may no more contend. 
 
 There lies the happiest land ! ” 
 
 82 — Partant pour la Syrie. 
 
 The celebrated French Air, for one, two, three, or four 
 voices. With appropriate and patriotic words hy 
 J. Alfred Noveilo. 
 
 Proclaim to ev’ry son of France 
 The British heart’s desire. 
 
 That each new day should more enhance 
 Our mutual friendship’s fire. 
 
 From year to year, as brethren. 
 
 The seed of concord sow ; 
 
 And long may BYench and English men 
 One gen’rous union know. 
 
 Some forty years of intercourse 
 Caus’d ancient hate to fade ; 
 
 And peaceful commerce in its course 
 Brought trust and mutual aid. 
 
 In peril’s hour, combining then 
 To quell a Russian fi>e. 
 
 Allied are B’rench and English men. 
 
 And bide by side they go. 
 
 In ciystal homes we’ve both display’d 
 The produce of each land ; 
 
 All friendly nations lending aid. 
 
 By skill’d mechanics’ hand. 
 
 Thus year by year, ’mongst brethren 
 The seeds of concoi d grow ; 
 
 And long may I’leufli and English men 
 One geu’ioUi, union know. 
 
 No. 8. — Four-part Songs. 
 
 83 — The Tar’s Song. . . John L. Hatton. 
 
 Our ship now goes with a pleasant gale, 
 
 Give it to her boys, now give it her, 
 
 For she’s the craft to cany sail. 
 
 Give it to her boys, now give it her ! 
 
 See, the wind is on our quarter. 
 
 Make all tight and snug, boys ; 
 
 Swiftly she’ll go through the water. 
 
 Then we’ll serve the grog, boys. 
 
 Hark ! the breeze begins to blow, 
 
 So clear your pipes, and join in our heave ho ! 
 
 Through the night how fast she’s sped now. 
 
 Keep her course nor’-west, boys. 
 
 Merry England’s right a-head now. 
 
 Soon we’ll make the land, now ! 
 
 Hark ! the breeze begins to blow. 
 
 So clear your pipes, and join in our heave ho ! 
 
 84 — The Breath op the Brier. Glee. 
 
 J. TUhittaher* 
 
 The breath of the brier steals down I'rom the wood. 
 
 The glen with its perfume pervading ; 
 
 And the woodlark’s sweet warbling, while seeking its food. 
 Sounds like gratitude’s glad senenading ; 
 
 And the throstle answers from the thorn 
 
 That skirts the babbling rill. • 
 
 Then hark, hark, hark, the joyous horn 
 Comes winding round the hill ; 
 
 As its wild note swells, the village bells 
 Chime in with distant peal ; 
 
 So all impart to the merry heart. 
 
 The joy it can’t conceal ; 
 
 So merry we our note shall be, 
 
 Sing hey down, deny down, dee. 
 
 85 — Hymn of the Allied Armies. 
 
 Music and Words hy G. Linley. 
 
 Solo. 
 
 God of the battle I 
 Humbly we bend to Thee ; 
 
 Thine be the glory. 
 
 Praised and exalted be ! 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 God of the battle ! &c. 
 
 Solo, 
 
 If o’er our pathway 
 Victory’s laurels shine ; 
 
 Thy arm hath guided. 
 
 Wisdom and might are Thine! 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 O, Power Eternal ! 
 
 Still our wan'iors bless ; 
 
 ' Still shield and aid them. 
 
 Lead them to success. 
 
 God of the battle ! &c. 
 
 Solo. 
 
 B’ather of Mercy ! 
 
 Care and compassion show ; 
 
 Comfort the fallen ; 
 
 Soothe Thou the mourner‘s woe. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Father of IMercy ! &c. 
 
 Solo. 
 
 Nerve cv’iy bosom 
 ]\Ianfully in the fight ; 
 
 God ! in the struggle. 
 
 Save and defend the right. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 O, Power Eternal ! 
 
 Still our warriors bless ; 
 
 Still shiedd and aid them. 
 
 Lead them to success. 
 
 God of the baule ! &.c. 
 
EVANS’S SUPPER-ROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN. 
 
 25 
 
 A SELECTION OF MUSIC. 
 
 SONGS. 
 
 101 — The Wreck of the Hesperus. Hatton. 
 
 Sung by Mr. Jonghmans. 
 
 It was the schooner “ Hesperus,” 
 
 That sailed in the wintry sea ; 
 
 And the skipper has ta’en his 
 Little daughter to bear him company. 
 
 Blue were her eyes as the fairy flax, 
 
 Her checks like the dawn of day. 
 
 And her bosom white as the hawthorn buds 
 That ope in the month of May. 
 
 The skipper he stood beside the helm, 
 
 With his pipe in his mouth, 
 
 And watch’d how the veering flaw did blow 
 The smoke, now west now south. 
 
 Then up and spake an old sailor. 
 
 Had sail’d the Spanish main, 
 
 ** I pray thee put into yonder port, 
 
 For I fear a hurricane ; 
 
 “Last night the moon had a golden ring. 
 
 But to-night no moon we see.” 
 
 The skipper he blew a whiff from his pipe. 
 
 And a scornful laugh laugh’d he. 
 
 Down came the storm, and smote amain 
 The vessel in its strength ; 
 
 She shuddered and paus’d like a frighted steed. 
 Then leap’d her cable’s length. 
 
 “ Come hither! eome hither! my little daughter. 
 And do not tremble so. 
 
 For I can weather the roughest gale 
 That ever wind did blow.” 
 
 “ Dear father, I hear the church bell ring. 
 
 Oh say what may it be ? ” 
 
 “ 'Tis a fog-bell on a rock-bound coast, 
 
 We must steer for the open sea.” 
 
 “ Dear father, T see a gleaming light, 
 
 0 say what may it be ?” 
 
 But the hither answered never a word, 
 
 A frozen corpse was he. 
 
 Lash’d to the helm, all stiff and stark. 
 
 With his pale face to the skies ; 
 
 The lantern gleam’d through the falling snow, 
 
 On his fix’d and glassy eyes. 
 
 Then the maiden clasp’d lier hands, and pray’d 
 That saved she might be ; 
 
 And she thought of Him who still’d the waves 
 On the lake of Galilee. 
 
 But fiist through the midnight, dark and drear, 
 Thro’ the whistling sleet and snow. 
 
 Like a sheeted ghost, the bark swept on 
 To the reef of “ Norman’s Woe.” 
 
 Her rattling shrouds, all sheath’d in ice. 
 
 With the mast went by the board ; 
 
 Like a vessel of glass she stove ana sank. 
 
 Ho ! ho ! the breakers roar’d . 
 
 At day-break, on the bleak sea -beach, 
 
 A fisherman stood aghast, 
 
 To see the form of a maiden fair. 
 
 Float by on a drifting mast. 
 
 The salt sea was frozen on her breast. 
 
 The salt tears in her eyes ; 
 
 And her streaming hair, like the brown sea-weed. 
 On the waves did fall and rise. 
 
 Such was the wreck of the “ Hesperus,” 
 
 In the midnight and the snow ; 
 
 Oh ! save us all from a death like this, 
 
 On the reef of “ Norman’s Woe.” 
 
 102 — Over the Sea ! Jacobite Song. 
 
 Sung by Mu. Bathurst. 
 
 Over the sea ! over the sea ! 
 
 Hear what a little bird whisper’d to me ; 
 
 Over the sea ! over the sea ! 
 
 Somebody’s coming ere long. 
 
 Then march, march, march, 
 
 Ye lads of the heather, come trooping together ; 
 Come march, march, march. 
 
 Gallant hearts, valiant and strong. 
 
 O, it’s over the sea ! over the sea ! 
 
 Hear what a bonnie bird whisper’d to me ; 
 
 Over the sea I over the sea ! 
 
 Somebody’s coming ere long. 
 
 Over the sea ! over the sea ! 
 
 Too long my laddie has wmider’d frae me ; 
 
 Over the sea ! over the sea ! 
 
 Now he is coming once more. 
 
 Then we’ll march, march, march. 
 
 To greet him once more on his own native shore ; 
 Let us march, march, march. 
 
 And bear him in triumph along ; 
 
 O, it’s over the sea ! over the sea ! 
 
 Hear what a bonnie bird whisper’d to me ; 
 
 Over the sea ! over the sea I 
 Charlie is coming once more. 
 
 May be had here, price 2s. 
 
 103 — Napoleon’s Midnight Review. 
 
 (From the German.) 
 
 Music by Chevalier Neukomm. Words by Baron Zedlitz. 
 
 Sung by Mr. Jonghmans. 
 
 At midnights dreary hour is heard a fearful sound. 
 
 The spectre-drummer’s summons, parading round and round} 
 With his fleshless hands fast rolling, rolling in wmntcd play 
 That awful signal rally, he takes his ghostly w^ay. 
 
 Oh 1 strange and wild is the ’larum peal that through the 
 darkness comes, [tombs ; 
 
 It stirs, it weakens the valiant ones, laid low in their grassy 
 The hearts that lie in the depths congealed of Northern ice 
 and snow's. 
 
 And those o’er whose unnumber’d heaps Italian summer glows, 
 The brave in the slimy Nile enwrapt, and in Arabia’s sands. 
 They start from their graves, and arms again bedeck their 
 glittering hands. [flow. 
 
 At the midnight hour, afar and near, th’ unearthly clamours 
 And he wFo pours the trumpet blast is riding to-and-fio ; 
 
 On their airy steeds, on ev’ry side, the thronging dead obey. 
 The blood-stain’d hosts of the battle-field, in all their fierce 
 array. 
 
 Ghostly, beneath their gleaming helms, the grinning skulls 
 appear. 
 
 And countless wmapons high in air, their bony hands uprear. 
 And, at the midnight hour, the chieftain leaves his grave. 
 Slowly he comes, on his charger white, amid his chosen brave; 
 He wears no tow’ring plume, no mark of kingly pride. 
 
 And small is the sheathed sword that hangs his siiadowy form 
 beside. 
 
 The boundless plain illuming, the yellow moonbeams shine. 
 The squadrons form, and the hero there surveys the warrior 
 line ; 
 
 The ranks salute their silent lord, the stately march renew. 
 And now, with clanging music, pass before their master’s view. 
 Marshals and generals round him in circling order draw. 
 
 And a word to one beside him the chieftain whispers low ; 
 That word with lightning swiftness flies through all the won- 
 drous train, [“ St, Helena !” 
 
 “France!” ’tis their watchword, and again — the password 
 Thus, at the midnight hour, along th’ Elysian shore. 
 Wanders mighty spirit that toils on earth no more. 
 
 ' May be had here, price 3s. 
 
28 
 
 EVANS’S SUPPER-ROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN. 
 
 104 — Have faith in one another. 
 
 Written by 3. E. Carpenter. Composed by James Peering. 
 Sung by Mr. Walker. 
 
 Have faith in one another, 
 
 When ye meet in friendship’s name ; 
 
 For tlie true friend is a brother, 
 
 And his heart should throb the same. 
 
 Though your path in life may differ, 
 
 Since the hour when first ye met, 
 
 Have faith in one another. 
 
 Ye may need that friendship yet. 
 
 Have faith in one another, 
 
 When ye whisper love’s fond vow j 
 It will not be always summer. 
 
 Nor be always bright as now. 
 
 And when winter comes o’er ye, 
 
 If some kindred heart ye share. 
 
 And have faith in one another. 
 
 Ye shall never more despair. 
 
 Have faith in one another, 
 
 For should doubt alone incline, 
 
 It would make the world a desert. 
 
 Where the sun would never shine. 
 
 We have all some transient sorrow, 
 
 That o’ershaduws us to day j 
 But have faith in one another. 
 
 And it soon shall pass away. 
 
 Have faith in one another. 
 
 And let honor be your guide. 
 
 And let truth alone be spoken, 
 
 Whatever may betide. 
 
 The false may reign a season. 
 
 And oh ! doubt not that it will ; 
 
 But have faith in one another. 
 
 And the truth shall triumph still. 
 
 May be had here, price 2s. 
 
 105 — Excelsior. 
 
 Written by H. W. Longfellow. Music by J. Hatton. 
 Sung by Mr. Jonghmaks. 
 
 The shades of night were falling fast. 
 
 As thro’ an Alpine village pass’d 
 A youth, who bore, ’mid snow and ice, 
 
 A banner, with the strange device. 
 
 Excelsior ! 
 
 His brow was sad, his eye beneath 
 Flashed like a falchion from its sheath. 
 
 And like a silver clarion rung 
 The accents of that unknown tongne. 
 
 Excelsior ! 
 
 In happy homes he saw the light 
 Of household fires gleam warm and bright ; 
 
 Above, the spectral glaciers shone ; 
 
 And from his lips escap’d a groan. 
 
 Excelsior! 
 
 “ Try not the pass,” the old man said, 
 
 “ Lark low’rs the tempest over head. 
 
 The roaring torrent is deep and wide.” 
 
 But loud that clarion voice replied. 
 
 Excelsior ! 
 
 “ 0 stay.” the maiden said, “ and rest 
 Thy weary head upon this breast.” 
 
 A tear stood in his bright blue eye. 
 
 But still he answer’d with a sigh. 
 
 Excelsior ! 
 
 “ Beware the pine-tree’s wither’d branch. 
 
 Beware the awful avalanche.” 
 
 This was the p(‘asant’s last good night. 
 
 A voice replied far up the hight. 
 
 Excelsior 1 
 
 A trav’ler, by the faithful hound. 
 
 Half buried in the snow, was found. 
 
 Still grasping in his hand of ice, 
 
 That banner with the strange device. 
 
 Excelsior ! 
 
 There in the twilight cold and grey. 
 
 Lifeless, but beautiful he lay ; 
 
 And from the sky serene and far, 
 
 A voice fell like a falling star. 
 
 Excelsior ! 
 
 106 — The Boatman’s Return. N, J . Sporle* 
 
 Sung by Mr. Walker. 
 
 Row, row, homeward we steer. 
 
 Twilight falls o’er us ; 
 
 Hark ! hark ! music is near. 
 
 Friends glide before us. 
 
 Song lightens our labour. 
 
 Sing as onward we go ; 
 
 Keep each with his neighbour. 
 
 Time as we go. 
 
 Chorus. (Invisible.) 
 
 • Row, TOW, homeward we steer, &c. 
 
 Row, row, sing as we go, __ 
 
 Nature rejoices ; 
 
 Hark 1 how the hills, as we flow, 
 
 Echo our voices. 
 
 Still o’er the dark waters. 
 
 Far away must we roam, 
 
 Ere Italy’s daughters 
 Welcome us home. 
 
 Row, row, sing as we go, &c. 
 
 Row, row, see in the west, 
 
 Lights dimly burning ; 
 
 Friends, in yon harbour rest, 
 
 Wait our returning. 
 
 See how they burn clearer. 
 
 Keep time with the oar } 
 
 Now, now, we are nearer 
 That happy shore. 
 
 Home, home, daylight is o’er, 
 
 Friends stand before us ; 
 
 Y et ere our boat touch the shore, 
 
 Once more the chorus. 
 
 May be had here, price 2s. 
 
 107 — Psalm of Life. 
 
 Words by H. W. Longfellow. Music by S. Glover. 
 Sung by Mr Walker. 
 
 Tell me not in mournful numbers, 
 
 “ Life is but an empty dream !” 
 
 For the soul is dead that slumbers. 
 
 And things are not what they seem. 
 
 Life is real 1 life is earnest ! 
 
 And the grave is not its goal : 
 
 “Dust thou art, to dust returnest,” 
 
 Was not spoken of the soul. 
 
 Not enjoyment, and not sorrow. 
 
 Is our destined end or way ; 
 
 But to act, that each to-morrow 
 Finds us further than to day. 
 
 Ar-t is long, and time is fleeting, 
 
 And our hearts, though stout and brave. 
 
 Still like muffled drums are beating 
 Funeral marches to the grave. 
 
 In the world’s broad field of battle. 
 
 In the bivouac of life. 
 
 Be not like dumb driven cattle ! 
 
 Be a hero in the strife I 
 Trust no future, howe’er pleasant ! 
 
 Let the dead past bury its dead 1 
 Act, act in the living present ; 
 
 Heart within, and God o’erhead ! 
 
 Lives of great men all remind us 
 We can make our lives sublime, 
 
 Amd, departing, leave behind us 
 Footprints on the sands of time. 
 
 Foot|irints, that perhaps another. 
 
 Sailing o’er life’s solemn main. 
 
 Some forlorn and shii)wrecked brother, 
 
 Seeing, .shall take heart .again. 
 
 Let us then be up and doing, 
 
 With a heart for any fate j 
 Still achieving, still pursuing, 
 
 Learn to labour and to wait. 
 
 May be had here, price 2s. 
 
EVANS’S SUPPER-ROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN. 
 
 •|Ag The Old Clock on the staiks. 
 
 Words by H. W. Longfellow. Music by W. H. Weiss. 
 Sung by Mr. H. Walker. 
 
 « L’eternite est un pendule, dont le balaneier dit et redit sans cesse ces 
 deJx Lts seulement dans le silence des^tombeaux : Toujours I 
 
 Jamais! Jamais ! Toujours !” 
 
 jACaUES Bridaine. 
 
 Somewhat back from the village street, 
 Stands the old-fashioned countiy seat ; 
 
 Across its antique portico, 
 
 Tall poplar trees their shadows throw ; 
 
 And from its station in the hall, 
 
 An ancient time piece says to all, 
 
 “ For ever ! never ! never ! for ever ! ” 
 
 Half-way up the stairs it stands, 
 
 And points and beckons with its hands ; 
 From its case of massive oak. 
 
 Like a monk, who under his cloak. 
 
 Crosses himself, and sighs “Alas ! ” 
 
 With sorrowful voice, to all who pass, 
 
 “ For ever ! never ! never ! for ever ! ” 
 
 There, groups of merry children play’d. 
 There, youths and dreaming maidens stray’d ; 
 O precious hours ! O golden prime ! 
 
 And affluence of love and. time ! 
 
 Even as a miser counts his gold, 
 
 Those hours the ancient time-piece told 
 
 “ For ever ! never ! never ! for ever !” 
 
 From that chamber, cloth’d in white. 
 
 The bride came forth on her wedding night ; 
 There in that silent room below, 
 
 The dead lav in his shroud of snow ; 
 
 And in the hush that followed the prayer. 
 Was heard the old clock on the stair, 
 
 “ For ever ! never ! never ! for ever ! ” 
 
 Never here, for ever there ! 
 
 Where all parting, pain, and care, 
 
 And death, and time, shall disappear ; 
 
 For ever there, but never here ! 
 
 The horologue of eternity, 
 
 Sayeth this incessantly, 
 
 “ For ever ! never ! never ! for ever !” 
 
 1Q9 Of what is the Old Man thinking? 
 
 Words by T. H. Bayley. Music by J. P. Knight. 
 
 Sung by Mr. H. Walker. 
 
 Of what is the old man thinking 
 As he leans on his oaken staff ? 
 
 From the May-day pastime shrinking. 
 
 He shares not the meriy laugh, 
 
 But the tears of the old man flow 
 As he looks on the young and gay, 
 
 And his grey head moving slow, 
 
 Keeps tiine to the air they play. ^ 
 
 The elders around are drinking. 
 
 But not one cup will he quaff ; 
 
 Of what is the old man thinking. 
 
 As he leans on his oaken staff ? 
 
 ’Tis not with a vain repining. 
 
 That the old man sheds a tear ; 
 
 ’Tis not for his strength declining, 
 
 He sighs not to linger here. 
 
 There’s a spell in the air they play. 
 
 And the old man’s eyes are dim. 
 
 For it calls up a past May-day, _ 
 
 And the dear friends lost to hini. 
 From the scene before him shrinking, 
 From the dance and the merry laugh, 
 Of their calm repose he is thinking, 
 
 As he leans on his oaken staff. 
 
 — The Old Friends at Home. 
 
 Sung by Mr. Godden. 
 
 Far down beside the green savanna, 
 
 Far, far away ; 
 
 Where all day long the red bird warbles. 
 There do the kind hearts stray. 
 
 Ah ! whersoe’er my footstep wanders, 
 Where’er I roam, 
 
 I sigh for those from whom I’m parted, 
 Sigh for the old fi-iends at h-me. 
 
 All the world seems dark and dreary, 
 Everywhere I ream ; 
 
 Oh ! how my heart grows weary. 
 
 There’s one down by the green savanna. 
 
 One that I love ; 
 
 Ah ! how that dear form haunts me. 
 
 No matter where 1 rove._ 
 
 They who have none to prize them fondly. 
 
 Know not the pain 
 
 That this poor heart must feel and suffer. 
 
 Till 1 see home again. 
 
 All the world seems dark and dreary. 
 
 No matter where I roam ; 
 
 Oh ! how my heart grows sad and weary. 
 
 Far from ithe old friends at home. > 
 
 May be had here, price 2s. 
 
 Ill — T he Maid of Kildare. 
 
 Music by 3. V. Knight. Words by J. E. Carpenter. 
 Sung by Mr. Godden. 
 
 Oh ! the Maid of Kildare, she's young and she’s fair. 
 
 And her lovers are raving about her ; 
 
 Yet not one will she bless, tho’ so many profess. 
 
 And vow there’s no living without her. 
 
 Her brow’s like the dawn, her step like the fawn. 
 
 With her beauty there’s none can compare. 
 
 For the work that she makes, and the hearts that she breaks, 
 This beautiful Maid of Kildare. 
 
 Oh ! the work that she makes, and the hearts that she breaks. 
 This beautiful Maid of Kildare. 
 
 But time will run on, and her youth will be gone. 
 
 And her beauty be withered and blighted ; 
 
 And some of these days, ’mid so many delays, 
 
 She’ll find herself lonely and slighted. 
 
 Now, her lips are red rose, and wherever she goes. 
 
 With her beauty there's none can compare. 
 
 For her eyes are so bright, you’d be dreaming each night 
 Of this beautiful Maid of Kildare. 
 
 For her eyes are so bright, you’d be dreaming each night, 
 
 Of this beautiful Maid of Kildare. 
 
 May be had here, price 2s. 
 
 112 — Annie Dear, Good Bye. 
 
 Words by E. Fitzball. ComposQd by V. Wallace. 
 
 Sung by Mr Godden. 
 
 I’m leaning o’er the gate, Annie, 
 
 ’Neath thy cottage wall; 
 
 The grey dawn breaks, the hour grows late, 
 
 I hear the trumpet’s call. 
 
 I could not brook thy cheek so pale. 
 
 The sad tear in thine eye ; 
 
 This heart which laughs at war might quail, 
 
 So Annie dear, good bye. 
 
 This heart, &c. 
 
 I’m marching with the brave, Annie, 
 
 Far from home and thee ; 
 
 To win renown, perhaps a grave, 
 
 A glorious one t’will be. 
 
 But whatsoe’er the fate 1 meet. 
 
 To conquer, or to die ; 
 
 This heart’s last throb for thee will beat. 
 
 So Annie dear, good bye. 
 
 This heart’s, &c. 
 
 May be had here, price 2s. 
 
 113 — Pretty Annie Lee. 
 
 Words F. J. Gill. Music by S. Nelson. 
 Snng by Mr. Godden. 
 
 Oh ! sweet her smile, the bonny smile. 
 
 So full of life and glee ; 
 
 Oh ! the brightest star that lights our glen. 
 
 Is pretty Annie Lee. 
 
 The blush of morn plays on her cheek. 
 
 With sunshine soft and fair ; 
 
 No frown hath ever dimm’d the bloom, 
 
 Tliat loves to circle there. 
 
 Oh ! sweet her smile, &c. 
 
 I lov’d her once, 1 love her still. 
 
 She’s all the world to me ; 
 
 Her smiles now light our cottage home. 
 
 She’s mine, sweet Annie Lee. 
 
 And should the gath’ring shades of time 
 Steal round us with decay. 
 
 I’ll heed them not, if they but leave 
 One smile other’s to play. 
 
 Oh ! sweet her smile, &c. 
 "hnni iTiprf*. •nrice 2s. 
 
28 
 
 EVANS’S SUPPER.ROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN. 
 
 114 — The King and the Miller of Dee. 
 
 From a Series of Old English Songs published in the Illustrated News. 
 Words hy Charles Mackay. The Symphonies and Accompani- 
 ment by Sir H. R. Bishop. 
 
 Sung by Mr. Bathurst. 
 
 There dwelt ca miller hale and bold, 
 
 Beside the river Dee, 
 
 He work’d and sang from morn to night, 
 
 No lark more blithe than he ; 
 
 And this the burden of his song 
 B^or ever used to be, — 
 
 “ I envy nobody, no, not I ! 
 
 And nobody envies me ! ” 
 
 “ Thou’rt wrong, my friend,” said old King Hal ; 
 
 “ Thou’rt wrong as wrong can be ,• 
 
 For could my heart be light as thine, 
 
 I’d gladly change with thee. 
 
 And tell me now what makes thee sing 
 With voice so loud and free, 
 
 While I am sad, though I’m the King, 
 
 Beside the river Dee. 
 
 The miller smiled, and doff’d his cap, 
 
 “ I earn my bread,” quoth he ; 
 
 “ I love my wife, I love my friend, 
 
 I love my children three : 
 
 I owe no penny I cannot pay, 
 
 I thank the river Dee, 
 
 That turns the mill that grinds the corn. 
 
 To feed my babes and me.” 
 
 “ Good friend,” said Hal, and sigh’d the while, 
 
 “ Farewell 1 and happy be ; 
 
 But say no more, if thou’dst bq true, 
 
 That no one envies thee : 
 
 Thy mealy cap is worth my crown. 
 
 Thy mill my kingdom’s fee ; 
 
 Such men as those are England’s boast, 
 
 O miller of the Dee ! ” 
 
 115 — Yes ! ’tis a spell. . J. F. Duggan. 
 
 Sung by I\Ir. E. L. Hime. 
 
 Yes ! ’tis a spell that o’er me cast 
 Its all-absorbing pow’r ; 
 
 And thus for ever may it last. 
 
 E’en to iny latest hour. 
 
 Let those who cannot love, forego 
 All hope of future bliss ; 
 
 In Paradise we can but know 
 Such happiness as this. 
 
 Her bright eyes now before me shine, 
 
 And laughing seem to say. 
 
 Thou lovest mo, my heart is thine, 
 
 Be happy while we may. 
 
 We will be happy, nor forego 
 All hope of future bliss ; 
 
 In Paradise we ne’er can know. 
 
 More happiness than this. 
 
 May be had here, price 2s. 
 
 116 — Father Molloy. . . Samuel Lover. 
 
 Sung by Mr. E. L. Hime. 
 
 Paddy lUcCabe was dying one day. 
 
 And B'ather Molloy he came to confess him ; 
 
 Paddy pray’d hard he would make no delay. 
 
 But forgive him his sins, and make haste for to bless him. 
 “ B'irst tell me your sins,” says B'ather Molloy, 
 
 “ For I’m thinking you’ve not been a very good boy.” 
 
 “ Oh !” says Paddy, “ so late in the evening 1 fear, 
 
 ’Twould tixmble you sucli a long story to hear; 
 
 B’or you’ve ten long miles o’er the mountains to go. 
 
 While the road I’ve to thravel’s much longer, you know. 
 
 So give us your blessiii’ and get in the .‘^addle, 
 
 To tell all my sins, my jioor brain it would addle ; 
 
 And the doctlior gave orders to keep me so quid, 
 
 ’Twould disturb me to tell all my sins if I’d try it, 
 
 And your Riv’ien<-e ha^ towld us unless we tell all, 
 
 It is worse than not makin’ confession at all ; 
 
 So I’ll say in a word, I’m no very good boy. 
 
 And therefore your blessiu’, sweet Bather Molloy.” 
 
 “ Well, I’ll read from a book,” says Father Molloy, 
 
 “ The manifold sins that humanity’s heir to ; 
 
 And when you hear those that your conscience annoy. 
 You’ll just squeeze my hand, as acknowledging thereto.” 
 Then the Father began the dark roll of iniquity. 
 
 And Paddy thereat felt his conscience grow rickety. 
 
 And he gave such a squeeze that the priest gave a roar. 
 
 “ Oh ! murther !” says Paddy, “don’t read any more. 
 
 For if you keep readin’, by all that’s thrue. 
 
 Your Riv’rence’s/fist will be soon black and blue. 
 
 Besides to be troubled my conscience begins. 
 
 That your lliv’rence should have any hand in my sins ; 
 
 So you’d better suppose I committed them all. 
 
 For whether they’re great ones, or Avhethei’ they’re small. 
 Or if they’re a dozen, or if they’re four-score. 
 
 It’s your Riv’rence knows how to absolve them asthore, 
 
 So I’ll say in a word, I’m no very good boy. 
 
 And therefore your blessin’, sweet B’ather Molloy.” 
 
 “ Well,” says Father Molloy, “ if your sins I forgive. 
 
 So you must forgive all your enemies truly ; 
 
 And promise me also that if you should live. 
 
 You’ll leave off your old tricks, and begin to live newly.” 
 “ I forgive everybody,” says Pat, with a groan, 
 
 “ Except that big vagabond Micky Malone, 
 
 And him I will murther if ever I can,” 
 
 “ Tut, tut,” says the priest, “ you’re a very bad man, 
 
 Fo-’ without your forgiveness and also I’epentance, 
 
 You’ll ne’er go to heav’n, and that is my sentence.” 
 
 “ Oh !” says Paddy McCabe, “ that’s a very hard case. 
 With your Riv’rence and heav’n I’m content to make pace; 
 But with heav’n and your Riv’rence, I wonder — Och hone! 
 You would think of comparing that blackguard Malone. 
 But since I’m hard press’d and that I must forgive, 
 
 I forgive, if I die — but, as sure as I live, 
 
 That ugly blackguard, I will surely fli'throy. 
 
 And now for your blessin’, sweet B’ather Molloy.” 
 
 117 — What will you do, Love ? Ballad, 
 
 S. Lover. 
 
 Sung by Mr. E. L. Hime. 
 
 “ What will you do, love. 
 
 When 1 am going, with white sail flowing, 
 
 The seas beyond ? 
 
 What will you do, love. 
 
 When waves divide us, and friends may chide us, 
 
 For being fond ?” 
 
 “ Tlio’ waves divide us. 
 
 And friends be chiding, in faith abiding 
 I’ll still be true ! 
 
 And I’ll pray for thee. 
 
 On the stormy ocean, with deep devotion ; 
 
 That’s \\hat I’ll do !” 
 
 “ What would you do, love. 
 
 If distant tidings, thy fond confidings 
 Should undermine ! 
 
 And I abiding 
 
 ’Neath sultry skies, should think other eyes 
 Were as bright as thine?” 
 
 “ Oh ! name it not ! 
 
 Tho’ guilt and shauie were on thy name. 
 
 I’d still be true ! 
 
 But that lieurt of thine. 
 
 Should another share it, I could not bear it ! 
 
 What would 1 do ?” 
 
 “ What would you do, love, wlieii, home returning. 
 With hopes bigh burning. 
 
 With wealth lor you. 
 
 If my bai k, that bounded o’er foreign foam. 
 
 Should be lost near home? 
 
 Ah ! what would you do?” 
 
 “ So thou Wert spared. I’d bless the morrow. 
 
 In want and sorrow. 
 
 That lelt me you. 
 
 And I’d Welcome thee from the wasting billow. 
 
 Thy heart my pillow ! 
 
 That’s what I’d do !” 
 
 May be had here, price 2s. 
 
EVANS’S SUPPER-ROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN. 
 
 29 
 
 118 — Maid of Athens. 
 
 The Poetry by Lord Byron. The Music by H. R. Allen. 
 Sung by Mr. E. L. Hime. 
 
 Maid of Athens, ere we part, 
 
 Give, oh give me back iny heart! 
 
 Or, since tiiat has left my breast, 
 
 Keep it now, and take the rest. 
 
 Hear my vow before I go, 
 
 Zoe mou, sas agapo."** ^ 
 
 By those tresses unconfined. 
 
 Wooed by each iEgeian wind ; 
 
 By those lids whose jetty fringe 
 Kiss thy soft cheek’s blooming tinge ; 
 
 By those wild eyes like the roe, 
 
 Hear my vow before I go, 
 
 Zoe mou, sas agapo.* 
 
 Maid of Athens, I am gone. 
 
 Think of me, sweet, when alone j 
 Tho’ I fly to Istamboul, 
 
 Athens holds my heart and soul. 
 
 Can I eease to love thee ? No ! 
 
 Zoe mou, sas agapo.* 
 
 * My life, my life, I love thee. 
 
 May be had here, price 2s. 
 
 119 — Bella Donna. . . Henry JR. Allen. 
 
 Sung by Mr. Bathurst. 
 
 Bella donna, wouldst thou know 
 What doth make me love thee so ? 
 
 ’Tis thine eyes, their beams revealing 
 Th’ innoeence that dwells within ; 
 
 Glances from their soft lids stealing. 
 
 All to virtues kin 1 
 
 Eyes, sweet purity’s fair throne ; 
 
 Yet, oh yet, not these alone ! 
 
 Bella donna, wouldst thou know 
 What doth make me love thee so ? 
 
 ’Tis the placid grace reposing 
 On thy beauteous lips of coral, 
 
 * Parted with a smile, disclosing 
 Two sweet rows of pearl ; 
 
 Balmy breath and silv’ry tone ; 
 
 But yet not these alone ! 
 
 Bella donna, wouldst thou know 
 What doth make me love tliee so ? 
 
 ’Tis thy breast with faith abounding ! 
 
 ’Tis a charm no tongue can tell ! 
 
 ’Tis a spirit pure surrounding 
 Thee, with virtue’s spell I 
 ’Tis thy heart, proud honour’s throne ! 
 
 Yet, oh yet, not these alone I 
 
 Bella donna, w'ouldst thou know 
 What doth make me love thee so ? 
 
 W ere my breast with anguish swelling. 
 
 Were sad tears upon my eheek, 
 
 I wmuld know the spirit’s dwelling. 
 
 Kind, and true, and meek ; 
 
 These attributes around thee thrown, 
 
 Have bound me thine alone ! 
 
 May be had here, price 2s. 
 
 120 — The Briton’s Home. National Song. 
 
 Written by Sir Edward Bulwer Lvtton, Bart.. Composed 
 
 by John Blookley. 
 
 Sung by F. Jonghmans. 
 
 Where is the Briton’s home? 
 
 Where the free step can roam, 
 
 AVhere the free sun can glow, • 
 
 A'Vhere a free air can blow% 
 
 AVhere a free ship can bear 
 Hope and strength eveiywliere, 
 
 AVave upon wave can roll — ■ 
 
 East to west — pole to pole : 
 
 Where is the Briton’s home? 
 
 Where the free stej) can roam, 
 
 AVhere the free step can roam, — 
 
 There is the Briton’s home I 
 
 Where is the Briton’s home ? 
 
 Where the brave heart can come, 
 
 AVliere labour wins a soil. 
 
 Where a stout heart can toil ; 
 
 AVhere, in the desert blown, 
 
 Any fair seed is sown ; 
 
 Where gold or fame is won. 
 
 Where never sets the sun ; 
 
 Where is the Briton’s home? 
 
 Where the free step can roam, 
 
 AVhere a brave heart can come, — 
 
 There is the Briton’s home ! 
 
 Where is the Briton’s home ? 
 
 Where the mind’s light can come. 
 
 Where our God’s holy word 
 Breaks on the savage herd ; 
 
 Where the church bell can toll, 
 
 Where the soul can comfort soul, 
 
 Where, from his angel-hall, 
 
 God sees us brothers all : 
 
 AVhere is the Briton’s home ? 
 
 AVhere a free step can roam. 
 
 Where light and freedom come, — 
 
 There is the Briton’s home ! 
 
 121 - — Madoline. 
 
 Written by S. Gill. Composed by S. Nelson. 
 Sung by Mr. Bathurst. 
 
 I dream of thee, sweet Madoline ! 
 
 So beautiful and bright ; 
 
 My mem’ry weaves each look of thine. 
 
 With ev’ry thought of light. 
 
 Thou art the mu.sic of my heart. 
 
 That whispers through each day. 
 
 That speaks thy name in ev’ry breeze. 
 
 When far from thee away. 
 
 1 dream of thee, &c. 
 
 I dream of thee, dear Madoline, 
 
 Thro’ life’s sad waste of years ; 
 
 Like Spring’s sweet breath to flow’rs that droop. 
 Thy beaming smile appears. 
 
 Whene’er the world may cast its care, 
 
 When sorrow near I see ; 
 
 I fear no shade, for in ni}^ grief 
 I turn again to thee. 
 
 I dream of thee, &c. 
 
 May be bad here, price 2s. 
 
 122 — Rock’d upon the Billow. Ballad. 
 
 Written by J. E. Carpenter. Composed and Sung 
 by E, L. Hime. 
 
 Rock’d upon the billow, 
 
 Rolling on the tide, 
 
 Ocean for our pillow, 
 
 Pleasant ’tis to glide. 
 
 AVhen the waters glisten 
 In the moon’s bright i-ay, 
 
 Sweet it is to listen 
 To the dashing spray. 
 
 Lulled by ev’ry motion 
 Of the bounding sea ; 
 
 On the merry ocean 
 Ever I would be. 
 
 Rock’d upon, &c. 
 
 AVinds around us swelling. 
 
 Still no danger near ; 
 
 Fragile though our dwelling. 
 
 Nothing need we fear. 
 
 ’Mid the breezes sounding. 
 
 List the sailor’s song ; 
 
 AVhile o’er ocean bounding. 
 
 Speeds our bark along. 
 
 O’er the waste of water 
 Like a bird she springs ; 
 
 As though heaven taught lier 
 How to spread her wings. 
 
 Rock’d upon, &c. 
 
 May be had here, price 2s. 
 
30 
 
 EVANS’S SUPPER-ROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN. 
 
 123 — Come to thy Lattice. Serenade. 
 
 Written hy J. E. Carpenter. Composed and Sung hy 
 
 Mr. E. L. Hime. 
 
 Come to thy lattice, swoet lady mine, 
 
 The moonbeams grow dim in the skies ; 
 
 The stars every one will forget how to shine. 
 
 If they see not thy bright beaming eyes. 
 
 Come while the breezes are tranquil and still, 
 
 And the flowers in silence repose ; 
 
 No sound can be heard, save the murmuring rill. 
 
 And the streamlet as onward it flows. 
 
 Come to thy lattice, sweet lady mine. 
 
 Come to thy lattice, sweet lady mine. 
 
 The sigh that now heaves my fond breast, 
 
 Would that it found a dear echo in thine, 
 
 Tho’ it broke for a moment thy rest. 
 
 The red tints of morning will soon deck the skies. 
 
 The stars have e’en now paled away, 
 
 The sun seems to wait for thy bright beaming eyes 
 To welcome the dawning of day. 
 
 Come to thy lattice, sweet lady mine. 
 
 124- The Angels of the House. Ballad. 
 
 Written hy J. E. Carpenter. Composed and Sung 
 hy Mr. E. L. Hime. 
 
 ’Tis said that ever round our path 
 The unseen angels stray. 
 
 That give us blissful dreams by night. 
 
 And guard our steps by day : 
 
 But there’s an angel in the house, 
 
 Meek, watchful, and sincere. 
 
 That whispers words of hope to us 
 When none beside are near; 
 is the one, the chosen one, 
 
 That’s link’d to us for life. 
 
 The angel of the happy home. 
 
 The faithful trusting wife. 
 
 ’Tis said that angels walk the earth. 
 
 I’m sure it must be so, 
 
 When round our path, scarce seen by us, 
 
 Such bright things come and go. 
 
 Are there not beings by our side 
 As fair as angels are, 
 
 As pure, as stainless, as the forms 
 That dwell beyond the star ? 
 
 Yes! there are angels of the earth. 
 
 Pure, innocent, and mild, 
 
 The angels of our hearts and homes. 
 
 Each lov'd and loving child. 
 
 May be had here, price 2s. 
 
 125 — Signal D’Orage. 
 
 Paroles de Ernest Aubin. Musique de Paul Henri^n. 
 
 L’onde sagite ecumante et houleuse, 
 
 Crois-moi, pecheur, garde-toi de partir : 
 
 Par le gros temps, la peche est dangereuse : 
 
 L’ocean gronde, et pourrait t’engloutir ! 
 
 “ Ah I crois ma voix fidele : 
 
 Rentre tes filets : 
 
 Laisse sans regrets 
 Dormir ta nacelle. 
 
 Nentends-tu pas les mouettes crier? 
 
 Signal d’orage, effroi du nautonnier !” 
 
 Si ce n’est pas pour moi qui te conjure ; 
 
 Si mes accents ne peuvent te toucher ; 
 
 Ecoute au moins la voix de la nature ; 
 
 Conserve un fils aux pleurs du vieux nocher ! 
 
 “ Ah I crois,” etc. 
 
 II hesftaft ! mais d’un sombre nuage 
 Qui s’abaissait lentement sur les fiots, 
 
 Au fier pecheur qu’emporte son courage, 
 
 L’ange des mers a murmure ces mots : 
 
 “ Ah I crois,” etc. 
 
 SIGNAL OF THE COMING STORM. 
 
 The wave is agitated ; list to its howlng voice ! Hear me. 
 Fisherman, leave not thy bark to-night, the ocean roars as if 
 ’twould seek a prey ; this sad night thy bark is best on shore. 
 
 O listen to my warning voice, take in thy nets, and let thy 
 bark remain. Dost thou not hear the sea- gulls scream ? ’Tis 
 the signal of the coming storm, the terror of the mariner. 
 
 If not for my entreaties, if my accents cannot move you, 
 listen, at least, to the warning voice’ of nature, and spare to 
 the old pilot a son ai!d bitter tears. 
 
 O listen, etc. 
 
 Still he hesitates, but the dark clouds descending commune 
 with the waves. Stout-hearted Fisherman, of what use is now 
 thy courage ? the God of the sea repeat, murmuringly these 
 words. 
 
 O listen, etc. 
 
 126-Si Loin ! 
 
 Paroles de Emile Barateau. Musique de Paul Henrion. 
 
 Quand, le soir, a bord, ils chantent 
 Leurs mille refrains joyeux, 
 
 Ces refrains qui les enchantent. 
 
 Me font triste et soucieux. 
 
 Moi, quand I’etoile se leve, 
 
 Toujours, Dieu m’en est temoin ! 
 
 Au lieu de chanter, je reve 
 A ma mere, helas ! si loin ! 
 
 Quand, signal d’une bataille. 
 
 Pour nous le feu va briller, 
 
 Au milieu de la mitraille, 
 
 Enfants, je suis le premier I 
 Oui, meme ardeur nous rassemble; 
 
 Pourtant, Dieu m’en est temoin I 
 Le coeur me bat, et je tremble. 
 
 Pour ma m&re, helas I si loin ! 
 
 Quand, en mer, prSs de nous passe. 
 
 Allant en France, un vaisseau. 
 
 Pour le suivre dans I’espace, 
 
 Je porte envie a I’oiseau. 
 
 Comme il va dans ma patrie, 
 
 Pleurant, Dieu m’en est temoin I 
 Je lui jette un nom et prie. 
 
 Pour ma m^re, helas I si loin I 
 
 SO FAR AWAY. 
 
 They sing in the evening, when the stars re-appear, a 
 thousand sweet airs, which make all rejoice ; but to me they 
 impart but sadness and thought, for I dream of my mother, 
 alas ! so far away. 
 
 When the signal for battle, when the fire bums around us, 
 in the midst of the horrors, my friends, I am first. Yes, the 
 same ardour unites us ; yet my heart beats and trembles, but 
 ’tis for my mother, alas ! so far away. 
 
 When at sea, bound for France, a vessel passes us; the birds 
 that follow it I even envy. 1 weep, breathe a name, and pray 
 for my mother, alas ! so far away. 
 
 May be had here, price 2s. 
 
 127 — Shake Hands and be Friends. 
 
 Sung by Mr. H. Walker. 
 
 Shake hands and be friends, our days are too few 
 To waste them in squabble and strife : 
 
 The wisest and best may foolish things do, 
 
 We make but mistakes all thro’ life. 
 
 But ’tis not my plan to moralize here, 
 
 “In wine there is tmth,” sages write. 
 
 So fill to the brim, and drink, drink to him 
 Whotacts on this maxim to-night. 
 
 Our pilgrimage here is doubtful and dark. 
 
 And as o’er life’s waters we glide. 
 
 Adversity’s storm may peril our bark. 
 
 And drift us down misery’s tide. 
 
 A friend, then, to steer when danger is near. 
 
 Fulfils tho old proverb indeed ; 
 
 So fill to the brim, and drink, drink to him 
 Who lends us a hand in our need. 
 
EVANS’S SUPPER-ROOMS, COVENT^GARDEN. 
 
 3l 
 
 128 — Es-tu la Sosur des Anges ? 
 
 Paroles de Madlle. Aricie Carrie. Musique de F. Masini. 
 
 Es-tu la Sceur des Anges trop, 
 
 Trop divine pour nous, 
 
 Toi, qui de nos louanges 
 Fuis le charme si doux ? 
 
 Et veux-tu, solitaire, 
 
 Effeuiller tes beaux jours, 
 
 En revant sur la tcrre, 
 
 Aux celestes amours ? 
 
 Sous la blanche couronne, 
 
 Que tu mets sur ton front, 
 
 Se crois voir la Madone, 
 
 Qui j’amais ne re’pond. 
 
 Que te sest d’etre belle, 
 
 La plus belle toujours, 
 
 Quand tu restes fidele, 
 
 Aux celestes amours ? 
 
 Moi, si j’ose pretendre, 
 
 Au bonheur des elus. 
 
 Ah ! c’est qu’il peut descendre, 
 
 Ici, n’en doute plus ! 
 
 N’ai-je pas, douce femme, 
 
 L’esperance toujours, 
 
 De ravir ta belle ame, 
 
 Aux celestes amours ? 
 
 ART THOU SISTER TO THE ANGELS? 
 
 Art thou Sister to the Angels, too beautiful for earth, thou 
 who shrinkest from the sweet voice of praise ? 
 
 Wilt thou, alone, bud forth thy brightest days in dreaming 
 of Love, too beautiful for earth ? 
 
 Wilt thou, &c. 
 
 With thy white crown encircling a brow more fair, thou 
 lookest like an Angel dreaming of Paradise! 
 
 What joy does beauty give thee, yet still, most fair, when 
 thou dreamest of love too beautiful for earth I 
 What joy, &e. 
 
 If 1 dare hope to partake of Angels’ bliss : oh ! believe me, 
 they sometimes visit earth. 
 
 May I not hope, loved woman, to share with thee thy dream 
 of love too beautiful for earth ! 
 
 May I not, &c. 
 
 129 - England, France, and Victory ! 
 
 On the Danube’s banks. 
 
 Swell the northern ranks, 
 
 And flames tlie sword afar; 
 
 But the Moslem might 
 Scares the Muscovite, 
 
 In his ruthless deeds of war. 
 Soon freedom at honour’s call, 
 
 Shall make oppression flee. 
 
 And gloiy shall hallow all 
 Who strike for liberty ! 
 
 In peace or w'ar, 
 
 AVho heeds the Czar, 
 
 While France is our ally ? 
 
 Let’s on, and sound the battle cry, 
 For England, France, and Victory ! 
 
 Give our hearts and hands 
 To tlie gallant bands. 
 
 Who join us in tire cause 
 To protect the brave 
 Who their homes would save, 
 
 Their countiy, creed, and laws. 
 The tyrant may mock at fears, . 
 
 Ami scorn a people’s right ; ‘ 
 
 Bat orphans’ and widows’ tears 
 His slumbers shall affright. 
 
 I\v sea and land, 
 
 At heaven’s command, 
 
 AVe come ! Fly, Russia ! fly ! 
 
 Let’s on, and sound the battle cry. 
 For England, France, and Victory! 
 
 130 — Philip the Falconer. 
 
 Sung by Mr. Bathurst. 
 
 Young Philip the falconer’s up with the day. 
 
 With his merlin on his arm ; 
 
 And down the mill-meadows has taken his way. 
 
 To hawk — and pray where’s the harm ? 
 
 Philip is staRvart, and Philip is } oung. 
 
 And Philip, they say, has a musical tongue ; 
 
 The miller’s young sister is fresh and is fair, 
 
 And Philip he always is hawking there I 
 For he vows and declares, believe it or not. 
 
 There is not in the kingdom for her’ns such a spot; 
 
 And falcons, they say, to fly true to t.-’iCir prey, 
 
 Should be trained in the morning early. 
 
 The miller’s to market to buy him some com. 
 
 For work it should never stand still ; 
 
 A maiden is loitering under the thorn. 
 
 In the meadow below the mill ; 
 
 And Philip, grown tired of a bachelor’s life. 
 
 Thinks the miller’s young sister would make a good wife ; 
 And so comes a whisper, and so comes a smile. 
 
 And then a long leave-taking over the stile. 
 
 Oh, when he returns from market, I guess, 
 
 The miller will find he’s a sister the less. 
 
 For maidens, they say, do not always say “ nay ” 
 
 AVhen they’re ask’d in the morning early. 
 
 May be had here, price 2s, 
 
 131 — Stances a L’Eternite ! 
 
 Paroles de Deslandes. Musiqm de Dels arte. 
 
 Homme cheri de I’aveugle fortune, 
 
 Tu crois jouir de ces biens pour toujours ! 
 
 Du malheureux la plainte t’importune; 
 
 Ton coeur se ferme a ses tristes discours ! 
 
 Riche imprudent, va, ton coeur est deglace : 
 
 Tu ne connais jamais la Charite ; 
 
 Mais songes-y, dans ce monde tout passe : 
 
 Riche imprudent, songe a I’Eternite! 
 
 Vois ce vieillard, quand la valse legere 
 Fuit tonrbillonne au soleil des flambeaux ; 
 
 11 meurt dc faim ; le fioid et la mis^re 
 Gercent ses bras sous la bure en lauibeaux 1 
 Riche imprudent, &c. 
 
 Lejeune enfant, assis sur une tombe, 
 
 Offfe k I’aumone une tremblante main : 
 
 Et de tes doigts pas un denier ne tombe : 
 
 Sa m&re est morte : il sera mort demain ! 
 
 Riche imprudent, &c. 
 
 ETERNITY I 
 
 Man, spoiled child of blind Fortune, thou thinkestto enjoy 
 her smiles for ever; Misery calls on thee for aid, but thy 
 heart is closed to her voice. 
 
 Vain man, go; thy heart is made of stone, thou knoweet 
 not the reward of sweet charity ; but, think upon it ! All in 
 this world passes away. A^ain man, think of eternity ! 
 
 Vain man, &c. 
 
 AVhen the dance and song are echoing in the hall, behold 
 the old man dying of hunger. Cold and want twdne their 
 arms around the tomb of nusery. 
 
 Vain man, &c. 
 
 The young child offers his trembling hand for aid, leaning 
 his weary form upon a new-made grave, but thy heart 
 respond not; his mother is dead, and to-morrow he too will 
 sleep in peace. 
 
 Vain man, Ac. 
 
32 
 
 EVANS’S SUPPER-ROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN. 
 
 132 — Old Englan-d is our Home. 
 
 Written hy Mary Howitt. Composed hy J. E. Loder. 
 Sung by Mr. Bathurst. 
 
 Old England is our home, and Englishmen are we, 
 
 Our tongue is known in ev’ry clime, our flag in ev’iy sea. 
 
 We will not say that we alone the right of freedom know ; 
 There’s many a land that’s free beside, but England made it so 
 The thunder of her battle-ship was heard on many a shore, 
 But her healing words of peace are heard above the cannon’s 
 roar. 
 
 Then let us shout for England, the world-beloved England : 
 Let every true man shout with us, hurrah ! hurrah ! tor 
 England ! 
 
 IMothers and wives of England be to your birthright true. 
 
 The welfare of the peopled earth is giv’n by heaven to you. 
 Ye bear no common sons,— the child who on your breast doth lie, 
 Though born within a peasant’s shed, is meant for doings high ; 
 And let each child of England rejoice that it has birth. 
 
 For who is born of English blood is pow’rful on the earth ! 
 Then let us shout for England, and the great, good hearts of 
 England ; 
 
 Let wives and children shout Avith us, hurrah ! hurrah ! for 
 England ! 
 
 May be had here, price 2s. 
 
 133 — Far down a valley lonely. 
 
 Words by James Bruton. Music hy H. R. Allen. 
 
 Sung by Mr. Bathurst. 
 
 Far down a valley lonely, 
 
 Just such as poets deem 
 May be made for lovers only, 
 
 When but of love they dream ; 
 
 There came a youth and maiden, 
 
 When snow was on the ground. 
 
 And ev’ry tree was laden 
 
 W.th glitt’ring frost-pearls round. 
 
 Said he “By all alove thee. 
 
 My heart no change can know ! ” 
 
 These words, “ I swear to love thee,” 
 
 He traced upon the snow. 
 
 Heigho ! heigho ! heigho ! 
 
 It was ever so ; 
 
 Lovers’ words are ever 
 Ever traced in snow. 
 
 The snow he wrote on, purer 
 Was not than her fair breast ; 
 
 But the words were deeper, surer. 
 
 Upon her heart imprest. 
 
 The maiden soon did languish, 
 
 To find her lover flown ; 
 
 And on in bitter anguish 
 She pined, and wept alone. 
 
 The words, where he had traced them, 
 
 “ I swear to love thee,” Lo ! 
 
 A month had all effaced them. 
 
 The words went with the snow. 
 
 Heigho ! &c. 
 
 May be had here, price 2s. 
 
 134 - A Tribute to the King of Sardinia. 
 
 Words hy T. Oltphant, Esq. Composed hy E. L. Hime. 
 
 Sardinia’s King, thou’rt welcome 
 To Albion’s sea-girt land ; 
 
 Our Queen and country greet thee, 
 
 United heart and hand. 
 
 AVhat though in wint’ry mantle 
 Enshrouded be our i.sle. 
 
 Tine friendship, inirlh, and music. 
 
 Can make c’cu 'Winter smile. 
 
 While other monarchs falter 
 With craven doubts or fears, 
 
 To England’s call responding. 
 
 Thy gallant band appears. 
 
 For liberty and freedom 
 The war-flag is unfurled, 
 
 Sardinia, France, and England, 
 
 Against the despot world. 
 
 135 To SIGH, YET PEEL NO PAIN. BaLLAD. 
 
 J. Theodore Trehell, m.s. 
 
 To sigh yet feel no pain. 
 
 To sigh, yet scarce know why. 
 
 To sport an hour with beauty’s chain, 
 
 Then throw it idly by ; 
 
 To kneel lo many a shrine, 
 
 Yet lay the heart on none : 
 
 To think all other channs divine 
 But those we just have won ; 
 
 This is love, careless love. 
 
 Such as blindeth hearts that’s sore. 
 
 To keep one sacred flame. 
 
 Through life imchill’d, unmov’d ; 
 
 To love in wintiy age the same 
 As first in youth we lov’d ; 
 
 To feel that we adore 
 
 With such refin’d excess. 
 
 That though the heart would break with more. 
 
 We cannot love the less ; 
 
 This is love, faithful love, 
 
 Such as saints might feel above. 
 
 136 -Far away, where angels dwell. Romance. 
 
 Words hy George Linley. Music hy Jacques Blumenthal. 
 
 At the door of a sad abode, for her mother a child was 
 wailing, 
 
 “ Begone,” said a voice, stern and rude, “ thy pray’rs are un- 
 availing.” 
 
 “I crave to see my mother dear,” replies the child with heart 
 nigh breaking ; 
 
 When one who saw her, pity taking, thus spake, her drooping 
 soul to cheer: 
 
 “Calm thy sorrow! comfort borrow! she is gone, who lov’d 
 thee well. Far awa}" where angels dwell. 
 
 Orphan lone ! thy mother’s gone, far away where angels 
 dwell.” 
 
 She asks all who round her throng, for the way that she must 
 journey ; 
 
 They say, that “ the voyage is long, that the road is rough 
 and thorny.” 
 
 But Hope ev’ry step attends ; a holy zeal and passion fires her 
 
 With strength and courage. Faith inspires her, and Charity 
 assistance lends. 
 
 As she wanders, oft she ponders on her mother lov’d so well, 
 Fai' away where angels dwell. 
 
 Scarce she grieves, for she believes soon she’ll be where 
 angels dwell. 
 
 One night, faint from hunger and fear, she sunk on a plain 
 cold and arid, 
 
 A kind shcjiherd, wandering near, the child to a convent 
 carried ; 
 
 The Sisters haste to aid her, fly too late ! she sleeps to waken 
 never ; 
 
 And death, that two fond hearts could sever, reunitelh them 
 on high. 
 
 Hcav’n hath call’d her near her mother, near that mother 
 lov’d so well, Far away where angels dwell. 
 
 Orphan blest! Oh calm thou’lt rest! far away where angels 
 dwell. 
 
 May be had here, price 2s. 
 
 J. AlpueD Novi:lLo, rrintcr, Dcail Street, Soho, i.,ondou. 
 
ODDS AND ENDS ABOUT COVENT CtARDEN. 
 
 
 
 “ CovENT Garden, properly Convent Garden, and so called from having 
 been originally the garden of the Abbey at Westminster. 
 
 ‘‘ It is so described in an Inquis. after the deceaseofone Robert Reed, ofthe parish 
 of St. Martin-in-the Fields, Gent., (taken on 2 An^ud, 9 Klizabeth), who is thereby 
 stated to have held of the Dean and Chapter of the Colleqiate Church of Westminster, 
 some messuages with gardens thereto,' scituantur inter regiam viam dueentem de Char- 
 inge Crosse usque Dondinum ex parte Australi et gardinum nuper partitions .Monasterio 
 Sancti Petri Westmonasteriensis vocatum le Covent Garden ex (larte boiiali,et abuttant 
 super terrain monasterii de Abingdon versus occidens.’ Then by an Inquis. taken after 
 the decease of Francis, Earl of Bedford, on 29 Deer., 28 Eliz., it was found that he held 
 1. acras terre et pasture, cum pertinentiis vocat ‘ The Cnvent Garden jacentes in parochia 
 Sci Martini in campis juxta Charinge Crosse in Com’ Midd’ ac vii acras terre et pasture 
 •vocat’ The lon^re acre adjacentes prope Covent Garden in parochia predicta.’ ” — T. Edlync 
 Tomtins, (SIS. communication.) 
 
 “ This Covent Garden and the lands belonging to it were first granted by Edward IV. 
 to his uncle the Duke of Somerset ; which upon his attainder came back to the Crown 
 And then in the month of .May, 15.'52, there was a patent granted to John Earl of Bed- 
 ford, ofCovent Garden, lying in tho parish of St. Martin’s in the FielcLs, next Charing 
 Cross, with seven acres called Long Acre, of the yearly value of ^6 tls. 6d., parcel of 
 the possessions of the late Duke of Somerset, To have to him and his heirs, to be 
 held in Soccage and not in Capite.”— Strype, B. vi., p. 88. 
 
 In the Archaelogia (vol. xxx., p. 49i) is a copy of a lease from the Earl 
 of Bedford to Sir William Cecil, dated Sept. 7tli, 1570, of “all that his 
 
 porcyon or percell of grounde lyengt! in the East Ende, and being pcrcel 
 of tlie Enclosure or Pasture comtnunely c.illed Covent Garden, scituate 
 in Westin’, which porcyon the said Sr Willin Cecill doeth and of late 
 ye ires hath occupied at the sulferaunee of the said Earl, and hath bene 
 and ys now dyvyedeJ from the rest of the said enclosure called Covent 
 Garden, on the west syde of the said porcyon or p'cell nowe deinysed wth 
 certain Stulpes ami Ilayles of Wood, auii is tensed wth a wall of mudde 
 or earth on the East next vnto the Comune highwaye that leadeth from 
 Stronde to St. Giles in the fyeldes, and on the west end towardes the 
 South is feused wtli the Orchard wall of the said Sr Willm Cecyll, and on 
 the South eml with a certayne tense w.ill of mudde or earth, beinge 
 therbye devyeded from certaine Gardens belonging to the lime called 
 Whyte Heart (see Hart Street), and other tenementes scituate in the high 
 streate of Westin’ comunly called the Stronde.’’ The Sir Willi.im Cecil 
 ofthe lease was the great Lord Buighley. 
 
 In 16’27, only two people were rated to the poor of the parish of the St. 
 Martin’s-in-the Fields under the heud“Covcnt Garden.” 
 
 Covent Garden, particularly so called, is the largo and well-proportioned 
 square ill wliich the M’lrket stands; ivith the Arcade or Piazza on the 
 north and north-east side, Tavistock-row on the south, and the church or 
 St. Paul's, Covent Garden, on the west. The s<iuare was formed (cir^ . 
 
 COVENT GARDEN MARE.ET— 1760* 
 
 163p at the expense of Francis, Earl of Bedford, (d. 1641), and from the 
 designs of Inigo Jones,t (d. 1652), though never completed or even per- 
 haps designed in full. The Arcade or x iazza ran along tl'.e whole ofthe 
 north and east side of the square ; the church completed the west; and 
 the south was girt by the wall of Bedford House garden and a grove or 
 “ .small grotto of trees most pleasant in the summer season,”^ and under 
 which the first market was originally held. In the centre of the square 
 was a column surmounted by a dial, (but this was subsequent to Inigo’s 
 time II), and tlie whole area was laid with gravel, and dry and well kept. 
 The scene of Dryden's Sir Martin Mai’- All is laid in this once fashionable 
 quarter of the town, and the allusions to the square, the church, and the 
 Piazza, are of constant occurrence in the dramas ofthe age of Charles II, 
 and Queen Avme.”— Cunning Jeam’s Handbook of London. 
 
 “ Thi? town two bargains has not worth one farthing, 
 
 A Smithfield horse — and wife of Covent Garden.” 
 
 Epilogue to Dtyden’s Limherham. 
 
 '‘Come do not blaspheme this ma.squerading age, like an ill-bred city dame whoso lius 
 band is half broke by living in Covent <jnrden'.’’—}Vuchertev, the Gentleman Danciiia- 
 A/aj/fr, 4to, 1673. e. 
 
 “ ’Slife ! I'l! do what I please. — A great business to go to Covent G.arden Square in a 
 hackney coach, and take a turn witli a friend 1 If I had gone to Knightsbridge or to Chel- 
 sea or to Spring Garden, or Barn Elms, with a man alone — something might have been 
 said I ’’—Congre tie’s- “ Love for Love,'’ 4to, 1C95. 
 
 * The above print is copied from one drav/n and engraved by T. Bowler and published 
 by Taylor and Bennet, and contains three objects of importance, viz. the Stocks, the 
 Obelisk and tlie part of the little Piazzas tliat was burnt. It also shows that part of the 
 Garden in which the flowers were .sold. 
 
 1 'They show, , at Wilton, Inigo’s coloured designs for the Piazza ofCovent Garden, 
 and the Square of Lincoln’s Inn. 
 
 J Strype B. vi. p. 89 
 
 y ICG8, Dec. 7. Received of the Right Honourable the Earle of Bed- £ s, cl. 
 ford, as a gratuity towards the erecting of ye Co- 
 lumn 20 0 0 
 
 Ditto. Received ofthe Honourable Sr Charles Cottercll, Mas. 
 
 ter of the Ceremony.s, as agift towards the said Co- 
 lumn 10 0 0 
 
 1CC9. April, 29. Received from the Right Honourable Lord Denzill 
 Holies, as apre.,ent towards the erectingof the afore- 
 said Column .moo 
 
 For Drawing a Modell ofthe Column to be presented 
 to the Vestry 
 
 27 Nov. 1668. 
 8 Dec. 1668. 
 
 To Mr. Wainwright for the 4 Gnoment 
 
 0 10 
 0 
 
 Chuichwurdcns’ Account of St. Paul's Covent Garden, 
 
 •' M’here Covent Garden’s famous temple standi) ’ , ; 
 
 That boasts the work of Jones’ immortal hands, 
 
 Columns with plain magnificence appear. 
 
 And graceful porches lead along the sejuare ; ' ^ 
 
 Here oft my course I bend, w hen lo ! from far 
 I spy the furies of the foot-ball war: 
 
 The ’prentice quits his shop to join the crew, 
 
 Increasing crowds the flying game pursue. 
 
 O whither shall I run ? the throng draws nigh : 
 
 The ball now skims the street, now soars on high ; 
 
 The dextrous glazier strong returns the bound, 
 
 And jingling sashes on the pent-house sound.” — Gaifs, Trivia. 
 
 Old Plans of Covent Garden.— As:gai’s, 1578 ; Norclan’sl593; plan 
 by Hollar. Charles 1st.; Mr. Crotvles, plan, Charles 2ucl, 1690; Stowes 
 1755; St Martin’s plan, 1799. 
 
 16 August, 1641.] — Indenture recitin^ that Francis, late Earl of Bed- 
 ford, by Indres. of Lease and Release bearing date 28 April, 1640 the 
 Release being sex-partite made between Francis, late Earl of Bedford, 1st 
 part: William, then Earl of Bedfor.l, 2nd part : Francis Russell, Esq. 3rd 
 part: John Russell, Esq. 4th part: Edward Russell, Esq. 5th part: and Sir 
 John Strangewaies, Knt. John Glauville, Serjreant-at-iaw, and William 
 Louthall, Esqrs. 6th part : For the considerations therein mentioned did 
 grant release and confirm to said Strangewaies, Glanville, and Louthall, 
 (the Speaker) to hold to said Strangewaies, Glanville, and Louthall and 
 their heirs to uses therin mentioned. 
 
 All that piece of ground commonly called Covent Garden and Long 
 Acre as one of them, lying in or near King .Street, in tho Parish of Sr-. 
 Martin-in-the- Fields, then in the tenure of Tliomas Constable, containing 
 in breadtli from a mess'aage lately built by Hugh Pope on the East side lo 
 a piece of ground letten to .John Anstie, Esq. on the West wherein a mes- 
 suage is built in occupation of said Anstie, 26 feet of assize, and in length 
 or deptli from the said Strand to the South, to the brick wall of CoveiH, 
 Garden on the North, 180 feet 3 inches. 
 
 Sir Christopher Wren’s plan for Re-building London.— “ Lastly 
 he proposed to build all the houses uniform, and supported on a piazz.a 
 like that of Covent Garden.”— See “A Critical lieview of the Fublick 
 Buildings,'^ 4 Page 4, Pub. 1734. 
 
 “ Covent Garden would have been, beyond dispute, one of the finest 
 squares in the universe, if finished oil the plan that Inigo Jones first de- 
 signed for it ; but even this was neglected too, and if he deserves the prai; e 
 of the design, we very justly incur the censure for w.antiiig spirit to put it 
 in execution. The piazza is grand and noble, and the super-structure it 
 supports, light and elegant. The market in the middle may be .a matter 
 of much pi’otit to the ground landlord, for what I can tell, but 1 am sure 
 ’tis a great nuisance with respect to the beauty and vegularity of the 
 
i 
 
 EVANS'S SUPPER-ROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN 
 
 sqatiro, and in a areat EHoasur'J defeats the very intent it was first calcu- 
 lated to serve ’’—See A Critical Review of the Publick Baiidic^s, iac., 
 nace 2.9, pub, lf34. , , _ . 
 
 Nora.— Mr. Grignon informed me, April 15, 1815. thatiVit ^ate Marquis 
 of Tavistock (this Duke’s father) informed him that the south side of 
 Covent Garden Piazza was not erected, as vpas intended, in consequence 
 of his ancestor being fined very heavily in the Star Chamber for com- 
 mencing building the other parts without a licence, and which vexed him 
 so much that he would not proceed. 
 
 EXTRACTS FROM MR. ARNOLD’S MANUSCRIPT JOURNAL 
 OF THE HOUSE OF COMMONS. 
 
 23rd of Au'^ust, 1643.—“ Resolved, &c. That the E. of Bedford be dis- 
 charged of the Commission of Lieutenancy in the County of Somerset 
 and Devon, an that the LL. be moved to join herein. 
 
 “Resolved.’ That Sir William Waller shall take poesesEson of the E. 
 of Bedford’s house in the Strand, and there inhabit with his family tiii 
 this House takes further order.” , , 
 
 16th September, 1643.— “Ordered. That the goods of the E. of Bed- 
 ford that are lately seized at Bedford House, and the trunks and other 
 <^oods of his seized at Mr. Trenchard’s house, shall be forthwith sold and 
 dispo.sed of by the Committee of Sequestrations for Westminster, for the 
 use of the Commonwealth, for the raicing of monies for the Lord Fairfax ; 
 
 and it is further , ~ i n u 
 
 Ordered, That £500 of the proceed of the said goods to be sold shall be 
 deoosited in the hand of Mr. Trc nchard, and he not to dispose of it with- 
 out further order from this House, and the residue to be paid to Mr. 
 ViThite, agent for my Lord Fairfax.” , u t> i .u . ht 
 
 23th April, 1646 .— BbA 3 s Horse—” Orchred, by the Board, that Mr. 
 Carter shall be saved harmless for buying the brass horse for the use of 
 Covent Garden. 
 
 “ Ordered, That the brass horse be speedily sold for the best advan- 
 tage, that the post may not be damnified, and Mr. Carter is desired to 
 make sale thereof, ^ . 
 
 This alludes to the statue of King Charles at Charing Cross. T am in- 
 formed that it was cast in the churchyard at the b.aok of Mr. Daniel’s 
 house in King-street, and that much of its present supposed history is 
 fabulous. Of this more anon. , , . r u- tt 
 
 20th December, 1647.—“ Ordered, That the members of this House 
 livin® in Covent Garden, do bring in an additional! ordinance for the parish 
 of Covent Garden for the levying of the eume of moneys decreed in Chan- 
 cery to be paid by that pari.sh to Martin’s parish, and for such other things 
 ss shall be necessary for the better regulating the said parish of Covent 
 Garden, and M. Trenchard and M. Tate are appointed to take care 
 
 ^*i7th*July, 1663, — ” This day being appointed for the auditing, &c., Mr. 
 Tomlinson proposed to erect a Dorick column of polished marble for the 
 support of a quadrangular djall in the midst of the railes where now the 
 
 August 29 1669.— “Upon consideration had of his many signal services 
 that the Honourable Sir John Baber hath done this parish from time to 
 t'me it vras thought good to engrave his coat of armes in one of the 
 shields belonging to ye said column as a perpetual acknowledgment of our 
 <rrati'ude, and do refuse any present from him that should be tendered.” 
 ° ” The Duke of Bedford gave the parish £20 towards its erection.” 
 
 ■ “ 'The Right Honourable the Lord Denzill Hollis gave £10.” 
 
 03rd June 1846.— “ Memorandum that an order of the 21sl February, 
 lfT3. coneyrninge the ahopp built in the portigoo be removed and read 
 
 before the Board.” . . 
 
 “And as shop keepers in villages are a very great injury to market 
 towns in the countrey, even so are they to the City of London, that have 
 (since the fire) set up in Covent Garden, and on that side of the City; by 
 which means many of the houses and shops are not tenanted, and those 
 wh’ch are, the rents of them are exceedingly fallen, and all this is for want 
 of the trade that they had formerly. , . , . ^ . 
 
 “ Now considering what a renowned city that is, both lor government, 
 for trade and for stately edifices, that it ’s thought there is not the like in 
 the whole world ; and considering the great charge that they have been at 
 in the rebuilding of it, it is very requisite that they should be encouraged 
 as much as may lie, and that their trade should not be taken away by such 
 ways and means as these are. Now there are some trades whose coramo- 
 (ITies are such that it would be very little more trouble for any one to go 
 into the City to buy them, than to go to Covent Garden, such as woollen 
 or linen cloth, stuffs, or hanging for rooms, or plate, or the like ; if then 
 aM such trades were prohibited from setting up •n that side of the City ; 
 it would presently fill their shops and houses with people, and their City 
 with trade "See “ ‘ The Comple.at Tradesmen,’ page 3! . Printed for John 
 Dunton, at the Black Raven, over against the Stocks-Market, 1684, 
 
 ^ This day being appointed for the auditing of several parochial 
 
 accounts, and some of them being not ready, Mr. Tomlinson did exate leave 
 before they departed to acquaint them that he and his gentlemen had a de- 
 sire toeroGt<a Doricke columne of polished marble, for the support of a 
 Quadrangular dyall in the midst of the railes where now the trees are, it 
 being very improbable that they should ever come to any maturity ; which 
 he then, demonstrated by several arguments— urging them them being 
 placed there with much indignation— they not at all becoming the aspect 
 of such a place, declaring that he had already communicated it to the 
 Earl of Bedford, proprietor of the said, and most of liie nobility and 
 gentry. 
 
 Itlarch 1669 March ISth. To Mr. Browne, ye racthematiciaa, for haa 
 
 pains about the dyall. 
 
 20. To Mr. Dansce, for paiuting and guilding ye Dyall . . £4 0 0 
 
 'Fo the work-men at ye taking downe of j'e scaffold .. 0 2 6 
 20 To Mr. Browne, for his dayes attendance at yc finish- 
 ing of ye Dyall .. .. •• ..050 
 
 1CC9.— April 12. Paid to Mr. Cleare. Carver to yc City, for 
 
 an Eagle to adorne the cover of ye font .. .. 1 15 0 
 
 1277.— Paid for the Dyall in ye Churchyard: April ICth. 
 
 “ High in the midst of this most happy hand, 
 
 A well-built marble pyramid dbes stand; 
 
 By which spectators know the time 0’ th’ day 
 From beams reflecting of the solar ray ; 
 
 Its basis with ascending steps is grac’d. 
 
 Around whose area cleanly matrons plac’d. 
 
 Vend their most wholesome food, by Nature goad, 
 
 To chear the spirits and enrich the blood.” 
 
 “ Upon the steps of the cross there set several old women, who sell 
 hot rice milk and barly broth.”— The Humours of Covent Garden, 
 1738. 
 
 Column formerly standing in the centre of Covent Garden Market— 
 This column was of the Corinthian order, and fiuted. It stood on a 
 pedestal, which was raised npon six steps of black marble. The capital 
 was very much enriched; it supported a square stone, three sides of 
 which served as sun dials. Upon this stone stood* globe, supported by 
 four scrolls. Eemoved in June, 1790. 
 
 PiAZIA. — Built 1646. 
 
 J^irst Inhabitants. 
 
 It will be found by the fcllowioa' names that in the reign of Charles 
 !., and during tlie Interregnum, Jovent Garden consisted of persoas 
 of the highest rank in the kingdom. 
 
 P z Azz A — N or th. west. 
 
 1646. — Sir Henry Vane. 
 
 1647. — Sir Arthur Ingram. 
 
 „ Sir Thos. Trenchard. 
 
 North. 
 
 „ Gilbert Meese. 
 
 „ Robert Walton, Esq. 
 
 „ Earl of Peterborough (now 
 
 Robins’). 
 
 „ Colonel Thorpe. 
 
 „ Mrs. Neale. 
 
 „ Sir Edmund Pye. 
 
 „ Denzill Hollis, Esq. 
 
 „ Countess of Peterborough. 
 
 „ Sir John Witt wrong. 
 
 „ The Lord Wilmot. 
 
 „ Sir William UdalL 
 
 „ Mrs. HulberL 
 
 „ Earl of Susses. 
 
 „ Mrs. Doddington. 
 
 „ Earl of Peterborough. 
 
 „ Countess of PetCtboro’d^L 
 (now Evans') 
 
 „ Sir John Witttu?ong. 
 
 „ Lord Wilmctt. 
 
 „ Sir Wm. tJdall, 
 
 „ Earl of Essex. 
 
 1653 The Lady Caveley. 
 
 „ Sir Lyon Talmash. 
 
 (Query) Sir David W— 
 
 1653.— Sir Jno. Lucas. 
 
 „ Sir Edmund Pyc. 
 
 (Query) 
 
 (Q^ery) The Hon. Lord Russell. 
 
 1654 Marquis of Winchester. 
 
 1561, — The Lord Gerrard. 
 
 ,, The Lady Holbourne. 
 Piazza. 
 
 lfl6I.-~ Lord Lucas. 
 
 „ Sir Edward Pyo. 
 
 ,, Sir Edward Fford. 
 
 ,, Sir Robert Bowles 
 
 „ Earl of Meate. 
 
 „ The Lady Anger. 
 
 „ Earl of Sussex. 
 
 „ The Lady Cranboura®. 
 
 1S55.— Mr. Peter Lilly, 
 t, Sir Kenolme Digby. 
 
 ,, Lord BrunkTii. 
 
 Noitu. 
 
 If, 30,— Sir Tlios. Draper. 
 
 ,, Right Hon. Loni Hollis 
 
 ,, Sir Richard Temple. 
 
 „ Sir Thos. Orby. 
 
 Piazza. 
 
 1090 — The Rt. Hon. ^ovd Peters. 
 North. 
 
 „ Sir VVilliam Waller. 
 
 North-west. 
 
 „ The Hon. Col. Russell. 
 
 ,, The Hon Lady Pye. 
 
 ,, Sir Charles Cotterel. 
 
 „ Godfrey Kneller, Esq. 
 
 Hxnbi3Tt.\ Stbbet. 
 
 „ Earl of Bedford. 
 
 „ Lady Mary Wotton, 
 
 „ W m. Lord Munson. 
 
 Sir Tho. Yarbrow and Lady in 
 
 1653.— Sir Humphrie Tracey. 
 
 „ The Hon. Lord Savage. 
 
 13th July, 1683.— “As I was visiting 
 Covent Garden, the astonishing newes was brought to us of the Earle or 
 Essex having cut his throat,” kc.—See Memoirs of Evelyn, 1 vol., 
 
 ^ 1695.— “’The conspirators met and held their con.sultations at Cpn. 
 Porter’s Lodgins, Norfolk-street, the Globe tavern, Hatton Garden, the 
 Nag’s Head in St. James -street, Covent Garden, now Cock in Bow, the Old 
 GrifSa in Holborn, the Sun tavern in tba Strand, but the place where Sir 
 Geo. Barclay frequented, and whither many of the conspiratores came to 
 receive orders from him was the Piazza in Covent G.arden.” 
 
 Friday the 21st of February, in the evening, the conspirators bo- 
 longing to Sir G. B. party met at the Two Black Posts in .Maiden-lane. 
 —History of England, Universal Mo^. 
 
 1693.— Last night a review was made of some of tho Foot Guan.s in 
 Covent Garden, in order to make a detachment for New Market, and we 
 hear the Right Honourable the E. of Macclesfield’s Regiment will attend 
 His Majesty there.— See No. 442 of The Post Mail. 
 
 “ Sir Godfrey Kneller’s kindness to Dr. Radcliffe — as to toe permission 
 to have a door made through the wall— is known to most people. The 
 Doctor’s house was in Bow-street. . . c- 
 
 In the Great Piazza in Covent Garden, the great house that bir 
 Godfrey Kneller lived in, with a very good back house and vaults, a very 
 large garden and coach house and stables into Hart-street, is to bo leit, all 
 to'^ether or in parts, by lease or other ways, and ready furnished or unfar- 
 nilhed, being all new fitted up. There is a large room in the fore house 
 42 feet long, 19 feet broad, and 12 feet high. Th? garden adjoyning to the 
 back-houCCis about l.sO feet long and 40 feet broad. Inquire at the said 
 
 house.— See The Daily Courant, for May, 1714 , v, at 
 
 Note— ‘‘On the 28th of April, 1815, I was introduced by Mr h.o'm, 
 of the Westminster Fire Office, to Mr. Beaumont, a pleasant Old geatL«»- 
 
 B. shewed me a large oblon.g boo'u containing plans of ad the 
 present houses in Covent Garden parish, drawn by a person recommended 
 to the ofSce by Mr. Holland, architect. j . • u 
 
 “ He also -hewed me a curiou.s plan (a dr.awing upon four boards whn h 
 fold up) of the parish of Covent Garden, drawn by John Lacy, 1673, in 
 which every house is minutely described with the name of every occupier 
 written upon it The plan of the church is gilt, so is the parsonage house 
 in James. street. In this plan the different public houses are dcsignau-d 
 by the sign drawn before it. Tho Rose at the comer of Bndees- street, 
 the Windmill between Vinegar-yard and Russell-coort. The >ac s 
 Head, in James’s-street. The Cress Keys, the corner of Hvnnelte- 
 
 •The ho ise tt.at was afterw2ids the Bedford Arms wai then in belug, 
 
EVANS’S SUPPER-ROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN. 
 
 3 
 
 and Lad the name of Mr. Hope as the occupier. There was them a pas- 
 sage from it as is now into Chandos-street. That which was afterwards 
 the Shakespear tavern with a great portion of the ground nearest the 
 house in the North Piazza, as far as Hart-street, has the name of Sir 
 Edward Ford. The next house, which was afterwards the Bedford Coffee 
 House, wais inhabited by Lord Newport, who also held the ground behind 
 considerably north, since occupied by the other part of the theatre, near 
 Bow-street and Hart street. The next house to Lord Newport s, where 
 the Red Lyon now stands, was Mr. Gape’s. „ , t,- 
 
 « The next to Sir Edward Ford’s, towards the west of the North Piazza, 
 was then Mr, Vezey’s. The next was Mr. Lilly’s. The next, which was 
 then the fourth-house from James-street, was the Duchess Dudley’s. Sir 
 John Baber’s is the house next to the grand hotel (west); the lower part, 
 that is to say the parlours, is now a school. 
 
 “ This plan of the Duke of Bedford’s is 400 feet, 46 to an inch. 
 
 A few days ago the Right Hon. the Lady Worthley Montague set out 
 from her house in Covent Garden for the Bath . — See The Daily Adver- 
 tiser for June lOlh, 1731. . . .r. • L « 
 
 1.— Is Covent Garden entirely surrounded by St. Martin’s Parish ?— 
 
 Entirely. . , 
 
 2. — It is said that there was a chapel of ease to St. Martin s Church, 
 situated in Russell Court, Covent Garden, in the Reign of Queen Anne. 
 When was it erected or pulled down? — There was such a chapel; 
 it adjoined the burial ground belonging bo the parish of St. 
 Mary-le-Strand : it was pulled down about sixty years ago, on 
 account of its dilapidated state and the smallness of the congrega- 
 tion. In Patterson’s “ Pietas Londonenses” (printed in 1714) this chapel 
 is said to have “been erected for Dr. Thomas Manton, to which Mr. 
 Daniel Burgess succeeded in 1687 ; who, after twenty years’ possession, 
 descried it in 1706 ; after which it was repaired by the gentlemen of her 
 Majesty’s Play House and others in tl e court, Drury Lone, and places 
 adjacent, who contributed largely therctc, for whose use it was then put 
 into good order, and so continues a chapel of ease to the populous parish 
 of St. Martin-in-the-Fields. 
 
 3. — Had this chapel anything to do with the grave-yard in Russell- 
 court? — I have heard that Eccles and Dick Leverage are buried there. 
 The latter composed “ Black-eyed Susan” and the music to Macbeth (not 
 Locke), — More anon. 
 
 4. — Is this not the grave-yard in Dickens’s “ Bleak House” ?— There 
 
 sre few places in London so sad. , • . . 
 
 1666. — After the fire of London, the General Post-office was removed to 
 the Two Black Pillars in Bridges Street, Covent Garden, 
 
 Camden’s Life of Elizabeth, fourth edition, was printed by M. Fletcher, 
 for R. Bently, at the Post-office in Covent Garden, 1688. 
 
 Dent, an informing constable, was killed in Covent Garden. 
 
 -Cheapside and Cornhill, Bloomsbury and.Covent Garden, Moll Cutpurse 
 is said to have frequented, but this 1 doubt, as she was born in 1589- 
 
 Rigby, a mercer, living at the sign of the Seven Stars, in the Little 
 Piazza in Covent Garden. Jack Collet robbed him. Jack was executed at 
 Tyburn, 5th July, 1691 ; aged thirty-two years. 
 
 Tom Gray robbed Mr. VV. Goldsmith in Covent Garden. He was exe- 
 cuted at Tyburn, lOlh March, 1714. 
 
 Mary Williams was whipt yesterday at a cart’s tail, thrice round 
 Covent Garden market, pursuant to her sentence at Hick’s Hall, for steal- 
 ing oranges out of Mrs, Vernon’s green-house, at Twickenham. — See 
 The Daily Advertiser for March 3rd. 1730. 
 
 Sir Mark Cole, Bart., and several other persons were indicted at the 
 Old Bailey, June 6th, 1712, for a riot and assault committed on the 11th 
 of March, 1712. They, in their search for Mohocks, took thirteen men 
 out of a gaming-house, in Covent Garden.— ‘‘ A Comyleat Collection 
 of Remarkable Tryals. — [The fast men of the day were called “Mo- 
 hocks.”] 
 
 A common gaming table now kept at a house late called the Lord 
 
 M g n’s, under the Piazza, in Covent Garden, the managers and 
 
 proprietors of which have the audaciousness to say that they have made 
 their peace with those gentlemen who only could have given them 
 disturbance. — “ The Fool” (a periodical paper), No. 41, v. i., p. 294, 
 Oct. 6, 1716. 
 
 The Grand Jury of Middlesex, in May, 1744, made a laudable 
 presentation of several public places of luxury, idlenes.s, and ill-fame 
 which tended to corrupt the morals of the people. There were two 
 gaming houses near Covcnl Garden, kept by the Ladies Mordington and 
 Castle. 
 
 Lord Archer. — Mr. Grignon says that Lord Archer was the last of 
 the nobility who resided in Covent Garden. There was a Scotch Lord 
 who kept a gaming house in the Great Piazza, between James-slrect and 
 the Playhouse. 
 
 Old Mr. Blackwood, a great lover of the arts, insisted up >n it ih.at no 
 one could play the part of a fine gentleman whose wig did not cost £50. 
 
 Mr. Blackwood and Mr. Prince were two of the last gentlemen in 
 London who continued to dress in the fashion of Queen Anne, in Mr. 
 West’s memory. 
 
 Mr. West visited Wilson, the painter, in the Piazza, the first year 
 after his (Mr. West’s) return from Rome. 
 
 On Friday last, a woodcock was taken alive in Covent Garden Square, 
 and purch.as’d by a gentleman for 2s — See The Daily Journal for 
 
 Dec. 2, 1728. 
 
 Notf, Lived, ]Mr. Dc la Riviere, cy devani un avocat an jmrlement 
 
 of Paris, a m.an whose eloquence entitled to the highest respect, and whose 
 erudition could not but attract notice. Me was in consequence called to 
 the National Convention, and during the time of Danton and Robespierre 
 had nearly perished, as did most men eminent for shining talent and 
 integrity. He was oneot*ihe 21 deputies assigned to suffer on a particular 
 occasion, but by some popular commotion escaped, and was the only one 
 who did. He came to England. I knew him, resident for several years 
 at Greenwich, pas.'-ing a life of study and benevolence; and on the peace 
 came to reside at No. 5. Ohandos-street, Covciit Garden, and on the safe 
 restoration of Louis XVIII., returned to France, to benefit his country 
 by sliiping abilities and, 1 hope, to enjoy peace. He takes w’itli him two 
 children, born English, whom he dearly values, as dear equivalents for 
 many years’ exile 
 
 r I think Smith; the auLlquauan, lived ia this house. 
 
 Earl Ferrers lived in Covent Garden in 1722, Executed for tha murder 
 of his servant. 
 
 At Mr. John Banister’s house in Chandos-street, Covent Garden, 
 called the Music School, will be variety of music every evening, be. 
 ginning this present Thursday at six o’clock. — London Gazette, Nov. 
 22-25, 1675, 
 
 Balconets. — Lord Arundell was the designer of balconeys. “ He also 
 invented balconies, ye first was in Covent Garden and in Chandoies-street. 
 At ye corner was ye sign of balcony, which country folks vrere wont much 
 to gaze on.” 
 
 Mrs. Mattocks lived in the Piazza, in 1770. 
 
 At the sale of the Earl of Arran’s Curiosities, in Covent Garden, April 
 6th, 1759, the gloves given by King Henry the Eighth to Sir Anthony 
 Denny were sold for £38 17s.; the gloves given by King James the 
 First to Edward Denny, Esq,, son of Sir Anthony, for £22 Is.; the 
 mittens given by Queen Elizabeth to Sir Edward Denny’s Lady, for £2.'> 
 4s.; and the scarf given by King Charles the First, for £10 10s,, all 
 which were boug-ht for Sir Thomas Denny, of Irel.tnd, who is lineally 
 descended from the said Sir Anthony Denny, one of the executors of 
 King Henry the Eighth. 
 
 1797. — Charles Machlin, actor, James-street, Covent Garden, aged 1C7. 
 
 1779. — Mrs. Clarke, mother of Mr. Clarke of Covent Garden Theatre, 
 aged 102. 
 
 1779, — Ann Steyning, of Drury Lane, aged 102. 
 
 1767. — Philip Palfreeman, aged 100, box-keeper of Covent Garden 
 Theatre, in which employ he acquired £ 10,000. 
 
 1787. — Mrs. Alchorne, of Drury Lane, aged 104; she was formerly 
 shown about as the “Strong Woman.” 
 
 Water-plugs, called fire-boxes. — 1769, April 9th — “ Sir, this is to 
 acquaint you that they paviours has rise a fire-box, belonging to they 
 Merchants’ Water Works, opposite my door, in King-street, near New. 
 street, Covent Garden Wm, I'ortescue.” 
 
 First noticed as fir e-plugs. — “ Sir,— These are to inform you the paviors in 
 mending the pavement in Hart-slreet and the part belonging to the 
 Theatre, were obliged to take up the old fire-plug?, and in its room put 
 new one, the old one not being sufficient — Thos. Emery, Carpenter, Do.” 
 Theatre Royal, Covent Garden, 6lh Sep.., 1769. 
 
 Mr. West informed me that his picture, by Titian, was thrown out of 
 an upper window of Anderson’s (a picture-cleaner’s house), in the little 
 Piazza, when it was on fire ; that Dr. Bray assured him that it had been 
 one of Charles the First’s Pictures. Mr. West bought it of Cireenwood 
 for about £20. 
 
 Lord Archer married Miss West, whose daughter is the present I«ady 
 Amherst.— From the information of Mr. West, of Newman-slreet.— B. 
 West lived in Newman-street. 
 
 1712. — “A full and true account of a most cruel and dreadful fire, 
 which happened betwixt two and three this morning, in King-street, 
 Covent Garden, and burnt down the Crown and Cushion, being the house 
 where the Indian Kings lived, and several other houses, having done near 
 ten thousand pounds’ damage. ’ 
 
 Barley-broth, rice, milk, and firmity, was sold at a penny a basin-full. 
 The women sat at the column. — See also one of them in “ Covent Garden 
 Morning Frolic.” 
 
 Bedeord Hou.se.— When Bedford House was pulled down, the ground 
 was let on building leases, and 11 trades were prohibited, 
 
 Bedford Garden. — Mr. Grignon frequently heard his father say that 
 his father recollected the fine elm trees of the garden hanging over the 
 wall. Mr. Grignon’s grandfather, and one or two more, were the fir,«t 
 professors in the parish. Mr, Grignon’s grandfather was the cloekmaker 
 famous for his improvements. The family lived in 91, Russell-street. 
 
 Anno 6 and 7 W An act for settling divers manors and lands upon 
 
 the marriage of the Marquis of Tavistock, grandson of the D. of Bed- 
 ford —See the Titles of the Statutes. 
 
 Dec. 22.— Fire in King-street, Covent Garden, which extended itself 
 through Rose-street to Long-acre, consumed upwards of 30 houses. 
 The year not named. 
 
 Mr. Boyce, of Maiden Lane, recollects when Covent Garden let for 30 
 pounds. — Mr. Mainwaring. 
 
 Trentam’s, now the orange-shop, the corner of King-street, now tho 
 basket shop. 
 
 Dr. Arne w'as born in King-street, Covent Garden, in the house of 
 Mr Cribb, carver and gilder. Mr. Arne, his fatlmr, was an eminent 
 upholsterer, and is supposed to be the person characterised by.\ddisou 
 in the 155th and 160th number of the Tatler. — Life of Dr. Arne. — 
 Dr. Arne was brother.jjo the celebrated Mr. Cibber. j 
 
 Robins’s Rooms.— In 1774, or 1775. there were lectures delivered in a 
 large room behind the auction room in Hart. street, which had formerly 
 been the Court of Conscience, before it was removed to Castle-street, 
 Leicester Fields. — Mr. Barker, Russell-street. 
 
 The Guardian, briday, July 17, 1713, Number 110 — (.Advertise- - 
 ments.) — “ This evening will be sold, the curious manuscripts in die 
 Bibliotheca Reloctisma, many of which are upon vellum ; the capital 
 leiter.s and borders illuminated with gold, and variety of other beautiful 
 colours, besules a great number of valuable paintings in miniaturo 
 contained in them. Also, several choice manuscripts in Spanish, and 
 one of the portfolios of Italian drawings, mark’t ietter A. B. Cat.a- 
 logucs may be had at the place of sale, at the Green Door, in the Little 
 Piazza, Covent Garden.” 
 
 Shoe-black Boys. — Every street about London was ovrrrnn wit’i 
 these boys. They carried a small tin pail, with slippers, brushes, and 
 blacking in one hand; and, in the other, or under the arm, a small stool, 
 and went up and down tliO street crying—” Black your shoes, your 
 honour.” Almost every house had a shoe-hlack at its door; ami there 
 was one who blacked shoes at the end of Lord Archer’s rails, that had 
 saved between £i0 and £80. 
 
 Bird-sellers, 1720. — 'I'he man’s name was Douse, who first sold 
 birds in Covent Garden, about fifty years ago. He now sells birds at the 
 wall of the Fleet Prison. 
 
 Barley Broth. — There were two sets of women who so'id rice millL, 
 milk. porridge, firmity, barley broth, &c. One set sat- upon the steps of 
 the Column, and the other opposite to Russell-street. 
 
4 EVANS’S SUPPER-EOOMS, COVEN T-G ARDEN. 
 
 Col Poyse shot to death in Covent Garden, April 26, 1651 . — See 
 the Historian’s Guide, p. 35. 
 
 1651.— Paid Captaine Ryder for the whipping post, as per bill and 
 acquittance appears. 
 
 1C53, March lith.— Given l)r. Turner, who had been Dean of St. 
 P-iul’s, and now in want. Is. fid. 
 
 Y oui.g Porter, son of Endymion Porter, who lately carried away 
 a young lady, was brought before his Highness, behaving yesterday 
 run a soldier through in Covent Garden, who is since dead. He was 
 committed for it to the Gatehotio — See Perf. Proc. in State Atf., 
 3Iarch ISth to 22d, 1654.— Extra«i from “ Cromwelliana,” p. 152. 
 Pub. 1810. 
 
 1655, June 3d.— Of the Countess of Essex for riding in her coach 
 upon the Sabbath day with other company in it, 18s. (The terrible 
 Lady Essex, James l.—See the Murder of Sir Thomas Ovorbury.) 
 
 iG'iG, May 4th.— Reed, of the Ladye Shandois for riding in her 
 coacfi, 16s. 
 
 1661, April 28.— Payd two pence a yard, for taking up of 24 yards 
 of the blew cloth that the King walked upon to Coronation, which 
 was bestowed upon our poor, 4s. Aprill 28.— Payd a porter for 
 bringing it from Westminster, 4d. 
 
 1673, 24th of March— Paid the constable’s bill for horses to assist 
 the removing the Duchess of Medina’s goods, £1. 
 
 1678, April 19th.— Paid for setting the sun-dial, 12s. 
 
 1668. Aug, 14th.— To Mr. Keizar at the sculpture of the pallas for 
 the columne, 5s. 
 
 1687, Aj)ril 13th. — William Grant, soldier in Captain Parson’s 
 company, bang’d in Covent Garden, for running from his colours. 
 —See the Historian’s Guide, p. 184. 
 
 1C90.- Given to the watchmen, to drincke at the King’s returning 
 from Ireland, 2s. 6d. 
 
 1690, Sept, 23.— Paid to Mr. Brown, for 200 ffagots and 30 brushes, 
 for bonefire for the parish, £l 12s. 6d. 
 
 1691, October 10th.— Paid for a coach, for Justice Ffcilding and 
 Justice Ward to view ye high wayes, 3s. 6d. 
 
 1691. March 9th.— Given to Stokes, and ye watchmen to drincke 
 at the bonefire and fire works, at the King’s return from Ireland, lOs. 
 
 25th. — Paid Mr, Stokes, for a barrel of ale for the bonefire, £1. 
 
 1691, December 8.— Reed, of Mr. Lanherry, for 35 oaths, £1 15s. 
 Reed, for his being drunke, the same time, 5s. 
 
 1G91, July 24th.— Paid Mr. Huttey, being over rated on the Bishop 
 of Durham’s house, which was then empty, £2 4s. 
 
 1729, August 27. — Wm. Hill.— Paid Mr. Humphrys, the late over- 
 seer, for his expense attending Mr, White, the coroner, at the Old 
 Baily, on the tryal of Thomas Hargrave, for killing William Hill 
 at boxing in Covent Garden Square, 6s. 9d. 
 
 1703.— Reed, of Mr. Lavingne, fora quarter’s rent for my Lady 
 Craven's pew, due at Christmas, £1. 
 
 Whereas Mr. John Clarke, of London, bookseller, did rent of 
 Charles Killegrew, Esq., the licensing of all ballad-singers for five 
 years ; which time is expired at Lady-day next : These are, there- 
 fore, to give notice to all ballad-singers, that they take out licenses 
 at the OfiBce of the Revels, at Whitehall, for singing and selling of 
 ballads and small books, according to an ancient custom. And all 
 persons concerned are hereby desired to take notice of, and to sup- 
 press all mountebanks, rope-dancers, prize-players, ballad-singers, 
 and such as make show of motions and strange sights, that have 
 not a license, in red and black letters, under the hand and seal of 
 the said Charles Killegrew, Esq., Master of the Revels to His 
 
 Majesty; and in partionlar to suppress one * I h, Mr. Thomas 
 
 Var — y, t and Thomas Teats, mountebank, who have no license, 
 that they may be proceeded [against according to law —London 
 Gazette, April 13th, 1682; No, 1712. 
 
 Oct. 25th, 1682.— Received of the mountebanck, four pay- 
 ments— £4. 
 
 QUACK DOCTORS, 
 
 Da. Bossy. — Dr, Bossy succeeded Dr. Lyon (both Spaniards). Dr, 
 T.yon left his house in Bunliill-row' (opposite the Blue Posts’ public-house) 
 for Spain, with an intention to return, but was drowned in his pas.^age 
 there. Dr. Bossy took his house, and attoiidcd Tower Hill, IMoovfields, 
 •md Covent (laiden, the Cornier stations of his preilcce.'sor Dr. B l-rpt 
 woman, by ’.vhora he had two children. She behaved unhandsoinely, 
 Mid was sent She now buys and sells old clothes alioiit the street. 
 
 Dr. B.’s man wu-s also a Spaniard, a liiile fellow ; he carried the medicine 
 
 » Illegible, t Ditto. 
 
 box, and assisted the doctor in dressing the wounds of the patients. Doctor 
 Bossy died May 11th, 1801, aged 63 years. Lies in St. Luke’s Back 
 Churchyard.” 
 
 “The Guardian,” Friday, July 24th, 1713. — While the Doctor is 
 curing distempers that have the appearance of danger or deatli in them, 
 the Merry-Andrew has his separate packet for the meagrims and the 
 toothache. 
 
 1708.— The Muscovite Ambassador having had his audience of leave 
 of the Queen, Mr. Morton, a laceman in Covent Garden, and some others 
 of his creditors, caused him to be arrested, on the 21st of July, as he was 
 riding in his coach. The bailiffs thrust themselves into the coach, took 
 away his sword and cane, and carried him to a spunging-honse, called the 
 Black Raven. Here the Ambassador sent to one of the Secretaries oi 
 State to acquaint him with his being insulted in that manner, but no 
 Secretaries could be found ; and only Mr. Walpole, an under-Secretary, 
 came to him (as the Czar observes in his letter) to be witness to his dis- 
 grace ; for, instead being discharg’d, he was compell’d to put in bail to 
 the action. It seems the debt was but £50, and all the debts he ow’d did 
 not amount to £300, which still renders the crime more unpardonable ; and 
 after all, no punishment adequate to the offence either way or (as ’tis said) 
 could be inflicted on the offender by the laws of this kingdom. The 
 Imperial, and Prussian, and other Foreign Ministers, looking upon them- 
 selves concern’d in this affair, demanded satisfaction for the outrage. 
 Indeed, Morton and some others of the creditors, with the Attorney and 
 Bailiffs, were summoned before the Council, and committed to custody for 
 the present, and an information ordered to be preferred against them ; but 
 when the c.isecame to be argued, the Court could not discover any law 
 they had offended.” — See “ The Life of Queen Anne,” 2nd vol., p. 90. / 
 
 "Bollard’s Engraving — ‘‘The Covent Garden Morning Frolic.”— Little 
 Casey, Lieutenant King, and Bet Careless. — Casey was a little fellow, 
 extremely ugly and vicious, a complete blackguard, without shoes or 
 stockings ; would lay on the dung-hills; was muen noticed being a link-boy 
 of the Garden, by Captain Montague and Godfrey, who would frequently 
 carry Casey in a sedan, encourage his low wit and smutty strains ; however, 
 Mr, Casey, after being frequently taken up, was confined for theft. 
 
 Mad Captain Montague, a celebrated noisey character about Govent 
 Garden. — See his figure on the top of a sedan in “ Covent Garden 
 Morning Frolic.” 
 
 John Moore, commonly called Paddy Moore. — Mrs. Moore was a 
 Londoner, and decent sort of body. Moore died some years since, and 
 was buried at St. Pancras. At his house more wine was drawn than beer. 
 The Prince of Wales frequented Moore’s. 
 
 Mad Cussaus was waiter for three months at Paddy Moore’s, and 
 received w halever was offered, the whole of which he put by, anc^when 
 his three months expired he presented the money to the servants of the 
 house. This waitership he performed in consequence of a wager that he 
 would serve as waiter for three months without being at any time out of 
 humour, and this he did. He was a bnk-boy, and gave what he got to 
 the link-men of the theatres. When he has observed a poor or weak 
 ballad singer, who gained little or no attention, he would take the ballads 
 out of their hands and sing for them. In this kind act he was alw.avs 
 successful, and when he had sold all, and procured what he could, g.ave 
 the whole to the person. Cussans frequented the Twenty-penny Punch 
 Club, at which Edwin presided. He jumped into the Thames at the 
 Temple Gardens. 
 
 Old Tiddy Doll lo.st his life in the Thames at the time of the hard frost, 
 1731. The Tiddy Doll known by my father was the second of that title 
 and was often seen in Covent Garden, 
 
 The Barber in Drury.lane recollects playing at cricket on a part of 
 Covent Garden, and hitting Mr. Justice Burders on the head with the ball 
 as he was passing by. — No date. 
 
 Cussans, called the Twig of the Garden. — He was, it is reported, a 
 natural son of the late Lord Scarborough. C. was a well-educated man, 
 extremely eccentric ; hired himself as a pot-raan for a month at the Red » 
 Lion, Covent Garden, kept by Paddy Moore; went into the country hay- 
 making, and diverted all the people by singing. He sung at the circus a 
 song of his own composing of Robinson Crusoe, for the benefit of a widow. 
 He was intimate with another character, “ Billy Simms.” Cussaus was 
 once arrested when he was putting on his boots ; he had got one on when 
 the bailiff tapped his shoulder. C. immediately tucked the other under 
 his arm, and began singing the song of “ Begone dull care, 1 prithee be 
 gone from me,” and so went with the man through the streets. Tliere is 
 a print of him published by 
 
 Electioneering squibs were as violent as in the present day, if not more 
 in Queen Anne’s time, os seen by the following one, dated, 1715: — 
 
 CHILD AND HARVEY, 
 
 Church and Monarchy. 
 
 No Roundheads, No Republicans, No Revilers 
 Of the Memory (or Cursres) of the Queen 
 No Spawn of Self-murderers. 
 
 No delighters in War, Blood, and Plunder. 
 
 No Rump or Long Parliaments to repeal the Acts 
 Of Settlement, Schisms, &c. 
 
 The Duke of St. Alban’s running footman is to run to-morrow against 
 another belonging to Mr L’Abbe, dancing master to the Princesses, from 
 Hyde-park-corner to the Baths, for 100guinea.s — See The Daily Adver- 
 tiser of June 6, 17Jl. 
 
 James Gubbins, Esq., late surveyor to tlie Duke of Bedford. He 
 was appointed about the year 1797. He was also many years 
 surveyor to the Sun Fire Olfice, in which station he was of rno.-^t 
 active service to the office. He received a piece of plate Irom 
 the City of I^ondon, for his great .service in stoppimr t lie progress 
 of the ‘lire in Guildhall. He was active at almost all the fires. He 
 liad apartments at Kinsey’s for officiating in his bu>iness. Died 
 about 1811; buried at Epsom, where his family resided. He di-l 
 awaywith that abominable nuisance, the picture-st; !', the cotiK-r 
 of Russell-street, under the Piazza, tlic uitper wretched room of 
 
 which was made use of by , and in a certain way, in tlie late 
 
 Duke of Bedford’s lime. 
 
^ "3‘fun6re6 ^ears 
 
 JSjccrpts trom “?Tbc Obacrvec'" oi 
 Sept:mber 21, l$2S. 
 
 The Duke of Clarence (a) for many years 
 has occasionally suffered exceedingly from 
 spa^nodic attacks. His late illness was pro- 
 duced by too close an attention to the duties 
 of his office. So intensely devoted has the 
 Duke been to the business of the Admiralty 
 that he has scarcely permitted himself the 
 requisite time for sleep and recreation. A 
 singular habit has prevailed with his Royal 
 Highness for nearly twenty years. Immedi- 
 ately after having eaten his dinner he goes to 
 sleep in his chair for exactly seven minutes, 
 when, if he is not awoke at the precise 
 nioment by those who are in attendance they 
 incur his extreme displeasure. 
 
 The Queen’s Canal in the Green Park is at 
 present drained for the purpose of clearing 
 it of the accumulated mud. The fish, , of 
 which there were a considerable number, 
 particularly c»irp and eels, had been previ- 
 ously drawn off by means of nets, and the 
 prime of them sent by Lord Sidmouth, the 
 Ranger, to Windsor to add to the stock in 
 Virginia Water. 
 
 It is in contemplation to open a new 
 street through the grounds of the late resi- 
 dence of Sir Herbert Taylor, in Cadogan- 
 place, which will form a communication 
 between Sloane-street and the elegant new 
 square erected by the Earl of Grosvenor. 
 
 The workmen have commenced the im- 
 provements in Covent-garden market. Instead 
 of the present" uh^ghtly stalls for the sale 
 of fruit and vegetables, small shops are to be 
 erected^^with rooms pyd¥ them for the con- 
 tl^HTihce of tFe occupants, the footway to 
 °lr^cov?fred in from bad weather and appro- 
 priately paved. 
 
should be. France 
 the reconstruction 
 ■ts in full, which 
 Ised even if she had 
 |Germany’s repara- 
 ^urity which could 
 jther from the dis- 
 jy or a permanent 
 alliance. Mr. 
 Bonar Law re- 
 ly the French went 
 
 \hv paved the way 
 iy bringing both 
 a more practical 
 )ossible the Dawes 
 )ssible the Locarno 
 lany gave up the 
 le Versailles settle- 
 iBritain and Italy 
 ly of the de-mili- 
 |st attack, either by 
 hd France became 
 'ity on this guaran- 
 |tary preponderance 
 the Little Entente 
 •sailles. 
 
 IlN POLICY. 
 
 le abortive Anglo- 
 irantee, has sought 
 |em of security by 
 dme Anglo-French 
 form of military 
 iritain. That is 
 Ihad been obtained 
 
 her military strehgt] 
 of a permanent mil 
 Germany, even un( 
 tion of armaments, 
 her system of con; 
 have multitudes of 
 many, with her volij 
 have very few. 
 
 If the Anglo-Fl 
 really implied ail tl[ 
 ously an event of 
 importance, and B( 
 ton. and other natij 
 bed in taking it e: 
 consequences wouj 
 trophic. The most! 
 Germany would a]| 
 policy of reconcili* 
 look for allies wlj 
 against coercion fn 
 -he had done so woi 
 of the Treaty of 
 forced her disarmaij 
 disarmam.ent by 
 also see fit to help 
 in the Mediterrai 
 friends. Russia \s 
 The United States 
 building a navy af 
 Britain’s and Fral 
 League would becoi 
 because military 
 nullified the Covei 
 would become, in 
 cynics now try to 
 Fortunately then 
 ground whal 'ver f| 
 
EVANS’S SUPPER-ROOMS, COVENT-QARDEN. 
 
 COVENT GARDEN MARKET. 
 
 The great fruit, vegetable, and herb market of London originated (eirc. 
 1656) in a few temporary stalls and sheds *at the back of the garden 
 wall of .Bedford House, on the south side of the square. I can find no 
 earlier allusion to it than the entry of a payment made by the Church, 
 wardens of St. Paul’s, Covent Garden, 21stMarch, 1CC6, Paid to the 
 painter, for painting the benches and seats in the Market-place, ^1 10s. 
 
 In 1668, a payment occurs for trees planted in the broad place,” 
 meaning the area before the Piazza; and in 1668 is an entry of certain 
 sums f^rom wealthy inhabitants towards the expense of erecting the dial 
 column in the centre of the square. The market rising in character and 
 importance, a grant ivas made of it, by Charles II., to William Earl of 
 Bedford, by letters patent, dated May 12th, 1671, and in 1679, when 
 the market was rated to the poor for the first time, there were twenty- 
 three salesmen, severally rated at 2s. and Is. When Bedford House was 
 taken down, in 1704, and the present Tavistock-row, &c., built on the 
 site of the boundary wall of that honse, the market people were pushed 
 from offthe pavement into the centre of the square, and afterwards incrcas. 
 ing in business and number they came to engross by degrees the whole 
 area of the garden. What the market was like (circ. 1698) we are told by 
 Strype — ‘‘The south side of Covent Garden Square lieth open to Bedford 
 Garden, where there is a small grotto of trees, most pleasant in the sum- 
 mer season ; and on this side is kept a market for fruits, herbs, roots, and 
 flowers, every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday, which is grown to a con- 
 siderable account, and well served with choice goods, which makes it 
 much resorted unto.” — (Strype, b. vi., p. 89.) It was, however, he tells us 
 in another place. (B. ii. p. 190), *‘ inferior to the Stocks Market, surpassing 
 as that market did all the other paid markets in London.” This refers to 
 1698, or, perhaps, a little later; and, 1713, the market was so of little 
 account or extent that the view of the Piazza, as engraved in that year by 
 Button Nichols, represents the market as limited to a few stalls or tem- 
 porary sheds. It increased, however, with the surrounding population, 
 and, from a memorial of the vestry of St. Paul’s, Covent Garden, 
 addressed, in April, 1748, to the Dube of Bedford (the ground landlord of 
 the market), it appeared that the sheds in the market-place were stalls, or 
 tenements of one story at the first, had been increased by upper sheds, 
 converted into bed chambers and other apartments inhabited by bakers, 
 cooks, retailers of Geneva, “to the injury and prejudice of the fair trader.” 
 The vestry state in the same memorial that the value of the houses had 
 suffered by the growth of the market; but what was done in consequence 
 I am not aware. The present market-place (William Fowler, architect) 
 was erected, in 1836, at the expense of the late Duke of Bedford. The 
 market is rated (1849) to the poor at £4,800, rather under than above the 
 amount derived from the rental and the tolls. The stranger in London 
 who wishes to see what Covent Garden market is like, should visit on a 
 Tuesday, Thursday, or Saturday morning, in summer, about 3 o’clock, 
 not later. To see the supply of fruit and vegetables carted off, 7 a.m., is 
 early enough. To enjoy the sight and smell of flowers and fruit, the finest 
 in the world, any time from 8 a.m,, to 4 or 5 p.m., will answer. The 
 centre arcade at mid-day is one of the prettiest sights in London. Satur- 
 day is the best day — See Cunningham’s Handbook of London, 
 
 In 1071, Charles II. granted the ground to the Duke of Bedford’s family. 
 
 It was let, before Carpenter took it at ^fe’700, for £500. Carpenter 
 placed his mother in the house now called by some ” The Finish,” and 
 by others “ Carpenter’s Coffee-house.” Ball succeeded Carpenter, then 
 Greatrix. 
 
 “Whenever gentlemen were getting the worse in battle, they would 
 call out for an odd man, and ten or fifteen chairmen would consider them- 
 selves hired, and join in the fray.” — Mr. Taylor’s information. 
 
 Mr. William Giffcrd, brewer, preceded Mr. Carpenter, lessee of Covent 
 Garden Market. — Mr. Baker. 
 
 From the information of Mr. Twigg, March Ath, 1815, at Carpenter's 
 Coffee House, Covent Garden. 
 
 About 36 or 37 years ago, Lord William Bentinck, brother to the Duke 
 of Portland, gave ten guineas per quart for peas in Covent Garden 
 Market. Topkins was the man to whom Twigg served his time; he was 
 in partnership with Robinson, who was in service of the Pretender. 
 Robinson was a tall handsome man, and much respected by his friends ; 
 he wrote a beautiful band. Campbell had three clubs. Mr. Bosbay, Sir 
 Hector Monro, and Mr. Ramsey were great friends to Twigg. The sign 
 of the “Fleece and Dragon,” in New-street, on the left hand from 
 St. Marlin’s lane, had King William III. upon their books, 
 
 Mr. Doyle says “ It is impossible to dig in any part of Covent Gar- 
 den without finding quantities of bones.” This is correct; many carts 
 full were dug up while excavating for the singing room, chiefly deers’ 
 bones, tusks of boars, &c., but few of other animals. 
 
 Mr. Twigg supplied the Grocers’ Company, on the 29th of 
 March, with fifty quarts. He has received fifty , guineas for the fifty 
 quarts. 
 
 There was an hazard club at Tompkins’s, and Mr. Twigg has seen 
 winners with their hats full of guineas. 
 
 “ Mr. Doyle informed me that there were two tin shops at the same 
 lime expressly stated in the lease for the purpose of repairing the 
 lanthorns of the people who bring their goods to market.” 
 
 April 7th, 1815 (from the information of Mr. Twigg). — When he was 
 an apprentice it was a common thing for thieves to dress as journeymen 
 bakers, and to carry a boy in their basket into the middle of a row in the 
 Piazza, and for the boy to take off the best hats, with which he got clear 
 eff, and would sell them to a man who at that time kept the small stall at 
 the corner of that part of the Piazza near Russell-slreet. This stall w,as 
 afterwards kept by Dibdin, who placed an old man of the name of Wood 
 in it, who sold his songs. 
 
 “ Covent Garden Market. — The extreme severity of the weather has 
 rendered all the fruits and vegetables of the season scarce, and, conse. 
 quciitly, dear beyond all precedent. The following is a state of the prices 
 in Saturday ; — Asparagus, £1 4s. per hundred; encumbers, £l Is. per 
 broace; best pines, £2 12s. each; grapes, £3 3s. per lb.; ondive, 8s. per 
 dozen; best brocoli, 16s. per bundle ; second ditto, 7s. per ditto; French 
 beans, 8s. pe r hnndred ; mushrooms, 5s. 6d. per pottle ; best kale, 12s 
 per basket; nonpariel apples, 8s. per dozen; Colmar pears, £1 lOs. per 
 dozen i coss lettuce, 4s. per dozen ; mint, Is. 6d. per bunch ; greens, Ifs. 1 
 
 S 
 
 per dozen bunches; Spanish onions, 12s. per dozen.” — See The Morning 
 Advertiser, Tuesday, March 8th, 1814, 
 
 During the election of Fox and Lord Hood, bludgeons, bricks, and dead 
 cats were thrown about in profu.'ion. — “No Petticoat Government”’ — 
 See “The Humours of Covent Garden, or, Freedom of Election.” 
 
 The first toll upon oranges was about 1795. The Jews brought them 
 in flag baskets. 
 
 ST. PAUL’S, COVENT GARDEN. 
 
 A Parish Church, on the west side of the market, built by Inigo 
 Jones, Circ., 1633, at the expense of the ground landlord, Francis, Earl of 
 Bedford; consecrated by Juxon, Bishop of London, Sept 27th, 1833 ; 
 repaired, in 1727, by the Earl of Bunington ; totally destroyed by fire, 
 Sep. 17th, 1795 ; and rebuilt (John Hardwick, architect,) on the plan, and 
 in the proportions of the original building. The great delay between the 
 period of erection and the period of consecration was owing to a dispute 
 between the Earl of Bedford and Bray, the vicar of St. Martin’s-in-the- 
 Fields, on the right of presentation; the earl claiming it as his own, 
 because he had built it at his own expense, and the vicar claiming it as 
 his, because, not being then parochial, it was nothing tnore than a chapel 
 of ease to St Martin’s. The matter was heard by the King in council, on 
 the 6th of April, 1638, and judgment given in favor of the earl.” 
 
 “ In Covent Garden there is a particular parcel of ground laid out, 
 in which they intend to build a church or a chapel of ease.” — Howes, 
 ed. 1631, p. 1049. 
 
 “The Arcade of Corent Garden, and the Church — two structures of 
 which I want taste to see the beauties. In the arcade there is nothing 
 remarkable; the pilasters are as errant and homely stripes as any plas- 
 terer would make. The barn roof over the portico of the church strikes 
 my eyes with as little idea of dignity or beauty as it could do if it covered 
 nothing hut a barn. In justice to Inigo, one must own that the defect is 
 not in the architect, but in the order ; whoever saw a beautiful Tuscan 
 building ? Would the Romans have chosen that order for a temple ? 
 Mr. Onslow, the late speaker, told me an anecdote that corroborates my 
 opinion of this building. When the Earl of Bedford sent for Inigo, he 
 told him he wanted a chapel for the parishioners of Covent Garden, but 
 added he would not go to any considerable expense ; ‘ In short,’ said he, 
 ‘ I would not have it much better than a barn.’ ‘Well, then,’ replied 
 Jones, ‘ you shall have the handsomest barn in England.’ The expense 
 of building was £4, 500.” — Horace Walpole. 
 
 Of the old church there is a view by Hollar, and a part of it is to be 
 seen in Hogarth’s print of “ Morning.” It was built of brick, wTh stone 
 columns to the portico, and the roof covered with red tiles. The apex 
 of the pediment was originally ornamented with a stone cross, preserved 
 in Hollar’s engraving, and commemorated in a play by Brome ; — ' 
 
 “ Come, Sir, what do you gape and shake the head at there? I’JI lay 
 my life he has spied the little crosse upon the new church yond’, and is 
 ,\t defiance with it.”— B. Brome’s “ Covent Garden Weeded, or the 
 Middlesex Justices of the Peace.’ 1659. 
 
 The clock was the first long pendulum clock in Europe, and was invented 
 and made, as an inscription in the vestry records, by Richard Harris of 
 London, in 1641. 
 
 “ Mrs. Sainthj. Of what church are you ? 
 
 “ Woodall. Why, of Covent Garden church, I think. 
 
 “ Gervasa. How lewdly and ignorantly he answers ! She means of 
 what religion are you?” — Dryden’s “ Limberham,” 4to, 1678. 
 
 “ Timothy. Look you, Mrs. Thea, pauca verba, the short and long on’t 
 is, I have had a very great affection for you, any time these two monlbs, 
 ever since I saw you at Covent Garden Church, d’ye conceive me?” — 
 “ The Miser,” by T. .Shadwell, 4to, 1672. 
 
 "Maggot, At your similes again! O you incorrigible wit ! let me 
 see what poetry you have about you. What’s here? a Poem called ft 
 ‘ Posie for the Ladies’ Delight,’ — ‘ Distichs to write upon Ladies’ Busks,’ 
 — ‘ Epigram written in a Lady’s Bible in Covent Garden Church. ’ ” — “A 
 True Widow,” by T. Shadwell, 4to, 1679. 
 
 The parish register records the baptism (16—) of Lady Mary Worllcy 
 Montague, and the marriage (1764) of Lady Susan Slrangways to O’Brien, 
 the handsome actor. Eminent Persons buried in . — The notorious Robert 
 Carr, Earl of Somerset (d, 1645.) Sir Henry Herbert (d. 1673), whose 
 “ office book” as “ Master of the Bevels,” throws so much light on the his- 
 tory of our stage and drama in the time of Charles I. (He was brother to 
 Lord Herbert of Cherbury, and George Herbert.) — Samuel Butler, 
 (d. 1680) author of Hudibras. He died in Rose-street. 
 
 “ He (Butler) died of a consumption, September 25 (Anno Domini 
 1 680), and buried 27, according to his owne appointment in the church- 
 yard of Covent Garden ; sc. in the north part next the church at the east 
 end. His feet touch the wall. His grave 2 yards distant from the pilaster 
 of the dore' (by his desire), G foot deepe. About 25 of his old acquaint- 
 ance at his funerall: I myself being one.” — Aubrey’s Lives, ii. 263. 
 
 Sir Peter Lely, the painter. lie died (1680) in the Piazza, His monument 
 with his bust by Gibbons, and his epitaph by Flatman, shared the fate of 
 the church when destroyed by fire in 1795. Dick Estcourt (d. 1711-12), 
 the actor and wit. Edward Kyr.aston, (d. 1712), the celebrated actor of 
 female parts at the Restoration ; a complete female stage beauty, “ that it 
 has since been disputable among the judicious, whether any woman that 
 succeeded him so sensibly touched the audience as he.”* — William Wy- 
 cherley (d. 1715), the dramatist. He died in Bow-street- Pierce Tem- 
 pest, (d. 1717), who drew the Cries of London, known as Tempest’s Cries 
 Grinling Gibbons (d. 1721), the sculptor and carver in wood. Susati- 
 nah Centlivre (d. 172.3), author of “The Busy Body and the Wonder.” 
 Robert Wilkes (d. 1731), the original Sir Harry Wildair, celebrated by 
 Steele for aelmg with the easy frankness of a gentleman. James Wors 
 dale, the painter (d. 1767). He carried Pope’s letters to Curll ; and was 
 buried in the churchyard, with an inscription (removed IS48) of hks own 
 composing. 
 
 * Downe’s Roscius Augleanus, 8vo, 170S. 
 
« BVANS’S SUPPER-ROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN. 
 
 “ Eager to get, bnt not to keep the pelf, 
 
 A friend to all mankind except himsclt.” 
 
 Dr John Armstrong, author of the “ Art of IVeserving Health,” a poem, 
 (d. 1779), in the vault under the communion table. Tom Davies, the 
 book-scller (d. 1685), and nis ‘‘ very pretty wife ” (d. 1701). Sir Robert 
 Strange, the engraver, (d. 1792), in the churchyard. He lived in Henrietta- 
 street, at the sign of “ The Golden Head.” Thomas Girtin, the father of 
 the school of English water colours, (d. 1802) Charles Mackliii, the actor 
 (d. 1797), at the age of 107, buried in the vault under the communion 
 table. There is a tablet to his memory in the church. John Wolcot 
 (Petei Pindar), d. 1819. In front of this church the hustings are raised 
 for the general elections of Westminster. Here, before the Reform Bill, 
 raged those fierce contests of many d.ays’ duration in which Fox, Sir 
 Francis Burdett, and others were popular candidates. The learned Simon 
 Patrick, Bishop of Ely, was many years rector of St. Paul’s, Covent Gar- 
 den, and hi.s name, in his own hand- writing, is still to be seen affixed to the 
 pages of the parish register. — Cunningham ’s Hand-book of London. 
 
 ” The parish church of St. Paul’s, Covent, Garden, being built on the 
 west side of the place now called Covent Garden-market, and the Piazzas 
 (as they now stand being built), on the north and east sides thereof, and 
 ground lay’dopen, and used before them, for publick streets as it is now, 
 witb ffree communication with James-street, Russell-street, King-street, 
 and Henrietta.street, the remaining void ground was railed in for a 
 squa! e, and bounded on the south side by the Earl of Bedford’s garden 
 wall, which ranged from the south end of the ea.st piazza down to the 
 houses on the south side of Henrielta-street. Sometime after the said 
 Earl of Bedford, who was owner of almost all the ground and houses in 
 or near the above mentioned street, thinking it for the benefit of his 
 tennants (22 Carol! Secundi) obtained a grant, by ffee, by patent, to keep 
 a markelt. Soon after the above grant, the said Earl built sheds (for 
 conveniency of people who kept the markett) under his said garden wall 
 on the south side of the said square ; and the markett was regularly 
 kept for many years, nothing being sold there but what w'as allowed of by 
 the grant and without any encroachment upon the hindrances of free passage 
 thro’ or to the said streets round the square. Above eighteen years since 
 the Duke of Bedford, minding to build upon his said garden ground, built 
 a rowe of houseg on the said south side of the square, the fronts of which 
 ranged exactly as the said garden wail did, and took a proper space of 
 ground out from the square, and lay’d open for a street, before such 
 h> uses, and built a new range of sheds further into the square, ranging 
 east and w’est in manner. The square being thus lessened by the said 
 street being taken oat and sheds built as above mentioned, and several 
 trades, as tin shops, potters shops, coffee-houses, brandy shops, and the 
 like, not licensed by the patent being kept and followed, there the markett 
 people begun to pitch there stalls and baalteta, &c,, and keep markett in 
 the high-streets round the square, and actually on the chiefe markett 
 days, which are Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays, stop up the said street 
 so that no coaches and scarcely foot passengers can resort or go that way, 
 which is a great and undeniable loss and detriment to the sevrall inhabi- 
 tants in and near the said streets who pay large ffines for there houses and 
 stand at great rents ”—172-1. 
 
 The Church. — In the reign of King James the First, the famous and 
 learned Inigo Jones, being Grand Master, the best craftsman from all 
 parts resorted to him, who always allowed good wages, and seasonable 
 imes for instruction in the lodges, which he constituted with excellent 
 bye-laws, and made them like the schools or academies of designers in 
 Italy. He also hehl the quarterly communication of the grand-lodge, of 
 masters and warders, and the annual general assembly and feast on 
 St. John’s day, when he was annually re-chosen, till 1618 ; when William 
 Earl of Pembroke, was chosen grand. master, and being approved by the 
 King, he appointed Inigo Jones his deputy grand master. Masonry thus 
 flourishing, many eminent, wealthy and learned men, at their own request 
 were accepted as brothers, to the honour of the craft, till the King died 
 on the twenty-seventh of March, 1625. Grand-master Jones continued in 
 office, and vivilant in carrying on the grand design, till unhappilly the civil 
 wars broke o it ; yet, even during t..ose wars, the masons met occasionally 
 in many pla -es. — See The Free Mason’s Pocket Companion, published 
 at Glasgow, 77!, page 61, 62. 
 
 The elegant portico of Covent Garden is now rendered visible, the 
 pillars being painied white, and the pediment, with all the rest, wherein of a 
 royal yellow. This building was taken originally from a Temple of the 
 Sun at Balbec — See The Public Advertiser, August 16th, 1770. 
 
 1641. — That Sunday morning, wherein the King consulted with the four 
 Bishops (of London, Durham, Lincoln, and Carlisle), the Arch-Bishop of 
 Armagh was not present, being then preaching (as he then accustomed 
 every Sunday to do) in the Church of Covent Garden, where a message 
 coming unto him from his Majesty, he descended from the pulpit, and told 
 him that brought it he was then (as he saw) employed about God’s busi- 
 ness ; which as socn as he had done, he would attend upon the King to 
 understand his pleasure.— See “ Parr’s Life of James Usher, Archbishop 
 of Armagh,” p. 45. 
 
 1674.— Peter Lelly, Gent., gave 51. towards erecting of anew gallery at 
 the west-end of the Church, 
 
 Edward Greaves, Dr. of Physic, Physician to King Charles II., died at 
 his house in Covent Garden, on the 11th of November, 1680, and was 
 buried in the church of that parish. 
 
 Edward Pierce, who painied the ceiling of Covent Garden, lived in the 
 reign of Charles I. 
 
 The expense of building Covent Garden Church was 5-1,500. 
 
 Picture of Earl of Bedford, the Founder — “ Sarah Ayreas, widow, 
 daughter of one Mr. Bussell, v/hose father William, Duke of Bedford, 
 called Couzen, in consideration of an estate mortgaged to the said Duke 
 in the Isle of Ely, for which, ’tis supposed, the said Duke paid the full 
 value or more. Nevertheless, out of his great goodness, was pleased to 
 leave to the above-named Sarah Ayreas and her two sisters, which were 
 then living, twelve pounds p. annum during life. The said Sarah sur- 
 viving her sisters, dyed in Westminster, in the year 1721, and left as a 
 legacy to be placed in the vcstry.room of St. Paul's, Covent (jardcii, the 
 picture of Francis (the Good) Earle of Bedford, founder of the church of 
 the said pa. ish ; upon which accouct she sent for Mr. Wm, Newegme, 
 desiring him to see it delivered to ihe Honourable and Revd. Mr. Lloyd, 
 rector, and which is put up in the said reslry-room ccordingly.” 
 
 1634, June 17th.— ” Paid Captain Johnson for surveying the Church, 
 and a draught of a mapp as the church now is, and as it was desired to 
 be altered, and for drawing.the lines of the sun-dial. £2 3s.” 
 
 1690, Nov. 28. — ” Reed, of Admiral fLa Hogue) Russell for his pew in 
 the gallery, lOg.” 
 
 1690, March 23 1'.^. — “Reed, of Sir Thomas Orby, for his pew in the 
 gallery, 6s Od.” 
 
 1691, June 2nd.— “ Reed, for the ground for tire corps of Madam 
 Wrenn, £10 0 0.” 
 
 1691, Jany.—“ Received for the ground for ye corps of Sir Dudley 
 North, £ '. 0 0.” 
 
 March 1st. — “ Reed, of the Lady North for nott burving Sir 
 Dudley North in Wollen, £2 10 0.” 
 
 1719, April 16ih. — ‘‘Reed, of Mr. Danl. Button, for two places in the 
 pew^No. 8 on the south side of the north isle, £2 2 0.” 
 
 1723, June 1,4th. — ‘‘ Reed, of Mr. Christopher Frederick Zink for the 
 liberty of laying a flatt stone upon the grave of his late wife in King- 
 street Plott, £4 4 0. 
 
 Mr. Zincke died 1767, and was buried in Covent Garden Church- 
 yard. 
 
 ‘‘ Sir— I have been for twenty years under-sexton of this parish of 
 St. Paul’s, Covent Garden, and have not missed tolling in to prayers six 
 times in all those^ years; which office I have performed to my great 
 satisfaction till this fortnight last past, during which time I find my 
 congregation take the warning of my bell, morning and evening, to go to 
 a puppet-show set forth by one Powel, under the Piazzas. By this 
 means I have not only lost my two customers whom I used to place for 
 six pence a-piece over-against Mrs. Rachel Eyebright, but Mrs. herself is 
 gone thither also. There now appear among us none but a few ordinary 
 people, who come to church only to say their prayers, so that I have rio 
 work worth speaking of but on Sundays. I have placed my son at the 
 Piazzas to acquaint the ladies that the bell rings for church, and that it 
 stands on the other side of the garden : but they only laugh at the 
 child. 
 
 “I desire you would lay this before all the world, that I may not be 
 made such a fool for the future, and that Puiiehinello may chuse hours 
 less canonical. As things are now, Mr. Powell has a fall congregation, 
 while we have a very thin house ; which, if you can remedy, you will 
 very much oblige. Sir, your &c. * ‘- — .” 
 
 — See “the Spectator, No.. 14, March 16th, 1711.” 
 
 Butler’s Monument — The honour p.iid to Butler’s memory, by the 
 Monument erected in Covent Garden Church, will make the revival of 
 Mr. Samuel Westley’s lines, written above fifty years since, acceptable; 
 as they were produced in consequence of the monument erected to that 
 author, in W osttninster Abbey, by 3Ir. Barber, of the City of London. 
 Whilst Butler, needy wretch, was yet alive, 
 
 No generous patron would a dinner give ; 
 
 See him when starv’d to death, and turn’d to dust, 
 
 Presented with a monumental bust. 
 
 The poet’s fate is here in emblem shown. 
 
 He ask’d for bread, and he receiv’d a stone! 
 and having thus lived to a good old age, admired by all, though personally 
 known to few, he departed this life in the year 1680, and was buried at 
 the charge of his good friend Mr. L — vil, of the Tb, in the yard 
 belonging to the Church of St. Paul, Covent Garden, at the west end of 
 ye said yard, on the north side, under the wall ®f the said Church, and 
 under that wall which parts yard from the common highway. — See The 
 Life of Butler. 
 
 This day the Society of Ancient Britons, according to annual custom, 
 will go in a body to the parish church of St. Paul's, Covent Garden, and 
 after Divine service will proceed to Leathersellers Hall, where a 
 magnificent entertainment will be provided for them.— Nee The Daily 
 Advertiser for March 1st, 1730. 
 
 The wooden rails in Covent Garden church-yard, which easily ad- 
 mitted dogs and idle boys among the graves, are taken away, and a new 
 parapet wall, with an iron balustrade at top, is now finished, and is 
 not only useful but ornamental.— Nee The Public Advertiser, August 
 15, 1770. 
 
 Church-yard. — Kynaston (the actor) died wealthy ; he bred his only 
 son a mercer, who lived in Covent Garden. Father" and son were buried 
 to that parish . — See Davies’s “ Dramatic Miscellanies,” vol. 3, p. 337. 
 
 Dr Desaginliere died in Covent Garden . — See ‘‘ Environs.” 
 
 Wycherly, the dramatic poet, was buried at St. Paul’s, Covent Garden, 
 but I believe no monumental memorial is to be found there, at least I 
 sougkt for it without success in 1804. — Gent’s Magazine Supplement, 
 Tol, 82. 
 
 Epitaph upon Mr. Button, who kept a noted coffee-house in Covent 
 Garden ; — 
 
 “ Odds fish, and fiery coals, 
 
 Are graves become Button holes I” 
 
 Old Mozer was buried in that part near the Garden north of the 
 church. Sir Robert Strange was buried in the north square behind the 
 church. Mr. West says he believes Richards was buried in Covent 
 Giwden. 
 
 Mr. Bachelor held the loft or upper part of Covent Garden church as 
 a reccplacle for herbs, 1770. Mr. Butler’s family have kept it about 45 
 year.'’. The goods were carried in a cart taken out by men, and then 
 conveyed to the south-east corner of the church and drawn up through an 
 opening immediately under the roof by a pulley — Mr, Jones, the vestry 
 clerk, informed me that Lord Craven gave the Piazza of Covent Garden 
 some ground atBayswater to erect their pest-houses upon in 1C6.5. — From 
 the information of Mr. Bullor, 
 
 CLUB S. 
 
 OuE modern celebrated clubs are founded upon eating and drink- 
 ing, which are points wherein most men agree, and in which the 
 learned and illiterate, the dull and the airy, the philosopher and the 
 buffoon, can all of them bear a part. The kit-cat itself is said to 
 have taken its original from the mutton pye. The Beef-steak and 
 October Clubs are neither of them ayerse to aating and drinking 
 
EVANS’S SUPPER-ROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN. 
 
 if we may form a judgment 'of them from their respecti. . - ’«s.— 
 Sett the Spectator, No. 9, March lOth, nil. 
 
 It was said of Socrates, that he brought philosophy down 
 heaven, to inhabit among men; and I shall be ambitious to have. ^ 
 said of me, that I have brought philosophy out of closets and 
 libraries, schools and libraries, to dwell in clubs and assemblies, at 
 tea tables, and in coffee-houses..— Nee the Spectator, No. 10, March 
 
 ^“^it ’should appear from this, that clubs were not so frequent in the 
 Spectator’s time^ e'bEEP STEAK CLUB 
 Instifcated, December 6th, 1735. 
 
 George Lambert.-TIus respectable gentleman has been veiy pro- 
 perly noticed by Mr. Walpole, in his last volume of anecdotes ; it 
 mav, therefore, be thought unnecessary that further mention should 
 be made of him in this work ; but as there are some circumstances 
 attending the life of this artist which appear to have been wholly 
 unknown to the honourable biographer, it cannot be improper again 
 to introduce his name, as it furnishes an opportunity of recording 
 some events not wholly unconnected with the spirit of the times in 
 which he flourished. Mr. Lambert was for many years principal 
 scene oainter to the theatre at Covent Garden. Being a person of 
 •Treat ‘respectability in character and profession he was often 
 visited, while at work in the theatre, by persons of the first con- 
 sideration, both in rank and talents. As it frequently happened 
 that he was too much hurried to leave his engagements for his regular 
 dinner, he contented himself with a beef-steak broiled upon the fare 
 in the painting-room. In this hasty meal he was sometimes joined 
 bv his visitors, who were pleased to participate iii the humble 
 repast of the artist. The savour of the dish, and the conviviality of 
 the accidental meeting, inspired the party with the resolution toesta- 
 blish a club, which was accordingly done, under the title of Ihe 
 Beef Steak Club; and the party assembled in the painting -room. 
 The members were afterwards accommodated with a room in the 
 play-house, where the meetings were held for many years; but after 
 the theatre was last rebuilt, the place of assembly was changed to 
 the Shakespear tavern, where the Club is still held,* and the 
 portrait of3Ir. Lambert, painted by Hudson, makes part of the 
 decorations cf the room' in which the party meet. Another circum- 
 stance in this gentleman’s life is better worth recording, as being 
 more intimately connected with the arts, and may, therefore, gratify 
 the future antiquarian, though it may not be thought of much 
 importance by the historian. When the artists had formed them- 
 selves into a regular society, and obtained a charter of incorporation, 
 Mr. Lambert was nominated the president, being the first per.^on 
 who was appointed to that honourable station; but this distinction 
 was of very short duration, for he did not survive the signature of 
 the charter above four days. He died January the 33th, 1765.— 
 Edward Edward’s, History of Painters.” 
 
 One of the Mr. Robins informed me this clay, January 19, 1314, that the 
 Beef Steak Club consisted of gentlemen who first paid them twenty pounds 
 per annum for the room, and that afterwards they paid forty ; but that 
 ^^e.ssrs. Robins, finding it extremely inconvenient to clear the room for 
 them that they were obliged to give them notice to quit, which they did 
 about ten years ago. Major Arrabias and Mr. John Nixon were members ; 
 the Duke of Norfolk and the Margrave of Anspach have dined with them. 
 fVhen providore of the Beef Steak Club, composed of the chief wits and 
 greatest men of tho nation, he wore their badge, which was a small grid 
 iron of gold, that hung about his neck with a green silk ribbon. 
 
 George Lambert, 
 
 William Hogarth, 
 
 John Rich, 
 
 Lacy Ryan, 
 
 Ebenezer Forrest, 
 
 Robert Scott. 
 
 'ihomas Chapman, 
 
 Dennis Delane, 
 
 .John Thornhill, 
 
 Francis Niveton, 
 
 Sir Wm. Saunderson, 
 
 Richard Mitchell, 
 
 November 0th, 1814. 
 
 T. Scott, 
 
 John Boson, 
 
 Henry Smart, 
 
 John Huggins, 
 
 Hugh W'atson, 
 
 William Huggins, 
 
 Edmund Tutlnell, 
 
 Thomas Salway, 
 
 Charles Neale, 
 
 Charles Latrove, 
 
 Alexander Gordon, 
 
 William Tathall, 
 
 Gabriel Hunt. 
 
 The above are the first twenty-four names of the Beef Steak Club, 
 copied from the club book, April 1st, 1815. 
 
 Francis tiayman, John Churchill, 
 
 Theof. Cibber, Mr. Williamson, 
 
 Mr Beard, Ix)rd Sandwich, 
 
 Mr.’ Wilkes (sublime). Prince of Wales, 
 
 Mr. Saunders Welsh, Mr. Havard, 
 
 Thomas Hudson, Chas. Price. 
 
 These were some of the subsequent members. 
 
 Lewii=, dead. I Pope, living, 
 
 Iri«li Johnson, living, Holman, ditto, 
 
 Munden, ditto, 1 Simmonds, ditto. 
 
 Fawcet, ditto, I 
 
 The above performers wore of the Beef Steak Club at the Shakos- 
 pcar. 'i lie room they dined in was where the lion’s head was placed 
 over the chimney. Mr. Simmonds says it was of a dark mahogany 
 
 colour. 
 
 Sir J. Boyd, 
 
 Est court, 
 
 .). I’revaiiion, jun. 
 
 Earl of Suffolk, 
 
 Croasdale, 
 
 J. Kemble, expelled for his 
 mode of conduct. 
 
 In 1805 the members were. 
 
 Mingay, 
 
 Prince of Wales, 
 
 Howard, Duke of Norfolk, 
 Haworth, 
 
 Johnson, 
 
 Scudamore. 
 
 Wilson, 
 
 Ellis, 
 
 Walsh, 
 
 Linley, 
 
 Duke of Norfolk, 
 Mayo, 
 
 Duke of Sussex, 
 Morrice, 
 Stephenson. 
 Cobb, 
 
 Richards, 
 
 Sir .1. Scott, 
 Bolland, 
 
 Lord Grantley. 
 
 * After the failure of this house, the Club removed back to the 
 theatre. 
 
 Stephenson, 
 
 Cobb, 
 
 Richards, 
 
 Sir J. Scott, Bart., 
 
 Bolland, 
 
 Lord Grantley, 
 
 Foley, 
 
 Arnold, 
 
 Braddyll, 
 
 Nettleshipp, 
 
 Middleton, 
 
 Denison, 
 
 Johnson, 
 
 Scudamore, 
 
 Nixon, 
 
 Subiequently P. Moore, Dunn (Treasurer of Drury Lane), Stan- 
 field, flte artist, &c. , , . u • 
 
 Formerly, the table cloths had gridirons in damask on them ; their 
 drinking glasses had gridirons on them ; the plates also. 
 
 A punch ladle, presented by Barrington Bradshaw, Esq. ; Sir 
 John Boyd, six spoons ; mustard pot, by John Trevanion, member 
 for Devon (Qy. Doyer); two dozen water plates, given by the Duke 
 of Sussex ; eight dishes given by the Duke of Sussex ; cruet-stand, 
 given by W. Bolland; viue.gar glasse-', by Thomas Scott. Mr. Eihs 
 IS the father of the Society. Lord Suffolk gave a silver cheese 
 toaster. 
 
 The Table.— Nothing but beef steaks and port wine, onions and 
 potatoes. The carving-knife with the Seige of Troy. Dressed beer 
 steaks from five to six.— Mr. Nixon, Treasurer. 
 
 The painting-room was even with the stage over tae kitchen 
 which was under part of the stage nearest Bow-street. (Mr. Sim- 
 monds received the above information of iMr. Beardon.) 
 
 The Earl of Surrey (now Duke of Norfolk) was an enormous eater. 
 He would often eat between three and four pounds of beef steak ; 
 and after that take a Spanish onion and a beet root, chop taem 
 together with oil and vinegar, and eat that. Mr Twigg, when the 
 cook of the Beef Steak Club was ill, cooked for them. It was at that 
 time a small room over the passage of Covent Garden ^leatre. 
 The steaks were dressed in the same room, and when they found it 
 too hot, a curtain was drawn between the company and the fire. 
 The Prince of Wales has dined there. Churchill was a member : 
 Wilkes, Grindall. the surgeon, and How'ard, the surgeon. M hen 
 Mr. TwigT has dressed there, perhaps three or four of the members 
 had fish, and in AprUa rump of beef has been roasted and eat cold 
 with salads. In former days there were not less than 200 chairs 
 standing under the Piazzas, in Russell-street, Bowjstreet, and 
 Maiden-lane. Conceive, then, with as many more Irish chair-men, 
 what a place of bustle the Garden must have been. Nearly upon 
 the spot where the earthenware is sold, there were three or four 
 w'omen with hot leg of beef, and sausage rolls. 
 
 Davies, in his ‘‘Dramatic Miscellanies,” speaking of the cluKs 
 hsld by eminent actors, says, The Beef Steak Club, with their jolly 
 president, John Beard, is surely one of the roost respectable assem- 
 blies of jovial and agreeable companions in this metropolis.— Nee 
 
 ^°At'ufe Bell Tavern, Church-row, Houndsditeh, was held the 
 Beef Steak Club, instituted by Mr. Beard, Mr. Dunstall, Mr. Wood- 
 ward, Stoppalear, Bencroft, Gifford, 8tc. — Nee Memoirs of Charles 
 Lee Lewis, vol. ii. p. 196. ... ... 
 
 Mr. Welsh, who was a truly loyal man, discontinued his visits 
 when Jack Wilkes was introduced as a member. 
 
 Mr John Wilkes, the Chamberlain of London, was ihe man at the 
 Beef Steak Clubs. . r ^ , 
 
 Mr. Justice Welsh was frequently chairman at the beef-steak 
 dinner f when held at Mrs. Game’s). Mrs. Nollekens. his daughter, 
 acknowledges that she frequently dressed up a hat for the purpose, 
 it was with ribbons similar to those worn by the guards, vulgarly 
 called the beef-eaters (the beaufetteurs). 
 
 Mr Twigg informed me that Chas. Price was allowed to be one of 
 the most witty of the Beefsteak Club, and that he and Churchill 
 keep the table in a roar. . 
 
 Each member, when present, pays the sergeant 5s. Ihe chair- 
 man for the day pays £2 2 s. in addition to the 5s. 
 
 Each visitor is paid for by his friend, who introduces him, lOs. 6d. 
 In the course of the season there are subscriptions from the several 
 members. 
 
 ‘‘ Dear sir,— I am ashamed to have neglected ray aid to your laudable 
 pursuit for such a length of time, but I had no opportunity communicating 
 yonr v^ish to the B. S. Society sooner than Saturday last. They havo 
 granted permission for you to copy tl.e original gridiion.and I have wrote 
 on the other side of this sheet a note to Mr. hite, at the Bedford, to 
 introduce you to our room for the purpose making yonr di awing. The 
 first spare moment I can take from my business shall be employed In 
 making a short statement of the rise and establishment of the Beef Steak 
 Society. I am, dear sir, very truly yours, John Nixon. Basinghail-strcet, 
 7th February.” 
 
 Mrs. Came kept the oil and candles ; Painting Boom, Bow-street side. 
 Mr, Saunders built a room, which was afterwards the Performers’ Beef 
 Steak Room; then it was held at Campbell’s, the “ Shakesperian Tavern 
 the dress, a blue coat, red cape, and cuffs; buttons had the leiter.s 
 “ B. S.” Bernand, the performer, came in in his usual dress, and, after 
 much altercation, was allowed to sit down with the members. After that 
 time they dressed as they pleased, and finally, the coat was laid aside. 1 hey 
 met on a Friday ; dined on a Friday at two o’clock ; nothing but beef 
 steak. Wine 2s. 6d. per botile. Mr. Saunders, a member for about four 
 years, commenced about e.ight years ago. A lion’s head of a daik ma 
 hogany colour now stands over the chimney in the rc oin where the beef 
 sipwk diners met. The halbert that was placed at the back of the pre- 
 sident’s chair was, ^^ilh the gridiron, found iu the rubbish after the tire 
 
8 
 
 EVANS’S SUPPER-ROOMS, COVENT-GAREEN. 
 
 The Beef Steak Club became expensive to a guinea each; and, at the 
 departure of poor Campbell from the “Shakespear,” was held at the 
 Piazza, where there is one to this day. Peg Woffington is said to hav^ 
 been a member, but her name is not mentioned in the record I b 
 — J G. 
 
 SCOTT’S CLUB. 
 
 These gentlemen met at Scott’s house, whose wife was a smart witty 
 woman. 
 
 Index to Scott's Club. 
 
 No. 1. — Sir Edward Walpole. 
 
 2. — Mr. Martin, the lodger of 
 Mr. Scott. 
 
 3 — Captain La Boon. 
 
 No. 4. — Mr. Mann. 
 
 5. — Mr. Deacon. 
 
 6. — Mr. Scott. 
 
 7. — Mrs. Scott. 
 
 Bendal Martin, Esq., was secretary to the Board of Excise. Mr. Robert 
 Man, of the Custom House. Mr. Deacon died of the gaol distemper 
 when the Judge and all the Court in the Old Bailey died of it. Mr. 
 Deacon was immedia,ely buried in the churchyard of St. Paul, Covent 
 Garden. 
 
 King Street, Covent Garden. Built 1G.37 ; so called in compliment to 
 King Charles I., in whose reign it was first erected. Hollar’s view of the 
 ii'iazza exhibits a peep into the original street. The Indian Kings, com- 
 memorated in the Taller and the Spectator, w'ere lodged at Arne’s, an 
 upholsterer’s, in this street. Dr. Arne and his sister, the celebrated 
 actress, wife of Theophilus Cibber, were the son and daughter of this 
 Mr. Arne. Quin, the actor, was born here, and christened in the adjoin- 
 ing church. Nicholas Rowe, the poet, lived and died here; and here, 
 “at his lodgings at Mr. West’s, cabinet tracer, in King-street, Covent- 
 garden,’’ Garrick was living in 174.'j. In a house on the site of the 
 WestmiPAter Fire-office, lived Lenthall, Speaker of the House of Com- 
 mons iji me time of the Commonwealth.— Cunningham’s Hand Book. 
 SONG, 
 
 I'/nl Porter’s Farewell. 
 
 A Frenchman once assaulted him, 
 
 And told him that he ly’d ; 
 
 ; For which with the quart pot he him slew, 
 
 And so the Frenchman dy’d. 
 
 j.* Three Danes, six Germans, and five Swedes, 
 
 Met him in lane of Drury ; 
 
 ' ■ Who, ’cause they took of him the wall, 
 
 He kill’d them in his fury. 
 
 •* THE SECOND PART. 
 
 • Farewell, “ Three Kings,’’ where I have spent 
 
 Full many an idle hour; 
 
 • ^ Where oft I won, but never lost, 
 
 ■ If ’t were within my power. 
 
 ' Farewell, my dearest Piccadilly, 
 
 • ■ Notorious for great dinners ; 
 
 • ' Oh, what a Tennis-Court was there! 
 
 • Alas! too good for sinners. 
 
 Now, God bless all that will be blest, 
 
 God bless the Inns of Court; 
 
 And God bless D’Avenant’s Opera, 
 
 Which is the sport of sports, 
 
 D’Urfey's Songs, pub. 17i9. 
 
 Henrietta Street. Covent Garden. Built 1637. Called after Hen. 
 rietta Maria, Queen of Charles I., and most fashionably inhabited when 
 first erected. Eminent Inhabitants. — Sir Lewis Dives, south Bide, in 
 1637. The Right Hon. the Lord- Lieutenant of Ireland, (Strafford,) on 
 on the south side, in 1640. Samuel Cooper, the miniature painter, on the 
 south side, (d. 1G72). He was living here in 1645, when a rate was made 
 for raising ^250 for payment of the rector and repairs of the church of 
 St. Paul, Covent Garden, according to an ordinance of Jan. 7th, 1645. 
 Kitty Clive, in March, 1756, when she advertised her benefit. McAr- 
 dell, the engraver, at the Golden Ball. Sir Robert Strange, the engraver. 
 He was living “ at the Golden Head, in Henrietta-street,” in 1756, when 
 lie published his proposals for engraving, by subscription, three historical 
 prints — two from Pietro da Cortona, and one from Salvator Rosa. Paul 
 Whitehead, the poet; he died here in 1774. In the Castle tavern, in 
 this street, Sheridan fought and disarmed Mathews, his rival in Miss Lin- 
 Jey’s love ; and in Rawthmell’s coffee-house, in this street, the Society of 
 Arts was established, in 1754. — Cunningham’s Handbook. 
 
 Southampton Street, Strand, was so called in compliment to Lady 
 Rachel Russell, daughter of Thomas Wriolhesley, Earl of Southampton, 
 and wife of William, Lord Russell, the patriot. Eminent Inhabitants . — 
 Mrs. Oldfield, the actress; Arthur Maynwaring in his will (dated 1712) 
 describes her as residing in “ New Southampton. street, in the parish of 
 St. Paul’s, Covent Garden.” David Garrick, in No. 27, before he 
 removed to the Adelphi. No. 31, Godfrey and Cooke’s (established 1680) 
 is the oldest chemist and druggist’s shop in London. — Cunningham’s 
 Handbook, 
 
 Sowthampton-street commenced to be be built in 1700. Godfrey, the 
 chemist, the first inhabitant in the parish, 1680. 
 
 In the year 1776, the late Mr. Boyce, a cutler by trade, now No. 34 in 
 Maiden-lane, Covent Garden, since the year 1725 or 1726, then between 
 70 and 60 years old, informed the writer hereof, that when the ground on 
 which Southampton-sireet was let on building leases, there were clauses 
 in all of them, prohibiting eleven trades from being carried on upon the 
 premises. Mr. Godfrey, a chemist (chemistry being one of thorn), engag- 
 ing ground for the house; the ground extended westward to the wall of 
 the garden of Bedford House ; over which wall was thrown into a ditch 
 the refuse of the garden. This ditch Mr. Godfrey engaged as land off the 
 prohibited "round, and there he built a laboratory, which may be seen on 
 feat side of the stone-post boundary, westward. Mr. Boyce lived at 43, at 
 'ioe second house from the posts, within the boundary, on the eastward 
 •Ide. Tavislock-slrect was the stahle-yard to Bedford’llousc ; and where 
 the three streets (Tavistock, Charles, and York) meet, was a pond, 
 wherein when a hoy he used to bathe; it was used as what is termed a 
 horse-pond. 
 
 Mr Boyce remembered the falling of five houses (now Nos. 4. 5, 6, 7, 
 and 8, Henrietta-street) near the corner of Covent Garden. Some work. 
 Dien on a scaffold opposite, seeing the bouses giving way, went and • 
 
 Ian'’ I be inhabitants of their danger, when all escaped excepting aa 
 
 I jman who was descending the stairs at the moment the whole gave 
 y ; she was killed. This circumstauce may have taken place about th« 
 year 1739. 
 
 Mil.. Garrick’s residence. 
 
 “'V’hile modest worth, tho’ known, if poor. 
 
 Might bootless shiver at thy churlish door; 
 
 And hope as soon encouragement to meet. 
 
 In Asia’s wilds as in Southampton. street.” 
 
 — See The Theatres, a Poetical Dissertation, published 1772. 
 
 Bedford House, in the Strand, the town house of the Earl of Bedford, 
 stood on the north side of the Strand, on the site of the pre.sent South- 
 ampton-street, and was taken down in 1704. The garden wall formed the 
 south side of the Piazza. Strype describes it as “ a large but old-built 
 house, having a great yard before it for the reception of coaches ; with a 
 spacious garden, having a terrace-walk adjoining to the brick wall next 
 the garden.” Before the Russell family built their town-house in the 
 Strand they occupied the Bishop of Carlisle’s Inn, over against their newly 
 erected mansion, afterwards built upon, and called ‘ Carlisle Rents.’’ 
 Stow speaks of it in 1593, as “ Russell or Bedford House.” In 1704 they 
 removed to Bedford House, Bloomsbury. — Cunningham’s Handbook. 
 
 Bow-street, Covent Garden. Built 1637, and so-called “ as running 
 in shape of a bent bow.” Strypo, who tells us this, adds, that “ the 
 street is open and large, with very good houses, well inhabited, and 
 resorted unto by gentry for lodcings, as are most of the other streets in 
 this parish.” This was in 1720; and it ceased to be well inhabited 
 about five years afterwards. The Theatre (Covent Garden Theatre) was 
 built in 1732, and the Bow.street Police-office, celebrated in the annals of 
 crime, established in 17-19. Eminent Inhabitants. — Edmund Waller, the 
 poet, on the east .side of the street, from 1654 to 1656. Here then he W’as 
 living when he wrote, in 165 J, his famous Panegyric upon Cromwell. — 
 William Longueville, the friend of Butler, on the east side. The witty 
 Earl of Dorset, in a house on the west side, in the years 1684 and 1685. 
 Major Mohun, the famous actor, in a house on the east side, from 1671 1o 
 1676 inclusive. Dr. John Radcliffe, on the west side, from ICS7 to 1714 
 the house was taken down in 1732 to erect Covent Garden Theatre. [See 
 Great Queen street.) Grinling Gibbons, in a house on the east side 
 (about the middle of the street), from 1678 to 1721, the period of his 
 death. The house was distinguished by the name of “ The King a 
 Arms.” (Black’s Ashmole MSS. col. 209). 
 
 On Thursday, the house of Mr. Gibbons, the famous carver, in Bow- 
 street, Covent Garden, fell down ; but by a special ProvidcEce none of 
 the family were killed ; hut ’tis said a young girl, which wa' playing in 
 the court [King’s Court?] being missing, is supposed to be buried in the 
 rubbish. — “Postman” of Jan. 24th, 1701. 
 
 “ Grinlin Gibbins gen. and wife , . , . 
 
 Mr. Gibbons more for a fine refusing to take upon him 
 the office of an assessor ..... 
 5 Children — Eliz„ Mary, Jane, Katherine, and Ann 
 Appr. Robert Bing [King in another place] . . 
 
 { S 
 
 Lodger, Madam Titus .... 
 
 Her servant ..... 
 
 —Poll Tax Bks. of St. Paul’s, Cov. Gar., anno 1692. 
 
 Guff 
 
 £1 
 
 1 
 
 Marcellus Laroonc, w’uo drew The Cries of London, known as Tempest’.s 
 Cries, in a house on the west side, three doors up^ from Mids-Ummer ’6S0 
 to his death in 1702.— William Wycherley, the dramatist, in lodgings 
 (Widow Hilton’s, on the west side), three doors beyond Radcliffe, and 
 over against the Cock. King Charles II. paid him a visit here, when ill 
 of a fever; and here, when seventy.five, and too unwell to attend the 
 church, and only anxious to burden the estate descending to his nephew 
 he was married in his own lodgings to a woman with child. He died 
 eleven days after his marriage ; but his widow had no child to succeed to 
 the property. — Edmund Cwrll, “ next door to Will’s Coffee House.’ * — 
 Robert Wilks, the actor, “ Gentleman Wilks,” (d. 1731), in the sixth 
 house on the wesUsideas you walk to Long Acre — Spranger Barry, the 
 actor, from 1749 to — , in the corner bouse on the west side, formerly 
 Will’s Coffee-house Dr. Johnson, for a short time. Henry Fielding 
 the novelist, and acting magistrate for Westminster, in a house 
 ^destroyed in the riots of 1780) on the site of the present police office. 
 It was Fielding (d. 1754), and his half-brother. Sir John Fielding (d. 
 1780), who made Bow-street Police-office and Bow.street officers famous, 
 in our annals. Here the former wrote his Tom Jones. 
 
 “ A predecessor of mine used to boast that he made one thou.can 
 pounds a-year in his office ; but how he did this (if, indeed, he did it) is 
 to a me a secret. His clerk, now mine told me I had more business than 
 he had over known there; 1 am sure I had as much as any man could do.” 
 — Fielding, Journal of a Voyage to Lisbon. 
 
 “ I have actually come to Bow.street in the morning, and while I have 
 been leaning on the desk, had three or four people come in and say, ‘ 1 was 
 robbed by two highwaymen in such a place ; ‘ I was robbed by a single 
 highwayman in such a place.’ People travel now safely by means of the 
 horse patrol. That Sir Richard Ford pla.med. Where are the highway 
 robberies now ?” — Townsend, the Bow-street Officer (Evidence before the 
 House of Commons, June, 181ff). 
 
 I may add to the list of celebrated personages living in lodgings in this 
 street, the name of Sir Roger dc Covcrly.t Remarkable Places — Will’s 
 Coffee-house, No. 1,-on the west side. The Cock Tavern, about the mid- 
 dle of the Btrect, on the oast side. 
 
 “ Their lodgings [Wycherley and his first wife the Countess of Drogheda] 
 were in Bow.street over against the Cock, whether he at any time were 
 with his friends, he was obhged to leave the windows open, that the lady 
 might see there was no woman in the company, or she would be imme- 
 diately in a downright raving condition.” — Dennis’s Letters, p. 224. 
 
 * Advertisement of Ashmole’s Eerkshire, in Daily Post Boy, Feb. 7th, 
 J 729-30. 
 
 t Spectator, No. 410 
 
EVANS’S SUPPER-ROOMS, COVENT-OARDEN. 9 
 
 Htre Wycherly has laid two of trft oest scenes in The Plain Dealer ^4lo., 
 1677). Here Sedley, Buckhnrst, anl 0«le exposed themselves in very in- 
 decent postures to the populace; Sedly stripping himself naked, and 
 preaching blasphemy from the balcony. Here Sir John Coventry supped 
 for the last time with a whole nose, being waylaid on his way home from 
 the Cock to hi* brother’s in Suffolk-street, and bis nose cut to the bone * 
 The house was kept, when Sedly exposed himself, by a woman called 
 “ Oxford Kaie.”t — Jacob Tonson’s Printing-office. Remarkable Circum- 
 stances — In the large room at the upper end of this street, nearly oppo- 
 site a narrow court once called Playhouse-passage, Bonnell 'J hornton 
 opened an exhibition of sign paintings, a piece of inofience drollery taken 
 from the annual exhibition of pictures made by a Society of Artrats, pre- 
 vious to the institution of the Royal Academy, — Cunningham s Hand 
 Book. 
 
 “Charles Johnson, famous for writing a play every year, and for being 
 at Button’s every day. He had, probably, thriven better in his vocation 
 had he been a small matter leaner ; he may be justly called a martyr to 
 obesity, and may be said to have fallen a victim to the rotundity of his 
 parts: kept a tavern in Bow-street, Covent Garden, died about 1741, 
 Though he was a man of inofifensive behaviour, yet he could not escape 
 the satire of Mr, Pope; who, too ready to resent even any supposed 
 offence, has, on some trivial pique, immortalized him in the Dunciad. 
 
 Bow. STREET West. 1662. — The Lady Jenkins. 
 
 Sir George Beaumont lived in Bow-street, Covent Garden, June 30th, 
 1731. 
 
 Justice De Viel was so infamous a character and so detested by the 
 people at large, that, when he was conveyed to be buried, his body was 
 carried away from his house i;i Bow-street (where he died) at three 
 o’clock in the morning, for quiet interment. 
 
 Bedford Coffee House.— A celebrated coffee-house, “ under the 
 Piazza in Covent Garden,” frequented by Garrick, Quin, Foote, Murphy, 
 and others. It stood in the north-east corner, near the entrance to 
 Covent Garden Theatre, and has long ceased to exist. 
 
 This coffee-house ;is every night crowded with men of parts. Almost 
 every one you meet is a polite scholar and a wit. Jokes and bon-mots are 
 echoed from box to box ; every branch of literature is critically examined, 
 and the merit of every production of the press, or performance of the 
 theatres, weighed and determined.” — The Connoisseur, No. 1, Jan. 31st, 
 1754. 
 
 “ Tiger Roach (who used to bully at the Bedford Coffee-House because 
 his name was Roach) is set up by Wilkes’s friends to burlesque Luttrel 
 and his pretensions. I own I do not know a more ridiculous circumsiance 
 than to be a joint candidate with the Tiger. O’Brien used to take him 
 off very pleasantly, and perhaps you may, from his representation, hare 
 some idea of this important wight. He used to sit with a half-starved 
 look, a black patch upon his cheek, pale with the idea of murder, or with 
 rank cowardice, a quivering lip, and a downcast eye. In that manner 
 he used to sit at a table all alone, and his soliloquy, interrupted now and 
 then with faint attempts to throw off a little saliva, was to the following 
 effect; — ‘ Hut! hut! a mercer’s prentice with a bag wig; — d — n my s— 1, 
 if I would not skiver a dozen of them like larks! Hut! hut! I don’t 
 understand such airs !— I’d cudgel him back, breast, and belly for three 
 skips of a louse_! — How do you do, Pat ! Hut! hut! God’s blood — Larry, 
 I’m glad to see you! — Prentices! a fine thing indeed! — Hut! hut! How 
 do you, Dominick ! — D— n my s — 1, what’s here to do !’ These were the 
 r.i.editations of this agreeable youth. From one of these reveries he 
 started up one night, when 1 was there, called a Mr. Bagnell out of the 
 room and mosl heroically s,tahbed. him iu the daik, the other haviirg no 
 weapon to defend himself with. In this career the Tiger persisted, till at 
 length a Mr. Lennard b?Hndished a whip over his head, and stood in a 
 menacing attitude, commanding him to ask pardon directly. The Tiger 
 shrank from the danger, and with a faint voice pronounced — ‘Hut! what 
 signifies it between you and me ? W ell ! well ! I ask your pardon.’ ‘ Speak 
 louder, sir; 1 don’t hear a word you say.’ And indeed he was so very 
 tali, that it seemed as if the sound, sent feebly from below, could not 
 ascend to such a height. This is the hero who is to figure at Brentford,” 
 — Arthur Murphy to David Garrick, April 10th, 1769 (Garr. Corr., i. 339). 
 
 Bedford -STREET, in the Strand. — ^A handsome broad street with very 
 good houses, which, since the fire of London, are generally taken up by 
 eminent tradesmen, as mercers, lacemen, drapers, &c., as is King-street, 
 and Henrielta-street. But the west side of this street is the best. — (Strype, 
 b. vi., p. 93). — The street described by Strype lay between King-street, 
 Covent Garden, and Maiden-lane, that portion of the present street 
 between Maiden-lane and the Strand being distinguished as Half-Moon- 
 street, from the Half-Moon tavern mentioned by Ned VV'arde iu his 
 London Spy, p. 193. This part of Che street was called Bedford-street by 
 the Westminster Paving Commissioners, for the first time, in 1766. In 
 the wall of one of the houses on the west side is a stone inscribed “ This 
 is Bedford-street.” The upper part of the street (all that was Bedford- 
 street originally) is iu the parish of St. Paul’s, Covent Garden, and was 
 built circ. 1637 ; the lower part of the street (Half-Moon-street) is still 
 in the parish of St. Marlin’s-in-the-fields. Eminejit Inhabitants ; East 
 Side. — llemigius Van Limput, the painter, who bought, at the sale of the 
 King’s effects. Van Dyck’s large picture of Charles I.ori horseback, but 
 was obliged to surrender it at tl.e Restoration. It is now at Windsor, 
 He was living here in 1645, and for many years after. Quin, the actor, 
 in a house rated at £42, from 1719 to 1752. /Fcif 5'iJc.‘^Chief Justice 
 Richardson (d. 1635), of whom so many pleasant storH?s are told; in the 
 house now No. 15. The exterior is modern, but part of the interior is 
 old, and of Richardson’s time. Sir Francis Kynaston, on the west side, in 
 1637. De Grammonl’s, Earl of Chesterfield, in 1656, Kynaston, the actor, 
 in his.old age, in the house of his son, an opulent mercer in the street. 
 
 1 homas Sheridan, father of Richard Brinsley Sheridan. 
 
 “ Mr. Sheridan, onetime, lived in Bedford-street, opposite Henrietta- 
 street, which ranges with the south side of Covent Garden, so that the 
 prospect lies open the whole way, free of interruption. We were standing 
 together at the drawing-room window, expecting Johnson, who was to 
 dine there. Mr. Sheridan asked me, could I see the lenglk of the 
 
 * See Marwell’s Letters and article Haymarket 
 t Pepys, July 1st, 1633; Shadwell,i. 45. 
 
 Garden? ‘ No, Sir.’ [Mr. Whyte was short-sighted.] ‘Take out your 
 opera-glass, Johnson is coming ; you may know him by his gait.’ I per- 
 ceived him at a good distance, working along with a peculiar solemnity of 
 deportment, and an awkward sort of measured step. At that time tho 
 broad flagging at each side the streets was not univer.sally adopted, and 
 Slone posts were in fashion, to prevent the annoyance of carriages. Upon 
 every post, as he passed along, I could observe, he deliberately laid his 
 hand ; but missing one of them, when he had got at some distance he 
 seemed suddenly to recollect him.self, and immediately returning back, 
 carefully performed the accustomed ceremony, and resumed his former 
 course, not omitting one till he gained the crossing. ’I'his Mr. Sheridan 
 assured me, however odd it might appear, was his constant practice ; but 
 why or wherefore he could not inform me.’’ — (Whyte’s Miscellanea Ifova, 
 p. 49.) — Cunningham’s Handbook, 
 
 Maiden Lane, Covent Garden.— “ Called, in the early rate-books Oi 
 St. Paul’s, Covent (larden, ‘ Maiden Lane, behind the Bull Inn. Here 
 is still ‘Bull-Inn-Court.’ Eminent Inhabitants. — Archbishop Bancroft, 
 both when Dean of York and Dean of St. haul’s, the clerical scandal of tho 
 day affirming that he was more than ‘ decently intimate with one Mrs. 
 Bembo in Maiden Lane.’* — Andrew Marvell, who dates one of his letters 
 to his constituents in Hull from his lodgings in Maiden Lane, April 21st, 
 1677. t Other letters are dated from Covent Garden. He was lodging in 
 this lane, ‘on a second floor in a court in the Strand,’ when Lord Danby, 
 ascending his stairs with a message and bribe from the king, found him 
 too proud and honest to accept his offer. It is said he was dining off the 
 pickings of a mutton bone, and ifiat as soon as the Lord Treasurer was 
 gone he was obliged to send a friend to borrow a guinea. Voltaire, in 
 lodgings at the White Peruke. Bonnelf Thornton was the son of an 
 apothecary in this lane; and J, &I. W. Turner, R.A., the celebrated land- 
 scape painter, the son of a hairdresser at No. 26, on the north side come? 
 of Hand Court. Mr. Turner lived ivith his father in this house till the.- 
 year 1800, when he was elected an associate of the Royal Academy. 
 Observe. — A tavern. No. 20, called the Cyder Cellars, a favourite haunt of 
 Professor Person. — Proctor, the sculptor, died, in very reduced circum- 
 stances, in a house in Maiden Lane opposite the Cyder Collars. His best 
 work, Ixion on the Wheel, was bought by Sir Abraham Hume, and is now 
 the property of Viscount Alford. — Cunningham’s ” Hand Book.” 
 
 “ In Half Moon.slreet, now called Little Bedford-street, against tho 
 next house to Mr. Plowman’s premises, is a stone upon which is the follow- 
 ing : — ‘‘ This is Bedford-street : F : E : B.” This stone is now between two 
 houses, formerly it was but one. Mr. Arrowsmith, the candle makei 
 here, he removed into Bear-street, Leicester-square ; Nell Gwynn lived 
 there with his predecessor. 
 
 Bedford-street. — Sheridan’s Father. — ‘‘That is the father of B. Slier- 
 ridan, the M.P., wlio lived in the first floor of Mr. Pitt Cobbelt’s, in Bed- 
 ford-street; and in the same house, but prior to Mr. S.., lived the mother 
 of the son of Lord Chesterfield’s, the young maa to whom his Lordship 
 addressed his letters.” — From the information of Mr. Mainwarring, April 
 20th, 1815. 
 
 Leg Alley, the residence of Taylor, the water poet. — Taylor, the 
 “ Water Poet,” as he was called, kept a public- house in it. He retained 
 his veneration for the Stewart family long after their more courtly 
 panegyrists had found other subjects of flattery ; and when, in his old 
 age, he kept an ale-house in Long Acre, he ventured to set up the sign 
 of the ‘ Mourning Crown ;’ but as this gave offence to the saints of 
 the commonweal th. he vras forced to subaiiuue his own bead with this 
 motto— 
 
 ‘‘ There’s many a head stands for a sign ; 
 
 Then, gentle reader, why not mine ?” 
 
 In “ Chalmer’s Apology” it is said, “ Taylor was born in 1584, and was, 
 of course the contemporary of Shakspeare, though twenty years younger. 
 The waterman must have often called on Shakespeare, who is said to 
 have lived on Bankside. They must have chopped verses together.’’ Tho 
 notes to the ‘‘Dunciad’’ give the following account of him: — “John 
 Taylor, the water poet, an honest man, who owns he had not learned so 
 much at the accidence— a rare example of modesty in a poet ; 
 
 “ I must confess I do want eloquence. 
 
 And never scarce did learn my accidence 
 For having got from possum to posset, 
 
 I there was gravelled, and could no further get !’ 
 
 He wrote four-score books in the reign of James I, and Charles I, 
 and afterwards, like Edward Ward, kept an ale-house in Long Acre. 
 He died in 1654. 
 
 Hart Street— From the White Hart inn. — 1662. The Lady Salis- 
 bury.— 1683. Hart-street, called Elm-street. — Haines, Joseph ; commonly 
 called Count Haines. This gentleman was a very eminent low comedian 
 and a person of great facetiousness of temper, and ready wit. The place 
 of his birth is not known, but if Covent Garden did not bring him forth, 
 the school of St. IMariin-in-the-fields gave him his first education, and 
 on the 4th April, 1704, at his lodgings in Hart-street, Long-acrc, he re- 
 tired from this earthly stage, and was buried in the churchyard of St. 
 Paul’s, Covent Garden. He left one dramatic piece, entitled, “ The Fatal 
 Mistake.” 
 
 New-street, Covent Garden. — His (Dr. Johnsons) first lodgings were 
 at the house of Mr. Norris, a staymaker in Exeter-sireet, adjoining 
 Catherine-street in the Strand. “ 1 dined,” said he, ‘‘ very well for eight- 
 pence, with very good company, at the Pine Apple in New-street, just by. 
 Several of them had travelled. They expected to meet everyday, but 
 did not know one another’s names. It used to cost the rest a shilling, 
 for they drank wine ; but I had a cut of meat for sixpence, and bread 
 for a penny, and gave the waiter a penny ; so that I was quite well 
 served, nay, better than thcrest, for they gave the waiter nothing. — ‘‘ Bos- 
 well,” by Croker, i. 73.— In Charles II.’s reign it was very fashionably in- 
 habited. I find the Countess of Chesterfield, the lady Van Dyck was in 
 love with, occupying a house on the south side in 1660. Flaxman was 
 living here in the years 1771 and 1772. — Cunningham’s Hand-book. 
 
 Russell-street, Covent Garden. — Built 1634, and so called after tho 
 Russells, Earls and Dukes of Bedford, the ground landlords. In 1729“ it 
 was a fine broad street, well inhabited by tradesmen it is now rather 
 poorly inhabited. Remarkable Flaces In— Will’s Coffee-hou»e, on the 
 
10 
 
 EVANS’S SUPPER-ROOMS, CO VENT-GARDEN. 
 
 north side of the weet.end corner of Bow-street; Button’s Coffee-house, 
 ■‘on the south side, about two doors from Covcnt Garden Tom’s Coffee, 
 house, on the north side. [5'ce all these names ] Eminent Inhabitants 
 — Carr, Earl of Somerset, implicated in the murder of Sir Thomas (Jver- 
 bury ; he was living here, on the north side, in 1644, <he year before his 
 death. Joseph Taylor, 1(134—1611, one of the original players in Shaks- 
 peare’s plays \_See Piazza.] John Evelyn. 
 
 18 Oct. 1, 1659. “ 1 came with my wife and family to London : tooke 
 
 lodgings at the 3 Feathers in Rus'elUstreet, Covent Garden, for all the 
 winter, my son being very unwell.” 
 
 Mayor Mohun, the actor, on the south side; in 1665 he was assessed at 
 10s,, the highest rate levied in the street. Thomas Betterton, the actor; 
 he died here in 1710, and here ‘‘ at his late lodgings,” his books, prints, 
 drawings, and paintings, were sold after his death. Tom Davies, the book- 
 seller, on the south sTde, “over against Tom’s Coffee-house,” now singu- 
 larly enough the Caledonian Coffee House. 
 
 “ The very place where I was fortunate enough to be introduced to the 
 illustrious subject of this work deserves to be pariicularly marked. It was 
 No, 8. I never pass by without feeling reverence and regret.”— Boswell. 
 
 “This [1763] is to be a memorable year; for in it I had the happiness 
 to obtain the acquaintance of that extraordinary man whose memoirs I 
 nm now writing. Mr. Thomas Davies, the actor, wlio then kept a book- 
 seller’s shop in Russell-street, Covent Garden, told me that Johnson was 
 very much his friend, and came frequently to his house, where he more 
 than once invited mo to meet him; but by some unlucky accident or 
 other, he was prevented from coming to us. At last, on Monday, the 16th 
 of May, when I was sitting in Mr. Davies’ back parlour, after having 
 drunk tea with him and Mrs. Davies, Johnson unexpectedly came into 
 the shop ; and Mr. Davies having perceived him through the glass door in the 
 room in which we were sitting, advancing towards us, announced his 
 awful approach to me somewhat in the manner of an actor when he ad- 
 dresses Hamlet on the appearance of his fatlier’s ghost, ‘ Look, my Lord, 
 he comes!’ Mr. Davies mentioned my name, and respectfully introduced 
 roe to him. I was much agitated; and, recollccling his prejadice against 
 the Scotch, of which I had heard much, 1 said to Davies, ‘Don’t tell him 
 where I come from.’ ‘From Scotland,’ cried Davies, roguishly. ‘Mr. 
 Johnson,’ said I, ‘ I do indeed come from Scotland, but I cannot help it.’ 
 This speech was somewhat unlucky, for with that quickness of wir, for 
 which he was so remarkable, he retorted, ‘ That, sir, I find is what a 
 great many of your countrymen cannot help.’”— Boswell. 
 
 Mrs. Barton Booth, the “ Santlow fam’d for dance” of Gay, mispress of 
 the great Duke of Marlborough, and subsequently the wife of Barton 
 Booth, the original Cato in Addison’s play of that name ; she died here 
 in 1773. Dr. Armstrong, the poet; he died herein 1779. Charles Lamb 
 (Elia) at No. 20; he descrilies his look-ont as follows Drury-lane 
 Theatre in siglit from our front, and Covcnt Garden from our back rocm 
 windows.” There is a good deal of wit about Wycherley’s play of ” The 
 Country Wife,” about Mr. Horiier’s lodgings in the street. It is that 
 kind of wit, however, which suffers from transplanting,— Cunningham’s 
 Hand-book. Father Ireland (Jesuit) in Russell-street.— [&e Oates's 
 Tryal, 1C85.] Father Fenwick (Jesuit) in Duke-street.— [Ibid, 168.5.] 
 
 Rose Street. — 1662. Red Rose-street, so called. Here Curll lived, 
 at the Pope’s Head. — ‘‘ Mr. Gerrell informs me that the cook-shop, the 
 corner of Rose-street, was where Butler died ; and that the houses next 
 door to him, towards Longacre, was kept by a Lord and a Baronet.” — 
 “ Whereas on Thursday, the 1 8th inst., in the evening, Mr. John Dryden 
 was assaulted and wounded in Rose.street, in Covent Garden, by divers 
 men unknown ; if any person shall m.ake discovery of the said offenders to 
 the said Mr. Dryden, or to any justice of peace for the liberty of West- 
 minster, he shall not only receive fifty pounds, which is deposited in the 
 hands of Mr. Blanchard, goldsmith, next door to Temple-bar, for the said 
 purpose, but if tbe discoverer be himself one of the actors, he shall have 
 fifty pounds, without letting his name be known, or receiving the least 
 trouble by any prosecution.” — Domestic Intelligence, or News both from 
 City and Country, No. 50, Friday, Dec. 26, 1679. 
 
 Tavtstock-kow, Covent-garden. — A row of houses, fourteen in num- 
 her, on the south side of Covent Garken Market. In No. 4 (at the west- 
 end corner of Tavistock-court) lived Miss Reay, the mistress of Lord 
 Sandwich, killed in the Piazza (1779), by Hackman, in a fit cd frantic 
 jea'ousy. 
 
 “ A Sandwich favourite w.as this fair ; 
 
 And her he dearly loved; 
 
 By whom six children had, we hear ; 
 
 This story fatal proved. 
 i A clergyman, O wicked one. 
 
 In Covent Garden shot her ; 
 
 1 No lime to cry upon her God, 
 
 Its hop’d he’s not forgot her.’’ 
 
 — Grub street Ballad on Miss Reay, quoted by Sir Walter Scott in bis 
 Essay on Imitations of the Ancient Ballad. 
 
 Hackm.an tvas recruiting at Huntingdon ; appeared at the ball ; was aslied 
 by Lot d Sandwich to II inchinbrooke ; was introduced to Miss Reay, be- 
 came violently enamoured of her, made proposals, and was sent into Ire- 
 land, where his regiment was. He sold out ; came back on purpose to be 
 near the object ofliis affection ; took orders, but could not bend the in- 
 flexible fair in a black coal more than a red. He could not live wiibout 
 her. He meant only to kill himself, and that in her presence ; but seeing 
 her coquet at the play with Macnainara, a young Iri-h Templar, he 
 determined suddenly to dispatch her too. [See Tyburn.] In the upper 
 part of the same house died Charles Mackliu, at the great age of ninety- 
 seven, or even more. Here the elder Mathews called to give the aged 
 actor a taste of his boyish quality for the stage. In No. 5 William 
 Vandervelde the younger died, in 1707 ; and in 1799, in the front room of 
 the second floor of the same house, died Tliomas Major, the engraver, 
 “ The palm,” says Walpole, ” is not ices disputed with Raphael for his 
 history than with Vandervelde for his .sea pieces.” No. 13 was Zincke’s, 
 he celebrated miniature painter. NaUianiel Dance was a subsequent in- 
 habitant of the same house; but one still more celebrated was Peter 
 Pindar, w he wrote many of his invectives against George HI and tbe 
 Koyal Academy in the gairel of No 13.— Cunningham’s Handbook. 
 
 Tavistock Street, Cove.vt Garden Richard Leveridge, the cele* 
 
 brated singer, kept the tavern in this street after his retirement from the 
 stage. Here he brought out “ A Collection of Songs, with thfr Music by 
 Mr. Leveridge. In two volumes. London : Engraved am? Printed for 
 the Author, in Tavistock-street, Covent Garden, J72- Cumiiagham’ j 
 Handbook. 
 
 In 1731, the Hon. Marmaduke Seymour lived in Tavistock-street. 
 
 The Prince's 'Iheatre, irt Hinchinbroke.— Lord Sandwich has been 
 too long a manager not to understand the business. At no place whatever 
 are the representations got up in a style more deraonslrating the master ; 
 nor on any occasion were the representations ever more happy than on 
 the last. 'I'he pieces that have been lately played are as follows : — Tho 
 Liar, The Agreeable Surprise, die P. 'mp, Tbe Devil to Pay, Virgin 
 Unmasked, High Life below Stairs. Though the fo;le of the Hindiin- 
 broke Company seems to lie in musical pieces, strong comedy has not 
 been wanting. Major Arabin, in failure of a lady, played Mr. Cheshire, 
 in a style that drew forth the ince.ssant laughter and applause of the 
 house. In a rich crimson siik, apairof double ruffles, and diamond ear- 
 rings, he presented one of the most agreeable surprises we have lately wit- 
 nessed. A Miss Lloyd who played Laura in the same farce, was much 
 and very justly commended. Her voice and figure were admirable, and 
 her acting, which was a first attempt, was very creditable to herself. The 
 Prince of Wales is expected to be present at the next opening of the 
 theatre, which is allowed to be called after him. The pieces then to be 
 got up are Inkle and Yarico, Tit for Tat, The Poor Soldier. -Amongst 
 the personages present were, the Duke of Manchester, Lord Ludlow, 
 Lord Shuldham, Admiral Bickerton, and other names of distinction. The 
 attention of Lord Sandwich to every body and every thing, were in the 
 most distinguished style — with infinite ease, yet with infinite politeness, 
 and with all the alacrity of twenty -five.— 'Yhe New Town and Country 
 Magazine, Nov. 1778. 
 
 Miss Wray — Mr. Beck’s, the west corner of Tavistock-court, in 
 Tavistock-row, was the house in which Miss Wray was born. Mr, Beck 
 was .so informed by Mr. Richardson. 
 
 York Street, Covenl Garden, was so called in compliment to James, 
 Duke of York, afterwards James II. Strype describes it a.s “ very sh Tt, 
 but well built and inhabited.” This was in 1720. Beneath the parapet 
 ledge of Mr. 11, G. Bo!;n, tbe bookseller’s house, is a stone inscribed wuh 
 ilie name of the street and the year of its erection — ” 1636.” Mr. Bolm’s 
 vaults are very extensive, and are said t^ cover part of the burial ground 
 of tbe ancient convent from whence Covcnt Garden derives its name. 
 Eminent Inhabitants— Dr. Donne’s .son, in 1640. Mrs. Pritchard, the 
 actress, when she adveitiseJ her benefit at Drury Lane, in the Public 
 Advertiser of March 13th, 1756. 1C81. Dr. Waller Chariton. — Cun- 
 
 ningham’s Handbook. 
 
 James-street, Covcnt Garden. Built circ. 1637, and so called in com- 
 pliment to James, Duke of York, afterwards James II. 
 
 ‘ The other evening, passing along near Covent Garden, I was jogged 
 on the elbow, as 1 turned into (he Piazza, on the right hand coming out 
 of James-street, by a slim young girl of seventeen, who with a pert air 
 a."kcd me it I was for a pint of wine. I do not know but I should have 
 indulged my curiosity in having some chat with her, but that I am in 
 formed (he man of ilie Bumper knows lier, and it would have made a story 
 for him not very agreeable to sbme part of my writings.” — The Sp» ctator 
 No. 2 C Eminent Inhabitants — Sir H, Herbert, brother of Lord Herbert 
 of Cherbury, and of George Herbert, and the last Master of the Revels, 
 lived and died on the west side of this street, in the red-brick hou.se, the 
 last but one before the street abuts upon Hart-sireet. Sir James Thorn- 
 hill, the painter, on the east side ; the back offices and painting-room 
 abutted upon Langford’s (then Cock’s) auction-room, in the Piazza, 
 No. 27 was the residence of Charles Grignon (d. 1810), the engraver, 
 after (iiavelot, llayman, Wale, &c, — Cunningham’s H mdbook. 1662, 
 Dr. Warner, Doc lor Ratcliff, — Amand, Esq., Doctor (fibbons. Sir Win 
 Jelliffe, Kl., Thomas Boocas, Esq. 1669. Mr. Richard Wiseman. 
 
 St. Martin’s-lane. — A street extending from Longacre to Tra- 
 falgar-square and Charing-evoss ; budt circ. JC13, and tii n called ‘‘ the 
 West Church Lane.” It is written “St, Martin’s-lane” for the first 
 time in tiie late-bookof St. Marlin's in the year 1617-18. The upper 
 part was originally culled the Terrace. Eminent Inhabitants — Sir 
 Theodore May erne, phy'ician to James L, on the west side. He was 
 living- here in 1GI3, when it was called “ the West Church -lane.” Sir 
 John Finelt, author of “ Finelti Philoxenis, some Choice Observations 
 touching the Reception, Precedence, &c., of Foreign Ambassadors in 
 England,” 8vo„ 1656. Daniel Mytens, the painter, on the west side, 
 from 1622 to 1634, two doors off Sir Theodore Maycrne, and five from 
 Sir John Finetl. Prince Charles, afterwards Charles I., gave him the 
 house for twelve years, at the peppercorn rent of 6d, a-ycar. Sir 
 Benjamin Rudyerd, in 1624-5, next to Sir John Finett. Abraham Vaii- 
 derdoort, keeper of the pictures to Charles I., on the west side. Sir 
 William Alexander, afterwards Earl of Stirling, in 1631-2. Carew 
 Rakigh (Sir Walter’s son), fr. m 1636 to 1638. and again in 16C4, west 
 side. Sir John Suckling, in 164). Sir Kcncilm Digby, in 1G4I.* Dr. 
 Thomas Willis,' the physician (d. 1675), His grandson, Browne Willis, 
 tlie antiquarv, caused a church to be dedicated to St. Martin, because his 
 grandfather the Dr. died in S*. Martin’s-lane on St. Martin’s Day. Earl 
 of Shaftesbury, in 1675-77, west side. Dr. Thomas Tenison, vicar of 
 St. Martin’s, ‘afterwards Archbishop of Canterhury, west side, in 1C83. 
 Ambrose Philips, two doors from Slaughter’s Coffee-house, lower down, 
 west side, from 1720 to L ’25, when gone is against his name. Sir James 
 Ihornhill, beliind No. 104; the staircase had allegorical pictures from 
 his pencil. Sir Joshua Reynolds, nearly opposite to May’s Buildings,* 
 he afterwards removed to N ew port-street, and lastly to Lciccsler-squarc 
 L. F, Roubiliac, the sculptor. 
 
 “The studio in wh'.ch Honbiliac commenced on hisown account was in 
 Peter’s court, St. Martio’s-lanc — a favourite haunt of artists : the room 
 has since been pulled down and rebuilt, and is now occupietl as a Meet- 
 ing House by tbe Society of Frien Is.” — Allan Cunningham, iii. 3.5. 
 
 In 1756, he was rated to the poor of St. Marlin’s-in-the. fields at iTtS 
 
 • Howell’s Letters, ed. 1737, p, 407. 
 
 + Maitne’s Life of Sii J. Reynolds, p 11 
 
EVANS’S SUPPEErROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN 
 
 He afYerwards removed to a studio on the west side, opposite Slaughter s 
 Coffee-house, where he died in 17G2. Fuseli, at No. 100, in 1784-5. The 
 great banking-houso of coutls and Co., was established in this lane in the 
 rei^n of Queen An-ne, bjvone Middleton* * a goldsmith. In a great room, 
 on°the west side, nearly opposite Old Slaughter’s, N. Kone, the painter, 
 exhibited, in 1775, his celebrated “Conjuror,” intended as a satire upon 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds’s mode of composing his pictures ; and in Cecil, 
 court, in 1776 , Abraham Ruimbach, the engraver, was born. Observe — 
 No. 96, on the west side. — Cunningham’s Handbook. 
 
 Longacre. — A spacious street, chiefly inhabited by coach-makers,* 
 and running east and west between St. Martin’s-lane and Urury-lane, first 
 known as The Elms, then called Seven Acies, and since 1612, from the 
 length of a certain slip of ground, then used as a public pathway as Long- 
 acre.t Leg-allev, Long.acre, was known in Strype’s time as Eimes-street.t 
 It first occurs in the rate-books of St. Martin’s under the year 1627, and in 
 1656 Howell calls it “ a spacious fair street.”! Eminmt Inhabitants — 
 Oliver Cromwell, from 1637 to 1613, on the south side ; two doors off Nicho- 
 las Stone, the sculptor. He is called Captain Cromweil, and was rated to 
 the poor of St. Martin’s at 10s. lOd., then a large sum and a high rate. 
 In 1613 he was rated at 14s.; and in 1614 (when his name is no longer 
 there) half the houses in Covent Garden are described as empty. — John 
 Drydcn, from 1682 to 1686, in a house on the north side facing Rose-street. 
 He’ is called in the rate-book John Dreydon, Esq., an unusual distinction, 
 and the sum he paid to the poor varied from 18s, to £1. He is generally 
 said to have lived in Gerard-slreet, and to have been on his way home to 
 his house in that street when he w'as cudgelled in Rose--streei, but no part 
 of Gerard-street was built at that time — Lumley-court was so called 
 from the Lady Lumley, who was living here in 1660; and Banbury-court 
 from Banbury House, inhabited in 1673 by the Earl of Peterborough.^ 
 
 “ There was in Longacre a shoemaker whose shop had two windows, 
 in one of which he placed the articles of his regular trade, and very fre- 
 quently in the other a landscape by Richard WiRon. And it is very 
 generally believed that pictures thus parted with for a few pounds have 
 since been sold for hundreds.” — Wright’s Life of Wilson. 
 
 Thomas Stothard, the painter, was the sou of a coach-maker in Long- 
 acre , — See Bagnio, Rose-street, Phcsnix-alley. 
 
 “ But the most diverting, and amusing of all is the Mug- House-Club in 
 Longacre; where, every Wednesday and Saturday, a mixture of gen- 
 tlemen, lawyers and tradesmen, meet in a great room, and are seldom 
 under a hundred. 
 
 They have a grave old gentlem.an, in his own gray hairs, now within 
 a few months of ninety years old, who is their president; and sits in an 
 arm’d chair some steps higher than the rest of the company, to keep the 
 whole room in order. A harp plays all the time at the lower end of the 
 room: and every now and then one or other of the company rises and 
 entertains the rest with a song, and (by the by) some are good masters. 
 Here is nothing drank but ale, and every gentleman hath his separate 
 mug, which he chalks on the table where he sits as it is brought in ; and 
 every one retires when he pleases, as from a coffee-house. 
 
 “ The room is always so diverted with songs, anddriaking from one table 
 to another to one another’s healths, that there is no room for politicks 
 or anything that can sow’r conversation. 
 
 One must be there by seven to get room, and after ten the oompacy 
 are for the most part gone. 
 
 Ihis is a winter’s amusement, that is agreeable enough to a stranger 
 for once or twice, and he is well diverted with the different humours 
 when the mugs overflow. 
 
 On King George’s Accession to the Throne, the Tories had .so much 
 the better of the friends of the Protestant succession, that they gained the 
 mobs on all publick days to their side. This induced a sett of gentlemen 
 to establish Mugg. bouses in all the comers of this great City, for wcll- 
 affected tradesmen to meet and keep up the spirit of loyalty to the Pro- 
 testant succession, and to be ready upon all tumults to join their forces 
 for the suppression of the Tory mobs. Many an encounter they had, and 
 many were the riots, till at last the Parliament was o’lliged by an Act of 
 Parliament to put an end to this City strife, which had this good effect, 
 tiiat upon pulling down of the mug-house in Salisbury court, for which 
 some boys were hanged on this Act, the City has not been troubled with 
 them since.”— De Foe, A Journey through England, 8vo, 1722, i. 289. 
 
 Ihe warehouse of Mr. H. G. Bohn, the bookseller, at the corner of 
 Mercer-street, contains some interesting mural p.aintings of the middle o, 
 the last century. No. 89, Huliab’s St. Martin’s Music-hall, was built 
 1849-50; from the designs of W. WestmacoU.— Cunningham’s Handbook. 
 
 We give an account of the first rise of tl.e pestilence in the words of 
 De Foe : — “ It was about the beginning of September, 1604, that I among 
 the rest of my neighbours heard, in ordinary discourse, that the plague 
 was returned again to Holland; for it had been very violent there, and 
 particularly at Amsterdam and Rotterdam, in the year 1663. It seems 
 that the Government had a true account of it, and several councils were held 
 about ways to prevent its coming over; but all was kept very puivute. 
 Hence it was that this rumour died off again, and people began to forget 
 it as a thing we were very little concerned in, and that we hoped was not 
 true; till the latter end of November, or the beginning of December, 1664, 
 when two men, said to be Frenchmen, died of the plague in Long-acre, or 
 rather at the upper end of Drury-lane.” From this Lime forward, tlie 
 bills of mortality began to increase, from their usual amount of about two 
 hundred and forty per week, to nearly five hundred, and continued to 
 fiuctu.ue on the whole, but gradually to increase in the parish of St. Giles, 
 where, in the middle of June they began to bury one hundred and twenty 
 per week, sixty. eight of which were allowed to be, but a hundred considered 
 to be, cases of the p.ague. 
 
 1739.— Drury-lane.— In the mouth of danger, and in the midst of alarm, 
 which their audacities had occasioned, Turpin and his gang were as care- 
 less as they were heedless. The While Hart, at the upper end of Drury- 
 lane, was their constant place of rendezvous. 
 
 The first man who sold birds in Covent Garden is still living, and he 
 assured Mr. Gerrell that stick-liquorice steeped in water was the b«sS 
 thing to cure birds of the scurvy 
 
 COVENT GARDEN THEATRE. 
 
 VELUTI IN SPECULUtA 
 
 
 INTERIOR OF OLD COVENT GARDEN THEATBR BEFORE THE JIR3. 
 A. VAN ASSEN. 
 
 THE BBTERIOR AFTER THE FIRE. — DSAW’N SEPT. 27, 1809 
 
 Fire began about three o’clock on Monday morning. 
 
 The first Drury Lane Theatre was frequently called Covent Garden 
 Theatre. — A theatre an the west side of Bow-street, Covent Garden; and 
 the second theatre on the same spot. The first theatre was opened on 
 Dec. 7lh, 1732, by John Rich, the famous harlequin and patentee of the 
 theatre in Lincoln’s-in-fields ( 1762). This was burnt down on the mern- 
 ing of the 3(Jlb of September, 1808, the organ left by Handel, and the 
 stock of wine of the Beef Steak Club, sharing the fate of the whole build- 
 ing. Ihe first stone of the second theatre (the late) was laid by the 
 
 * It was inhabited oy coachmakers as early as 1633, in which year 
 ” John Samlcrs of Long.'itre, coach-maker,” was fined in the sum of ,£’12, 
 for not serving the office of overseer.— St. Martin’s Parish Accounts. 
 
 * Parton’s History of St. Giles’s, p, 166. 
 t Slrype, b. iii., p. 74. j Londinop , p 345. 
 
 ^ Rate-books of St, Martin’s, 
 
 and continued till eight o’clock, when it much abated. 
 
 Prince of Wales on the 31st of December, 1808, and the theatre opened at 
 “ new prices” on the night of the 18th of September, 1809. The architect 
 was Sir Robert Smith, R A. ; and the two statues of Tragedy aii J Comedy, 
 and the two bas-reliefs on the Eow-street front, are by Flaxman The 
 new Covenl Garden Theatre opened 18th Sept., 1S09, when a cry of “ Old 
 Prices” (afterwards diminished to O.P.) burst out from every part of the 
 house. This continued and increased in violence till the 23rd, when 
 rattles, drums, whistles, and cdt-calls ha-^ing completely drowned the 
 voices of the actors, Mr. Kemble, the stage-manager, came forward and 
 said, “ That a committee of gentlemen had undertaken to examine the 
 finances of the concern, and that until they were prepared with their 
 report, the theatre would be clo.sed.” “ Name them ! ” was shouted from 
 all sides. Their names were declared. “ All shareholders! ” bawled a 
 wag from the gallery. In a few days, the theatre re-opened ; the pub.’ic 
 paid no auention to the report of the referees, and the tumult was 
 renewed for several weeks with even increased violence. The proprietor* 
 
12 
 
 EVANS’S SUPPER-ROOMS COVENT-GAEDEN. 
 
 Rent in hired bruisers to mill the refractory into subjection. This irri- 
 tated most of their former friends, and amongst the rest, the anno, 
 tater, who accordingly wrote the song of “ Heigh-ho, says Kemble,’* which 
 was caught up by the ballad-singers, and sung under Mr, Kemble’s bouse 
 windows in Great Russell-street, 
 
 A dinner was given (Dec. 14), at the Crown and Anchor tavern in the 
 Strand, to celebrate the victory obtained by W. Clifford in his action 
 against Brandon, the box-keeper, for wearinsj the letters O P. in his hat. 
 At this dinner, Mr. Kemble attended, and matters were compromised, by 
 allowing the advanced price (seven shillings) to the boxes.— Note of the 
 Messrs. Smith in “ Rejected Addresses,” p. 48. 
 
 The new prices on the first night were, boxes, 7s. ; half-price, 3s. fid. Pit, 
 4s. ; half-price, 2s. The lower and upper gallery the same as usual. The 
 riot lasted sixty-seven nights, after which the pit was reduced to 3s. fid. 
 The expenses of Covent Garden theatre were so great that it was long 
 unlet for the purposes of the legitimate drama. M. Jullien held his pro- 
 menade concert in it for some time ; and in the years 1843-45 it was leased 
 by the members of the Anti-corn Law League. Great alterations were 
 made in the spring of 1847, under the direction of Mr. Albano ; and on 
 Tuesday, April 6th, 1847, it was opened publicly as an Italian opera, but 
 with such an extravagance of expenditure, that in 1848 there was a loss of 
 £34,756, and in 1849 of £25,455. In one year (1848) the vocal department 
 cost .£33,349, the ballet £8,105, and orchestra £10,048. It was destroyed 
 by fire March the 5th, 1856. The fire commenced between the hours of 
 3 and 4 in the morning. — Cunningham’s Handbook. 
 
 The modt of lighting the stage formerly was as follows: — Small pans 
 filled with oil, with the cotton hanging over several parts, were placed on 
 the stage in front. Above, over the stage, were placed six chandeliers, 
 consisting of hoops of brass, with brass or iron chains. There were 12 
 candles to each chandelier. These were let down from the cloud scenes, 
 to a sufficient height, so as not to touch theibeads of the actors. There 
 were three candle-snuffers, very dexterous fellows, one to each pair. These 
 chandeliers and pans were abolished by Mr. Garrick after his return from 
 abroad, and the present mode of lighting the stage has continued ever 
 since. 
 
 The beauty of the scenes must have been greatly diminished when the 
 chandeliers hung over every part of the stage : and when we consider that 
 every de.scription of scene was pestered with these lights — a sea view, for 
 instance, a shipwreck, a street view, a lady’s bedchamber, &c., the thing 
 represented must often appear truly ridiculous. It is true, when they 
 wanted to darken a scene, they were drawn up to the coiling. (See the 
 mode of lighting the stage in the print of the theatre, in the middle of 
 “Theo. Cibber's Address to Garrick,” just as Flocton’s and Gingel’s 
 booths and other booths are lighted to this day. Mr. Garrick first intro- 
 duced ihe front lights on the ground. 
 
 In Rich’s original theatre the boxes were supported by figures carved 
 in wood. Mr. Garrick enlarged the boxes by making passages into them 
 from the outside of the walls. The front boxes at Covent Garden Theatre 
 were supported by figures carved in wo®d and gilt, in mat gold, called 
 Garasthidea. These figures, particularly their shoulders, were much in 
 the way of the audieo. e, and were done away when the theatre was 
 fitted up, and opened i7i)l or 1792. 
 
 About 1750 sold‘c;rs stood on the stage in silver-laccd hats, long skirts, 
 and swords, with tneir arms placed horizontally, not down as now. When 
 the king came the beefeaters took their stations. The soldiers who 
 stood upon the stage withdrew when a pantomime was performed. 
 
 30th April, 1662. — In an account of monies received by the Overseers is 
 an article: — 
 
 Received of them of one Mr. Barnes for the playhouse .. £1 10 0 
 1664. (Overseers’ Account): — 
 
 The Theatre Royal £00 00 00 
 
 Thomas Shadwell, in his preface to his comedy called The Miser, 
 acted at the Theatre Royal, and published in 1691, says, “ Acted at the 
 King’s Theatre, in Covent Garden, before the fatal fire there.” 
 
 M“ Abel advertised a cir.cert and dancing at Covent Garden Theatre 
 for T’ "*sday, Dec. 29, 1702 ; the performers, himself, Monsieur L’Abbe, 
 Mr. Isah cs. Scholar aud others. The galleries were let for the benefit of 
 the proprietors of the playhouse. 
 
 Concerts for the benefit of Mrs. Moore. — At the desire of several per- 
 sons of quality, at the Two Golden Balls, in Hart-street, the upper end of 
 Bow.street, Covent Garden, on Monday next, being the second of April, 
 will be performed a Concert of vocal and instrumental musick by the best 
 masters. There being but a short comedy acted that night it is desired 
 to begin exactly at Eight of the clock Tickets are to be had at Mr. 
 Lilly’s, .at the comer of Beaufort Buildings, in the Strand, perfumer; at 
 Blckerstaff ’s coffee-house, in Russell-street, Covent Garden ; and at the 
 door, at five shillings each. — See the Spectator, No. 47, April 1, 1711. 
 
 Plat-Housb. 
 
 “ Her Majesty made proclamation ; 
 
 'Twixt the scenes that none stay. 
 
 That all bullies should pay, 
 
 And sponge no more for recreation. 
 
 That no plays be :.mde, 
 
 Immoral or lewd, , • b; 
 
 In Betterton’s province or Rich’s ; 
 
 ' All masques lay’d away. 
 
 Which is done since that day. 
 
 For now they come mobb’d up like witches.” 
 
 — See D’Urfey’a collection of songs. Song upon the bishops aud parson 
 
 preaching down the play-housc.s Published 1719. 
 
 — See D’Urfey’s “Pills to purge Melancholy.” Song, “ The Playhouse 
 Saint.” — Published 1719. 
 
 k was a cause of great sorrow and melancholy to me some nights ago at 
 a play, to see a crowd in the habits of the gentry of England, stupid to 
 the noblest sentiments we have. The circumstance happened in the scene 
 of distress betwixt Piercy and Ann Bullin. One of the sentinels who 
 stood on the stage, to prevent the disorders which the most unmanly race 
 of young men that ever were seen in any age frequently raise in publlcK 
 assemblies, upon Piercy’s beseeching to be heard, burst into tears ; upon 
 which the greater part of the audience fell into a loud and Ignorant 
 daughter ; which others, who were touched with the liberal compassion in 
 
 the poor fellow, could hardly suppress by their clapping. the mat 
 without the least confusion or shame in his countenance for what ha i 
 happened, wiped away the tears, and was still intent upon the play, Th 
 distress still rising, the soldier was so much moved that he was obliged t 
 turn his face from the audience, to their no small merriment. Piercy ha 
 the gallantry to take notice of his honest heart ; and, I am told, gave hii 
 a crown to help him in his affliction. It is certain this poor fellow, in hi 
 humble condition, had such a lively compassion as a soul unwedded to th 
 world; were it otherwise, gay lights and dresses, with the appearances c 
 people of fashion and wealth, to which his fortune could not be familial 
 would have taken up all his attention and admiration. — The Guardiem 
 No. 19, Thursday, April 2. 1713. 
 
 By her Majesty’s command, no persons are to be admitted behind thi 
 scenes; nor any money to be returned after the curtain is drawn up — 
 The Guardian, No. 85, Thursday, June 18, 1713. 
 
 We hear the new theatre, which is to be built in Covent Garden, wi'ii 
 be after the model of the opera-house in the Haymarket; and by the 
 draught that h.as been approved of for the same, it’s said it will exceed 
 the opera-house in magnificence of structure.— 5'ee The Daily Ad- 
 vertiser for March 2, 1730. 
 
 1 he new theatre building in Covent Garden for Mr. Rich is carrying on 
 with such expedition and diligence (^there being a great number of hand:, 
 employed therein) that it’s thought it will be completely finished and 
 ready to received his audience next winter. Several persons of distinction 
 resort thither daily to view the said work, and seem much pleased at the 
 performance — See The Daily Advertiser for August, 1731. 
 
 As the play-house affords us the most occasions of observing upon 
 the behaviour of the face, it may be useful (for the direction of those 
 who tyould be critics this way) to remark, that the virgiri ladies 
 usually dispose themselves in front of the boxes, the young married 
 women compose the second row, while the rear is generally made up 
 of mothers of long standing, undesigning maids, and contented 
 widows. Whoever will cast his eye upon them under this view, 
 during the representation of a play, will find me so far in the right, 
 that a double entendre strikes the first row into an affected gravity or 
 careless indolence, the second will venture at a smile, but the third 
 take the conceit entirely, and express their mirth in a downright 
 laugh.— The Guardian, No 29, Tuesday, April 14, 1713. 
 
 Epilogue to Cato, by Dr. Garth. Spoken by Mrs. Porter. 
 
 At plays you ogle, at the ring you bow ; 
 
 Even churches are no sanctuaries now. 
 
 — The Guardian, No. 3.3, Saturday, April 18, 1713. 
 j These characters in this play cannot choose hut make it a very 
 I pleasant entertainment, and the decorations of singing and dancing 
 will more than repay the good nature of those who make an honest 
 man a visit of two merry hours, to make his following year unpain- 
 ful.--The Guardian, No. 82, Monday, .June 15, 1713. 
 
 I am therefore to remind my readers that on this day, being the 
 15th of June, the ” Plotting Sisters” is to be acted for the benefit of 
 the author, my old friend Mr. D’Urfey. This comedy was honoured 
 with the presence of King Charles II. three of its first five nights.— 
 The Guardian, No. 82, Monday, June 15, 1713. 
 
 Our age has had the lionour of raising a monument in West- 
 minster Abbey ; to effect which, the tragedy of Julius Csesar was 
 acted at the Theatre Royal, Drury-lane, April 28th, 1738, and the 
 profits arising from it deposited in the hands of the Earl of Burling- 
 ton, Mr. Pope, Dr, Mead, and others, in order to be laid out upon 
 the said monument. A new prologue and epilogue were spoken on 
 that occasion. The prologue was written by Benjamin Martyn, 
 Esq., the epilogue by the Hon. James Noel, Esq., and spoke by Mrs. 
 Porter — Extracted from the “Bibliotheca Biographica: a s^opsis 
 of universal biography, ancient and modera.” By Thomas FUoyd, 
 Esq. Vol. iii., published 1760. 
 
 I am indebted to Mr. Fitzpatrick, well known in the city, and 
 during life admired for his talents and his amiable manners. A 
 cruel caricature of him was drawn by Churchill, in one of his poems, 
 to gratify the resentment of Garrick. To this gentlemen I am in- 
 debted for a letter from an Englishman in Paris, No. 13, for a scene 
 at Jonathan’s Coffee-house, No. 51, and for the essays. Nos. 54 and 56. 
 —Murphy’s acknowledgment to the contributors of the “ Gray’s-inn 
 Journal.” 
 
 Mr. Fitzpatrick was a gentleman of a very extraordinary cha- 
 racter : he possessed a strong understanding, which was polished by 
 an accomplished education. He was a merchant, in the city, and a 
 man of fashion at St, James’s; a dramatic critic at the Bedford, 
 and commanding orator nt the theatre. He always surported the 
 claims of the publick against the infractions of the managers. He 
 stood forth as their champion on the great contention for half 
 prices ; and was named by his opponents the pale-faced orator.— 
 Foot’s Life of Murphy, p, 68. 
 
 The poem mentioned by Murphy was the Eessiad, and Garrick 
 mades the hero of his Fribbleriad — E.D. 
 
 •* What a wretched pass is this wicked age come to, when Ben Jenson 
 and Shakspeare won’t relish without these bagatelles to recommend 
 them, and nothing but farce and grimace will go down. For my pan, I 
 wonder they have not incorporated Parson Burgess into their society ; 
 for after the auditors are stupified with a dull sense, or so, he would oiake 
 a shift to relieve them. In short, Mr. Collier may save himself the 
 trouble of writiiig against the theatre; for, if these lewd practises are not 
 laid aside, .and sense and wit don’t come into play again, a ra.an may 
 easily foretcl, without pretending to the gift of prophecy, that the suge 
 will be short lived, and the strong Kentith man will take po.ssession of the 
 two play-houses, as he has already done of that in Coveut Garden.— 
 
 I am, your humble servant. 
 
 “ P.S The strong Kentish man (of whom you have heard so many 
 
 stories) has, as 1 told you above, taken up his quarters in Dorset Gardens, 
 amd how they’ll get him out again, the Lord knows, for he threatens to 
 thrash all the poets if they prelend to disturb him. Mr. Joseph Hainec 
 w.is his master of ihe ceremonies, and introduced him in a prologue npon 
 the stage ; and indoed, who so fit to do it as this person, wboee breath it 
 
13 
 
 EVANS’S SUPPER-ROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN. 
 
 as strong as the Kentish mati’a back.”— Tom Brown’a Book, p. 191, 
 V. 1, I72r. , , . 
 
 It was the custom of the fruit women, formerly, to stand fronting the 
 pit, with their backs to the stage ; and their oranges and other fruit 
 co\Vred with vine-leave*. — See Davies’s Dramatic Miscellanies, vol. 3, 
 p. 4G4. 
 
 In the galleries on the sides there were what was called the servants 
 boxes. 'Ihey had tickets to go in free when their families were of the 
 house. 
 
 Mr. Waldron informed roe, that the first female parts performed by 
 women was at the Duke of York’s Theatre, by Clare IMarket. 
 
 The encouragement that irf given to these entertainment* Is vastly 
 greater than it ever was; and the taste of the present time, with respect 
 to them, is good. This ought to be a proof. Mr. Cibber, to whom it is 
 most proper to refer, because he knows most of the former theatres, will 
 tell us that au audience to the amount of £35 was esteemed a good one, 
 when all those famed actors and actresses played together. At present, 
 Mr. Garrick seldom plays to less than £160 ; and the merit of Mrs. 
 Gregory Diovelty apart) has never brought into the larger hoiuse so 
 little.— A General History of the Stage, by Lewis Riccoboni, second 
 edition, 1754. 
 
 The First Benefit— -Mrs. Barst. — To her supreme excellence (says 
 Davies, in his Dramatic Miscellanies, vol. 3, p. 237.) she owed a dis, 
 tinction unknown before to any comedian — a benefit-night; nor do I find 
 that even Betterton had that mark of public favour till a year or two 
 before his death. 
 
 The First Actress. — Charles II. put an end to the ridiculoos and ab- 
 surd custom of men acting w’omen’s parts. A number of beautiful 
 actresses soon gave a new lustre to the English theatre. The first woman 
 .actress was the mother of Norris, commonly called Jubilee Dicky.— .See 
 Davies’s Dramatic Miscellanies, vol. 2, p. 364. 
 
 In the infancy of the stage, wc know that our theatres had no moving 
 scenes; nor were they acquainted with them till Betterton brought some 
 from Paris. 1662. In our author's (Shakespeare’s) lime they made use of 
 tapestry. — Ibid, vol. 3, p. 106. 
 
 That chaste copier of nature, B. Jonson, the comedian for above forty 
 years, gave a true picture of an arch clown in the grave-digger. I should 
 have observed that Jonson was originally a painter by profession. — Ibid, 
 vol. 3, p. 135. 
 
 Thomas Patrick, the barber of Drury.lane, told me he knew an old 
 man who recollected the site of Covent Garden Theatre a pond, before 
 .Mr. Rich had the ground for his theatre. — MS. 
 
 Linccln’s-inn-fields House was finely decorated (1715). The stage was 
 more extended than that of the rivai theatre, and superbly adorned with 
 looking-glass on both sides of the stage; a circumstance which Quin said 
 was an excellent trap to catch actresses who admired their persons more 
 than their profession of acting.— iSee Davies’s Dramatic Miscellanies, 
 vol. 1, p. 247. 
 
 Fleetwood was a very bad paymaster, and frequently, for want of 
 actors, musicians, and a company, they vere obliged to return their money 
 and not perform. Mr. Garrick, when he came, declared he would play to 
 empty benches rather than put off the pl.iy. Sucky Williams was Fleet- 
 wood 's wife. and. at his death, Haymaii’s. 
 
 In a very indifferent print (in my humble opinion falsely attributed to 
 Hogarth) entitled “ Rich’s Glory,” a view of Covent Garden is given; but 
 the ignorance of the draughtsman is so glaring, as to the perspective, that 
 it is very little to be depended upon. The church has the flag, the garden 
 the obelisk, and the foreground exhibits the sort of shoe boy of the day. 
 I should rather suspect that this print was tlie fabrication of some needy 
 or tricky person, after the decease of Hogarth, who found the most early 
 and trifling productions of that great roan brought mad prices at auctions. 
 1 recollect seeing, when a boy, a small print from the top of a snuff box, 
 the subject from Pope’s “Bape of the Lock,” selling in the auction of 
 Mr. Gulston’s prints at (ireen wood’s for a laige sum. — MS. 
 
 Mr. Rich. —I am credibly informed that there wa.s once a design of 
 casting into an oper.a the story of Wittington and hisCat, and that 
 in order to it there had been got together a great quantity of mice, 
 but Mr. Rich, the proprietor of the play-honse, very prudently con- 
 sidered that it would be impossible for the cat to kill them all,— See 
 the Spectator, No. 5, March 6th, 1711. This is the first time Mr. 
 Rich is mentioned in the Spectator. 
 
 That in the year 1773 John Rich, Esq., and other proprietors of 
 the new play-houses lately erected in the parish of St. Paul, Covent 
 Garden, having caused the same to be opened and acted in, were 
 assessed to all parochial rates. 
 
 Mr. Rich left three daughters in the full possession of Covent 
 Garden Theatre, which they sold for sixty thousand pounds, which 
 Bum was equally divided. These ladies were all married ; one to 
 .Mr. Morrise, a woollen-draper, who left her a widow, with two 
 daughters, who are still living; she then married Captain Horsley, 
 son to a Clerk in Orders, of St. Martin-in-the-lfelds, and brother to 
 Dr. Horsley, Bishop of Rochester and Dean of Westminster, by 
 whom she had one son, now living ; another married Mr. Bancroft, 
 Xlie actor; the third became the second wife of Mr. Beard, who was, 
 after the death of Mr. Rich, manager of Covent Garden Theatre, 
 Mr. Beard’s first wife w’as Lady Harriet Powis. — From the infor- 
 mation of Mrs. Nollekins and my own knowledge of the Horsley 
 family. 
 
 'Mr. Rich’s name never appeared in the bills as Harlequin, but he 
 always performed under the name of Lunn. 
 
 At the latter pai t of Mr. Rich’s time the stage concerns were so 
 neglected that the carpenters, who were the scene shifters, came on 
 dirhj, with their shirt sleeves on\y ; but that, when Miv. Beard became 
 director, the scene shifters we.c drsssed in liveries. 
 
 April 2.5th, 1767, died Mr. James Morris, of Russell-street, Covent 
 Garden, who married one of the daughters of the late John Rich, Esq 
 
 ■Scene Painting.- FerdinandoBibienawas the inventor of painted. 
 Bcenes. — See AlgoroUi on Operas. 
 
 Dick Herring, one of Ilayman’s scholars, painted scenes at Covent 
 Garden Theatre He quarrelled with Rich, and snt iL biE face. 
 
 Mr. Dali. — If Mr. Dali, in 1767, had not received orders to paint 4 neiv 
 scene of Imogen’s chamber ; a scene which has given the public BO roach 
 satisfaction.” ^ 
 
 “ Whereas Thomas Harris, John Rutherford, George Colman, and Wil- 
 liam Powell, by certain ariiclesof agreement, dated the 31st day of March 
 last, di-t acree to purchase of the representative of John Rich, E«q., de 
 ceased, two patents for exhibiting theatrical performances, and the several 
 leases of Covent liarden Theatre, and ihe rooms, buildings, conveniences, 
 fui niture, cloths, scenes, decorations, music, entertainment, and all things 
 belonging to the satd theatre ; and the said Thomas Harris and John 
 Rutherford were thereby authorised to treat lor the purchase of the same 
 at a sum not exceeding £60.000, &c.— Dated 14th day of May, 1767.— 
 See'?. 15 of a 4to. pamphlet published i768, enttled, “A True State o! 
 the Differences Subsisting between the Proprietors of Covent Garden 
 Theatre,” &c. by (ieorge ( olman. 
 
 Mr. Harris, Mr. Rutherford, Mr. Powell, and Mr. Colman, on the Slst 
 of March, 1767, signed for the purchase ef the theatre of the representa- 
 tives of John Rich, Esq , for £60,000. 
 
 The illuminations of Covent Garden Theatre were much improved at 
 the commencement of the above purchase. Their Majesties box receivea 
 the decorations of two lustres. 
 
 After Mr. Harris threatened to take possession of the Theatre by 
 force, Mr. Colman says : — ” 1 ordered the .>-tage-door to be shut up, leaving 
 no ingress except tliroiigh Mr. Powell’s house in the Piazza, in which there 
 i* a door which communicated with tlie theatre Many of my friend.s weie 
 acquainted with this step, and confessed the melancholy nec. ssily foi it 
 the moment it was taken ; and the gentlemen of the Beef.steak Society, 
 who dined at the Theatre that very day, were witnesses of my distressful 
 situation, and went out through the house of Mr. Powell.” This look 
 place on Saturday, June 11, 1768. Mr. Harris, with h red men, forced 
 liis way into the house, and Mr. Colman (in page 31) says: — ” That these 
 ruffians still held pos.session of the theatre, drinking and smoking on the 
 stage (a practice never suffered before), and behaving in such a disorderly 
 manner, as to cause a magistrate to send me the following card : — ‘ Sir 
 John Fielding’s respects to Mr. Colman ; should be glad to see him thh> 
 evening at eight o’clock, to meet Messrs. Harris and Butherford, to settle 
 some plan to relieve the fears of the inhabitants in the neighbourhood ci 
 Covent Garden Theatre, relative to the mischiefs which may happen by 
 fire, or otherwise, from the persons now in the house.’ ” — Bow-strcct, 
 June 21st, 1768. 
 
 These extracts were from a quarto pamphlet of thirty-six pages, en- 
 titled ”J. Harris, dissected by G. Colman.” London: Printed for T 
 Buckett, near Surrey-street, in the Strand, 1768. Last page dated August 
 16, 1768 
 
 March 24, 1759 Was oresented the Fair Penitent, for the benefit of 
 
 Mrs. Woffington, who appeared for the first time in the char.acter of 
 Lothario. The interest which the heart naturally lakes in the busine.ss of 
 this play, was awakened by our being conscious that a woman was playing 
 the part ; but we must say that Mrs. Wolf.ngton lakes off her hat, draws 
 her sword, fights and dies with such an excelleat gallantry, that she is tho 
 prettiest fellow on the stage. 
 
 June 19, 1759. — He plays for the benefit of some distressed actors 
 May 28, 1759. — Macbeth, Mr Beard. N.B. — This was his last appear 
 ance at Drury-lane Theatre. 
 
 Riot at Covent Garden Theatre, in 1763, in consequence of the mana- 
 ger’s refusing to admit half-price in the Opera of Arta.xerxes. 
 
 The founder of the Theatrical Fund.—” I'he provision for superan 
 nuated performers, planned and humanely promoted as we have been 
 told, by Mr. Hull.”— /See The The;itrc, a Poetical Dissertation. Pub- 
 lished 1772. 
 
 A NEW Song on Covent Gahosn Theatbb. 
 
 Printed and Sold hy J. Pitts, No. 14, Great St. Artdrac -street, 
 Seven Dials. 
 
 Come all you lads and you lasses, fond of sport. 
 
 And listen to my ditty, and hear but my report. 
 
 For in seeing pantomimes it pleases your delight, 
 
 'Ihen haste to Coveut Garden, it openeih to-night. 
 
 CHOECS. 
 
 Then haste away unto the plov, where you can quickly be. 
 
 And by paying of a shilling inis famous playhouse see ; 
 
 This noble building to be sure has beauty w ithout bounds, 
 
 It cost upwards of one hundred and fifty thousand pounds. 
 
 They’ve Madame Calalini there, to open her wide throat, 
 
 But to hear your foreign singers 1 would not give a groat; 
 
 So haste away unto tl>e play, whose name has reached the skies, 
 
 And when the Cali, opens her mouth, ob ! how she’ll catch the files. 
 You coblers lay by your awls, and taylors by your thimbles. 
 Bricklayers, aye, and bakers to>>, and frisk away so nimble ; 
 
 All trades agree, advised by me, lor once leave off your slaving, 
 
 And barbers lay your razors by, for once leave o8 your shaving ; 
 
 And haste away unto the play, each merry -hearted s««I, 
 
 For by giving of a shilling you’ll get a pidgeon hoh» 
 
 So all you jolly lads who love to be pleased. 
 
 And all you pretty lasses who love to have a squeeze ; 
 
 For there will be such crowding at 3 o’clock they say. 
 
 But killing is no murder — they allow it now a day. 
 
 So k.a-to away unto the play. 
 
 You’ll surely find the door. 
 
 For they’ve raised the pit and boxes; 
 
 But that can i hurt the poor. 
 
 Mr.s. Billington, — Mr Scott, hair-dresscr, of Tavistock-street, informed 
 me, April 17th, 1818, that Mrs. Billii gtun gave 500 guineas for a broocp 
 a few minutes before she went on the stage; and that he (Mr Scott) 
 dressed Mrs. Billington on the second night of her appearing at the Opera^ 
 House, and that he put £15,000 worth of diamonds in her hair; that she 
 was extremely fond ci ciatiionds, and it was said that she was mistress 
 of £80,000 worth. 
 
 Foot. — H’s wife was buried in the poor ground as a pauper of Covcrtt 
 Garden parish. 
 

 EVANS’S SUPPER-EOOMS, COVENT-GAEDEN. 
 
 Munday’s Coffep aider-lane, was the house where Junius 
 
 directed his letters to be sent to 
 
 The fjllo’TiTi 2 >, 7 < d’t-sprit appeared many years ago, in ridicule of a 
 preaf. deal of terious writing, which was encouraged at the lime, against 
 a proposed league between the theatrical potentates of Drury lane and 
 Coveni Garden, for the purpose of interchanging performers, and otherwise 
 amicably supporting ih ir mutual interests. _ The plan un»'.oubtedly had 
 s me tendency to weaken dramatic competition ; and, of course, as it 
 alarmed the actors, there was much talk of making riots, &c. Ihe 
 pleasantry of the following suppo^ed correspondence greatly contributed 
 to restore good humour to the green-room : — 
 
 “ Faithful copies qf letters between Hophins and Wild, prompters to 
 the MonomlizersF 
 
 ‘‘ Drury-lane, Nov. 9. 
 
 “Dear Wild,— For God’s sake lend me a couple of conspirators for to- 
 night. Recollect you have borrowed one of our’s for a singing druid, and 
 another of our best i* Doge of Venice on Packer’s resignation.— Entirely 
 and devotedly yours, “Hopkins.” 
 
 “ Covent Garden Nov. 9. 
 
 “ My dear Hopkins,— I have ordered them to look you out two of the 
 penteelcst assassins, and I’ll take care they shall go shaved and sober 
 Pray tell Farrer. he must play our archbishop to-morrow ; we 11 cut the 
 p.irt, that he may dress time enough afterwards for your generd m the 
 ( amp.— Your’s perpetually, 
 
 “ p.s. — If you have a full moon to spare I wish you’d lend it us for 
 Thursday. I send you some lightning that I can venture to recommend.” 
 
 “Covent Garden, Nov. 11. 
 
 " Dear Hopkins,— Pray how shall we manage without Smith to-morrow ? 
 itepcnd on vour lending him us tor Harry the Fifth ; but now I see you 
 have pul him up for Charles Surface. Coulcl’nt you let him come to us 
 and plav two acts of Harry, as you don’t want him in Charles till your 
 third ? and then Hull shall read the rest, with an apology for Smith s bemg 
 suddenly hoarse, sprained his ankle, &c.,&c. — Cordially yours, “ Wild.’ 
 
 « P S —My Ve.stal Virgin gets so cursed big, I wish you’d lend us Mrs. 
 Robiuson for a night.’’ 
 
 “ Drury-lane, Nov. II. 
 
 “ Dear Wild —By particular desire, our Vestal Virgin is not transfer- 
 able, hut we have a spare Venus, and a duplicate Juno ; so send a 
 hackney coach for which ever suits you. The scheme for Smith won t 
 do — but change your play to anything; for we’ll tack The Camp to the 
 School for Scandal, to secure you an overflow.— Thoroughly yours. 
 
 “ Hopkins.^ 
 
 “ Covent Garden, Nov, 12. 
 
 “My dear fellow —There’s the devil .to do about our Tuesday’s 
 rHiitomime— the bla^ssmith can’t repair our great serpent till Friday, 
 and the old camel, that we thought quite sound, has broken down at 
 rehearsal ; so pray send us your elephant by the bearer, and a small tiger 
 with the longest tail you can pick out. I must trouble you too for a 
 dozen of your best dancing shepherds for that night ; for though I see 
 you’ll want them for highwaymen in the Beggar’s Opera, they 11 be quite 
 ill time for u? afterwards.— For ever completely yours, “ Mild. 
 
 “Drury-lane, Nov. 12. 
 
 “ D-’-ar Wild,— 1 just write you a line while the beasts are packing up , 
 to beg you’ll no’l be out of spirits, as you may depend on the shepherds 
 and any other animals you have occa'ion for I have it in orders lo 
 acquaint you too that we don’t use Henderson for Falstaff on Friday, you 
 may have him for Richard, with a dozen and a hali of our soldiers for 
 Bosworth Field, oitly begging you’ll return ’em us in time for Coxheath.— 
 Totally yours, , , „ “ Hopkms.” 
 
 “ Lend me a Cupid— mine has got tne measles 
 
 ‘ Covent Garden, Nov. 12. 
 
 “ Dear Hopkins,- Thank you for your Henderson and the soldiers ; do 
 let them brine th-ir helmets, for ours are tinning. The bearer is our 
 Cupid, at a shilling a night, finding his own wings.— Genuine yours, 
 
 “ \V ild.” 
 
 TVhat year the above correspondence took place I am not able to say, 
 
 hut some time about 1816.— J. G. ^ 
 
 The King went to the plav by the way of New-street. One night a man 
 was killed, in consequence of which, be went by the way of Long-acre, 
 except once, twenty years after, when Long-acre was paving, 
 
 Ceok the actor has been dead drunk at “ The Finish,” by two o’clock in 
 Ibe afternoon ; Brandon has taken him away in a coach, and he has played 
 Sir Archy McSycophant with great applause the same evening. 
 
 FEMALE CELEBRITIES OF COVENT GARDEN, 
 
 MENTIONED IN THE SPECTATOR9 TATLER, AND LITERATURE OF THE DAT. 
 
 The Night Walker -a curious and rare book — This v. ork appears 
 to me to have been written with great dissimulation, f..r at the same 
 time that it bear- the mask and cant of a methodistLal hypocrite it 
 lets forth the scenes it describes in the most lustf'-i manner, and 1 
 do not wonder at such a book being now extreme .y pre. 
 
 This work, which is in small quarto, was pvohshed in monUily 
 numbers, in 1696 and 1697. The title is as fchows Night 
 
 AValker, or Evening Rambles in search after .f ^wd M omen with the 
 Conferences held with them, &c. To be r*bhshed monthly, till a 
 
 discovery be made of all the chief p s m England, from the 
 
 iiensionary Miss down to the common cutpst London : I noted 
 lor Orme, in St. Bartholowmew’s lios>tal, 1696, 1 rice 6d each 
 
 monthly number.” . 
 
 The author, whose name is not gr eii, says in his preface, T he 
 design, then, of this undertaking i# not to niinister fuel to wanton 
 thoughts, or to plea.se theprupliau' pallets of the bpus and sparks 
 of the town, but to display. inontRy. their abominable practices in 
 lively colours, together with the-’i dismal consequences, m order to 
 frighten or shame them out of Giem if possible ”, 
 
 My next niglit’s ramble wdj to the I’iazz.is, in Cov-'N. Garden, 
 
 w hich is also noted for amorous rendezvouses, and tliere I met with 
 one in very fine habit, who appeared by the sequel to have no fine 
 manners; she readily accepted of my company lo her lodgings.— 
 'J'he Night Walker for December, 1690, p.23. 
 
 My next ramble was to the Pall-Mall, which I heard was 
 frequented by night birds of the finest feather, who, having either 
 got out, or been th ust out, of some person of quality's cage, do at 
 last become common.— Ibid, p. 12. 
 
 Covent Garden Ladies — I have since heard, ’oy a very great acci 
 dent, that this tine lady does not live far from Covent Garden, and 
 that I am not the first cully whom she has pa,<sed herself up n for a 
 countess. — NesThe Spectator, No. 8, March 9th, 1711 
 
 I shall only say that there is not one of the sex in all the neigh- 
 bourhood of Covent Garden —The Guardian, No. 114, YVednesday. 
 July 22, 1713 
 
 Masquerade.- The next I observed was a lady making an as.sig- 
 nation with a heathen god, for I heard them mention the Little 
 Piazza in Covent Garden.— Ibid, No. 154, Monday, Sept. 8, I7i3. 
 
 In Tom Brown’s time (1727) they were called Dulcibelias. 
 
 Bartholomew Fair. — Wednesday I went to the fair. I viewed all 
 the play bills that were posted up against the posts and walls, to see 
 which I thought was fullest of amodrs and insrigues ; so, after some 
 consideration, I pitched upon Hero and l.eander, and having paid 
 ray sixpence to the door-keeper, I entered in.— The Night YValker, 
 for March, 1697, p. ’2. 
 
 Next night I resolved to pay a visit to a music house in Moor- 
 fields, and designing to go thither the time that the company fisually 
 met, that I might observe passages, I found that they had private 
 rooms and back doors in abundance, w^hicb led into arbors and 
 gardens, and that they not only kept women on purpose for the 
 entertainment of their loose guests, but that some citizens’ wives and 
 daughters had their certain hours of coming thither by those private 
 passages to meet their gallants.— Ibid, for December, 1696, p. 6. 
 
 From hence I rambled to Covent Garden church, where I under- 
 stood that, under pretence of attending at evening prayers, many 
 loose women made their assignations with their gallants; and so, 
 wiiile their husbands used to divert themselves in an evening, after 
 shutting up their shops, over a dish of coffee or a bottle of w ine with 
 their neighbours, they entertained an unlawful commerce with their 
 sparks aud gallants.— Ibid, for September, 1696, p. 13. 
 
 Moll King’s. — Benjamin Wilson the portrait painter, comm?.".’y 
 called Philosophical Wilson, told Mr. West that he frequently attended 
 his friend Hogarth to Moll King’s, w’no drew many of his heads and cha- 
 racters from that house. That then as they all knew Hogarth they would 
 prim themselves up and put on their best appearance, Lui it was not unti. 
 they became noisy that Hogarth commenced his sketches, that then he 
 would nudge his friend Wilson and whisper lo him, ‘‘ Now look at the 
 mouth, — now took at the devil’s nose — see her chin ” 
 
 Benjamin Wilson ‘was a Scotchman and had Lord Bute for hi® patron. 
 The experiments performed at the Pantheon before the King procured 
 him the whole of the herald painting of drums, &c. of which he had onh 
 the half before. Mrs. Long is not acquainted with the place of his sepul- 
 ture. He left a wife and son. 
 
 Hayman, Scott, and M‘Avdie were visitors of Moll King’s, and were 
 all fond of skittle-playing. Brown was Hayman’s master. Hayman wa.' 
 one of the scene painters of Drury-lane. He designed the ceiling. 
 Admiral Boscawen frequented Moll King’s— so did Hog.arth. 
 
 *• At Moll King’s, as there is at most bouses of public resort, there 
 was always some swaggering, rule-the-roast fellow. There wa' 
 one, a tall raw-boned Irishman, who thought proper to drink out ol 
 every man’s bowl, with the insulting freedom of Here’.' to ye. Sir I Th* 
 company thought of an expedient to humble this midnight champion, bi 
 getting Taylor,* the famous boxer, to come in disguised as a raw conn 
 tryman, and to object to the freedom of this sipping companion— whici 
 he did. The raw-boned Irishman gave him a slap of the face, and assure' 
 him that if he did not like that he should soon have another; this pro 
 duced a clearance of chairs and tables, and the couv.tryman gave th* 
 bully so handso.T.e a dressing that he was glad to pay for the liquor of th* 
 room. , 
 
 The King went incog, with Lord Gage to Moll King s and w.a 
 very free with another man’s lady ; the man struck him, at whici 
 Lord Gage immediately drew his sword to run the man through the bod} 
 but the King chid him by saying, “ The person does not know me.” 
 
 The site of Moll King’s is now occupied by the Green (Dragon) Man. 
 
 Mother Douglas’s.— Mr. Stacie says that mother Douglas’s house wa 
 most superbly furnished an.d decorated with expensive pictures, by oh 
 masters, in large gilt-frames. Mr. I..angford sold her furniture, and not 
 and then in the course of the sale made some shrewd remarks upon th 
 articles. Dr. Mead used the same house once a year, where he alway 
 spent 100 guineas. His great delight waste have a number of wretche. j 
 women to dance before him. 1 
 
 Mother Douglas, alias Mother Coal, resided in the ncrlh-c-a.st corner 
 Mother Thornton’s next door, 1741 until 1757. Burnt, Sept. 20,1808. 
 
 Mrs. Bright showed me a large mezzotinto print, by Burke, but wit 
 no painter or designer’s name. I’ubiished by J. M atson, 1791, Litchfiek 
 street— entitled a Constable’s Ramble. Two women and six men. (Ih 
 old woman finely dressed was Mother Dougla.s, with a ring on ever 
 finger; Bet Whims a famous lady ; the constable dead drunk; a Jew pu; 
 iiig his wig in a chamber-vessel. - . 
 
 B'jb Winter, a welhknovsn character of his day (the time of Mothe 
 Douglas) gave the fillowiiig reason for lodging at her house:— He sa; 
 that as people were always up all night in such houses, there was leis ri> > 
 of being burnt However, this man was robbed of several hundred pounc j 
 in the house of Mother Dou.das, by his bed-fellow, which, when Mrs. I 
 knew, she recovered for him. , , rji i .• •p i 
 
 Hogarth took most of his brollu-1 scenes in his Rakes and Harlots LT 
 cress, frtim houses of free description in Covent (Jarden. 
 
 Betsy Weatherhy lived in Russi'll-street. on the playhouse side. M 
 Richardson says he thinks it was at the sign of the Ben Jonsou s Hea f 
 
 • Hayman painted a portrait of this Taylor, 
 
 
EVANS’S SUPPER-ROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN. 
 
 llic man who succee<3ed Betsv was named Roberts, and be stood in 
 iho pillory for keeping a bad bouse. Shooter was his friend, and at the 
 time of his pillory presented him with a bowl of punch. 
 
 *• Yc Bi'anm“n prigs, and Vroupils all, 
 
 Woo p?.l the Carden round; 
 
 Y'e roaring culls at Weatherby ’s, 
 
 For midnight feats renowned — 
 
 Strange news, strange news 1 have to tell, 
 
 That will you all surprise. 
 
 Blind Fielding is become a knight, ’ &c. 
 
 Mrs. Cole, an infamous governanie.— This lady, who was originally a 
 seller of fruit in the gallery of the playhouse, bred, before she was so 
 famous in Covent Garden, in Russell-street. Sue pretended to keep a 
 milliner’s shop, where she placed three of the most showy girls, breathing 
 the air of decency and modesty, very demurely employed on millinery 
 work, as decoys for the ignorant. In this house was a spacious drawing- 
 room, where a select revelling band usually met, 
 
 Yesterday, the famous Mother Needham was discharged out of the 
 Gatehouse, (she having given in bail for her appearance at the nest 
 General Quarter Sessions for Westminster) before Justice Kailton, to try 
 the indictment against her, for keeping a disorderly house in Park-place. 
 — March 26, 1730. 
 
 Mother Elizabeth Needham stood, or rath3r laid, upon the pillory (for 
 she pretended to be so faint that she could not stand), on the last day of 
 March, 1731, She was severely handled by the mob. On May 11th, 
 1731, was published “ Mother Needham's Lamentations,” in an epistle 
 to a certain nobleman. 
 
 ” While at my house my busom lasses play’d, 
 
 Lords of all sorts me constant honours pay’d : 
 
 Now, the scene chang’d, I mourn a curst disgrace. 
 
 Nor see a baron’s or an earl’s grace.” 
 
 N.aa Lowe lived in Little Russell-street, next door to Miss Pope’s 
 father, who was a barber. Nan’s house was gaily fitted up with red 
 curtains and a number of painted lamps. The person who lived with 
 Nan was killed at the Sun, the next door to the Blue Posts (now Simp- 
 son's), Russell-street. He went by the name of Gentleman Harry. This 
 was about 1740. 
 
 Sally Salisbury.— In the pa.ssage behind the stairs, 22 inches wide, was 
 killed the landlord of The Duke’s Head. Sarah Pridden, alias Salisbury, 
 died in Newgate, and was buried in St. Andrew’s, Holborn, in 1724. 
 
 Women of bad fame, in Covent Garden, were Betsy Saunders and Nancy 
 Dawson. Nancy Dawson lived with Shorter, she was as big in person, 
 latterly, as Mrs. Cole. When Mr. Taylor visited her she lived in King- 
 street, Bloomsbury.— Mr. Taylor’s information of Nancy Dawson, March 
 29, 1315. 
 
 These kind of spirits were let loose to be suitable to the times they 
 lived in, and they wrought strange effects ; for one, being a widow, and of 
 no good fame, with her subtleties entrapped in her nets .and married a 
 fame.'S lawyer, a man of great reputation and a pregnant wit. 
 
 “if you step aside into Covent Garden, Longacrc, and Drury-lane, 
 w’„cre those doves of Venus, those birds of youth and beauty (the wan- 
 '^n ladies) doe build them nests, you shall finde them in such 
 a dump of amazement to see the hopes of their trading frustrate, their 
 beauties decaied for want of meanes to procure pomatum and fucus ; 
 their eyes, ivhich like glistering comets had wont to dazzle their idola- 
 ters, now shadowed with clouds of griefe ; their golden tre.sses which had 
 wont to flag about their shoulders like so many ensignes in Cupid’s regi- 
 ment, and every haire thereof had a servant or assi-tant which did super- 
 stitiously dote on it, now, for want of curling and ordering, growne to the 
 fashion of an Irish rugge. And what a misery it is to see the velvets, 
 sattins, and taffaties, nay, the curious smockes, sent to the brokers; and 
 the whole wardrobe that was purchased with so large a proportion of face, 
 favours and communities, now reduced to one pore tufted holiand suit. 
 It is a pitly to see them, pore soules, who had wont to shine like so many 
 constellations in the firmament of the suburbs, and be hurried in coaches 
 to the taverns and gardens, where tea or twenty pounds’ suppers were but 
 trifles with them.” 
 
 ARTISTS OF EMINENCE "WHO HAVE LIVED IN 
 COVENT GARDEN. 
 
 . George Ivambert lived under the Piazza, Covent Garden, near 
 Russell street, where he painted several views of Mount Edgecomb 
 for the noble peer bearing that title. My father saw them at 
 Mr. Lambert’s, and afterwards at Lord Mount Edgecomb’s house, 
 in Upper Grosvenor-street. 
 
 Thomas Worli.dge, painter, in the Little Piazza, Covent Garden. 
 He lived there when he sold his etcliing of George II., the drawing 
 of which he took at the Royal Theatre, Drury-lane. 
 
 George Lambert was called, from his charming sombre mode of 
 painting, the English Poussin. He was also the best scene painter 
 of his day. The public are now frequently gratified with Mr. Lam- 
 Dert’s scenery at Covent Garden Theatre, for which house he 
 painted many years. He exhibited at Spring Gardens, in 1761, a 
 picture of part of St. Radegon’s Abbey. Lambert’s drawings are 
 extremely good, though many of them very slight. Mr. Knight, of 
 Portland-place, has one particularly pretty. 
 
 The plates which are engraved from Mr. Wright’s three celebrated 
 cartoons of Guido are now finished, and the prints will be ready to 
 be delivered to subscribers, at half-a-guinea each, on Monday, the 
 22nd instant. Those persons who are willing to subscribe, are de- 
 sired to send their names to the said Mr. Wright’s house, in the 
 Little Piazza, Covent Garden, where the original cartoons may be 
 seen. ' They are engraved by Gerard Vander Gutch.— 6’ee The 
 Daily Advertiser, for March 15th, 1730. 
 
 William James painted landscapes, chiefly views in the neigh- 
 bourhood of I.K)ndon. He for several years redded in Maiden-lane, 
 Covent Garden ; and his works were shown at his shop-window.— 
 See Anecdotes of Painters, by Edward Edwards, published 1808, 
 
 George Virtue, in 1711, lived in Great Russel -street, Covent 
 Garden. 
 
 1647.— Sir Cornelius Vermuden lived in Maiden-luiiC. 
 
 Simon Dubois died 1708. He married the daughter of Vand( r- 
 velde.— Pilkirigton. 
 
 Vandegust’s— now the public-house the corner of ITenrietta-street. 
 
 l.>aav' Mr. Dance, who lived in Tavistock-row, then pai’it .-d 
 the fir ^ ole-lengtli of Garrick, in the possession of Sir Watkiu 
 Willia.*’-s Wynne ; Mr. Grignon is in po.sse-sion of Dance’s original 
 sketch made irom Garrick in the Pit, for that picture. Nath. Dance, 
 who at onetime lived in the house next to Mr. .ftyers (on the west ), 
 gave notice to the several families whose reiatises he iiad painted, 
 and whose pictures had remained on his h.ands, of his being about 
 to quit the art, leaving to them, if they thought proper, to take tlie 
 pictures Those which were left unnoticed by them lie cut the iieads 
 irom at once. Mr. Grignon’s skster, Mrs Mainwaring says, was to 
 have been married to Mr. Dance, who had painted her porirair, ’cut 
 a difference commencing between the painter and tiie lady as to ti e 
 colour and pattern of the silk gown, the marriage was broken off 
 Dance subsequently married a lady of rank ; one of the condition.^ 
 of tbe marriage was, that he should, where possible, destroy his 
 paintings. 
 
 Mr. Richards, scene painter, married a daughter of Vrignaii the 
 performer. 
 
 Margund, surveyor of the pavement when Mr Grignon was the 
 Duke’s surveyor, raised the pavement opposite to tlie front of 
 Covent Garden Church, in order to raise it considerably at the front 
 of Mr. West’s (since the Grand Hotel), in order, as Mr. Vf est win 
 then old, to make it more easy for him to get into his carriage, 'i b? 
 pavements have been raised three feet 
 
 Richard Wilson.— Mr. Wilson wrote to Mr. West requesting hi’n 
 to become a purchaser of some of his painting tools, and offered him 
 a large press or case for oils and colours (a representation of tfK 
 Piazza, Covent Garden) which had b en the property of Sir James 
 Thornill. This W' as when W ilson lived in Charlotte-street the cori»e*! 
 of Bennett-street Richard Wilson lived in the house that was ia 
 habited by Sir Peter Leily, in Covent Garden, that is to say, the 
 second liouse under the I'iazza, we.st trom James .street. — ,Mr 
 Grignon.) Richard Wilson lived for many years in Covent Garden, 
 and then in Rathbone-place ; was created R.A in 1769. 
 
 Januaiy, 1766.— Lately, in the King’s Bench, Mr. Richard Wilson, 
 late of Covent Garden i hcatie. His death was accelerated by 
 drinking an immoderate quantity of 'spirits.— See Tlie European 
 Magazine, for the mouth of February, 1796, p. 431. 
 
 Richard Gibson, the dwarf, a portrait painter (Charles II.), 3 feet 
 10 inches high, died July 23, iGtO. 
 
 Thomas Burmau, sculptor (Charles II.), died 17th March, 16‘/3, 
 aged 56 years 
 
 Remegius Van Lemput, died in November, 1675. 
 
 Sir Peter Lelly, aged 63, died 1680. 
 
 1‘rosper Henry Lankrink, born about 1628, died 1592. 
 
 Michael Wright, died about 1700. 
 
 Peter Roestraten, born in 1627, died in 1698. 
 
 John Kneller, died 1702. ( 
 
 Louis Cheroii, died 1713, ' 
 
 John Chesterman, died 1710. ‘ i 
 
 Susan Penelope Rose, aged 43, died 1700. ^ 
 
 James Parmentier, born 1658, died December 2nd, 1730. 
 
 John Vandar Vaart, aged 74, died 1721. 
 
 Richardson’s prints and drawings were removed from his hotis^ 
 in Queen-square, Ormond-street, to be sold in Covent Garden, on 
 the 21st of January, 1746, and seventeen following nights, by 
 Mr. Cock. 
 
 Mr. Zincke died 1767, and w-as buried in Covent Garden Church- 
 yard. 
 
 Miller, the botanical engraver, lived in Maiden-lane, and kept f 
 print-shop there. 
 
 Pugh w as a clever fellow (originally a gentleman’s servant)—; 
 drunken dog: would drink a pint of rum-and-water at 11 o’clock f, 
 noon. Pugh painted in the mannor of Hogarth. Mr. Leguiir 
 tells me that this picture (Mr. Richardson’s picture of Coven 
 Garden) was painted by an artist of the name of Pugh, and not by 
 Hogarth. 
 
 TAVERNS. 
 
 Rose. — The first house on the right-hand side of Little Russell-street 
 from Covent Garden was the Rose tavern, a part of which was under the 
 front. The next public-house was the Brown Bear. The next was the 
 Black Lion, night-house and chop-house, noted. — The Rose tavern tiood 
 opposite the Albion. — There is no sign of the Rose in the parish n«w. 
 
 Song in Praise of Chalk, by fF. Pettis." 
 
 “We the lads at the Rose, 
 
 A patron have chose, ; 
 
 Who’s as void as the best is of thinking; 
 
 And without dedication. 
 
 W ill assist in his station. 
 
 And maintains us in eating and drinking, ; 
 
 — See D’Urfey’s Songs, published 1719. 
 
 “ Three merry lads met at the Rose, 
 
 To speak in the praises of the nose : 
 
 The flat, the sharp, the Roman snout. 
 
 The hawk’s nose circled round abotit ; 
 
 The crooked nose that stands awry, 
 
 The ruby nose of scarlet dye; 
 
 The brazen nose without a face. 
 
 That doth the learned college grace. 
 
 Invention often barren grows. 
 
 Yet still there’s matter in the nose.” 
 
 -JSke D’Urfey's Songs,” published Dec, 1719.— Song “ I he Nose.” 
 
is fiVANS’g SUtfER-ttOOMS, COVENT-UARL'EiN', 
 
 Thfi Englishman N&o S.Oel, 22, 1713.—“ Info trtiich there were the peep- 
 ing holes frequent in taverns.’* 
 
 He has h.s Shoes rubhM and perriwig powdered, at the barber’s as 
 you go into the Rose . — See the Spectator, No. 2, March 2nd, 1711. 
 
 “ The hangings you formerly mentioned are run far away, as are like- 
 wise a set of chairs, each of which was met upon two legs going through 
 the Rose tavern at two this morning.”— .^See the Spectator, No. 36, April 
 H, 1711. 
 
 The Treason Club, as it was commonly called, at the Rose tavern, in 
 Covert Garden, where they frequently met to consult with I..ord Col- 
 che.Mer, Mr. Thomas Wharton, Colonel Talmash, Colonel Godfrey, and 
 many others of taeir party ; and it was there resolved that the regiment 
 under I.irutenaM Colonel Langstone’s command should desert entire, as 
 they did, >n Sun.lA,y, Nov. 1688.— Maepherson's History of England, vol. 
 id.— C)nt,inal Papers. 
 
 ravern-ki epcis — A sad report — In 1749, after the little theatre in 
 the Haymarkct was destroyed by the mob, the conjuror assigned the fol- 
 low ins reason why he did not go into the quart bottle, “ that after search- 
 ing all the taverns, not one quart bottle could be found." 
 
 DIKE OF HAMILTON AND LORD MAHON, 
 
 The above drawing is copied from Mr. Crowle’s illustrated Pennant, 
 TO.. V. in tl'.e British Museum; affixed to which is the following notice— 
 
 " Copy of a Manuscript sent to Mr. Crowle by Mr. Bull, who remem- 
 bered the circumstance, dated 1795. 
 
 1 apprehend this to be the original drawing from which the mezzo- 
 tinto print of the duel betwixt the Duke of Hamilton and Lord Mahon 
 was scraped (which is more probable, the drawing having the tracing 
 marks). The man with the sword is done for Lord Mahon's second, an 
 Irishman, the name of Macarlhy, or something like it, who, after Lord 
 Mahon was slain, attempted to stab, and if my memory is correct, did stab 
 the duke. The man supporting the duke is meant for Duke Hamilton’s 
 second ; 1 forget his name. 
 
 Isaiah Sison, at the Rose tavern in Covent Garden, deposed, that on 
 the 14th of November, the Lord Mahon, and a gentleman in grey came 
 thither; and being shewn a room asked if Stars and Gaiters used the 
 house, to which he answered, they did sometimes. Upon which they told 
 him, the Duke of Hamilton would he there presently ; hid him, when they 
 came, to show a room, but not bring them into theirs; that awhile after 
 the duke came, &c . — See the Tryal of Col. John Hamilton, at the Ses- 
 sions House on Friday the 12th of December, 1712, in " A Compleate Col- 
 lection," &c. — Published 1721. 
 
 I he duel took place on the Llth of the preceding November. 
 
 “ The Fleece Tavern in Covent Garden, in York-street was very unfor- 
 tunate for homicides; there have been several killed, three in my time. 
 It is now (1692) a private house.— .See p. 31 of Aubrey’s .Miscellanies, 
 8vo, 1696. 
 
 Shekespear’s Tavern (the Lyon’s Head, originally at Button's).— 
 The sign of Shakespear, painted by Wale, cost nearly ^200— (it 
 ^ejected at the corner over the street)— the iron-work was so rich. 
 Dick Mitton kept the Shakespear tavern. He was a great gamester, 
 and once won £40,000. He would frequently start with his coach 
 and six, which he would keep up for six months, and then sell it. 
 He was so much reduced at times, and his conduct so bad, that he 
 would send out for a dozen bottles of wine for his customers, wliich 
 was then sold at 16s. per bottle. This w'as the first tavern in Lon- 
 don that had rooms; and from this house the other taverns were 
 supplied with waiters. 
 
 At the Shakespear Coflfee-house, in Covent Garden, were three 
 clubs— Madras, Bengal, and Bombay. The gentlemen who com- 
 posed the last were the highest livers. Twigg was cook to the 
 tavern. Twigg lived in the Garden about forty years. 
 
 The largest dinner ever dressed at the Shakespear wms of 108 
 made dishes, besides hams, &c., and vegetables. This took place at 
 Lord Keppell’s dinner, when he was made First Lord of the 
 Admiralty.- (Information received from Mr. Twigg, April 6, 1815.) 
 
 10th August, 18 15. -This day Mr. Twigg Informed me, that when 
 he w as an apprentice at the Shakespear, 1-hat they had generally 
 fifty tiirJle at a time; that, upon an average, from ten to fifteen 
 were dressed every w-eek; and that it w'as no unusual thing to send 
 forty quarts of turtle soup a- week into the country, even as far as 
 Yorkshire. Mr. Twfgg recollects Lord Archer’s garden (now the 
 Bite of the Biuging-room), at the back of the grand hotel, about | 
 
 fifty years ago, well stocked with everything; and that mn 
 rooms and cucumbers were there grown in the liighest perfectio 
 
 Bought at the Shakespear tavern, under the Fiazza, the Lio 
 Head letter-box, originally put up by Mr. Addia.n '.under the ; 
 titious name of Nestor Ironsides, at Mr. Buttdh's Coffee-hou 
 the south side of Russell street, No 9.— See Guardian,' vol. ii. 
 
 Sir Richard Simmons, of Karl’s Court. Mr. Small, and three oth 
 gentlemen dined about thirty-six years ago at the Shakespt 
 tavern, and had the following dishe.s a turbot, of 40 lb., 
 Thames’ salmon, a haunch of venison, French beans and cucu 
 bers, a green goose, an apricot tart, and green peas. The dinn 
 was dre.ssed by Mr. Twigg, and it came to about seven guiiie. 
 a-head.— From the information of Mr, Twigg, April 15th, 1815. 
 
 Tomkins’s father had been a man of great opulence in the city, I 
 failed for vast sums. Tompkins kept his roach and his couniry house, 1; 
 was no gambler, as has been reported. He died worth £40,000. 1 
 
 daughter married Mr. Longman the music seller. Tomkin- had never I 
 than a hundred pipes of wine in his cellar ; he kept seven waiters, o 
 cellar man and a boy. Each waiter was smartly dressed in his ruffles, a 
 thought it a bad week if he did not make £7. Stacie told Mr. Twi 
 about ihiriy years ago, in his shop.lhal he had betted nearh £3,000 up 
 one of brs race horses of the name of Goldfmder. Sta.cie won. He aft» 
 wards sold the house for a large sum. 
 
 Mr. Harris of the theatre granted a lease of the Shakespear at £ 
 per annum. 
 
 The Shakespear was the first tavern in Covent Garden Stacie serv 
 part of his time to Tomkins. 
 
 Mr- Stacie has a picture of Shakespear for vfhich Mr.. Garrick offer 
 him 100 giuueas. It is in crayon, and copied from the Cbandos pictui 
 
 Mav 1st, 1815. — Mx. JVlapicson, the cupper, informed me that the la 
 Mr Stacie (who was called Honest Jack Stacie) told him that Holcrt 
 (the author of the ‘‘ Road to Rum," isc. &c.), jibout forty years ago was 
 jockey, and that he rode a race for him at that time at Newmark 
 Mr Stacie died lately, and was buried at Paddington. 
 
 On Thursday, May 4th. 1815. I was informed by Mrs. Wright, the cot 
 paiiion of the late Mr. Jack Stacie, commonly called Black ,Jack a 
 Honest Jack Stacie, that he died at his house. No. 43, m John-strei 
 Toitenham-court-road, on the 14lh of March, 1815, and was buried in t 
 new churchyard at Paddington. The age of 76 was on his coffin, but me 
 of hi.s friends considered him older. Mr. Stacie would never speak 
 his .age. 
 
 I'he celebrated Dick Estcourt,* so remarkable a genius for ready wi 
 gay pleasantry, and a wonderful talent in mimierv, about a year befoi 
 his death, opened the Bumper tavern, in Covent Garden. Estcourt w; 
 a favourite of the great Duke of Marlborough; those who knew h 
 grace’s character, will not be surprised that he did not improve his fortui 
 by that distinction. — D. D M., vol. xiii., p, 296. 
 
 Sir Goufrey Knexleb. — S ecretary Craggs, when very young, wet 
 with Dick Estcourt to Sir Godfrey Kneller. and told him, that a genth 
 man in company would give such a representation of some great man, h 
 friends, as would surprise him. Estcourt mimicked Lord Somers, Lori 
 Halifax, Godolphin, and others, so very exactly, that Sir Godfrey wt 
 highly delighted and laughed heartily at the joke. Craggs gave the win! 
 and Estcourt mimicked Kneller himself, who cried out immediatel 
 
 “ there you are out, man ! by G ' that is not me!” — See Davis 
 
 Dramatic Miscellanies, p. 300. 
 
 M. Macklin kept the Piazza Coffee House, and gave public lectures c 
 oratory. 
 
 Extract from the Bedford MS. — " Mr Macklin, retired from tl 
 stage, had, ere this time, endeavoured to set on foot one of the mos 
 extensive plans for a public plai e ever devised— a coffee-room, a 
 aeadeiny of Belles Lettres, an oratory, an 5:c. &c. &c. To this end k 
 constructed a large building under the Piazza, which comprised one t 
 the most elegant coffee-rooms in London, a large theatre lor orator; 
 besides several other apartments suited to the extensiveness of h) 
 scheme, which was never yet fully disclosed. The novelty of the pla 
 attracted the curiosity of numbers; and this curiosity he still farthc 
 excited by a very uncommon controversy, which now subsisted, eith( 
 in imagination or reality, between him and Mr. Foote, who abused on 
 another very openly, ‘ Squire Sammy ” h iving for this purpose engage 
 the Little Theatre in the Hay market. — See page 73. 
 
 “ Besides this personal attack, various subjects were debated here i 
 the manner of the Robin Hood Society, which filled the or.ator’s pocke' 
 and proved his rhetoric of some value.” 
 
 "But when the great plan of Mr Mackliu proved abortive ; when,® 
 he said in a former prologue, upon nearly a similar occasion. 
 
 From scheming, fretting, famine, and despair, 
 
 We saw to grace restor’d an exiled player ; 
 when the town was sated with the seemingly-concocted quarrel hetwee 
 the two theatrical geniuses, Mr Macklin locked up his docua, all an 
 mosity was laid aside, and they came and shook hands ul the Bedford 
 the group resumed their appearance ; and, with a new master, a ne' 
 set of customers was seen." 
 
 HOTELS. 
 
 Lowe’s — (afterwards called the Grand Hotel, Froom’s, Hudson’) 
 Richardson’.s, Joys. Evans’, now the Covent Garden Hotel),— built b 
 Lord Orford, in 1716. Lord Archer, who married into the famil; 
 resided in it in 1729 ; James West mamed into the Archer familj 
 and resided in it 1758, and David Lowe opened it in 1773 as a famil 
 hotel— the first attempt of its kind in I.ondon. There were two Lor 
 Archers ; the last died about the year 1760. Lady Archer lived som 
 years afterwards. There are some curious engravings of her.— Mi 
 Young informs me that he has heard that gold, silver, and_ coppt 
 medals were struck, and given by Lowe as advertisements for his 
 The gold, he says, he never saw. .Silver and copper he has had. Tb 
 gold were given to princes ; the silver to the nooility ; and the coppt 
 for common persons. I'he metlals are very rare. I possess a coppt 
 
 one. — J . Greevt 
 
 • See Spectator, later editions. 
 
EVANS’S SUPpER-KOOMS, CO VENT-GARDEN. if 
 
 Lowe lived in Dudley Ward’s house before he held the Grand Hotel. — 
 Ix)we was a hair-dresser, of Southampton-street, before he took Mr. 
 West’s house. The concern ruined him. — Froome, the landlord of the 
 White Hart inn, Longacre, (now Stubbs’s, coachmaker’s) ; the back 
 gateway and ti.e s.des are still to be seen in Hart-street. This White 
 Hart inn was a house of ill-fame; but Froome kept Low’s very 
 respectably. 
 
 Extracts from “ Memoirs of the Bedford Coffee House.”— By a genius. — 
 
 London : Printed for J. Single, in the Strand, 17 03. Second edition. 
 
 The first published in 1751. 
 
 “ This spot, which has been sign-alized for many years as the emporium 
 of wit, the seat of criticism, and the standard of taste.— Names of those 
 who frequented the house :— Foote, Mr. Fielding, Mr. Woodward, Mr. 
 Leone, Mr. Murphy, Mopsy, Dr. Arne. Dr. Arne was the only man in a 
 suit of velvet in the dog days.” 
 
 “ Thus ended the Inspector, which had given rise to this reign of the 
 Bedford ; had placed there the Lion from Button’s, which proved so ser- 
 viceable to Steele, and once more fi.xed the dominion of wit in Covent 
 Garden.” — See p. 1, 
 
 ‘‘Bkoforo Abms. — Mr, Stacie kept the Bedford Arms when John and 
 Henry Fielding, Hogarth, Churchill, AVoodward, Lloyd, Dr. Goldsmith, 
 and many others met there and held a gossiping shilling rubber club, 
 Henry Fielding (Mr. Stacie informed me), was a very merry fellow, Ho- 
 garth and Churchill quarrelled at the Bedford; 
 
 “ The reign of wit and pleasantry did not, however, |cease at the Bedford 
 at the demise of the Inspector. A race of punsters next succeeded. A 
 particular box was alloted to this occasion, out of the liearing of the lady 
 at the bar, that the double eate-ndres, which were sometimes very indeli- 
 cate, might not offend her.”— See page 12, Memoirs of the Bedford 
 Coffee House. 
 
 Men killed at the Bedford Arms.— Mr. Dancer destroyed himself there. 
 A groom porter was roasted alive there. 
 
 Mr. Rich upon entering the Bedford Coffee-house said that he had just 
 left Quin playing to empty boxes, but that he would the next evening pro- 
 duce a pantomime, and give them a bumper; he would fill the house. 
 
 Lion’s Head, Bedford Coffee House. — Button sold the Lion’s Head to 
 Tompkins. It went with the furniture to Campbell. Mr. Robins, the 
 auctioneer, sold it. It vvaS purchased by Mr. Richardson, against the 
 Duke of Norfolk, who has since wished to purchase it. It is now in Mr. 
 Richardson’s great room, who lias added a glory to it [ I'lie great room 
 forms the cafe part of the singing and supper rooms of Evans’s.] 
 
 Hummums, in Covent Garden. — Dr. Shaw in his travels, p. 231, ob- 
 serves, that Hummums is corrupted from the Arabic word Hummum, 
 which* signifies a bagnio or bath. The old Hummums wa.s the first and 
 jT.ly lodging-house in the Garden in Mr. Twigg’s early days. Mrs Gold 
 iept a bagnio, where the ne\v Hummums now stands, before the fire hap- 
 jcned. 
 
 BAGNIOS. 
 
 It appears in page 35 of “A Description of the Dukes Bagnio,” that 
 Bagnios were introduced into England about 1671). 
 
 Long-acre. — Tub Duke’s Bagnio.— -The following extracts are from 
 small work published 1683, entitled — 
 
 A DESCRIPTION 
 OF THE 
 
 DUKE’S BAGNIO, 
 
 AND OF THE 
 
 MINERAL BATHS 
 
 AND 
 
 NEW SPAW 
 
 THEREUNTO BELONGING ; 
 
 bfoidered, fringed, and laced with silver on a scanet cloth, value 40 
 guineas, to he raffled for at Mr. Roman’s Chocolate-house in Bridget- 
 street, Covent Garden, on Monday the 27lh instant, at 5 o’clock in the 
 evening. Each subscriber to pay two guineas to Mr. Bowman at the time 
 of subscribing. — The Guardian, No, 38, Saturday, April ^0,1713. 
 
 ” The tickets will be delivered out at Mrs. White’s Chocolate-house 
 in St. James’s-street, this day, at two guineas. — Ibid, No. 38. Friday. April 
 24, J713. 
 
 The Rainbow and Dove, near Durham-yard, in the Strand, at the 
 Three Pigeons in Bedford-street.” — Ibid, No. 46, Monday, May 4 , 1713. 
 
 Madame Rochford’s Chocolate-house by Charing-cross.”— The English- 
 man. No, 31, Saturday, Decemtier 12, 1713. 
 
 Tickets for the Tragedy of Jane Shore are delivered out at White’s 
 Chocolate-house. Pit and boxes are to be had together. Ibid, No. 52, 
 Saturday, January 30, 1714 
 
 Thursday, October 24, 1727.— Book Bess, and Betty Sanders uniting at 
 the comer chocolate-house in Bridges-slreet, about two penny glasses 
 of usquebaugh at nine — See Tom Brown’s Diary, voi. i., p. 148. 
 
 COFFEE HOUSES. 
 
 “ N.B. — Mr. Ironside within five weeks last past, mnzsled three 
 lions, gorged five, and killed one. On Monday next the skin of the dead 
 one will be hung up, in terrorem, at Button’s Coffee-house over against 
 Tom’s in Covent Garden. — The Guardian, No. 71, Tuesday, June 2, 
 1713. 
 
 ‘‘Six new songs, with full symphonies, after the Italian manner, the 
 symphonies introduced with the songs for the harpsicord, composed by 
 Mr. Hayden. Two books of .songs being the last words of Mr. Thomas 
 D’Urfey. All printed for L. Pippard, at Orpheus, next door to Button’s 
 Coffee-house, in Russell street, Covent Garden ” — Ibid, No, 87, Saturday, 
 June 20, 1713. 
 
 ” Button’s Coffee-house. — Mr. Ironside, I have observed that this day 
 you make mention of Will’s Coffee-house, as a place where people are too 
 polite to hold a man in discourse by the button. Every body knows your 
 h*aour frequents this house, therefore they will take an advantage against 
 me, and say if my company was as civil as that at Wills. You would say go. 
 Therefore pray your honour do not be afraid of doing me justice, because 
 people would think it may he a conceit below you on this occasion to 
 name the name of your humble servant, Daniel Button. — The young poets 
 arc in the hack room, and lake their places as you directed.” — Ibid, No, 
 85, Thursday, June IS, 1713. 
 
 •* I intend to publish once every week the roarings of the Lion, and 
 hope to make him roar so loud as to be heard over all the British nation.” 
 — Ibid, Wednesday, July 22, 1713. 
 
 I have, I know not how, been drawn into tattle of myself, more majorum 
 almost the length of a whole Guardian. I shall therefore fill up the re- 
 maining part of it with what still relates to my own person, and my corre- 
 spondents. Now I would have them all know that on the 20th instant 
 it is my intention to erect a Lion’s Head, in imitation of those I have de- 
 .scribed in Venice, tnrough which all the private commonwealth is said to 
 pass. This Head is to open a most wide and voracious mouth, which 
 shall take in such letters and papers as arc conveyed to me by my corre- 
 spondents, it being my re.'^olution to have a particular regard to all such 
 matters as come to my hands through the mouth of the Lion, There 
 will bo under it a box, of which tlie key will be in my own custody, to 
 receive such papers as are dropped into it. Whatever the Lion swallowg 
 I shall digest for the use of the publick. 'I his head requires some time to 
 finish, the workmen being resolved to give it several ma>terly touches, 
 and to represent it as ravenous as possible. It will he set up in Button’s 
 Coffee-house, in Covent Garden, who is directed to shew the way to 
 the l.iun’s Head, and to instruct any young author how to convey his 
 works into the mouth of it with safety and secrecy.” — The Guardian, No. 
 9.3, Friday, July 9, 1713 
 
 WITH AN ACCOUNT OF THE USE OP SWEATING, 
 
 , RUBBING, BATHING, AND THE MEDICINAL 
 
 VIRTUES OP THE SPAW. 
 
 BY SAM. HAWORTH, M. D. 
 
 London; Printed for Sam. Smith, at the Prince's Arms, 
 in .S7. Paul’s Church-ijard, 1683. 
 
 The Dedication — 
 
 TO ms ROTAL HIGHNESS 
 J A M E S, 
 
 Duke of York and Albany, 8jc. 
 
 ' This Bagnio is erected near the west end of Long-acre, in that spot of 
 ground which hath been called by the name of Salisbury stables. At the 
 front of it, next the street, is a large commod ous house, wherein dwells 
 that honourable person. Sir William Jennmgs, (of whose great worth, and 
 services to his Maje.sly at sea, not only the King himself, hut almost the 
 whole nation besides, is sufiicieiUly sensible), who, having obtained his 
 Majesty’s patent for the making of all pui.lic bagnios and baths, either for 
 sweating, bathing, washing, .Sic. The same reception and entertainment, 
 also women fiiiU only with this diilcrencc— viz , on women’s days 
 there are all imaginaMe conveniences of privacy, and not a man 
 to he seen; hut all he servants are of the female sex, and such as 1 
 are not only neat and cleanly, but likewise skilful and dexterous j 
 in the business thev have to do. Ihey likewise use a water which affects i 
 the skin with an admirable whiteness and clearness, with aliich they 
 wash the whole bony, hut especially the hands, and face, and neck; 
 whereby much lustre and beauty is added to those parts. The days ap- 
 pointed for inrri aie Mi.ndays, Wednesdays, I'hursdays, and Saturdays; 
 those for women are Tuesdays and Fridays only. 
 
 CHOCOLATE HOUSES. 
 
 “ A Boanish bav stone-horse with a new housing and baggs, era- 
 
 THE lion’s HKAD, 
 
 Put up at Button’s, July, 1713; removed to the Sh.akespeare tavern 
 about 1731. Purchased by the late Mr. Richardson, 
 
 Nov. 8, 1809. 
 
 Lord Littleton was the translator of the inscription under the Lion’f 
 Head at Button’s. 
 
 I think myself obliged to acquaint the publick, that the Lion’s Head, 
 of which I advertised thorn about a fortnight ago, is now erected at 
 Button’s Coffee House, in Russell-street, Covent Garden, where it opens 
 its mouth at all hours for the reception of such intelligence as shall be 
 thrown into it. It is reckoned an excellent piece of workmanship, and 
 was designed by a great hand in imitation of the antique Lgyptlan lion, 
 the face of it heinr^ compounded out of that of a lion and a wiaardL 
 
18 EVANS’S SUPPER-ROOMS, COVENT-aARDEK. f v - 
 
 The features aie strong and well.furrowed. The whiskers are admired 
 by all that have seen them. It is planted on the western side of the 
 Coffee-house, holding its paws under the chin, upon a box, which con- 
 tains everything that he swallows. He is, indeed, a proper emblem of 
 knowledge and action, being all head and paws.— The Guardian, No. 
 
 IH, Wednesday, July 22, 1713. 
 
 Being obliged, at present, to attend a vCliicular affair of my own, I do 
 empower my printer to look into the arcana of the lion, and select out of 
 them such as may be of publick utility ; and Mr. Button is hereby 
 authorized and commanded to give my said printer free ingress and 
 egress to the lion, without any hindrance, lest, or molestation whatsoever, 
 untill such time as he shall receive orders to the contrary. And, for so 
 doing, this shall be his warrant. — The Guardian, No. 142, Monday, 
 August 24, 1713. 
 
 My Lion, whose jaws are at all times open to >«^yigo>*^ informs me, 
 that there are a few enormous weapons still in being; 4 they are 
 
 to be met with only in gaming-houses, and some of the t9i>««<»re retreats 
 of lovers in and about Drury-lane snd Covent Garden. — The Guardian, 
 No. 171, Saturday. September 26, 1713. 
 
 Mr. Wiston’s Mathematick Lecture is now removed from Mr. Button’s 
 Coffee-house to an adjoining large room, over the nearest corner of the 
 Piazza, belonging to Mr. Dale, an upholsterer, Covent Garden.— The 
 Englishman, No. 55, Saturday, February 6, 1714. 
 
 On Friday night next, Mr. Whiston proceeds a second time on his Lec- 
 tures of Astronomy and Sacrod Architecture, at Button’s Coffee house, 
 in Russell-street, Covent Garden.— S'ee The Daily Advertiser, for March 
 4th, 1730. 
 
 Sir Godfrey Kneller was a frequenter of Button’s Coffee-house.— 
 Davies’s Dramatic Miscellanies, vol. 3, 
 
 When Button’s was deserted, the coffee drinkers went to the Bedford 
 Coffee house, and the dinner parties to the Shakespease. 
 
 Jhe heads of the English actors were, for a long time, covered with 
 large full-bottomed perriwigs, a fashion introduced in the reign of Charles 
 
 II. which was not entirely disused in public till about the year 1726. Ad- 
 di^n, Congreve, and Steel, met at Button’s Coffee-house in large, 
 flowing, flaxen, wigs. — See Davies’s Dramatic Miscellanies, vol 3. 
 
 Button was servant to Lady Warwick when Addison married her lady- 
 ship. His Christian name was Daniel. 
 
 On Sunday morning, died, after three days’ illness, Mr. Button, who 
 formerly kept Button’s Coffee-house, in Russell-street, Covent Garden, 
 very noted house f^r wits, being the place where the Ljon produced the 
 famous Tatlers and Spectators, written by the late Mr. Secretary Addison 
 and Sir Richard Steel, Knt., v?hieh works will transmit their names with 
 honour to posterity.— Nee The Daily Advertiser, for Tuesday, October 
 
 ^*^T 0 M’s.— Observations upon Mr. Addison’s Cato. Sold by W. Lewis, 
 under Tom’s Coffee-house, Covent Gbrden. — The Guardian, 54, 
 Friday, May 1, 1713. 
 
 A gaming-house frequented by Colly Cibber. 
 
 July 2nd, 1728, expended at Tom’s Coffee-house, in St. Martin’s-lane, 
 when the churchwardens of the severell p.irishes melt about the pest 
 flelds— Is. 6d.— Extract from the parish books. 
 
 • Tom, a waiter from Well’s.— Nee Dr. Johnson, 
 
 * April 30th, 1770. — At the vestry of St, Paul’s, Coveut Garden, from 
 Tnm’s Coffee’ House. 
 
 £. s. d 
 
 46 Dii.nes of Chocolate 1 3 0 
 
 34Jelleys 0 '7 0 
 
 Biscuits 0 3 
 
 £2 2 3 
 
 Mr. Gregnon’s father recollected the balcony of Tom’s crowded with 
 noblemen in their stars and garters, drinking their tea and coffee exposed 
 to the people. 
 
 AT COVENT GARDEN COFFEE-HOUSE, 
 
 Under the Great Piazza, Covent Garden, 
 
 IS TO BE SEEN A WONDERFUL CURIOSITY IN MJNIA- 
 TURE, Viz.:— 
 
 I. A He Flea with a golden collar and chain of 120 links. 
 
 II.* A She Flea with a golden collar and chain of 150 link', with a 
 padlock and key to lock the two chains together, the whole not weighing 
 one grain and a half, which vastly cxceedes what history gives account of. 
 The chains are near nine inches long, which the fleas command with great 
 eas“ and are the admiration of all that have seen them. Likewise a 
 discovery of the She Flea’s Eggs, with their manner of preying upon u', 
 when chained, with exceeding vigour. Their chains are as truely made 
 as if an hundred'imes larger, the whole fixed in a bo.x with glass doors 
 and partitions, proper for the purpose. To be seen from ten in the 
 morning till eight at night Price Is. 
 
 2{ote. It’s ihe opinion of Great Virtuosos that there is nothing in 
 
 miniature ctuld yield the curious more pleaiiure. N.B. There is a con- 
 venient place for ladies, without being any way discommoded by the gen- 
 demen of the coffee house. Likewise all gentlemen, ladies, and others, 
 may have the said curiosity brought to their houses. 
 
 ' PUBLIC HOUSES. 
 
 White TIbrse public-house, the first in the Garden from Henrietta- 
 sweet, alias Prancer, alias the Lilly Prad (White Hor.se), was kept about 
 thirty years ago by Sam Price, cc mmonly called swearing Sam Price. He 
 wore a black silk waistcoat with sleeves, similar to the one worn by Sam 
 House. This house was aflerward.s kept by Betty, who had been bar- 
 maid under Mrs. Crosdel, who kept Carpenter’s Coffee-house. Mr. Hassil 
 and Mr. Roper would frequently have a barrel of beer brought into the 
 middle of the Garden and give it away, about forty years ago. 
 
 Green Man public-house. the next from the above White Horse, and 
 said to have been the house in wiiich Moll King lived, of whom a good 
 deal may be said, was kept by a man whose son was one of the first pci- 
 sons executed at the new drop. 
 
 Carpenter’s Coffee-house, the next from the Green Man, and opposite 
 to the Hummums, wag u) called from the persot of iliat name. Mr. Car- 
 
 penter was lessee of the market, and died about thirty yean agflk ‘ 
 placed his father and mother in it. Carpenter, the lesee, was a very 
 singular character. He was originally a porter in the market, and brought 
 the fruit from Ivy Bride, now better known by the sign of the Fox-under- 
 the-Hill, He had a very peculiar knack of piling as many as 15 half 
 cherry sieves upon his head, and would throw off at pleasure from one to 
 any number, and he had acquired this knack to such a certainty that he 
 never failed. He was reduced through a long illness to pawn his watch 
 for subsistence. During the expenditure of this, bis little all, he got 
 better and was able to work again. This watch was a silver onCj and 
 when he became lesee of the market by his honest savings, he so respocwcd 
 his fortunate silver watch that he got a gold case to put it in, and would ' 
 often take it out and relate the story of his good fortune. He was a man 
 much respected. 
 
 Carpenter’s Coffee-house, which was afterwards called “The Finish,” was 
 kept by Ann Crosdel. John Gibson lived with her, who cut his throat at 
 his lodgings in James-street. Jack Gould, a salesman in the market, 
 afterwards lived with her Gibson was a cook and served his time t© 
 Stacie, who kept the Bedford Arms, formerly Colley’s Chop House. 
 
 Bill Cozans, bis friend Sims, Dick Oliver, a violin player, who occa- 
 sionally led the band at Drury-lane Theatre, all the boxers of the day, 
 George the Brewer, Big Ben, Mendoza, the two Wards, &c., frequented 
 Carpenter’s Coffee House in consequence of their being noticed by Black- 
 well the herbman, who was an amateur in the pugilistic science. Black- 
 well died 18th October, 1798, and was buried at Lambeth. He was a 
 most worthy man, and called th6 poor man’s friend ; his loss was so great 
 to the market people that he was followed to the grave, in tears, by great 
 num’«ers. His father had the shop before him. It is now kept by 
 Grimsly, who married his daughter. ' 
 
 There is an Herbal by Blackwell. 
 
 Lowe kept an hotel or lodging house, in Henrietta street, before he took 
 the great house in the Garden. He was a hair-dresser and lived in 
 Southampton-street. 
 
 Old Cook, the fruiterer, kept his shop from 55 to 60 years. 
 
 The famous singer commonly called Tommy Lowe, of Vauxhall Gar- 
 dens and other pans, became reduced, and Incledon kindly took the chair 
 in his behalf at a numerous meeting at the Garrick’s Head. Lowe was 
 present, a very tall man. 
 
 Lowe who kept the hotel, became a com cutter. He cut the corns of 
 Sir John Webb, an old customer. He was turned out of the workhouse 
 for atU mpting to stab the master. 
 
 Scurvy.grass al was sold when I was a boy at the public-h-ousc the 
 corner of Kenneita-street in the Garden. 
 
 Mr. Gerrell’s late house, the sign of the Salutation, Tavistock-strect, 
 was originally, he informs me, called the May House: it is also known 
 by the appellation of the Nook. The date of the court is eut in stone in 
 the court. 
 
 ■ The Blakeney Head, the door south of the Police Office, in Bow-street, 
 was i:epl by Mrs. 0‘Neale, commonly called Mother Dillon. She mar- 
 ried Peter Dillon, a lottery-office keeper . — See a song upon her. 
 
 Tompkins died worth £10,000. He built a large house the corner of 
 Cumberland-place, Oxford-street. His daughter married Longman the 
 music-seller. 
 
 Richardson had the cellar under Lowe’s Hotel ; then took the house 
 after Crosbio, who succeeded Wood. 
 
 The Little Piazza consisted of four houses; the one in the corner 
 next to the Bedford Arms (kept by Hartley, afterwards Stacie) was 
 kept by the handsome Mattocks, husband to the late Mrs, Matlocks. The 
 next house to him, north, was the Hummums kept before and after the 
 fire by Mr. Rig?, who rebuilt the premises, and had a lease granted him 
 not exceeding £40 per annum (1769). 
 
 The King’s Arms was the next house to the Hummums, north, and was 
 Kept oy Lovojoy. ^ 
 
 The Distillers’ was the corner house. 
 
 The Tavistock Hotel makes up 68 beds— the greatest number of beds 
 of any house in the Garden. (March 18th, IS15.) 
 
 Richardson was waiter at the Shakespear in the time of Twigg. He 
 then went to Stevenage and married the cook, 
 
 Mrs. .\nn Butler’s is now (March ISth, ISLi) the finc.st of the day; it is 
 open all night. Mr. Terrell recollects a picture of the Hazard Club at 
 Stacie’?, the Bedford Arms It filled a pannel and was by Hogarth. 
 
 Blue Posts, opposite Brydges-street, kept by Ellidge, at the time 
 that Shooter was his pot-boy. It was afterwards kept by Carter, 
 who played so well at billiards, on account of the length of his arms. 
 Shooter used to carry beer to the players behind the scenes ; and, 
 in consequence of his seeing Hipperslcy, he became a player. IJo 
 used to chalk the figures at the billiard-tables. Shooter became a 
 raethodist. and died at King John’s Palace, Tottenham Court-road. 
 Shooter, at the age of twelve, was pot boy at the Queen’s Head 
 (now Mrs. Butler’s), and he was so kind to the rats of the cellar, 
 by giving them the sops from the porter (for in his time any person 
 might have a toast in his beer), that they would creep about him, 
 and upon him. He would cany them about with him between his 
 shirt and waistcoat, to the surprise of every one. lie would call 
 them by iheir names. Mr. B ard lodged at the second house from 
 Russell-street, next to the Red Lion. Edwin and Irish Johnson 
 had the same lodgings. Bensley lived with Mrs. Mattocks. Hi^ 
 persley frequented the Sun, the next house to the Blue Posts. He 
 took Shooter as his servant, and brought him on the stage. Shooter 
 was latterly followed by boys, who hooted him. -(From the in- 
 formation of Mr. Twigg, April 11th. 1815.) Mr. Twigg in 
 formed me, March 29tb, 1815, that Shooter belonged to the Sun 
 
 E ublic- house, in Russell street, next door to that which was the 
 ;lue Posts; it was the door west of the Posts. 3Ir. Twigg, 
 with three others, his fellow-apprentices, frequently played at 
 marbles in the open passage which led from the Piazza into Hart- 
 street, and were often joined in their play by Shooter, Lee. Lewis, 
 and Powel, who were all then tlieatrical performers. Mr. rhe<> 
 rihihis Forrest, when he paid Shooter his money, that was allowed 
 Iiim in his latter days — wlhoh was £2 2s. per week -found mm 
 calling for gin. and his shirt was worn to half its ' /igmal size.— 
 llare'i 29tn, 1815. 
 
A siiicfiM ir iisiL 
 
 SONGS, GLEES, MADRIGALS, &o. 
 
 X — Madrigal. constantius Festa , 1541. 
 
 Fcll Choie. 
 
 Down in a flow’ry vale, all on a summer morn- 
 
 Phi’is 1 spied, fair nature’s self adorning ; 
 Swiftly on wings of love I flew to meet her, 
 Coldly she welcomed me, when I did greet her. 
 I warbled thus my ditty: — 
 
 “ Oh, shepherdess! have pity, 
 
 And hear a faithful lover* 
 
 His passion true discover. 
 
 Ah ! why art thou to me so cruel ? ” 
 
 Then straight replied my jewel : — 
 
 “ If gold thou hast, fond youth, ’twill speed thy 
 sueing ; 
 
 But if thy purse be empty, come not to me a 
 wooing.’’ 
 
 2 — Madrigal. Dr. Wilson, IGOO. 
 
 Words from Shajs.espeare. 
 
 O, by rivers, by whose falls 
 Melodious birds sing madrigals, 
 
 The shepherd swains shall dance and play. 
 For thy deliglit on each May-day. 
 
 Witli a fa, la, la. 
 
 Where silver sands and peV)bles sing 
 Eternal ditties to the Spring, 
 
 Th.ere shall you pass the welcome night, 
 
 In sylvan pleasure and delight. 
 
 With a fa, la, la. 
 
 3~' Madrigal. (WorcUfrom Shakespeare.) 
 
 Who is Sylvia ? what is she, 
 
 That all our swains commend her ? 
 
 Holy, fair, and wise is she; 
 
 Tlie heavens such grace did lend her, 
 
 , That she might admired be. 
 
 Is she kind as she is fair ? 
 
 For beauty lives with kindness : 
 
 Love doth to lier eyes repair. 
 
 To help him of his blindness. 
 
 And, being lielp’d, iuiiabits there. 
 
 Then to Sylvia let us sing. 
 
 That Sylvia is excelling ; 
 
 She excels each mortal thing 
 Upon the dull earth dwelling. 
 
 4— The Miller’s Daughter. Glee. 
 
 It is the Miller's Daughter, 
 
 And she is grown so dear, 
 
 That I would be the jewel 
 That trembles in her ear. 
 
 For hid in ruiglets day and night, 
 i d touch her neck so ann and white. 
 
 And I would he the girdle. 
 
 About her dainty, dainty waist. 
 
 And her heart would brat against me. 
 
 In sorrow and in rest. 
 
 And I should know if it beat i ight. 
 
 I d clasp it round to close and tight. 
 
 And I wmdd be the necklace. 
 
 And all day long to fall and rise 
 Upon her balmy bosom. 
 
 With her laughter or her sighs. 
 
 And I would lie so light, so liglit, 
 
 I scarce should be unclasp’d at night. 
 
 -5— Behold blest Peace. 
 
 Arranged from, “Kossisi,” hg J. Greex. 
 
 Behold blest Peace, tho’ banish’d long. 
 
 It re gns with us once more ; 
 
 Thunders no more the camion strong, 
 
 The storm at length is o’er. 
 
 Thrice happy land, O lovely Peace 
 Now hails tny blest domain. 
 
 Solo. 
 
 Fair comme’ ce now in bounteous share. 
 Again its blessings pours; 
 
 Contentment lightens ev’ry care. 
 
 And bliss complete is ours. 
 
 Chokus. 
 
 Thrice happy land, O, lovely Peace 
 Now hails thy blest domain. 
 
 And S( es with joy, that long shall last. 
 
 The clouds disperse again. 
 
 Behold blest Peace, ike. 
 
 6— Madrigal. Richard Edivardes, 1560. 
 
 In going to my lonely bed. 
 
 In going to my lonely bed, 
 
 As one that would have slept, 
 
 I heard a wife sing to her child. 
 
 That long had moan'd and wept. 
 
 She sighed sore and sang full sweet. 
 
 To lull the babe to rest; 
 
 That would not cease, but cried still 
 Upon its moilier's breast. 
 
 She was full weary of her watch, 
 
 And gi ieved uith her child; 
 
 She rocked it, and rated it. 
 
 Till that on her it smiled; 
 
 Then did she say, “ Now have I found 
 This proverb true doth prove : 
 
 The falling out of faithtul friends 
 Renewing is of love.” 
 
 In Ecans’s Old Ballads, Vol. III., 1784, the following 
 verses are inserted, without name, date, or foinmeiit. Sir 
 Egerton Brydges considered the poem, “ In going to my 
 naked bed,” without reference to the nge in which it was 
 produced, as among the mo.st beautiful in our language. 
 Edwardes's play, JJamon and, Rithias, may be seen in 
 Eodsley. 
 
 The Rentjixg of Love. 
 
 In going to my naked bedde, 
 
 As one that would have slept, 
 
 I heard a wife sing to her chilli. 
 
 That long before had wept. 
 
 She stghed sore, attd sang full sweete. 
 
 To tiring the babe to rest. 
 
 That would not cease but cried still, 
 
 In sucking at her brea.st. 
 
 She was full weary of her watch. 
 
 And grieved with her child 
 She rocked it and rated it. 
 
 Till that on her smilde. 
 
 Then did she sale, now have I founde. 
 
 This proverbe true to prove — 
 
 The falling out of faitWull frends, 
 
 Renuing is of love. 
 
 Then tooke I paper peime and ynke, 
 
 This proverb for to write. 
 
 In register for to remaine. 
 
 Of such a worthie wight. 
 
 As she proceeded with her song 
 Unto her little bratte. 
 
 Much matter uttered she of waight. 
 
 In place whereat she satte; 
 
 And proved ph.ine there was no beaste, 
 
 ^ Not creatuie bearing life. 
 
 Could well be known to live in love. 
 
 Without discorde and strife. 
 
 Then kissed she her little babe, 
 
 Ai.d sware by God above. 
 
 The falling out of failhfull frends, 
 
 Kenuing is of love. 
 
 She said that neither king nor prince, 
 
 •\’or lord could live aright. 
 
 Until their p'uissancethey did prove — 
 
 Their manhood and their might; 
 
 "H^hen manhood shall be matched so, 
 
 'I’hat feare can take no place — 
 
 When wearie works makes wariours 
 Elbe other to embrace, 
 
 And leave their forse that failed them, 
 
 Wliich did consume the rout, 
 
 That might before have lived their tjme. 
 
 And their full natiiie out. 
 
 Then did she sing as one that thought 
 No man could her rejirove. 
 
 The falling out of faithfull frends, 
 
 Renuing is of love. 
 
 S} e said she sawe no fishe, no foule. 
 
 Nor beast within her haunt, 
 
 That mett a straunger in their kir.de. 
 
 But could giie it a taunt. 
 
 Since tleshe might not endure, 
 
 But reste must wrathe succeed, 
 
 And forse who tight to fall — to play. 
 
 In pasture where they fvede; 
 
 So noble nature can well ends 
 The works she hath begane, 
 
 Aiid bridle '.veil that will not cease. 
 
 Her tragedy in some. 
 
 Thus in her songe she oft reherst. 
 
 As did her well behove. 
 
 The falling cvit of failhfull frends, 
 
 Kenuing is of love. 
 
 7 — Glee. >S'iV Henry R. Bishop. 
 
 Sleep, S'ciitle 'ady, t!;e flowci's are elo.sing, 
 
 The very waves and winds reposing ; 
 
 Oil ! may our soft and toothing iiumlers, 
 
 Wi'ap thee in sweeter, sol’ter sh.nibers ! 
 
 Peace be around tbee. lady bright, 
 
 Sleep while we sing ” Good night, good night ! ” 
 
 8 — The Village Blacksmith. 
 
 Wor*Ish[f MvFtic h}f 
 
 II. W. Loxofei.low. J. L. Uation, 
 
 Under a spreadin" chesnut-tree, the vL’lage 
 smithy stands. 
 
 The smith, a mighty man is he, with largo and 
 sinewy hands. 
 
 And the muscles of his brawny arms are strong 
 as iron bauds. 
 
 His hair is crisp, and black and long; his face 
 is like the tan ; 
 
 His brow is wet with honest sweat, he earns 
 whate’er he can. 
 
 And looks the whole world in the face, for he 
 owes not any man. 
 
 Week in, week out. from morn till night, you 
 can hear his bellows blow. 
 
 You can hear him swing his heavy sledge, with 
 measui-ed beat and slow. 
 
 Like a sexton rii ging the village bell, when ev'u- 
 in,sr sun is low. 
 
 And children coming home from school, look 
 in at the open door. 
 
 They love to see the tlaiuing forge, and hear the 
 bellows 1 oar, 
 
 And catch the sparks that fly like chaff from a 
 thrashing floor. 
 
 He goes on Sunday to the church, and sits 
 among.st his buys ; 
 
 He hears the parson pray and preach; he hears 
 his daughter s voice 
 
 Singing in the village choir, and it makes his 
 heart rejoice ; 
 
 It sounds to him like her mother’s voice, singing 
 in Paradise; 
 
 He needs must tliink of her once more, how in 
 the grave she lies, 
 
 And with his hard rough hand he wipes a tear 
 from out his eyes. 
 
 Toiling, rejoicing, sorrowing, onward thi’ougb 
 life lie goes ; 
 
 Each miirning sees some task begin, each even- 
 ing sees its close; 
 
 Something attempted, something done, has 
 earn'd a night s repose. 
 
 Thanks, thanlvs lo thee, my wortiiy friend, for 
 the lesson thou hast taught ; 
 
 Thus, at the flaming forge of life, our fortunes 
 mu-t be wrought ; 
 
 Thus, on its sounding an\ il, shap’d eacli burning 
 deed, each thought. 
 
 9 — Sestett. Sir Henry B. Bishop. 
 
 Oh ! Bold Robin Mood is a forester good. 
 
 As ever drew bow in th.e merry greenwood ; 
 
 At his bugle’s shiill singing, 
 
 The echoes are ringing. 
 
 The wild deer is .si-ringing from many a rood ; 
 Its summons we follow 
 Through brake, over hollow. 
 
 The shrilly blown summons of bold Robin 
 Hood. 
 
 And what eye hath e’er seen 
 Such a sw'eet maiden queen. 
 
 As Marian the pi ide of tlie foresters’ green ? 
 
 A sweet garden flower, 
 
 She blooms in the bo'wer. 
 
 Where alone to this hour the wild rose hath 
 been. 
 
 We hail her, in duty. 
 
 The queen of all beauty ! 
 
 We ’will live, we will die by our s'weet maiden 
 queen. 
 
 And we’ve a grey friar. 
 
 Good as hearts may desire, 
 
 To absolve all our sins as the case may require 
 Who w ith courage so .stout. 
 
 Lays his oak plant about, 
 
 And puts to the rout ali the foes of his choir ; 
 
 For we are his choristers, 
 
 ■We merry foresters, 
 
 Chorusing still with our ndlitant friar : 
 
 Robin and Marian ! Robin and Marian .' 
 
 Drink to them one by one, drink whilo 
 you sing; 
 
 Robin and Marian 1 Robin and Marian ! 
 
 Long with their glory old Sherwood shal* 
 
 I 
 
EVANS’S SUPPER-ROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN. 
 
 20 
 
 10 — Chorus. Su' Henry R. Bishop. 
 
 irordiftySiR Walter Scoti. 
 
 Hail to the chkf who in triuinpli advances, 
 Honour’d and nlest be the ever-;?reen pine ; 
 Long naay the tree, in his banner that glances, 
 Flourish, the shel er and grace of our line. 
 Heaven send it liappy dew, 
 
 Earth lend it sap anew. 
 
 Gaily to bourgeon and broadly to grow; 
 
 While every highland g:en. 
 
 Sends our shout back again, 
 
 Rhoderic Vich Alpine, Dnu ho icro ! 
 
 Row, brotl.ers row, for the pride of the high- 
 lands, 
 
 Stretch to your oars for the ever-green pine; 
 
 Oh, that the l ose-bud that graces yon islands 
 "Were wreatned in a garland around him to 
 twine; 
 
 Oh that some seedling gem, 
 
 Worthy such noble stem. 
 
 Honour’d and blest in their shadow might 
 grow ' 
 
 Loud should Clan Alpine then 
 Ring from her deepest glen. 
 
 Rhoderic Vich Alpine, Dim ho iero! 
 
 11 — Glee. Dr. Cooke. 
 
 Iv THE Meurt Month of May. 
 
 In the merry month of May, 
 
 On a morn by bi\ak of day 
 Forth 1 waikd by the wood si^le 
 Whereas May was in her pi i le. 
 
 There I spied, all m one 
 Fhiliida and Corydo... 
 
 Mucii ad I there ■ as, God wot I 
 He wnidd love, and she wou d not. 
 
 She said, never man uas true ; 
 
 He said, none was fal e to yon 
 He said, he had !<>' 'i her i‘mg; 
 
 She said, love .shou d liave no wrong. 
 Coiydon would aiss her then ; 
 
 She said, maids must ki-s no neii. 
 
 Till tliey did for good an i all. 
 
 Then s e made tne shepherd call 
 All the Iieav'ns to witness iruth 
 Never loved a truei youth. 
 
 Tims • ith many a p'etty oath 
 Yea and nay, and faith md troth. 
 
 Such as Seemly snepiierd use 
 When they will not loie anu'. . 
 
 Love which had bi'eti long (iem led. 
 
 V/as with kis.«es sweet cor.eiuded. 
 
 And Phillida with garlands gay. 
 
 Was made the lady of t e May. 
 
 12 — Is IT THE Tempest that we 
 HEAR ? Sir Henry l{. Bishop. 
 
 Solo Soprano. 
 
 Is it the tempest that we hear, 
 
 Or is it bold invadeis near 
 Say. sister, say. 
 
 'Tis not the tempest that you hear. 
 
 It is bold invaders near ! 
 
 Hush 1 hush ! I hear ! 
 
 S Lo Tenor. 
 
 Oh. vestals, hear my fervent prayer : 
 
 From all suri-ounding dang r 
 From storm, from darkness and despair, 
 Oh; save a wayworn str.mger. 
 
 Sopranos. 
 
 Sure ’tis some wayworn stranger ! 
 
 No, no, some dreadful danger ' 
 
 ThNOR. 
 
 Oh ! save a waywo n stranger. 
 
 Oh! Save from all s’lirouintuig danger! 
 Quartett. 
 
 Lightning flashing ! thunder crashing I 
 Tenors and Sopranos. 
 
 Oh ! befriend us Ah ! if we dare, 
 
 Death must end us ! Si.ster forbear ! 
 
 Quintett. 
 
 For aid, for aid, w e pray. 
 
 Duet and Chorus. 
 
 W e dare not stay ■ In pity stay ! 
 
 Quintett. 
 
 Save us ! save us ! 
 
 In mercy save us. 
 
 From this angi y glare of fire, 
 
 Proclaiming airiully. 
 
 Our God s avenging ire ! 
 
 Oh. give us hope, tliou’lt mitigate thy r.age. 
 This wild and elemental war assuage. 
 Quartett. 
 
 He hears, and bids it cease ! 
 
 The storm is gently lull’d to peace. 
 Qui.ntett. 
 
 Hark ! again it louder raves, 
 
 And dread volcanos pour forth burning 
 Tvnveg 
 
 13 — Prayer. {Masaniello.) 
 
 Hear, holy saint I o’er lowliest victims spreading. 
 Boundless in mercy, thy protecting wing; 
 
 Light o’er the darkling wand rer timely shed- 
 ding; 
 
 Soothing the anguish of oppression’s sting. 
 Thee we implore, thee we adore, 
 
 Thy strength be with us now , 
 
 And we are slaves no more. - 
 
 14 — Market Chorus. (Masaniello.) 
 
 Come hither, all who wish to buy. 
 
 For here you'll find the best of fare ; 
 
 Sweet flowers and fruit, come taste and try. 
 Rich purple grapes and melons rare. 
 
 Coriie buy my olives, none so fine; 
 
 Rosolio and sparkling wine; 
 
 Here's fish alive, and none can sell 
 You finer for jour money. 
 
 If daintily you wish to dine. 
 
 Who 11 show you poultry fat as mine? 
 
 Who’ll buy niy pease? Who'll buy my cheese ? 
 Who’ll buy my niaccaroni? 
 
 Come hither all who wish to buy, 
 
 ’Tis I that sell the best, taste and try. 
 
 Come here and buy. 
 
 15 — The Chough and Crow. Glee. 
 
 Sir Henry R. Bishop. 
 Solo. 
 
 The chough and crow to roost are gone,— 
 The owl sits on the tree, — 
 
 The liush'd winds wail witli feeble moan. 
 
 Like infant charity. 
 
 Tlie wi d fire dances o'er the fen, — 
 
 The red star sheds its ray ; 
 
 Uprouse ye then, my men y men. 
 
 It is our op'uing day. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 18 —The Hardy Norseman’s 
 House of Yore. 
 
 A Norse National Song.* 
 
 Arranged by R. L. Pba.bsa.ll, Esq. ( WiUsbridge.) 
 
 The hardy Norseman’s house of yore, 
 
 Was by the foaming wave ! 
 
 And there he gather’d brig) it renown. 
 
 The bravest of the brave. 
 
 Oh ! ne er should we forget our sires, 
 Whatever we may be ; 
 
 They bravely won a gallant name. 
 
 And rul’d the stormy sea. 
 
 Too narrow was their native land. 
 
 For hearts so bo d and free. 
 
 From bay and creek they sailed forth, 
 
 Amt Conquer d Nor«iandy. 
 
 Then let their glory oft be sung, 
 
 III thrilling harmony: 
 
 And let it aye be b irne in mind. 
 
 They rul d the stormy sea. 
 
 A thousand years are nearly past. 
 
 Since erst a .’'forraan band 
 
 At Hastings fought, and woa the crown 
 Of S ixon Enyle-land. 
 
 The sceptre of the main they left 
 To their posterity. 
 
 Who, ini.i.ifui of iheir ancient fame ' 
 
 Have rul'd the stormy sea. 
 
 The Norman and the Saxon foe. 
 
 Are, long since, dead and gone ; 
 
 Their language and their races both 
 Are blended into one. 
 
 And <ve. t.ieir ehi.dre 1 still maintain 
 Tiieir old suprem icy . 
 
 Wherever vessel spreads a =ail, 
 
 We rule the stormy sea. 
 
 Upirouse ye then, my merry men. 
 
 It is our op’ning day. 
 
 Solo. 
 
 Roth child and nurse are fast asleep, 
 
 And closed is every flower : 
 
 And winking tapers faintly peep 
 High from my lady's bower. 
 
 Bewilder'd hinds wifh shorten'd ken. 
 
 Shrink on their murky way. 
 
 Uprouse ye then, &c. 
 
 Bass Solo 
 
 Nor board nor garner own me now 
 Nor roof, nor latched door. 
 
 Nor kind mate bound by holy vow 
 To bless a good man's store. 
 
 Noon lulls us in our gloomy den. 
 
 And night is grown our day; 
 
 Uprouse \e then, my uien-y men, 
 
 And use it as ye inay. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Uprouse ye then, my merry men, 
 
 It i.s our op'uing day. 
 
 13 — The last Rose oe Summer. 
 
 I rbrrf.s bij A rraii ged by 
 
 Thomas -Moore. NziTiiARDr, Berli.s. 
 
 ’Tis the last rose of summer 
 Left blooming alone ; 
 
 Ali her lovely companions 
 Are faded and gone ; 
 
 No flower ot her kindred, 
 
 No rosebud is nigh. 
 
 To reflect back her blushes. 
 
 Or give sigh for sigh. 
 
 I’ll not leave thee, thou lone one, 
 
 To pine on thy stem ; 
 
 Since tlie lovely ai-e sleeping, 
 
 Go, sleep thou M'ith them. 
 
 Thus kimtly 1 sc itter 
 Thy leaves o'er the bed, 
 
 ■ Wtieie thy mates of the garden 
 Lie scentless and dead. 
 
 So soon may I follow. 
 
 When friendship decay. 
 
 And from Love's shining circle 
 The gems drop away i 
 When true hearts lie witlier’d, 
 
 And fond ones are flown. 
 
 Oh! who would inhabit 
 This bleak world ;ilone. 
 
 17— Home! there’s a Storm. Glee. 
 
 Sir Henry R. Bishop. 
 
 Home! there’s a storm in the whistling blast, 
 llmne: the sim is sinking fa.st; 
 
 The wild bird is rocking in his nest; 
 
 Siiiivs oiiithe moss, tlie deer to Test. 
 
 Now for the fire-side’s cheerful blaze. 
 
 Songs of mirth, and tales of fays. 
 
 Home, home ! 
 
 * The above melody wasfpven to me l>y the late Joseph 
 Pinnay.of Vienna, who heanl it at a family ie.,tival in the 
 interior ot'Norway, and noteit it on the ^pot. Itwas there 
 iteserrbed to him as a very ancient impular soiii;. referahle 
 to the tidies of the iCempions, or Sea Kings, and as being 
 always sun^ with the gre.itest enchnsiasni. The words, 
 lor want ot better, are my own, foun.led on a rough guess 
 at what the original .Votse might mean; for being .able to 
 mak.e out but a word or two, acre and there, I couid not 
 pretend to traitslate it. 
 
 19— Victoria! Victoria! 
 
 Fin ale to the first Act of '-Fra Diavolo." 
 
 ■Victoria! Victoria! ivjoice! 
 
 Joy now reigns around; 
 
 Raise the grateful voice, 
 
 riicy come with vict iry crown’d 
 Victoria! Victoria! Victoria 1 
 
 Solo. 
 
 Again I hear my friend. 
 
 Our an.xious torment end. 
 
 In deep silence proceeding, 
 
 1 he d u ing band we track'd ; 
 
 And tiieii* retreat impeding. 
 
 We their numbers attack’d 
 Wi h fury— first ;it bay. 
 
 Brave ;u» 1 dauntless they stood ; 
 
 But ere long toeiity lay 
 Expiring in tlieir blood 
 Oh, revenge ! soon the rest from us fly, 
 
 In fear and wild defeat; 
 
 Wnile thus our joyous cry 
 Echoes around repeau Victoria! 
 
 Choru-s. 
 
 Victorii! Victoria! Victoria 
 J oy now reigns around ; 
 
 Raise the grateful voice, 
 
 They come with victory croivn’d. 
 Victoria 1 Victoria! Victoria! 
 
 Solo. 
 
 Let’s on to the conquest, friends, again, 
 'They depart— we safe i einaiu. 
 
 Farewell ! Farewell ; 
 
 Hope ill my heart once more is smiling. 
 Past ill's Fortune will repay. 
 
 Solo. 
 
 Love, each care now beguiling. 
 
 Around us will play. 
 
 Ere the d.iwning of day. 
 
 Their precautions beguiling 
 Will make them our prey. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Let each heart rejoice. 
 
 Pleasure around; 
 
 Raise the gT.iteful voice, 
 
 Raise each grateful voice, 
 
 Tliey’U come with victory crownVi 
 
 Victoria! 
 
 Still let tliat cij aloud resound. 
 
21 
 
 EVANS’S SUPPER-ROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN. 
 
 20 — The Seasons. I 
 
 Fprdi6i/W. W*ITJ»BT Afti»ic6yC. LpcaA, 
 
 Solo, Soprano. 
 
 Hail to the new-born Spring ! 
 
 Chords. 
 
 Hail to the new bom Spring! 
 
 Now with lightsome step advancing, 
 
 See her youtntul f .rm is glancing 
 Merrily o’er the lea. 
 
 Lo ! her ear is charmed with pleasure, 
 
 As she lists the caroll'd measure 
 Of warbling minstrelsy. 
 
 Solo, Alto. 
 
 Hail to the Summer sun! 
 
 Chords. 
 
 Hail to the Summer sun? 
 
 Clad in robes of dazzling splendour. 
 
 Summer comes her joys to render. 
 
 And chase the clouds away. 
 
 She paints the tlow’rs with rainoow' dyes; 
 
 And gilds the birds and buttertlies ; 
 
 And tints tlie morn and ev’ning skies. 
 
 With rare and heavenly ray. 
 
 Solo, Tenor. 
 
 flail to the Autumn moon ! 
 
 Chords. 
 
 Hail to tiie Autumn moon ; 
 
 Solo Tenor. 
 
 Hail to the beautoeus orb that sheds | 
 
 Her golden light on rustic heads 1 j 
 
 Chords. 
 
 Rejoice merrily, i 
 
 Where blue-eyed mirth and rosy glee. 
 
 And rural dance and minstrelsy, 
 
 Make harvest revelry. 
 
 Solo, Bass. 
 
 And thou, grim Winter, hail 
 Who leads the old and weary year 
 To rest, and in the ice-cold bier, 
 
 The dainty flowers hide. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 And tnere they sleep in deep repose. 
 
 Till Spring again their forms disclose ; 
 
 Till Spring again them forms disclose i 
 
 In blooming life and pride. | 
 
 21 — Stay, rPv’vTHEE Stay. Sestett. ; 
 
 6’ir Henry JR. Bishop. ' 
 
 Duet. | 
 
 Stay, pr ythee stay, the night is dark. 
 
 The cold wind whistles—hark ! hark ! hark ! 
 
 Chords. i 
 
 Pray come away ; we must away. 
 
 Bass Solo. 
 
 The ford is deep, the boat is gone, ! 
 
 And mountain torrents swell the flood. I 
 
 Chords. 
 
 And robbers lurk within the wood; 
 
 Stay, pr ythee stay, the way is lone. I 
 
 Here must stay till morning bright 
 
 Breaks thro’ the dark and dismal night 
 
 And merrily sings the rising lark 
 
 And hark! the night bird— hark ! hark! liark! 
 
 Here must stay, &c. j 
 
 22 — Thamp Chorus. Bishop . | 
 
 Now tramp o’er moss and fell, 
 
 The batter’d ground returns the sound ; 
 While breathing chanters jiroudly swell. 
 Clan Alpine’s cry is win or die. 
 
 .Solo. I 
 
 Guardian spirits of the brave, j 
 
 Vittoi’y o’er my Norman wave. ( Hero.) \ 
 
 Chords. ! 
 
 Now tramp o’er moss and fell. 
 
 The batter’d ground returns tlie sound ; , 
 
 While breathing chanters proudly sw ell, 
 Clan Alpine’s cry is wiu or die. 
 
 3^— Lo ! Morn is Breaking. 
 
 CUERCBINl. 
 
 Lo ! morn is breaking. 
 
 Slowly awaking, 
 
 -• Night s veil dividing, j 
 
 ( O’er ocean gliding, i 
 
 , ‘ Steals the first light ' 
 
 . Of the new coming day. I 
 
 • Lo.' morn is breaking, &c. 
 
 1 
 
 24: — Euryanthe. C. M. Von Weber. 
 
 Hail 1 ye heroes, home returning, 
 
 Joy succeeds to thoughts of mourning; 
 Greatful hearts, with rapture burning, 
 Welcome thus your gallant band. 
 
 Chords of Soldiers 
 Toils are over, foes retreating. 
 
 Friend and lover, jo^ul meeting. 
 
 All our country sends us greeting. 
 
 Brave defenders of our land. 
 
 Fame shall sound her trump before ye. 
 
 Ye shall live renown’d in story ; 
 
 Ye whose arms in fields of glory. 
 
 Saved your homes and native land. 
 
 ' Brave, &c. 
 
 25 — Glee. ' Weber. 
 
 Selection from Eurtanthe. 
 
 Soho.— Euryanthe. 
 
 Songs sweetly sounding, v- 
 
 Throngs gaily bounding. 
 
 Welcome the heroes whom our duty and grati- 
 w... tudo crown. 
 
 Chords. 
 
 Songs sweetly sounding, &c. 
 
 Friends blithely meeting, 
 
 All kindly greeting, 
 
 Here twine the garlands of love and I’enown. 
 
 Quartett. 
 
 Trusting, yet fearing. 
 
 How all endearing, 
 
 Now comes to aid me, the hope of my soul ; 
 Shall behold him. 
 
 Proudly enfold him. 
 
 Blessings, ' 
 
 tr V. II Hiy heart its warfare , , 
 
 How shall hearts their pleasure ‘control 
 
 This guilty seeming 
 
 (Past all redeeming) 
 
 Hurls on to win the hope of her soul. 
 
 Captive I'll hold him, 
 
 Spei 1-bound enfold him. 
 
 How shall my heart all its triumph control. 
 Through chances veering. 
 
 Now dark, now cheering. 
 
 Long have I led thee, sw eet hope of my soul. 
 
 Chords, 
 
 Songs sw eetly sounding, &c. 
 
 Solo— E uryanthe, ASD Chords. 
 
 Hope comes to aid thee, my lab’ring soul, 
 
 Oh ! grant me power this joy to control. 
 
 Songs sweetly sounding, &c. 
 
 26— Chorus, &c. Sir H . R . Bishop . 
 
 Live Henri Quatre. 
 
 Live Henri Quatre ! long live our valiant King ' 
 His triple art right loyally we’ll sing: 
 
 He'll never shrink. 
 
 Who has the rare talent to fight and di ink, 
 And be a gay gallant. 
 
 Chords- 
 
 Allegiance we swear to his high commands ; 
 Bold are their hearts, and steady their hands. 
 
 Solo, Soprano. 
 
 Henri, adieu, my King, farew ell. 
 
 Do not forget youi' Gabrielle. 
 
 Chords. 
 
 Allegiance we swear, &c. 
 
 Solo, (Soprano), and Chorus. 
 Remember the signal, you join the throng. 
 When Notre Dame tolls out ding, dong. 
 
 27 — I lovely Phillis. 
 
 Madrigal. 
 
 Words and Music by R. L. Pearsal, Esq. ( WUUhi-idyc.) 
 
 I saw lovely Phillis lying on lilies. 
 
 And fairer was she than her flow ’ry bed ; 
 
 But when she did spy me, 
 
 Oh ! then she did fly me, 
 
 Not heeding nor hearing one word that I said. 
 Why did she fly wlien J wish’d her to stay ? 
 
 It is not well done to drive level's away ; 
 
 For they’ll sing fa, la, la, &c. 
 
 And when I next meet her. 
 
 How shall I gi'eet her, 
 
 If she should come smiling forward to me ? 
 
 No, no, I will spite her. 
 
 I’ll shun her, and slight her, 
 
 And cold and unfeeling as marble will be. . ' 
 What do I care, e’en though she despair : 
 
 Her hands let her wring, I will merrily sing, 
 
 I will merrily ting, fa, la, la, &c. 
 
 28 — Glee for 4 voices. 
 
 Sir H. R. Bithop 
 Frvm " Maid Marian.” 
 
 Solo. 
 
 Hart and hind are in their lair. 
 
 Couch’d beneatli the fern they lie ; 
 
 And the moon, our mlsti ess fair. 
 
 Is riding through the cloudless sky. 
 
 Solo. 
 
 O’er the lake the night winds steals; 
 
 About the oak the blind bat wheels; 
 
 Come, sit w e round our trysting-tree. 
 Daring outlaws as we be. 
 
 Solo. 
 
 Now in dark and naiTow cell, 
 
 Now in chamber rich and rare. 
 
 Lowly monk his beads doth tell, 
 
 Lordly abbot pattei s pray’r; 
 
 ’Neath our leafy covering 
 Let us now our vespers sing; 
 
 Come, troll we catch, and chaunt we glee. 
 Daring outlaws as we be. 
 
 Now in stately castle hall, 
 
 Baron proud and gallant knight. 
 
 For the courtly harpers call. 
 
 And pace a measure with lady bright. 
 Chords 
 
 Blither sports in greenwood bow’r 
 Know we at this moonlight hour ; 
 
 Come, drink we deep, and feast we free. 
 Daring outlaws as we be. 
 
 29 — April Showers. J. L. Ration. 
 
 Four-part Song. 
 
 Patter, patter ; Let it pour; 
 
 Patter, patter ; Let it roar. 
 
 Down the steep roof let it rush, 
 
 Down the hill-side let it gush. 
 
 ’Tis the welcome April show’r. 
 
 Bringing forth the sweet May flow r. 
 Patter, patter i Let it pour ; 
 
 Patter, patter ! I.et it roar. 
 
 Let the glancing lightning flash. 
 
 Let the peadiig thunder dash. 
 
 ’Tis the welcome April shuw’r. 
 
 Bringing forth the sweet May flow’r* 
 
 Patter, patter ! Let it pour; 
 
 Patter, patter' Let it roar. 
 
 .Soon the clouds will burst aw'ay. 
 
 Soon will come a bright Spring day. 
 'Tis the Welcome April show’rs. 
 
 Which bring forth the sweet May flow’rs 
 
 30- Yillanelle. (Marie Stuart .) 
 
 L. Neidermeyer. 
 Blet.— Marie and Bothwell. 
 
 Pour les attraits de noble dame 
 An viel epoux, triste et jaloux ; 
 
 Brule en secret, d’ardente flumine, 
 
 Pauvre Isolier simple ecuyer. 
 
 L’honnenr lui dit, pars au plus rite; 
 
 L’honneur lui dit, fui.s imprudent. 
 
 Mais quand vieut 1 heure, il tremble, il hesite, 
 £t semble dire en soupirant. 
 
 Solo.— 3farie. 
 
 S'il n’est que dans l':ibsence, 
 
 Remede a ma soufiFrance ; 
 
 La nuit, lejour,j’ai beausoufTiir, 
 
 J’n’en veux jamais guerir. 
 
 Quartett.— (Jeojve.v, Kennedy, Bothwell, 
 and Uizzio. 
 
 S’il n’est que dans I'abseiice, 
 
 Remede a ma souftVance; 
 
 La nuit, lejour, j ai beau souffrir, 
 
 J n’en veux jamais guerir. 
 
 Beet.— M arie and Bothwell. 
 
 Sans de plaisir, la noble dame 
 Voit tant d’amour. Puis un beau jolr 
 S’interrogant, trouve en son ame. 
 
 Non sans terreur pareille ardeur. 
 
 L’honneur lui dit, faut au plus vite 
 •Chassez I'amant, cruel tourment ; 
 
 Mais elle aussi balau/.e hesite ; 
 
 Et semble dire en soupirant. ' 
 
 Solo,— Bothwell. 
 
 S’il n’est que dans I’abseiice, 
 
 Remede a ma souft’rance ; 
 
 La nuit, lejour, j ai beau souffrir, 
 
 .J’li'en veux jamais guerir. 
 
 Quintett.— 3faWe, Georyes, Kennedy, 
 Bothwell, and Jtiizzio. 
 
 S’il n’est que dans ’ab>ence, 
 
 Remede a iiia suutt’raiice ; 
 
 La nuit, le juur j :u beau souffrir, 
 
 J n’en veux ja ais guerir. 
 
22 EVANS’S SUPPER-ROOMS COVENT GARDEN 
 
 31 — TuE Blue Bells of Scotland. 
 Arranged hy A. Neithardt, Berlin. 
 
 O wh‘.-re, and O where is your Highland laddie 
 gone? 
 
 He’s gone to fight the toe of our Queen upon the 
 throne. 
 
 And 'lis O, in my heart, I wish him sateathome 
 O where, and O where did your Highland lad- 
 die dwell? 
 
 He dwelt in merry Scotland at the sign of the 
 Blue-Bell. 
 
 And ’tis O, in my heart, I love my laddie well. 
 Suppose, and suppose, your Highland lad 
 should die? 
 
 The bagpipes shall play o’er him, I d lay me 
 down and cry. 
 
 And ’tis O, in my heart, I wish he may not die. 
 
 32 — Madrigal. " IGll 
 
 Thebe WERE three Ravens. 
 
 There were three ravens sat on a tree. 
 
 They were as black as they might be ; 
 The’one of them said to his mate. 
 
 Where shall w^e our breakfast take * 
 
 Down in yonder greeny field 
 
 Tliere lies a knight slain under his shield ; 
 
 His hounds they lie down at his feet, 
 
 So well they can their master keep : 
 
 His hawks'they fly so eagerly. 
 
 There is no fow l dare liiin come nigh. 
 
 Down there came a fallow' doe, 
 
 _ As gi-eat with young as she might go. 
 
 She lifted up his bloody head. 
 
 And kiis’d his wounds that were so red ; 
 She got him up upon her back. 
 
 And carried him down by yon lake ; 
 
 She buried him before the [mime— 
 
 She was dead herself ’ere eVn-song time. 
 
 God send every gentleman 
 
 Such hawks, such hounds, such a leman.* 
 
 * Mistress. 
 
 33 — Dlee. ' Lord Morning ton. 
 
 (Father of the Great Duke of Wellington.) 
 
 O Bird of Eve. 
 
 O bird of eve, whose love sick notes 
 I hear across the dale. 
 
 Who nightly to the moon and me 
 Dost tell thy hapless tale. 
 
 O hear a brother mouvnei ’s p’aiat, 
 
 To Cliloe’s window fiy. 
 
 Tell lier 1 bleed for love of her. 
 
 For love of her I die. 
 
 3i~BEWAREl John L. Hatton. 
 F ‘UR PART Song. 
 
 1 know a m.aiden fair to see, Take care! 
 
 She can both fals'i and friendly be, Beware! 
 
 'J l U't her notjSne is fooling thee. 
 
 She lias two eyes so soft and brown. Take care ! 
 Sne gives a siiie-giance and looksdown, Beware ! 
 Trust her not, she is fooling thee! 
 
 And she has hair of golden hue, Take care ! 
 And what she says it is not true, Bevvaie ! 
 
 'i’rust her not, she is fooling thee. 
 
 She gives thee a gar’and woven fiiir. Take care ! 
 ] t IS a t'jolseap fur thee to w e ir. Beware 1 
 Trust lier not, slie is fooling thee. 
 
 35 — Glee. Sir Henry R. Bishop. 
 
 The Halt of the Caiiavan. 
 
 Halt, halt, halt ! 
 
 Now the sun is at its height. 
 
 Where the waving p ilm tr. es fan 
 Fi'otn our he ids the bur.iing gale, 
 
 Halt the caravan. 
 
 Solo, Tri >. and Ch rus. 
 
 Some may sleep, ami so ne may weep, 
 
 This, his tale of travel tells. 
 
 Some may qu.itf, and some may laugh, « 
 
 Ha il l. ha! 
 
 W'hil ‘ jing. jang, clang, the camel -bells. 
 Halt, ha.t, halt! 
 
 SoL'j, Trio, and Chorus. 
 
 Many hearts in silent d. earns, 
 
 Di^tallt o er the desert roam. 
 
 Oh' the p ing. to wake and feci, 
 
 All are absent, friends ami Jimne. 
 
 Yi'S ! tis sweet e'en then to greet, 
 
 Where no rested mortal dwells. 
 
 F.*atures known, -ind like our own, 
 
 While they quaff, and wliile they 1 High, 
 
 Ha, iia, ha ! 
 
 And jing, j mg, cl ing the camel bells, 
 llalt t.ie Caravan ! 
 
 ! 36 — Madrigal. T. Weelkes, 1608. 
 
 Welcome, swebt pleasure. 
 Welcome, sweet pleasure, 
 
 My wealth and treasure ; 
 
 To haste our plying, 
 
 There’s no delaying. No, no, no. 
 
 This mirth delights me. 
 
 When sorrow frights me. 
 
 Then sing we all Fa, la, la 
 
 Sorrow, content thee; 
 
 Mirth must prevent thee; 
 
 Tho’ much thou grievest. 
 
 Thou none relievest. No, no, no, 
 
 Joy, come delight me, 
 
 Tiio’ sorrow spite me. 
 
 Then sing we all Fa, la, la. 
 
 Grief is disdainful. 
 
 Sottish and painful ; 
 
 Then wait on pleasure. 
 
 And lose no leisure. No, no, no. 
 Heart’s ease it Icndetli, 
 
 And comfort sendeth. 
 
 Then smg we all Fa, la, la. 
 
 37- La Carita. (Charity.) Glee. 
 
 Bossini. 
 
 Thou that impartest peace to the soul. 
 
 Calming the waters of strife s angry sea; 
 
 Thou that shouldst guide us, 
 
 When storms have tried us ; 
 
 Blest be thy sweet voice, soft Charity. 
 
 Though friends may fail us, and fortune may 
 flee, 
 
 Safe treads the footstep that's guided by thee. 
 Solo, Soprano. 
 
 Heav’n in thy presence h allows this earth; 
 
 From thy pure essence Hope has her birth ; 
 
 He in whose bosom thou hast a home. 
 
 Teems, like the blossom, with fulness to come. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 0 thou that sheddest peace o'er the soul, &c, 
 Solo, Soprano. 
 
 When o'er the eartli thy voice shall prevail. 
 Wars shall be ended, and faction shall fail, 
 
 And hatred and pride, in that blest day, 
 
 All shall he banished by thy gentle sway. 
 Chorus 
 
 Come, thou that bre.athest c.alm o'er the soul, 
 Stilling the waters of strife’s angry sea; 
 
 Thou that shouldst guiele us. 
 
 When storms have tried us; 
 
 Come, with thy sweet voice, soft Charity. 
 Though friends may fail us, and fortune may 
 flee, 
 
 Safe treads the f >otstep that’s guided by thee ; 
 Hoav'i; in thy presence hallows this earth. 
 
 Thou canst beguile sorro v to smile, 
 
 Weeping tliy gentle sell the wiiiie; 
 
 From tiiy pure essence Hope has her birth. 
 
 ’f hou canst beguile, &c- 
 
 38— Oh I WHO WILL O’ER THE DoWNS 
 
 SO FREE. 
 
 (Hickenstikn's Song.) 
 
 B. L. Pearsall, Esq., C Willsbridge.) 
 
 O who will ride o’er the Downs so free, 
 
 0 who will with me ride, 
 
 0 who will up and follow me. 
 
 To win a blooming bi ide? 
 
 Her father he has lock’d ttie door, 
 
 Her mother keeps the key ; 
 
 Bur neither door nor bolt shall part 
 Sly own true love from me. 
 
 1 saw her bow’r at twilight grey 
 ’Tvvas guarded safe and sure ; 
 
 1 saw her bmv r at break of day, 
 
 ’Twas guard d t'len no more. 
 
 The varlets they were all asleep. 
 
 And none was m ar to see. 
 
 The greeting fair that passed there 
 Between my love ami me. 
 
 I promised her to come at night. 
 
 With comrade- brave and true, 
 
 A g ill mt b ind with sword in hand. 
 
 To break her prison through. 
 
 I promised her to come at night, 
 
 She s waiting now for me; 
 
 And ere the dawn of immiiiig light, 
 
 1 11 Set my true love free. 
 
 N.B.— The words of this sorv*; are written in allusion to 
 an event sui>[)0,rd to hare taken jilace in the neii;hbonr- 
 hond of Wintei liorne, in Gloucesier,hire. One il cken. 
 stirn, (or flickers Stim, as he i, called by the conimuii 
 peoi'le), who lie, hurirsi in the church there, is said to have 
 lieen a knight who livud hy iiillage. lie fell m love with 
 a neighboui’s daughtie', won her affections, w.is refused by 
 her [larents but, wi.h the assistance of hi. friends, carried 
 her off from her father '.s house. Such events were not 
 uncommon in the middle ages. J 
 
 39— Music from MACBETH. 
 
 Hecate Mr. Elton Williams, 
 
 Chorus. 
 1st Witch 
 2nd Witch. 
 '3rd Witch. 
 
 2nd Witch 
 
 Chorus, 
 ord Witch.- 
 
 Chorus. 
 1st Witch - 
 
 1st ITitcA.— Speak, sister, speak! is the deed 
 done ? 
 
 2nd Witch. — Long ago, long ago, above twelve 
 glasses since have run. 
 
 Ill deeds ai e seldom slow or single. 
 But following crimes on horrors 
 wait: 
 
 The worst of creatures fastest 
 propagate. 
 
 Ijt Many more, many more mui'dcrs 
 
 must this one ensue; 
 
 Dread horrors still abound 
 la every place around,. 
 
 As if in death were found, propa- 
 gation too. 
 
 He must, he will, he shall 
 Spill much more blood, 
 
 And become worse, to make his 
 title good. 
 
 -He must, he will, &c. 
 
 -Now let’s dance. 
 
 -Agreed! 
 
 -Agreed! Chorus. — Agreed! 
 
 We should rejoice when good 
 ... kings bleed. 
 
 -When cattle die, about, about we ' 
 go: 
 
 When lightning & dread thunder 
 Rend stubbom rocks asunder. 
 
 And fill the world with wonder. 
 What sh.ould we do? 
 
 •Rejoice ! rejoice 1 we should re- 
 joice! 
 
 When winds and waves are war- 
 ring; [ing; 
 
 Earthquakes the mountains teai- 
 And inonarclis die despairing. 
 What should w e do ? 
 
 -Rejoice! rejoice! we should re- 
 • juice! 
 
 Let’s have a dance upon the heath. 
 We gain mox'e life by Duncan’s 
 death ; [show. 
 
 Sometimes like brindled cats we 
 Having no nua-ic but our mew, 
 
 To wliicli we dance in some old 
 mill, 
 
 Upon the hop[ier, stone, or wheel, 
 To some old s.aw or Bardish 
 rhyme, 
 
 Wliere still the mill clack does 
 keep time. Where still. &c. 
 2nd Witch. — Sometimes about a hollow tree, 
 Around, around, around, dance 
 vve: 
 
 Thitlier thecliirpingcricketscome 
 And beetles sing in drowsy hum. 
 Soiiieti lies we dance o’er ferns or 
 furze, [cui s : 
 
 To bowls of wolves, or barks of 
 Or if none of these we meet, 
 
 >V e dance to the echoes of our feet 
 Chorus.— We dance, Ac. 
 
 At the raven s dismal voice, 
 
 W hen others tremble we rejoice; 
 And nimbly, nimbly, dance vve 
 still. 
 
 To the echo of some hollow hill. 
 Hecate ! Hecate ! Hecate, come 
 avvay ! 
 
 -Hark! hark! I'm called: 
 
 My little airy spirit, see. see, 
 
 Sits in a fujigy cloud, and waits 
 -Hecate! Hecate' [forme. 
 
 Thy cliirpiiig voice I hear 
 to mine ear. 
 
 At which i haste awa.v. 
 
 With all the .spevd 1 may. 
 
 Where's Packie ? 
 
 •Here! 
 
 Where’s Stradling? 
 
 Here ! 
 
 .\nd Hopper too? and Helway too’ 
 We w.ini but you? vve want but 
 you ! 
 
 Cenieawayl come avvay! make 
 up the account. 
 
 Wi li new-fallen dew from church- 
 yard yew. [mount; 
 
 I will but 'noint, and tnen I ll 
 Now I’m furnish'd, now I’m lur- 
 iiislied for m.v flight. 
 
 Now I go. Now, now I fly, 
 
 Malkin, my swd t sjiirit. and I. 
 
 Oil, wh It a dainty pleasure is this. 
 To sail in ti.e air, when the 
 moon .shines fair, 
 
 Tosii g. to dance to toy, and ki-is. 
 Over woods, hi^li locks, and 
 niountaii 
 
 Over hills aiid misty fouiitairi.s 
 (iverste [lies, towers. and tnnvts. 
 We fly b iiioht inoiigst .r ■ ps of 
 spii its. 
 
 Chorus.— We fly by night, Ac. 
 
 1st Witch.— : 
 
 1st Witch.- 
 Ilecate.- 
 
 Zrd Mltch.- 
 Necate. 
 2nd Witch.- 
 Hecate.- 
 1st Witch.- 
 
 Chorus.- 
 
 Hecate.- 
 
EVANS’S SUPPER-ROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN. 
 
 40 — Merry Boys away. Glee. 
 
 Sir Henry R. Biehop. 
 
 Merry boys, away, away. 
 
 Market shall our toil repay; 
 
 None so happy, then, as we. 
 
 Who draw our treasures from the sea. 
 
 Tho’ oft when stillness calms the sullen deep. 
 When winds are hush’d, and murmuring bil- 
 lows sleep, 
 
 rove foi’lorn upon the silent shore. 
 
 Or ply in dull despair the oam 
 But when the breeze springs up. 
 
 Each takes a cheeiing cup ; 
 
 Then hoist the sail, to meet the gale. 
 
 And all in hurry, bustle, noise. 
 
 We skim upon the deep, like merry boys. 
 
 Solo. 
 
 Sometimes the porpoise rolls his clumsy form 
 Round our light smacks and prophecies the 
 storm. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Than haste we home, whilst distant thunders 
 
 And soon ’the tempest rolls, and rolls along the 
 skies. 
 
 Thus we all live so happy together. 
 
 In spite of the chances of weather. 
 
 Wit!) our messmates our children. 
 
 Our svveethearts, and wives. 
 
 That no lives ai'e so happy. 
 
 As fisherman’s lives. 
 
 4]^— What ho! Clansman HO. Glee. 
 
 Words by Music by 
 
 Sia W1.LTE11 Scott. Sia Hesht R. Bishop. 
 
 What ho! clansman ho! 
 
 The time’s awry to whine and sigh ; 
 
 Pray looks it like a soldier bold. 
 
 In dalliance soft his arms to fold? 
 
 No, comrade, no ! 
 
 Solo, Seconu Tenob. 
 
 Why ho ! clansman ho ! 
 
 No time’s amiss to snatch a kiss : 
 
 Pray looks it like a soldier’s friend. 
 
 To mar th.- sport he cannot mend ? 
 
 No, comrade, no ! 
 
 Solo, Sopbano, AND ChobBA 
 Now troop it away, o’er mountoin or brae. 
 Delay by your chieftain’s forbid. 
 
 Solo, Tenob, and Chobus. 
 
 His favour we bind if the Douglas we find. 
 
 And perchance in that cave he lies hid; 
 
 We’ll enter here ; 
 
 Solo, Sopbano. 
 
 Fell spirits abound 
 Chobus. 
 
 Let them appear. 
 
 Solo, Sopbano. 
 
 ’Tis haunted ground: 
 
 Mortals forbear! 
 
 Chobus, 
 
 We will, in mercy spare. 
 
 And rather face King James’s train. 
 Than hear those awful sounds again ; 
 And rather toil and danger bi ave. 
 Than venture near the goblin’s cave. 
 
 Solo and Chorus. 
 
 ’Tis done! she’s safe farewell. 
 
 Away from fiend and spelL 
 
 42— Lady WHEN I BEHOLD. Madrigal. 
 
 Wilbye, 1589. 
 
 I.ady when I behold the roses sprouting, 
 Which, clad in rosy mantles, deck the arbours ; 
 And then behold your lips, where sweet love 
 harboui-s ; 
 
 Mine eyes present me with a double doubting; 
 For viewing both alike, hardly my mind sup- 
 poses. 
 
 Whether the roses be your lips, or your Ups the 
 roses 
 
 43 — So SAITH MY FAIR. MaDRIGAL. 
 
 Lucia Marenzio^lbd^. 
 So s^ith my fair and beautiful Lycoiis, 
 When uow and then she talketh 
 With me of love. 
 
 J.ove is a sprite that walketh, 
 
 That soars and flies ; 
 
 And none alive can hold him. 
 
 Nor touch him, nor behold h' 
 
 Yet when her eyes she turneth-, 
 
 J spy where he sojourneth. 
 
 In her eyes, there he flies, 
 
 Bu' none can touch him. 
 
 Till from her lips he fetch him. 
 
 44 — Madrigal. T. Morley, 1588. 
 
 April is in my mistress’ face. 
 
 And July in her eyes hath place; 
 
 Within her bosom is September, 
 
 But in her heart a cold December. 
 
 45 —Madrigal. R. Atterhury. 
 
 A Garden is mt Ladi’s Face. 
 
 A garden is my lady’s face, 
 
 Where roses and white lilies blow ; 
 
 A heav’nly paradise is that place, 
 
 Wherein the fairest fruits do grow. 
 
 Their cherries be that none may buy. 
 
 Till “cherry ripe " themselves do cry. 
 
 (The first verse only sung.) 
 
 Those cherries fairly do disclose. 
 
 Of Orient pearls, a double row, 
 
 Which, when her lovely laughter shows. 
 They look like rosebuds filled with snow. 
 Yet them no peer nor prince may buy. 
 
 Till “ cherry ripe ” themselves do cry, 
 
 Her eyes like angels watch them still ; 
 
 Her brows like bended bows do stand, 
 Threat’ning with piercing frowns to kill 
 All that approach with eye or hand, 
 
 Those sacred cherries to come nigh, 
 
 ’Till “cherry ripe ’’ themselves do cry. 
 
 46— Madrigal. T. Morley, 1588. 
 
 Lady, those eyes of yours, 
 
 Those fine eyes that shine so clearly. 
 
 Why do you hide them from me, 
 
 That bought their beams so dearly? 
 
 Think not, when thou exil’st me. 
 
 Less heat in me sojourneth. 
 
 Oh no ! when thou beguil’st thee, 
 
 Love doth but shine in thee. 
 
 But oh ! in me he burneth. 
 
 — Madrigal. John Rennet, 1641. 
 
 My mispress is as fair as fine. 
 
 FULL CHOIR. 
 
 My mistress is as fair as fine, 
 
 With milk-white hands and golden hair, 
 
 Her eyes the radient stars outshine, 
 
 Lighting all things far and near. 
 
 Fair as Cynthia, not so fickle ; 
 
 Smooth as glass, tho’ not so brittle. 
 
 My heart is like a ball of snow. 
 
 Fast melting at her glances bright; 
 
 Her ruby lips like night-worms glow, 
 Sparkling through the pale twilight. 
 
 Neat she is, no feather ligliter ; 
 
 Blight she is, no daisy whiter. 
 
 48 — Glee. Sir Henry R, Bishop, 
 
 Now BY day’s retiring lamp. 
 
 Now by day s retiring lamp, 
 
 Lo ! the vapour dense and damp, 
 
 Thro’ the misty aether spreads; 
 
 Every harm the trav’Iler dieads 
 Hark 1 I hear the w anderer’s song. 
 
 As he winds the hills among. 
 
 Hark I 1 hear the cry of fear, 
 
 Wolves howl ai ounii him ; storm is near. 
 When, from the dark and dismal dell, 
 
 He hears the convent s matin bell, 
 
 Bim, borne, bell. 
 
 And soon the morn’s inspiring rays 
 His well known cot, his home displays; 
 When from the deep and distant dell; 
 
 He hears the convent’s matin bell. 
 
 Bim, borne, bell. 
 
 49 — Bird of the Wilderness. 
 
 Glee — Melody by Da. Clark 'W'hitield. Har- 
 monized by Greatorex. 
 
 Bird of the wilderness, biithesome and cum- 
 berless. 
 
 Sweet be thy matin o’er moerland and lea 
 Emblem of happiness blest is thy dwelling- 
 place. 
 
 Oh ! to abide in the desert with thee. 
 
 Wild is thy lay, and loud, far in the downy 
 cloud. 
 
 Love gives it energy, love gave it birth ! 
 Where on thy dewy wing, where art thou 
 journeying ? 
 
 Thy lay is in heaven, thy love is on earth. 
 
 O’er fell and fountain sheen, o’er moor and 
 mountain green, 
 
 O’er the red streamer that heralds the day. 
 Over the cloudlet dim, over the i-ainbow s rim 
 Musical clierubim, hie tliee away. 
 
 Then, when the gloaming comes, love in the 
 heather blouins 
 
 Sweet will thy w eleome and bed of love be ; 
 Bird of the wilderness, blest is thy dvvelling- 
 Oh ! to abide in the desert with thee, [place, 
 
 50 — Long live the Queen. Chorus 
 
 From Hit opera o/ <• G dstavxjs." Ai*«r. 
 
 Hail! all hail! to our patriot Qu^n ; 
 
 With toy we’ll make the vveklin ring, « . 
 
 All who love our country, sing 
 
 Long live the Queea ! 
 Fenced round by grateful hearts. 
 
 What danger should she dread ? 
 
 Fell treason backward starts, 
 
 Aud hides abash’d her head. 
 
 Hail to our loved monarch ! 
 
 Her nation’s joy and glory ; 
 
 Her name shall live for ever. 
 
 Rever’d in latest story I 
 
 51 — Pirate’s Solo and Chorus. 
 
 BeUft, 
 
 Hither we come to our chieftain’s will ; 
 
 And whether in crowded hall, 
 
 By lonely inn, or ruined wall, 
 
 We hear tnat chieftain’s voice, 
 
 Tliither we go, his will to fulfil. 
 
 Recit. 
 
 My brave companions, who so soft have shared 
 In perils past, aaid death as oft have dared 
 For me, as for my father, for by you 
 Fulfilled is now the task we had in view; 
 
 Dear as thou were to him, you ne’e r could be 
 More loved by Telles than you are by me ; 
 
 Ever be happy and light as thou art. Pride Ot 
 the Pirate’s heart ! 
 
 Long be thy reign o’er land and main, by the 
 glaive, by the chart, 
 
 Queen of the Pirate’s heart ! 
 
 Solo. 
 
 My task is ended and again, 
 
 Return we to the boundless main ; 
 
 The safest place— the only home 
 Where exile hath the power to roam; 
 
 W itliia whose unpolluted breast. 
 
 He takes un watch’d his final rest. 
 
 Ever be happy and light as thou art. 
 
 Pride of the Pirate’s heart. 
 
 52 — Non Sdegnare, O Bella 
 Venere. 
 
 Chorus and Solo from “ Elena Pariob.’’ Cfoefc 
 Non sdegnare, O bella 'Venere, 
 
 Ouestb rose ® t 
 
 A1 tuo guidice, al tuo Paride, 
 
 N on negare il tuo favor. 
 
 Solo. 
 
 Come consuma I’avida flamma, 
 
 Ch’arde sul tripoda I’arabo odor; 
 
 Cosi per Elena tutto s’inflamma. 
 
 Si sente stru^gere in mezzo al cor. 
 
 Non negar gli, O bella 'Venere, 
 
 11 tuo lume, il tuo favor. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Non negar gli, O bella "Venere, 
 
 Il tuo lume, il tuo favor. 
 
 Solo. 
 
 Su queste sponde sfavilli un tremedo, 
 Soave raggio del tuo splendor, 
 
 E la vi vi scherzino, teco le grazie, 
 
 E le sue faccioie v’accenda Amor, 
 
 Non negar gli, O bella Venere, 
 li tuo lume, il tuo favor. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Non negar gli, O bella Venere, 
 li tuo lume, il tuo favor. 
 
 53 — 'When the wind blows. Glee., 
 
 W. Horsley. 
 
 When the wind blows in the sweet rose-tree, 
 And the cow lows on the fragrant lea, 
 
 A nd the stream flows all bright and free, 
 
 ’Tis not for thee, ’tis not for me, 
 
 ’Tis not for any one here I trow. 
 
 The gentle «inl bloweth, 
 
 The happy cow loweth. 
 
 The merry stream floweth, for all below. 
 
 Oh ! the Spring, the bountiful Spring, 
 
 She shiiieth and smileth on ev’ry thing. 
 
 Where come the sheep ? To the rich man's 
 moor. 
 
 Where cometh sleep ? To the bed that’s poor. 
 Peasants must weep, and Kings endure ; 
 Tiiat’s a fate that none can cure. 
 
 Yet Spiing doeth all she can, 1 trow. 
 
 She brings tlie bright hours, 
 
 She weaves the sweet flowers, 
 
 She dresseth her bowers for aU below. 
 
 Oh! the Spring, the bountiful Spring, 
 
 She siiinetu and smileth on eveiy thing 
 
 54- Tiger Chorus. Sir h. b. Bishop. 
 
 The tiger crouches in the wood, 
 
 And waits to shed the trav’llers blood. 
 
 Aud so crouch we. 
 We spring upon him to supply, 
 
 What men to our wants deny. 
 
 Aud so springs bcA. 
 
 li 
 
 i 
 
 ■i 
 
24 EVANS’S SUPPER-ROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN. 
 
 55- Glee. Sir Henry R. Bishop. 
 
 The Milleb and His Men. 
 
 When the Wind blows, 
 
 When the Mill goes, 
 
 Our hearts are all light and merry. 
 
 When the wind drops. 
 
 Then the Mill stops, 
 
 We drink and sing hey down derry. 
 
 56 — Glee. Alfred B. Richards, Esq. 
 
 Cold, oh! the Mabch winds be. 
 
 Cold, oh ! cold the March winds be ; 
 
 High up in a leafless tree 
 
 The little bird sings, and wearily twits 
 
 Tke woods with perjury. 
 
 But the Cuckoo knave sings bold his slave. 
 
 Cuckoo, Cuckoo, Cuckoo. 
 The Spring comes ever meri’ily. 
 
 And oh ! poor fools sings he — 
 
 For this Ls the way in tlie world to live. 
 
 To mock when a triend has no more to give. 
 Whether in hall or tree 
 
 Cuckoo, Cuckoo, Cuckoo. 
 
 57 — The Cloud-cap’t Towers. 
 
 GIi££. Stevens. 
 
 ( Word$ from Shdksptrt.) 
 
 The Cloud-ciip t toivers. 
 
 The gorgeous palaces, 
 
 ? The solemn temples. 
 
 The great globe itself, 
 
 Yea, all which it inherit. 
 
 Shall dissolve: 
 
 And. like the baseless fabric of a vision, 
 Leave not a wreck behind. 
 
 58 — Madrigal. T. Morley, 1588. 
 
 April is in my mistress’ face 
 And Ju y in tier eyes hath place ; 
 
 Within her bosom* is September, 
 
 Butin her heart a cold December. 
 
 59 — Oh ! Native Music. 
 
 Written and Composed by Simuel Loves, Ei^ 
 SUNG BY Piaster CKiTCKtffY, 
 
 Oh ! native music, beyond comparing 
 The sweetest far on the ear that fads. 
 
 Thy gentle numbers the heart reniemhers. 
 
 Thy strains enchain us in tender thralls. 
 
 Thy tones endearing, are sad and cheering. 
 
 The absent soothe on a foreign strand. 
 
 Oh ! who can tell what a holy spell 
 Is in the song of our native land. 
 
 Tlie proud and lowly, the pilgrim holy, 
 
 The lover kneeling at beauty’s shrine. 
 
 The bard who dreams by the haunted streams, 
 All, all are touched by thy po \er divine. 
 
 The captive cheerle'-s, the soldier fearless ; 
 
 The mother taught by nature’s hand. 
 
 Her child, when weepiii;;, doth lull to sleeping, 
 With some sweet .song ot her native land. 
 May be had here, price 2s. 6d. 
 
 60 —We Come to Thee Savoy. 
 
 Written by Composed by 
 
 Q. R. PA1.0N. CHA.RLXS W. Glover. 
 
 Sung by Mastees Cbitculey and Coates. 
 
 ’ DUET. 
 
 Again sweet home, thy smiles to see. 
 
 We wander o’er the pathless sea ; 
 
 Oh! laud of love! On! land of joy 1 
 Again we come to thee Savoy l 
 
 SOLO.— 1st voice. 
 
 Yes, sister, yes. e.ach night I dream 
 Of that sweet Imme be ide the stream. 
 When first in infaney we stray’d 
 In olive grove and silent shade. 
 
 The boyish sport the mountain lay. 
 
 The setting beam of suminer day,* 
 
 The merry dance, the v. si er pniy’r. 
 
 In lovely image all are there. 
 
 DUET. 
 
 Again sweet home, &c. 
 
 SOLO.— 2nd voice. 
 
 In distant lands, as fair as thee. 
 
 No Scenes like thine bad cli inns for me; 
 The Aljiine ;>eak. the verdant p .ain, 
 
 My tearful eyes have sought in vain. 
 
 The balmy air .such sweets combine, 
 
 No land, dear home, can eipial thine. 
 
 My bounding heart is light with joy, 
 
 Again to see my own Savoy. 
 
 DUET. 
 
 Agtun, sweet home, &c. 
 
 61 — What are the Wild Waves 
 
 Saying ? 
 
 “I want to know what It sajs— the— see, what U it that 
 It keeps on ikying?”— Charles J>iekens. 
 
 Words by 3. CARrENiER. JTwic S. Glover. 
 
 Sung by Mastebs Cbitchley and Coats. 
 Paul. 
 
 What are the wild waves saying. 
 
 Sister, the whole day long; 
 
 That ever amid our playing 
 I hear but their long song? 
 
 Not by the sea-side only. 
 
 There it sounds wild and free ; 
 
 But at night, when ’tis dark and lonely, 
 
 In dreams, it is still with me i 
 
 Flobence. 
 
 Brother, I hear no singing! 
 
 ’Tis but the rolling wave ; 
 
 Ever its lone course, winging 
 Oversome ocean cave! 
 
 ’Tis but the noise of water 
 Dashing against the shoi’e ; 
 
 And tlie wind h om some bleaker quarter. 
 Mingling with its roar. 
 
 Duet. 
 
 No ! it is something greater 
 
 That speaks to the heart alone. 
 
 The voice of the great Creator, 
 
 Dwells in that mighty tone ! 
 
 Paul. 
 
 Yes ! but the waves seem ever 
 Singing the sad same thing; 
 
 And vain is my endeavour 
 
 To guess what the surges sing. 
 
 What is that voice repeating. 
 
 Ever by night and day ; 
 
 Is it a friendly gi-eeting. 
 
 Or a w.arning that calls away. 
 Flobence. 
 
 Brother ! the inland mountain. 
 
 Hath it not voice and sound f 
 Speaks not the dripping fountain. 
 
 As it bedews the ground ? 
 
 E’en by the household ingle. 
 
 Curtain’d, and closed, and warm ; 
 
 Do not our voices mingle 
 
 W ith those of the distant storm? 
 
 Duet. ’’ 
 
 Yes ! but there’s something greater 
 That speaks to the heart alone ; 
 
 The voice of the great Creator 
 Dwells in that mighty tone ! 
 
 May be had here, price 2s. 6cL 
 
 62— Hearts and Homes. 
 
 Wntien by Composed by 
 
 Charlotte VoL’.NO. Johk Blocklet. 
 
 Sung by Master Cbitchley. 
 
 Hearts and homes, sweet words of pleasure, 
 Musio breathing as ye fall. 
 
 Making each the other’s treasure. 
 
 Once divided losing all. 
 
 Homes, ye may be high or lowly. 
 
 Hearts alone can make you holy. 
 
 Be the dwelling e’er so small. 
 
 Having love, it boasteth all. 
 
 Hearts and homes, sweet words of pleasure. 
 Music breathing as ye fall. 
 
 Making each the other’s treasui’e. 
 
 Once divided losing all. 
 
 Hearts and homes, hearts and homes. 
 
 Hearts and homes, sweet words revealing. 
 
 All most eood and fair to see, 
 
 Fitting shrines for purest feeling, 
 
 'femples meet to tend the knee. 
 
 Infant hands, bright garlands wreathing, 
 Happy voices, incense breathing, 
 
 Em Diems fair of realms above, 
 
 “ For love is Heav’n, and Heav’n is love,” 
 Hearts and homes, &c. 
 
 63 — Her Wanderer. Fesca. 
 
 German Song, ‘ Love’s guiding Star.’ 
 
 O’er the rude mountains rocky and steep, 
 
 Oer the wild waters restless and deep, 
 Wand’ring and lonely my path must be, 
 
 Far among strangers, far, love, from thee—. 
 
 Yet as some star, whose soft tender light, 
 Cheereth and guideth thro’ the still mght, 
 
 'I'liou, like a spirit hov’i ing above, 
 
 Guidest me still, wher’ever I rove. 
 
 Tho’ mid bright glaciers sparkling on high, 
 
 If to the lone woods, sadly I fly. 
 
 Musing by fountain, resting by lake. 
 
 When night is reigning, when morn doth wake 
 Ah ! as some star, whose soft tender light, 
 Cheereth and guideth thro’ the still nigh^ 
 
 Tliou like a spirit hov'ring above, 
 
 Guidest me still, wherever 1 rove. 
 
 64 — Lilian May. Ballad. 
 
 Words and Melody by W. Ball. 
 
 Sung by J. Hogan. 
 
 Where is Lilian May, with her eye of bonny blue. 
 And her lip like opening rose, giving odours to 
 the dew « 
 
 Why comes she not to greet me upon my home- 
 ward way ? Oh ! where is Lilian May ? 
 
 I see the w’ell-known spire that crowns her peace- 
 ful bowr’s, 
 
 Why hear I not the swelling peal, that tells of 
 happy hours? 
 
 The path is here— the path of all who meet on 
 Holy day. But whei’e is Lilian May ? 
 Her step was like the fawn’s, and as she tripp’d , 
 along. 
 
 The very birds would welcome her, so thrilling 
 was her song. 
 
 That fairy foot is Lggard now, and silent is the 
 lay. Oh ! where is Lilian May ? 
 
 And tell me, oh, ye sad ones ! who point amid 
 the gloom. 
 
 To where those offer’d flowrets lie, and whose 
 this grassy tomb. 
 
 Be still, my heart “ poor Allan sigh’d." thy rest 
 is here for aye. For here lies Lilian May. 
 
 65 — I’m thinking now of thee' 
 
 Jamie. 
 
 Sung by Me. H. Walkeb. ‘ 
 
 I’m thinking now of thee, Jamie, 
 
 And not of Time’s decay, 
 
 I love your few old locks, Jamie, 
 
 Although they’re turning grey, 
 
 I have no mem’ry of regret, 
 
 Tho’ shades and change there be, 
 
 I only hope to linger yet. 
 
 As happy still with thee. 
 
 I’m thinking now, &c. 
 I’m weeping not for thee, Jamie, 
 
 ’Tis joy that makes these tears, 
 
 I’m thinking but how fast, Jamie, 
 
 Have fled away our years, 
 
 And though my steps are feeble grown. 
 Your old kind face I see, 
 
 To speak of happy days we’ve known, 
 
 And many more with thee. 
 
 . I’m thinking now, &c. 
 
 66— The Reaper and the Flowers, 
 
 Words by Music by 
 
 Lonwellow. M. Yi. Balyk 
 
 Sung by j. hogan 
 
 There is a reaper whose name is Death, 
 
 And with his sickle keen. 
 
 He reaps the bearded grain at a breath, 
 
 And the flow’rs that grow between. 
 
 “ Shall I have nought that is fair,” saith he, 
 
 “ Have nought but the bearded grain. 
 
 Though the breath of these flow’rs is sweet to m e 
 I will give them all back again." 
 
 He gazed at the flow’rs with tearful eyes, 
 
 He kissed their drooping leaves. 
 
 It was for the Lord of Paradise. 
 
 He bound them in his sheaves, 
 
 “ The Lord hath need of these flow’rets gay,” 
 
 The reaper said, and smiled, 
 
 Dear tokens of the earth are they. 
 
 Where he was once a child. 
 
 “ They shall all bloom in fields of light. 
 Transplanted by my care. 
 
 And saints, upon their garments white. 
 
 Those sacred blossoms wear.” 
 
 And the mother gave in tears and pain. 
 
 The flow’rs she most did love, 
 
 She knew she could have them all again, 
 
 In the fields of light above. 
 
 Oh ! not in cruelty, not iii wrath. 
 
 The reaper came that day, 
 
 ’Twas an angel, visited the g^eea earth. 
 
 And took the flow’i s a waj. 
 
 67 — Daylight is on the Sea. 
 
 Sung by Mb. Woodman. 
 
 Daylight is on the sea, love, do not stay. 
 
 Land is no place for me, I must away. 
 
 My bark is on the waves, my boat a-shore 
 The surge its broadside laves, while sleeps each 
 oar. 
 
 Daylight is on the sea, land is no piece for me. 
 Come away love, come away love, I dare no 
 longer stay. 
 
 Daylight plays o’er the deep, like childhood's 
 smile. 
 
 Blue waves and hush’d winds sleep, eiTthain’d 
 awhile. 
 
 My bark is on the waves, my boat a-shore. 
 
 The surge its broadside lavee, w bile sleeps each 
 oar, Daylight is on the sea, &c 
 
EVANS'S SUPPER-ROOMS, COVENT GARDEN. 
 68 — Twilight. Ballad. 
 
 IVrUUn by Compoted by 
 
 MAMTIN CawoOU, E(>q. JOHJ* L. Uation. 
 
 Sdno bi Ma. Goddcn. 
 
 When ling’ring sunbeams fade nway, 
 And flow’rets druop their heads, 
 
 And twili(fht o'er dcpai tina; day, 
 lis mystie intluence sheds ; 
 
 ■\Vhen nature sleeps in calm repose. 
 
 O’er mountain, brake and tree, 
 
 AJid stars tlieir tvvinkhng liglit disclose, 
 
 1 think of love and thee. 
 
 'Tis in that silent lonely hour, 
 
 The soul recalls tiie past. 
 
 And conjures up with magic power, 
 Bright days too pure to last,! 
 
 Then fancy paints in vivid rays. 
 
 Scenes ever dear to me. 
 
 And musing o'er those byegone days, 
 
 I tliink ot love and thee. 
 
 69 — Sweet Lote arise. (La manoia.) 
 
 TrantUttflfrom the French iy Composed by 
 
 ^Y. H. Bvllamt. P. HiijrRiE.N, 
 
 Sdnq bt Mb. Woodman. 
 
 Sweet love ! arise, while yet the night. 
 
 Sheds o’er the skies yon hood of liglit, 
 
 Oh ! see how clear shines out those stars. 
 
 And, hark ! how near sound those guitars ; 
 
 No louder yet each pause between. 
 
 Ring Castanet and mandoline, 
 
 Aug each cool breeze, that rustling wakes, 
 From citron trees their fragrance shakes. 
 
 Oh 1 come and grace yon glitt'ring scene. 
 
 Where all confess thou shin'st a queen. 
 Loveliest in bow’r, lightest in hall, 
 
 Spain’s fairest flow’i-, out-blooming all. 
 
 An, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah. ah, ah, loveliest in bow’r. 
 Lightest in hall, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah. 
 Spaia’fl fairest flow’r, out-blooming all. 
 
 From Arragon, from fair Castille, 
 
 From proud Leon, from gay Seville. 
 
 Tbougn all that’s bright and young and fair, 
 From each, to-night, throng dazzling there, 
 What eye can flash so proud a glance ? 
 
 What foot can dash so bold a dance ? 
 
 No, dearest, no ! though all combine, 
 
 Not one can show a form like tiiine. 
 
 Then haste and grace the glitt’ring scene. 
 Where all confess thou sldn'st the queen, 
 
 Hark ! down the stair, light tripping now, 
 
 A step I hear, joy, joy, 'tis thou ! 
 
 Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, mi, ah ah, hark down the 
 stair. 
 
 Light tripping now,ah, ah, ah, ah,' ah, ah, ah, ah 
 A step I hear, joy, joy, ’tis thou ! 
 
 Ma]/ be had Jure, price 2s. 6d. 
 
 70— Thou art not here. 
 
 Wbrdt by Composed by 
 
 t. SiMMOSDS. JAMES ER.MST P'lRRI.NO 
 
 SuNQ BT Mb. J. W. Williams, 
 
 Why sounds the song less joyous now, 
 Than it was want to do ot yore ? 
 
 I see it’s power on every brow. 
 
 Yet me. alas ! it charms no more. 
 
 I cannot blame the minstrel's skill 
 I praised it oft, when thou wert near 
 Why has it ceased to charm me still ? 
 
 My heart replies “ thou art not here.” 
 
 Why has the dance no joy to ir e ? 
 
 1 once was foremost m the throng, 
 
 Yet now so dull it seems to be, 
 
 I deem it like the once lov'd song. 
 
 What is the spell that changes all. 
 
 And turns my transient smiles to tears ? 
 The spell that doth my soul enthrall? 
 
 My heart replies “ thou art not here." 
 
 71 — 0 COULD MY Spirit fly to thee. 
 
 Words by Z. S. Douolas. Afii«c fty Edwaeb LA^■D 
 SUNQ BT MoNS. FeBNAND. 
 
 Oh ! could my spirit fly to thee 
 O’er desert-wilds that part. 
 
 And, like a star-beam on the sea, 
 
 Shed peace around thy heart ; 
 
 How gladly would I leave these bowers, 
 That bloom for me no more. 
 
 To cheer thee in thy lonely hours, 
 
 As I was wont, was wont of yore. 
 
 Like some lone passage-bird that flies 
 On swift uiiwearieoT wing, 
 
 I’d find, M ithin those loving eyes. 
 
 My summer and my spring; 
 
 Life then would be a path of flow’rs 
 Where grief should come no more : 
 
 For I would cheer thy lonely hours, 
 
 As 1 was wont, whs wont of yore 1 
 
 72 — The Ballad Singer. Linley. 
 
 ScNQ BT Mb. Woodman. 
 
 Waking at early day. g.aily I take my w.ay. 
 
 Trill ng some ancient lay, as I stroll along. 
 
 Youthful hearts I cheer, age delights to hear. 
 Gay and grave draw near, while I sing my 
 song. 
 
 Far I've been on distant strand, where Christian 
 warriors fell. 
 
 Many a tale of Holy Land, to gentle dames I 
 tell. 
 
 Waking at early day. gaily I take my way. 
 Trilling some ancient lay, as I stroll along, 
 
 Youthful hearts I cueer, age delights to hear, 
 Gay and grave draw near, while I sing my 
 song, 
 
 Tra, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la. 
 
 Tra la, &c. 
 
 Humble fho’ be my fare, health is a boon I 
 .share. 
 
 Little I dream of care, as thro’ life I go. 
 
 None iny steps molest, if fatigue opprest, 
 
 ’Neath some tree 1 rest, and there forget my 
 woe, 
 
 All some kindness show to me, where’er 1 
 chance to roam, 
 
 Tho’ a wandering life I lead, I always find a 
 home. 
 
 Waking at early day, &c. 
 
 May bt had here, price 2s. 6d. 
 
 73 — The Old House at Home. 
 
 Words by James Perriko. 
 
 Oh, the old house at home where my forefathers 
 dwelt, 
 
 Where a child at the feet of my mother I knelt, 
 
 Where she taught me the prayer, where she I'ead 
 me the page, 
 
 Which if infancy lisps is the solace of age, 
 
 My heart ’mid all changes wherev«r I roam. 
 
 Ne’er looses its love for the old house at home. 
 
 j Twas not for its splendour that dwelling was 
 dear, 
 
 ’Twas not that the gay or the noble were there; 
 
 O'er the porch the wild rose and woodbine 
 entwin’d. 
 
 And the sweet scented jessamine wav'd in the 
 wind. 
 
 Yet dearer to me than proud turret or dome. 
 
 Were the halls of my fatlieis, the old house at 
 home. 
 
 74 — The Queen of the Sea. 
 
 Words by LsiEA. Music by Adolphe Schloesse*. 
 Sung bt Mons. Febnand. 
 
 Away on the Sea, away on the sea, 
 
 With the wild waves dashinu: around. 
 
 To a life tliat ever is merry and free. 
 
 Where true hearts are sure to be found, 
 
 And now, when the call of his country rings. 
 The bold British sailor will be. 
 
 As true to the last, as his guidimi star. 
 
 To Britannia the Queen of the Sea. 
 
 But victory won, he thinks of his home, 
 
 And lov’d ones that absence endears; 
 
 Fond faces, sweet sniile<* seem to hover around. 
 And eyes shining brightly through tears. 
 
 Such men are the boast and pride of our land. 
 The noble, the hearty, the tree. 
 
 And true to the lust, as needle to pole. 
 
 To Britannia the Queen of the Sea! 
 
 75— I’VB ALWAYS A WELCOME FOR 
 
 Thee. 
 
 Words and Music by Lanoton Williams. 
 
 Sung bt J. W. Williams. 
 
 Come in the spring-time, come in the summer. 
 Come when the autumn makes leafless each 
 tree; 
 
 Or when the chill winds of winter are blowing. 
 Come when you will, you are welcome to me. 
 Welcome as sunshine to birds and to flowers, 
 Or til st sight of land, to the roamer by sea, 
 Thou bring’st to my mind all my happiest hours. 
 Come when you will, I’ve a welcome for thee. 
 
 When thou art with me, bright visions come 
 stealing. 
 
 And sweet recollection of days that are o’er, 
 
 I listen again to voices of lov’d ones. 
 
 And see tlie dear home iu the valley once 
 more. 
 
 There thou wert near me in joy or in sadness, 
 
 I liad ever one who was constant in thee. 
 Then come when you will, and with true heart- 
 felt gladness. 
 
 Dearest of frieuds, you’ll be welcome to me. 
 
 25 
 
 76 — Juanita. Spanish Ballad 
 
 Words by the lion. Mrs. Nortow. 
 
 Sung bt Mo.hs. Febnand. 
 
 Soft o'er the fountain, 
 
 Ling’ring, falls the southern moon; 
 
 Far o'er the mountain. 
 
 Breaks the d.iy, too soon ! 
 
 In thy dark eyes splendor. 
 
 Where the warm light loves to dwell^ 
 Weary looks, yet tender, — 
 
 Spi.ak their fond farewell. 
 
 Nita ! Juanita. 
 
 Ask thy soul if we should part I 
 Nita! Juanita. 
 
 Lean thou on my heart. 
 
 When, in thy dreaming, 
 
 Moons like these shall shine again, 
 
 And daylight beaming, 
 
 Prove thy dreams are vain ; 
 
 Wilt thou not, relenting. 
 
 For thine absent over sigh. 
 
 In thy heart consenting, 
 
 To a pi-ayer gone by, 
 
 Nita! Juanita.' | 
 
 Let me linger by thy side 1 ! 
 
 Nita! Juanita! 
 
 Be my ow u fair bride ! ^ 
 
 77 —The Gipsy Girl. 
 
 IKrt’rt^n by Music by 
 
 Charles Jefierts. SrrrHE.v Glovib. 
 
 Sung bt Mb Woodman. 
 
 They wiled me from my greenwood home, they 
 won me from the tent, 
 
 And slightingly they spoke of scenes where my 
 young days were spent ; 
 
 They dazzled rue with halls of light, but tears 
 would sometimes start, 
 
 They thought 'twas but to charm the eye, and 
 they might win the heart. 
 
 They little knew what ties of love had bound 
 me in their spell. 
 
 The greenwood was my happiest home, and 
 there I long’d to dwell. 
 
 The greenwood &c. 
 
 They gave me gems to bind my hair, I long’d 
 tlie while for flow’rs. 
 
 Fresh gather'd by my gipsy freres from nature’s 
 wildest bow' rs, 
 
 They gave me books, I lov’d alone to read the 
 starry skies. 
 
 They taught me songs, the songs I lov’d, were 
 na ures melodies, 
 
 I never heard a captive bird but panting to be 
 free, 
 
 I long’d to burst his prison door and share big 
 liberty. 
 
 I never heard, &c. 
 
 'Twas kindly meant, and kindly hearts were 
 theirs who bid me roam 
 From nature, and her forests free to share the 
 city’s home. 
 
 The woods are green, the hedges Avhite with 
 leaves and blossoms fair. 
 
 There 3 music in the forest now, and I too must 
 be there. 
 
 Oh ! do not chide the gipsy girl, oh! call me 
 not unkind, 
 
 I ne’er shall meet so dear a fiiend as her I 
 leave behind, 
 
 Yet I must to the geenwood go ! my heart has 
 long been there. 
 
 And nothing but the greenwood now ; can save 
 me from despair. 
 
 78 — Dermot s Farewell. 
 
 Written and Composed by Lanoton William*. 
 
 I can ne’er forget thee, Kathleen , 
 
 Thou wilt still be dear to me, 
 
 My foot may rove a foreign land. 
 
 My heart will dwell with thee. 
 
 Those happy hours w ith thee I’ve pass’d, 
 
 1 never can forget. 
 
 And tho’ we re doom’d by fate to part, 
 
 1 leave thee with regret. 
 
 But dry thy tears, my Kathleen, 
 
 Once again upon me smile. 
 
 For I’ll soon return to thea, love. 
 
 And the sunny Enerald isle. 
 
 Strange faces cannot sever 
 Our thoughts from those we love. 
 
 Ah ! vain ’tis they endeavour. 
 
 True hearts they cannot move. 
 
 Above them ail, a brighter spell. 
 
 Is o’er our native home, 
 
 A charm that binds the heart there still,. 
 
 ’Where’er the toot may roam. 
 
 Then weep no more, my Kathleen, 
 
 Once again upon me smile. 
 
 And I’ll soon return to thee, love. 
 
 And the sunny Emerald Isle. 
 
26 EVANS’S SUPPER-ROOMS, COVENT GARDEN. 
 
 80— The Empress of the Wave. 
 
 Sung bt Mr. Elton Williams. 
 
 The sea is England’s glory. 
 
 The bounding wave ner throne. 
 
 For ages bright in story, 
 
 The ocean is her own ; 
 
 In war the first, the fearless. 
 
 Her banner leads the brave, 
 
 Inp eace she reigns as peerless, 
 
 The empress of the wave ! 
 
 In peace, &c. 
 
 The sea is England’s splendour. 
 
 Her wealth the mighty main. 
 
 She is the world’s defender. 
 
 The feeble to sustain ; 
 
 Her gallant sons in story 
 Shine bravest of the brave, 
 
 Oh! England’s strength and glory. 
 
 Are on her ocean wave ! 
 
 Oh, England, &c. 
 Thou loveliest land of beauty. 
 
 Where dwells domestic worth, 
 
 Where loyalty and duty 
 
 Entwine each heart and hearth ! 
 
 Thy rock is freedom’s pillow 
 The rampart of the brave. 
 
 Oh ! long as rolls the billow 
 Shall England rule the wave! 
 
 Oh, long, &c. 
 
 81— Come into the Garden Maud. 
 
 Cavatina. 
 
 Sung by Mb. Williams. 
 
 Words by A. Tenn :soa. Music by M. W. B alee 
 
 Come into the garden, Maud, for the black bat 
 night has flown. 
 
 Come into the garden, Maud, I am here at the 
 gate alone. 
 
 And the woodbine spices are wafted abroad, and 
 the musk of the roses blown; 
 
 For a breeze of morning moves, and the planet 
 of love is on high. 
 
 Beginning to faint in the light that she loves, in 
 the light of a daffodil sky. 
 
 To faint in the light of the sun she loves, to faint 
 in the light and die! 
 
 Come into the garden, Maud, I am here at the 
 gate alone. 
 
 I am here at the gate alone, I am here at the 
 gate alone. 
 
 Queen of the rosebud. Garden of girls, come 
 hither, the dances are done; 
 
 In gloss of satin and glimmer of pearls, queen 
 lily, and rose in one. 
 
 Shine out, little head, running overwith curls, to 
 the flowers and be their sun ; 
 
 Shine out shine out, and be their sun, 
 
 Come info the garden, Maud, for the b’ack 
 bat night lias flo\yn. 
 
 She is coming, my own', my sweet— were it ever 
 so airy a tread. 
 
 My heart would hear her and beat, were it 
 earth in an eartliy bed, 
 
 Come my own sweet, come my own sweet Maud, 
 come I'm here at tlie gate alone. 
 
 82 — The Noble Foe. 
 
 Wjrdsby C. IIodder. Musichy M. W, Balfe 
 
 Sung by Mb. Elton Williams. 
 
 One morn in the spring, when all nature was 
 
 gay, 
 
 And cornfields were bursting v^ith tillage, 
 
 A ti avel-woi n soldier was seen on his way, 
 
 In grief, through our joy-clad village ; 
 
 From sti ife he had fled, an a.sylum to find. 
 Which would not, he hoped, be denied him. 
 And pray’d when he left his brave comrades 
 behind, 
 
 That fortune would hasten to guide him. 
 
 ’Mid those whom he met, was one who bad 
 borne, 
 
 A rank which to glory bad borne him, 
 
 His life he had saved, when at grey dawn of 
 morn ; 
 
 War s!iower'd its dread carnage around him ; 
 “ My life did st thou spare,” he cried, as he 
 scann’d 
 
 The looks of his way-worn defendei’. 
 
 And now thou art here, thou slialt long bless 
 the land 
 
 Whose hopes were too bright to surrender. 
 
 In words such as tliese did our proud Briton 
 speak, 
 
 Whose thouglitsof the past were o’erflowing; 
 Whilst smiles of g ad welcome sufl'us'd liis 
 rough cheek. 
 
 The breast of the soldier was glowing. 
 
 Thus fate had allied in sweet friendship’s em- 
 brace. 
 
 Two foes who had clung to each other. 
 
 And long may such frieudsliip continue to 
 trace 
 
 The light that guides man to his brother. 
 
 83 — ruL NOT BE Married Yet. 
 
 Written by Mtisic by 
 
 J. E. Cakpe.vter, Esa. J. Blewiti. 
 
 Sung in Two "Voices by Mr. Woodman. 
 
 Lady.—lW not be married yet, sir, do not linger 
 by my side, 
 
 I tell you once for all, sir, I can never 
 be your bride ; 
 
 I’m very much obliged for all atten 
 tions you h.ave shown. 
 
 But I told you, all along, sir, my heart 
 was quite my own. 
 
 What! false to me! and why, miss? 
 
 ’twas all a settled thing. 
 
 Your father sigh’d, your mother cried, 
 I've been and bought the ring; 
 
 I’ve ask’d my friends to dinner, we’ve 
 fix'd upon the day — 
 
 Whatever do you mean, miss, by driv- 
 ing me away? 
 
 'Twere better for us both, sir, that we 
 had never met, 
 
 I tell you, once for all, sir, I can’t be 
 married yet, 
 
 Ladi/.— You’ve ask’d your friends to dinner ; 
 and you do’nt know what to do ? 
 How can you doubt ? they’d all be very 
 glad to dine with you; 
 
 But as toyourconnexions, why,I never 
 lik’d the set— 
 
 Besides, I’m quite determin’d, I won’t 
 be married yet. 
 
 Gent.— But, madam, I have vow’d that in your 
 service I would die, 
 
 I’ve been your beau— 
 
 Lady. — too long I know, 
 
 I've now another tie 
 
 Gent.—l’ve been your spark to play and park, 
 have driven you about — 
 
 Xady.— And now% like any other spark, I tell 
 you to go out. 
 
 ’Tweie better for us both, sir, &c. 
 Gent.— Why, madam, you refus’d not the pre- 
 sents I would bring- 
 
 Lady.—l doat upon those earrings, but I never 
 liked the ring. 
 
 Gent— You gave me cause to hope, ma'am, that 
 I should not be denied. 
 
 Xacty.— That carriage was so pleasant in which 
 we used to ride. 
 
 Gent.— You flatter’d me w itli sighs, miss, I fed 
 upon your looks. 
 
 Lady. —You really s’low’d your taste in select- 
 ing me those books. 
 
 Gent.— And did they only teach you that my 
 presents were in vain? 
 
 You could not doubt my meaning— 
 Lady.— Indeed, sir, your’e too plain ! 
 
 ’Twere better for us both, sir, &c. 
 
 84 — The Auld Wife. Ballad . 
 
 Music by Griesbach. 
 
 Song by Mb. Hogan. 
 
 The auld wife sits by the fire, 
 
 When winter nights are lang, 
 
 And aye, as she turns her wheel, 
 
 She croons some auld Scotch sang. 
 
 The wheel, with a birr and a hum, 
 
 Gaes round as she plies her rock; 
 
 The grey cat pun s by the fire, 
 
 And tic tac goes the clock. 
 
 The auld wife ance was young. 
 
 As each auld wife has been ; 
 
 But mickle of joy and sorrow 
 Cam youth and age between : 
 
 Now she talks and slie sings of old times, 
 When naebody’sbye to near. 
 
 And sometimes the auld body laughs, 
 
 And sometimes she drops a tear. 
 
 She thinks of the blythesome time. 
 
 When young herds cam to woo ; 
 
 “ Alack ! ” cries the silly auld u ife, 
 
 “ Wha’d think to see me noo?” 
 
 She thinks of the merry bells 
 That rang when at kirk she wed; 
 
 And then of the mouldy stane 
 That imps the guid moil’s head. 
 
 “ My puir auld mon is gane. 
 
 His bairns have ceased to weep, 
 
 And sae 'twill be with me 
 When I sleep the kirk-yard sleep ; 
 
 Bells for brida's will liog. 
 
 Ti e auld gie place to the young, 
 
 Summer will come and go. 
 
 And auld wives’ sangs be sung.” 
 
 Yet still does she sit by the fire 
 When winter niglits are lang. 
 
 And aye, as she turns her wheel, 
 
 She croons some auld Scotch sang: 
 
 And she talks and she sings of uuld times. 
 When naebody’s bye to liear. 
 
 And sometimes the auld body laughs, 
 
 And sometimes she drops a tear. 
 
 85— Vengeance. Donizetti. 
 
 Cavatina from “ LaCREZIA BoRaix.” 
 
 Sung by Mb. Elton Williams. 
 Vengeance ! yes. yes, I’ve sworn it; 
 
 All is prepar’d now to light me. 
 
 Too long I’ve heedlessly borne it. 
 
 Now comes my victory. 
 
 Vengeance to thee appealing, 
 
 Nought but thee shall I treasure'; 
 
 Hence every kind-hearted feeling,' 
 
 And help me with thy pow’r. 
 
 Air. 
 
 Whatever be the destiny 
 That fate may threaten o’er me, 
 
 I will pursue my enemy. 
 
 Till cold he lies before me. 
 
 Revenge was ne’er denied to man 
 When injury provokes it; 
 
 Then here, with all the truth it can, 
 
 My heart, my heart invokes it. 
 
 Oh, whatever be, &c. 
 
 86- ’ As I VIEW THESE SCENES. Bellini . 
 
 Cavatina from “La Sohnambula.” 
 
 Sung by Me. Elton Williams. 
 
 As I view these scenes so charming, 
 
 Witli fond remembrance my heart is warming, 
 Of days long vanished. Oh! my heart is fill’d' 
 Finding objects that still remain [wifh pain 
 While those days come not again. 
 
 Maid, those bright eyes my heart impressing, 
 Fill my breast with thoughts distressing, 
 
 By recalling an earthly blessing 
 Long since dead and passed away. 
 
 She was like thee, ere death oppressing. 
 
 Sunk her beauty to decay. 
 
 87 — Wake from thy tomb, 
 Giselle. 
 
 Aria, from the '^Nigkt Dancers." 
 
 Poetry by Composed by 
 
 G20EGE Soane, A.B. E. J. Loder 
 
 Sung by Mons. Febnand. 
 
 Wake from thy tomb, Giselle, 
 
 If to thee be left the pow’r ; 
 
 ’Tis now the magic liour. 
 
 As legends tell: — 
 
 Let n>e once more behold 
 Tliat tace I’ve lov’d so w'ell ; 
 
 Once more that form enfold of heav’nly mould. 
 ’Tis madness here alone ; 
 
 ’Tis death now thou art gone. 
 
 Oh 1 better far to be 
 Low in the grave with thee! 
 
 Let me once more behold 
 That face I’ve lov'd so well; 
 
 Once more that form enfold of heav’nly mould. 
 Wake, love, 
 
 ’Tis night’s sweet moon: 
 
 Comes up the lovely moon. 
 
 Pouring down a golden show’r 
 Upon the sleeping flow' r. 
 
 ’Tis fable, all' 
 
 Wake from thy tomb, Giselle, 
 
 If to thee be left the pow’r; 
 
 Let me once more that form enfold of heav’nly 
 Alas! 'tis fable, all! [mould. 
 
 88 — Land of my Birth. A . Lee . 
 
 Celebrated Sccnafrom the Operetta of the “Swiss Swains,’ 
 
 Sung by Me, J. W. Williams. 
 
 Oh! the land of my birth, is the dear spot on 
 earth, 
 
 To which my heart and inem’ry fondly cling, 
 Where the joys of youth, from the fountain of 
 In uiisulled purity, did spring. [truth, 
 
 Again I behold thy wild mountains bold. 
 
 Thou home of the brave and free, thou home 
 of the brave and free, 
 
 But this aching breast can never know rest. 
 
 If Rosette is faithless to me, if Rosette is faith- 
 less to me. 
 
 My Rosette dear, my mountain love, when far 
 aw ay from T i rolee. 
 
 In other climes when doom’d to rove, my only 
 thought hits been of thee, 
 
 When far away from Tyrolee, in other climes 
 when doom’d to rove, 
 
 My only thought has been of thee, ’mid our 
 hi'ls again to rove. 
 
 Our early joys to number o'er, thy lover, to his 
 native nome 
 
 Returns to claim tby hand, once more. 
 
 My Rosette dear, my mountain love, when far 
 away from Tyrolee, 
 
 In other lands when doom’d to rove, my only 
 thought b.a>s been of thee, [sword. 
 
 When in battle, the word, for home draw the 
 When the conflict was done, the victory won, 
 For Tyrolee, Tyrolee, Tyrolee, f vrolee, 
 
 Ah! my Ro.sctte, my iiiuuntuin love, when far 
 away from Tyrolee, 
 
 In other lands wlien doom'd to rove my only 
 thought has been of thee. 
 
 My mountain love, has been for thee- 
 
EVANS’S SUPPER-ROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN. 27 
 
 90 — As WE WANDERED BY THE 
 
 FOUNTAIN. 
 
 Composed by Edward J. Lodee. 
 
 SuNO BY J. Hogan. 
 
 As we wander’d by the fountain, when the moon 
 play'd on its breast, 
 
 And the wind's soft moan was lulling every 
 closing flow’r to rest. 
 
 There, as we roam d together, did the silent tear 
 steal on, 
 
 I took my lute and sang the song’of happy days 
 now gone. 
 
 And we wander d where our bower bloom’d in 
 all its beauteous pride. 
 
 And the honey-suckle creeping o'er its soft and 
 flow’ry side; 
 
 And as we roam’d together did the silent tear 
 steal on, 
 
 I took my lute and sang the song of happy days 
 now gone. 
 
 91 — Far AWAY, WHERE ANGELS 
 
 DWELL. 
 
 Song by Mr. Williams. 
 
 At the door of a sa I abode, 
 
 For her mother a child was wailing, 
 
 “ Begone!’ said a voice stern and rude, 
 
 “ Thy pray'rs are unavailing,” 
 
 ‘ I crave to see mv mother dear,” 
 
 Replied the child, with heart nigh breaking. 
 When one, who saw iier, pity taking. 
 
 Thus sp ike, her drooping soul to cheer; 
 
 “ Calm thy sorrow— comfort bori ow— 
 
 She is gone ! who lov’d thee well, 
 
 Far away where angels dwell, 
 
 Oi’nhan lone, thy mother’s gone. 
 
 Far away where angels dwell.” 
 
 She asks all who round her throng, 
 
 For the waj' that she must journey ; 
 
 Tiiey say, that *• the voyage is long. 
 
 That the roa 1 is I’ough and thorny ; 
 
 But hope ev’ry step attends, 
 
 A holy zeal and passion fires her. 
 
 With strength and courage faith inspires her, 
 And charity assistance lends. 
 
 As she wanders, oft she ponders 
 On her mother lov’d so well. 
 
 - Far away where angels dwell; 
 
 Scarce she grieves for .she believes 
 Soon she 11 be where angels dwell. 
 
 One niglit, faint from hunger and fear. 
 
 She sank on a plain cold and arid; 
 
 A kind shepherd, wandering near, 
 
 The chiia to a convent carried; 
 
 Tlie sisters haste to her aid. 
 
 But too late ! she sleeps to waken never. 
 
 And death, that two fond hearts could sever, 
 Reuniteth them on high. 
 
 Hcav'n hath call'd her near her mother, 
 
 Near that mother lov d so well. 
 
 Far away, where angels dwell. 
 
 Orphan bless'd ! oh, calm thou'lt rest. 
 
 Far away, where angels dwell. 
 
 92— The Red Cros.s Banner. 
 
 Neiao.n. 
 
 Sa.NQ BY Mr. Elton Williams. 
 
 Recit. 
 
 England, if sti'.l the patriot fires 
 Tiiat warm’d tlie bosom-, of thy sires 
 Dwell with til ir sms. what heart can fai', 
 Long as there iioats up >n tlie gale, 
 
 'J’hy Red Cro.ss banner, pi-oully free, 
 btiil to throb high for liberty. 
 
 Air. 
 
 When first on Albion’s sea-girt shore, 
 
 Her fo' t fair Freedom press'd. 
 
 It’s hills and va e.s she wander d o’er, 
 
 And thus the soil she bless’d. 
 
 “ Laud of the fair, the free, the brave, 
 
 Rule thou the rolling sea. 
 
 There let thy Red Cross Banner wave 
 Tlie foremost of the free. ” 
 
 Forth ■‘tow the word from pole to pole, 
 
 And conquoi-’d vvorl Is can tell 
 As vet whcie er the billows roll, 
 
 ^ We’ye kept our ctiarter well. 
 
 Tiiere s not a shore, that ocean laves, 
 
 But Freidorn there may sec 
 That Englaml’s Red Cross Banner waves 
 Tlie Ibi einost oi the free. 
 
 And while one single shred will fly, 
 
 Lit by it.s g ories iiast, 
 
 England mu-t lift that banner high, 
 
 Must nail it to '.he mast. 
 
 For England's sun will set in shame, 
 
 And d trk her doom must be. 
 
 If e’re her vaunting foes should claim 
 The Empire of the sea. 
 
 93 — The Sea is merry England’s. 
 
 Song by Mr. Elton Williams. 
 
 The sea is merry England’s, 
 
 And England's shall remain, 
 
 While Briton’s sons have hearts of oak 
 Her freedom to maintain ; 
 
 And as her gallant vessels sail 
 Amid the foaming tide, 
 
 It bears them up as if it knew, 
 
 It nurs’d Britannia’s pride, 
 
 So sing we ever boldly, 
 
 With honest might and main. 
 
 The sea is merry England's, 
 
 And England's shall remain. 
 
 The sea, &c. 
 
 The sea is merry England’s, 
 
 Oh, where is found the strand, 
 
 Where Britons may not anchor, 
 
 With a gallant sailor band ? 
 
 Her red cross banner floats on high, 
 
 ’Fis honour’d .soon as seen. 
 
 For wliere’s the land that dares dety 
 The sous of the Ocean Queen? 
 
 So sing we ever, See. 
 
 The sea is merry England’s, 
 
 We’ll use it as we ought, 
 
 In spreading wide her native wealth. 
 
 To ev’ry distant port. 
 
 May peace long reign throughout the world. 
 
 Is Britain’s earnest pray’r. 
 
 But .should war’s banner be unfurl’d. 
 
 Her sons will danger dare. 
 
 So sing we ever, &c. 
 
 94— Home revisited. 
 
 And can it be? is this the spot 
 So dear to childhood s day ' 
 
 How all is chaiig d to heart and eyes, 
 
 Since I have beemavvay. 
 
 I knock at yonder cottage door, 
 
 It used my home to be. 
 
 But MO'.v a girl undoes tlie latch, 
 
 Who never heard of me. 
 
 The village school — a school no more, 
 
 The forge is blazing there; 
 
 And now for studious childhood’s hum, 
 Loud hammers beat the air. 
 
 The market inn ! come a Ts not chang’d— 
 Still rules the monarch’s heal ; 
 
 I enter in, but find, alas ! 
 
 My kind old landlord s dead. 
 
 Look where I will, ’tis all the same. 
 
 The young I do not know. 
 
 The old have memory outlived. 
 
 Or gone where all must go. 
 
 Then farewell to my native place. 
 
 Farewell to all I planu’d, 
 
 I’m more a stranger here at home. 
 
 Tiian in a foreign laud. 
 
 95— The Wolf is out. Son^. 
 
 WonlxtyT. Aan'OLD Esi). Music hyT. CCOKE. 
 
 Sdnq by Mr. Elton Williams. 
 
 Arm, brothers arm, the wolf is out. 
 
 The country’s up and the bowmen shout. 
 The shepherd leaves his fleecy care. 
 
 The gloi’ious sport of the day to share. 
 Night is fled the morn is grey ; 
 
 Arm, brothers arm, to the chase away, 
 lo yonder thicket, close and d.ark. 
 
 Softly tread and careful mark ; 
 
 ’Tis there the wolf is won’t to prowl; 
 
 And hark, bai k, I hear the savage howl, 
 Often in the dead of night. 
 
 When to sleep our toils invite. 
 
 His horrid yell fond mothers hear. 
 
 And closer press their infants dear. 
 
 Hence to the field, and the savage, soon. 
 Shall cease to bay the clo id e.ss moon, 
 
 No more to range our fie ds f.ir food 
 Or welter ia the trav’ller’s biood. 
 
 98— BoxN’t s.\y “No.” Ballad. 
 
 Words by Music by 
 
 Auonsri. Jo instone. T. Woriley Waleek. 
 
 Sung by Mr. H. Walker. 
 
 Along the forest straying. 
 
 One summer ev’ning fair. 
 
 We tialk’d— the breezes playing, 
 
 'Mid Jessie’s golden hair. 
 
 Up from my heart there rose, 
 
 A question, soft and low, 
 
 It whi.sper d. ‘can you love me. 
 
 Svveet J ssie?— don't say No 
 No sound that summer gloaming. 
 Returned rny b ’ating heart, 
 
 St II, through the wild wood roaming, 
 
 I felt we ne er could part, 
 
 At last my Jessie blushing, 
 
 And looicing lovely so 
 “ Will you be ev T constant ? 
 
 She uiurmuu 'd— don't say no.’’ 
 
 97 — I MISS THY KIND AND GENTLE 
 VOICE. 
 
 Poetry and Music by LanotON TYriLIAM*. 
 
 I miss thy kind and gentle voice— 
 
 I miss thy cheerful smile. 
 
 That could with happy hearts rejoice, 
 
 Or lonely hours beguile. 
 
 Amid our favourite haunts alone 
 And sad at heart I stray. 
 
 The scene is chang’d since thou art gone— 
 
 Its charm has pass’d away : 
 
 And ev’ry bird and ev’ry flower 
 That In my path I see. 
 
 But brings to mind some happy hour 
 That here I pass’d with thee. 
 
 And when the summer’s days are o’er, 
 
 And winter’s winds blow c’lill, ! 
 
 I sit beside the hearth once more. 
 
 And there I miss thee still. 
 
 That sunny smile is far away— 
 
 I seek it now in vain ; 
 
 That voice, sweet as the song-bird’s lay, 
 
 I ne’er shall hear again . 
 
 E’en as the dove at evening strays 
 Home to its resting tree. 
 
 So mem’ry turns to those bright days. 
 
 That here I pass’d with thee. 
 
 93— For love of thee. Ballad. 
 
 Music and Words by G. LlNtxT. 
 
 SCNG BY Mr. Williams.1 
 The forest flowers again are springing, 
 
 Tiie daisy decks the meadow fair; 
 
 From ev’ry tree the birds are singing. 
 
 While my lone breast is filled with care. 
 
 The murmuring stream winds through the 
 valley. 
 
 And brightly glows the summer sky ; 
 
 When all around seems gay and cheerful, 
 
 Ah ! why so sad, so lone am 1 ? 
 
 Tlie sweet May time th-at others welcome, 
 Yields not one charm, one joy to me 
 No pleasure sh vring, for life not caring, 
 
 I die despairing, for love of thee. 
 
 When the pale moon, on high, is beaming, 
 
 And every star in beauty shines, 
 
 Mv conscious heart, of thee still d-eaming. 
 
 In silent grief and sadness pines: 
 
 From slumber’s chain I wake, to moum thee, 
 And fondly call on thee in vain. 
 
 But echo mocks each sigh of anguish ; 
 
 'Tis thou alone can soothe my pain ! 
 
 The sweet May-time, that others welcome, 
 Yields not one charm, one joy to me ; 
 
 ^s'o pleasure sharing, for life not caring, 
 
 1 die ! despairing, for love of tliee. 
 
 99— The Willow Brook. 
 
 Words by Music by 
 
 Avsdsta Johnstone. T. 'Woiitlev WitsEa. 
 
 Sung by Mr. H. Walker. 
 
 The cowslips seent each meadow green, 
 Birds hang on blossom laden trees, 
 
 The young May moon is dimly seen 
 .1 ust rising o er the dewy leas ; 
 
 The village hum faint greets the ear. 
 
 As h ist’ning to a leafV nook, 
 
 I gaze in mingled hope and fear. 
 
 For Mary by the willow brook. 
 
 As twilight fails the nightingale. 
 
 Unheeded pours her tender lay. 
 
 Although her music fills the vale. 
 
 My heart can but one voice obey. 
 
 I hold a little hand in mine, 
 
 I worship eyes whose modest loo'c 
 Would m ike a monarch thrones resign 
 For xMary, by the willow brook. 
 
 100 — Britannia. Patriotic Song. 
 
 Sung by Mr. Elton Williams. 
 
 M'ords by Blocklev. 
 
 F.r'tannia, regardless of traitors and foes, 
 Triumphant rides on the billow; 
 
 Behold her majestic in peaceful repose. 
 
 The deep rolUng ocean her pillow. 
 
 Serenely she rests ’ne ith her banner unfurl d, 
 
 ’ While fame with fond praise writes her story 
 Her union-jack p- oclaims to tlie world. 
 
 The m-giit of her grandeur and glory. 
 
 Britannia, &c. 
 
 Shou’d war blow her clarion witli fury and strife, 
 And terrify cowar liy railers, 
 
 A thousand swords fliushing will leap into life, 
 In tile ban Is of our soldiers and sailors. 
 
 Mid the tuniultaiid havocofdeath, dealing-guns 
 When the giiin face of battle is gory. 
 
 The genius of England will smile on her sous. 
 And lead them to triumph and glory. 
 
 Britannia, &c. 
 
28 EVANS’S SUPPER-ROOMS, COVENT-GARD15N. 
 
 101 — The Boatman’s Return. 
 
 N. J. Sporle. 
 
 Sc NO BY Mr. Walker. 
 
 Row, row, homeward we steer, 
 
 Twilight falls o’er us ; 
 
 Hark ! hark ! music is near, 
 
 Friends glide before us. 
 
 Song lightens our labour. 
 
 Sing as onward we go 
 Keep, each with his neighbour. 
 
 Time as we go. 
 
 Chords. (Invisible.) 
 
 Row, row, homeward we steer, 8cc. 
 Row, row, sing as we go. 
 
 Nature rejoices ; 
 
 Hark ! how the hills as we flow. 
 
 Echo our voices. 
 
 Still o'er the dark waters, 
 
 Far away must we roam. 
 
 Ere Italy’s daughters 
 Welcome us home. 
 
 Row, row, sing as we go, &c. 
 
 Row, row, see in the west. 
 
 Lights dimly burning; 
 
 Friends in yon harbour rest. 
 
 Wait our returning. 
 
 See how they burn clearer. 
 
 Keep time with the oar ; 
 
 Now, now, we are nearer 
 That happy shore. 
 
 Home, home, daylight is o’er. 
 Friends stand before us; 
 
 Yet ere our boat touch the shore. 
 Once more the chorus. 
 
 May be had here, price 2s. 
 
 102 —The IClNG AND THE MiLLER OF 
 
 Dee. 
 
 ®'rom a Series of Old English Songs published in th® 
 “ Illustrated News.” 
 
 Words by Cbarles Ma.ck.it. 
 
 JympJionios and Accompaniment by Slit II. R. Bimiop. 
 There dwelt a miller hale and bold. 
 
 Beside the river Dee, 
 
 He work’d and sang from morn till night. 
 
 No lark more blithe than he : 
 
 And this the burden of his song 
 For ever used to be,— 
 
 “ I envy nobody, no, not 1 1 
 And nobody envies me ! ’’ 
 
 “ Thou’rt wrong, my friend,” said old King Hal ; 
 
 “ Thou’rt wrong as wrong can be 
 FoV "ould my heart be light as thine, 
 
 I’d gladly change with thee. 
 
 And tell me now' what makes thee sing 
 With voice so loud and free. 
 
 While I am sad, though I’m the King, 
 
 Beside the river Dee.” 
 
 The miller smil’d aud dotfd bis cap, 
 
 “ I earn my bread,” quoth he ; 
 
 “ I love my wife, I love my friend, 
 
 I love my children three: 
 
 I o'.ve no penny I cannot pay, 
 
 I thank the river Dee, 
 
 That turns the mill that grinds the corn. 
 
 For my three babes and me.” 
 
 “ Good friend," said Hal, and sigh’d the while, 
 
 “ Farewell ! and happy be; 
 
 But say no more, if thoii’dst be true, 
 
 That no one envies thee : 
 
 That mealy cap is worth my crown. 
 
 Thy mill’s ray kingdom’s fee ; 
 
 Such men as those are England’s boast. 
 
 Oh, miller of the Dee ! ” 
 
 103 — Little Nell. Ballad. 
 
 Words by Miss C. Yocno. Miutic by ©. Linlzv. 
 
 Sdng by Mr, Godden. 
 
 They told him gently she was dead. 
 
 And spoke of Heuv n and smil’d. 
 
 And drew him from the lonely room 
 Where lay the lovely child. 
 
 'Twas all in vain, he heeded not 
 Their pitying looks of sorreow— 
 
 ‘ Hush ! hush !” he cried, *• she only sleeps. 
 She'll wake again to-worrow ! ” 
 
 They laid her in a lowly grave. 
 
 Where winds blew high and bleak, 
 
 Tho’ the faintest summer breeze had seem’d 
 Too rough to fan her cheek ; 
 
 And there the poor old man would watch, 
 In strange and childish sorrow. 
 
 And whisper to himself the words — 
 
 “ She’ll come again to-morrow ! ” 
 
 One day they miss’d him long, and sought 
 Where most he lov’d to stray, 
 
 They found him dead upon the turf 
 Where little Nelly lay; 
 
 Witli tott’ring steps he’d wander’d there. 
 Fresh hope and strength to borrow. 
 
 And e’en in djing breath’d the pi ay’r — 
 
 ** Ob ! let her come to-morrow !’’ 
 
 / May be had here, price 2s. 
 
 104 — The old Friends at Home. 
 
 Song by Mr. Gooden. 
 
 Far down beside the green savanna. 
 
 Far, far away ; 
 
 Where all daylong the red bird warbles, 
 
 There do the kind hearts stray. 
 
 Ah ! wheresoe’er my footstep wanders. 
 Where’er I roam, 
 
 I sigh for those from whom I’m parted, 
 
 Sigh for the old friends at home. 
 
 All the world grows sad and dreary. 
 Everywhere I roam ; 
 
 Oh ! how my heart grows sad and weary. 
 
 Far from the old friends at home. 
 
 There’s one down by the green savanna, 
 
 One that I love ; 
 
 Ah ! how that dear form haunts me. 
 
 No matter where I rove. 
 
 They who have none to prize them fondly. 
 Know not the pain 
 
 That this poor heart must feel and suffer 
 Till I see home again. 
 
 All the world seems dark and dreary. 
 
 No matter where I roam ! 
 
 Oh ! how my heart grows sad and weary 
 Far from the old friends at home. 
 
 May be had here, price 2s. 
 
 105 —Good night Beloved, serenade 
 
 Words by H. W. LoNaPBLl.OW. Mtesie by M. W. BalPE 
 
 Sung by Mr. Williams.' 
 
 Good night, good night, beloved I 
 I come to watch o’er thee ; 
 
 To be near thee— to be near thee. 
 
 Alone is peace for me. 
 
 Thine eyes are stars of moming ; 
 
 Thy lips arc crimson flowers ! 
 
 Good night, good night beloved ! 
 
 While I count the weary hours. 
 
 Ah ! thou moon that shinest, 
 
 Argent clear, above. 
 
 All night long enlighten 
 My sweet lady love ! 
 
 108 — Good bye, Sweetheart, good 
 
 BYE. 
 
 Written by Composed by 
 
 Folkesto.ne William*. J. L. Hattom 
 
 Sung by Mr. Williams. 
 
 The pale stars fade — the morn is breaking ; 
 
 The dew-drops pearl each bud and leaf. 
 
 And I from thee my leave am taking. 
 
 With bliss too brief— with bliss too brief. 
 How sinks my heart with fond alarms ; 
 
 ’fhe tear is biding in mine eye ; 
 
 For time doth thrust me from thine arms ; 
 
 Good bye, S weetUeai't, good bye ! 
 
 The sun is up,— the lark is soaring ; 
 
 Loud swells the song of chanticleer; 
 
 Tlie lev’ret bounds o’er earth’s soft flooring ; 
 
 Yet I am here, yet I am here 
 For since night’s gems from heav’n did fade, 
 And morn to floral lips doth hie, 
 
 I could not leave thee, tnough I said,— 
 
 Good bye. Sweetheart, Good bye! 
 
 May be had here, price 2s. 
 
 107 — The Maid of Kildare. 
 
 Mask by J. P. Knigmt. Words 6y J. E. CASrENTUl 
 Sdng by Mr. Gooden. 
 
 Oh ! the maid of Kildare she’s young and she’s 
 fair, 
 
 And her lovers are raving about her ; 
 
 Yet not one will she bless, tho’ so many profess 
 And vow there’s no living witliout her. 
 
 Her brow's like the dawn, her step like the 
 fawn. 
 
 With her beauty there’s none can compare. 
 For tlie work tliut she makes, aud the hearts 
 that she breaks. 
 
 This beautiful Maid of Kildare. 
 
 Oh ! the work that she makes, and the hearts 
 that she breaks. 
 
 This beautiful Maid of Kildare. 
 
 But time will run on, and her youth will be 
 gone. 
 
 And her beauty be wither’d and blighted ; 
 And some of these days, ’mid so many delays. 
 
 She’ll find herself lonely and slightevl. 
 
 Now, her lips ai-e red rose, and wherever she 
 goes. 
 
 With her beauty there’s none can compare. 
 For her eyes are so bright, you’d be dre.aramg 
 each night 
 
 Of this beautiful Maid of Kildare. 
 
 For her eyes are so bright, you’d be dreaming 
 e.ach night, 
 
 Of this beautiful Maid of Kildare. 
 
 May be had here, price 2s. 
 
 103 — VVreciv of the ‘‘Hesperus,” 
 
 Musk by Hatto.v. 
 
 Sdng by Mr. Elton Williams. 
 
 It was the schooner “ Hesperus. ” 
 
 Thai E iiied in the wintry >ea ; 
 
 And the skipper has ta’en his little daughter 
 To bear him company. 
 
 Blue were her eyes as the fairy flax. 
 
 Her cheeks uke the dawn of day ; 
 
 And hei- bos .m wnite as toe liawt.iorn buds, 
 That ope in the month of May. 
 
 The skipper he stood beside the helm, 
 
 Witti his pipe in his month. 
 
 And watch’d how tlie voei ing flaw did blow 
 The smoke now west, now south. 
 
 Then up and spake an old sailor. 
 
 Had sail’d the Spmisn main, 
 
 “ I pray thee put into yonder port, 
 
 For I fear a hui ric.ine ; 
 
 Lastuinht the mo n had a golden ring. 
 
 But to night no moon we see : ” 
 
 The .skipiier he blew a whiff from his pipe* 
 
 And a scornful laugti laugh d he- 
 
 Down came the storm, and smote, amain. 
 
 The vessel in its strength ; , 
 
 She shuddered and paus'd like a frighted steed 
 Then leap d her cable's length. 
 
 “ Come hither come hither! my little daughter, 
 And do not tremble .so ; 
 
 For I can weather me roughest gale 
 'i’liat ever the wind did blow.” 
 
 “ Dear Father I hear the church bell ring. 
 
 Oh, .say what may it l-e ?” 
 
 “ 'Tisa log-bell on a rock-bound coast, 
 
 We must steer for the open sea." 
 
 “ Dear Father, I see a g!e.aming light, 
 
 Oh, say what may ii be ? ' 
 
 But the fat ler answered never a word, 
 
 A frozen corpse was he. 
 
 Lash’d to the helm, all stiff and stark, 
 
 With Ids pale face to the skies ; 
 
 The lantern gleam d through toe falling snow. 
 On his fix d and glassy eyes. 
 
 Then the maiden clasp'd her hands, and pray’d 
 That -saved she might be ; 
 
 And she thought of Him who still'd the waves 
 On the lake of Gallilee. 
 
 But fast through the midnight, dark and 
 drear. 
 
 Thro’ the whistling sleet and snow 
 Like a sheeted ghost, the bark sw ept on 
 To the reef of** Norman's W oe.” 
 
 Her rattling shrouds, all sheath’d in ice 
 With the mast went by the board ; 
 
 Like a vessel ol g'a.«s she stove and sank. 
 
 Ho 1 oh! the breakers roared ! 
 
 At day -break, on the black sea beach, 
 
 A fisherman stood aghast 
 To see the form of a maiden fair. 
 
 Float by on a drifting mast. 
 
 The salt sea was frozen on her breast, 
 
 Tlie salt tears in her ei es ; 
 
 And her streaming hair, like the brown sea 
 weed, 
 
 On the waves did fall and rise. 
 
 Such was the wreck of the “ Hesperus,” 
 
 In tile midnight and the snow ; 
 
 Oh ! save us all from a death like this, 
 
 On the reef of Norman s Woe." 
 
 109 — Queen of my Soul; 
 
 Sdng by Mr Woodman. 
 
 Queen of my soul, whose starlike eyes are all 
 the ligiit I seek, 
 
 Thy voice, in sweetest melodies, can love or 
 pardon speak, 
 
 I bow me to th v lov’d controul, oueen of my soul, 
 Mary, Mary, queen of my soul, Mary queen of 
 * my soul. 
 
 The mount.vins of thy native shore arc cold, 
 and dim. and grey. 
 
 Ah! linger ’midst tlu ir clouds once more, thy 
 home is far away. 
 
 Where Italy’s blue waters roll, queen of my 
 soul, 
 
 Mary, Mary, queen of my soul, Mary queen of 
 
 The perfum’d rose for thee is twin'd, the lute 
 awakes its strain. 
 
 There shall the withering northern winds, steal 
 all thy sweets in vain. 
 
 No ! fly beyond thy fate’s controul, queen of inj 
 
 Mary, MaVy, queen of iny «oul; M*ry qiieM 
 of my soul. 
 
' EVANS’S SUPPER-ROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN. 
 
 110 —Sad and Alone. I 
 
 Wor<J!ih\4 Mutii'hy 
 
 G. Ellis PARBCur. Matjrick OoxTHEiiiER. 
 
 Sung bi Mons. Fer.nand. 
 
 Alone thro’ the wide worhl I wander ; 
 
 This heart cold and sili-nt hath '..rown. 
 
 For vears com*? and vanish, but leave me 
 Still frieii'iless, still sad and alone. 
 
 Each object, in love bre ithing nature. 
 
 Finds .something round which it may twine; 
 But 1 am an outcast foi gotten ; 
 
 For I must in solitude pine ! 
 
 Oh ' why. am 1 doom’d thus for ever 
 Unheeded to wander alone, 
 
 And gaze on the bright hopes of others. 
 
 That ne’er can, alas! be mine own! 
 
 The ivy with undying fondness, 
 
 In sorrow siill faithfully cleaves 
 To aught that it once lov’d and cherish’d 
 Beneath its true ne'er-fading leaves! 
 
 The rocU e ■ n with soft moss is co\er’d ! 
 
 And oft to its hard rugged breast 
 The gentle and delicate flower 
 Creeps closer, and sinks there to resti 
 But, tho this sad heart still hath feeling, 
 
 Tho’ years o’er my sorrows hath flown. 
 
 Yet, I thro’the wide world must wander 
 Uncarcdfor, unhappy, alone! 
 
 lil-T here’s Sunshine yet for 
 Charlie. 
 
 Written and Composedly G. Lirlet. 
 
 Sung b5 Mr. 
 
 Oh 1 welcome to our high.and hills. 
 
 Where heather-bells are growing! 
 
 Oh' welcome to our valleys fair 
 Where hawthorn-buds are blowing; 
 
 See. gaiher’d on yon mountain’s crest 
 A thousand swords are gleaming, 
 
 There's valour in each sturdy breast, 
 
 With truth each eye is beaming. 
 
 Tho’ droops aw bile our bonnie ro.se, 
 
 'Twill bloom again as fairly. 
 
 The darkest night will find ai close— 
 
 There’s sunshine yet for Charlie ! 
 
 Oh ! many a gallant chief lies low— 
 
 Who bled for Scotland’s glory, 
 
 Unlionour’d be our country’s foe. 
 
 His shame but lives in story. 
 
 Hark ! hark ! from ev’ry hill' and glen, 
 Theyabi’och wildly sounding, 
 
 Let ev’ry Clansman’s heart again 
 In freedom s cause be bounding. 
 
 Oh ! crimson shall be yon white rose. 
 
 Now blnoming bright and fairly ; 
 
 Ere it shall bend to Ch.arlie’s foes— 
 
 There’s sunshine yet for Charlie. 
 
 U2 —She shines before me like 
 
 A STAR. 
 
 From the. opera of “ King Charles the Second.” 
 
 Words ly Hi Music by MACFAHRBir. 
 
 Sung by Mb. J. W. Williams. 
 
 She shines before me like a star. 
 
 By day or night, where’er I be, 
 
 A light I fain would follow far. 
 
 O'er desert lands or trackless sea. 
 
 The violet sheds within her eyes. 
 
 Its tender hues and deep’ning dyes. 
 
 And o’er her cheek the rose of May, 
 Delighted, lends her lovliest ray. 
 
 ’Tis not her beauty, hea^'n ly fair. 
 
 That steals each sense, enrapt, away 
 ’Tis not those graces rich and rare, 
 
 Tho’ cai tti m.'iy boast none dear as they. 
 Face, mien, .and motion, and the tone 
 Of voice, that Love, himself, might own, 
 
 Upon tiiis heart would heedless fall. 
 
 Without the mind that shines thro’ all. 
 
 113 — Persevere, 
 
 Poetry by Music by 
 
 Jos£i^ Lonn, E.»q. C. E. Hobn 
 
 Sung by Mr. J. Hogan. 
 
 The venturous sailor on the main. 
 
 Who strives some distant port to gain. 
 From toil and peril scorns to shrink, 
 
 Though poLs d his bark on ruin’s brink ; 
 
 No winds bi-s constancy can mar, 
 
 No troubled wars excite a tear, 
 
 Bright hope is still his guiding star. 
 
 His Motto “Persevere.” 
 
 So on my life’s eventful sea, 
 
 How rough so-e’er my voyage be. 
 
 Each foaming surge I’ll firmly ride. 
 
 Till forrime send a calmer tide ; 
 
 And while I, like the hardy tar. 
 
 My steady course undaunted steer; I 
 
 Bright hope shall bt- my guiding star. ] 
 
 My Motto “ Perscvtw’o.” i 
 
 114 — The Briti3H Anchor. 
 
 Words by Music bij 
 
 J. E. CAarEXTER. E. J. Loder. 
 
 Sung by Miu 
 
 Fill up, fill up your mystic fit es, a noble work is 
 thine. 
 
 Who forge the British Anchor— the dweller of 
 the brine ! 
 
 It eeemeth round the lurid flame some magic 
 rite ye keep. 
 
 Creating from that shapeless mass the divers of 
 the deep. 
 
 No sound is in the old dock-yard — all hearts are 
 in one spot. 
 
 Where now the living, liquid fire, is raging 
 white and hot; 
 
 The signal’s given strike! stalwart men, your 
 hon prowess keep ! 
 
 Hurrah! they’ve forged the Anchor ! the diver 
 of the deep. 
 
 Oh ! the Anchors of our navy are the emblems 
 of the free. 
 
 They guard our giant ships from wi'eck on many 
 a stormy sea ; 
 
 They tell the brave and gallant hearts that 
 dwell upon tlie main, 
 
 What joys shall greet them when they sleep off 
 British shores again. 
 
 Then honour to the Anchor ! though it never 
 shall abide 
 
 In its home beneath the billow, while there’s 
 war u])on the tide ; 
 
 For the ploughers of the ocean their name and 
 fame shall keep 
 
 As strong— as firm, as faithful, as the diver of 
 tlie deep ! 
 
 ilTay be had here, price 2s. 
 
 115 — There’s a light in her 
 laughing eye. 
 
 Poetry by Music by 
 
 S. J. Arnold Esq. Edw.vrd J. Loder. 
 
 Sung by Mr. J. Hogan. 
 
 There's a light in her laughing eye, 
 
 A sparkling beam from the mind within 
 As the lightning flash in the sky is a gleam, 
 From the world that knows ho sin. 
 
 There’s a charm in her gracioas smile, 
 
 A charm that drives each doubt away. 
 
 As the dawn to some favour’d Isle, 
 
 Is the dawn of hope to a glorious day. 
 Theres a light in her laughing eye, &c. 
 
 O ! there's a charm in her gentle sigh, 
 
 A voice that \yhispers of joy and love. 
 
 As the murmuring breeze in its melody, 
 
 Is a whisper u e catch from the blest above. 
 There’s a light in her laughing eye, &c. 
 
 116 — Sing and be Merry. 
 
 Words by Music by 
 
 James Sionehoc»e. Fred. Shritall. 
 
 Sung by Mons. Fernand. 
 
 As day is for labour so night is for mirth ; 
 
 Then cast away sorrow', ye children of earth I 
 While fruit and gay flowers their perfume com- 
 bine. 
 
 And lamps shed a lustre on bright eyes that 
 shine; 
 
 Let wit to each sentence we utter give zest. 
 
 And jocund good humour add point to the jest ! 
 So sing and be merry for time’s on the wing. 
 Who knows what to-morrow to many may 
 bring. 
 
 The ring of the clarion the soldier excites — 
 
 The sage in his chamber, on study delights ; 
 
 The miser Ids money loves dearly to hide, 
 
 While lovers love only the girls at their side. 
 But we at these follies will laugh and be gay ; 
 True wisdom alone is to laugh care away ! 
 
 So sing and be merry, for time’s on the wing; 
 Who knows what "to-morrow to many may 
 bring. 
 
 117 -My Native Mountain Home. 
 
 Music iyGr. Babkeb. 
 
 Sung by Mons. Fernand. 
 
 My mountain home ! 
 
 ’fhe East may boast its charm ; 
 
 The West tempt those who weary roam 
 With isles or halcyon calm; 
 
 For me they do not boast a charm — 
 
 I sigh where’er I roam : 
 
 For laud of flood and stonn I sigh — 
 
 My native mountain home ; 
 
 Tra.la, la, la! 
 
 A sunny land is Italy ; 
 
 Greece breathes with classic lore ; 
 
 And Palestine, and Araby, 
 
 Are holy as of yore. 
 
 Yet not for me earth’s gem and sea 
 I sigh where’er I roam : 
 
 For land of Alp and Pine I sigh, — 
 
 My native mountain home: 
 
 Tra, la, la, la I 
 
 29 
 
 118 —Poor Adele. Ballad. 
 
 Poetry by Mntic by 
 
 Barrt Cornwall. Chev.vlier Neukoms^ 
 
 Sung by Mr. J. Hogan. 
 
 Adele has come back from her mountain home ! 
 
 Poor Adele! 
 
 Over tho world she wish’d to roam, 
 
 Over the land and salt .sea-foam. 
 
 She sought the city, she sought the wild. 
 
 But no one cherished the mountain child. 
 
 Poor Adele I 
 
 At last oh ! a pitiless passion came. 
 
 Poor Adele ! 
 
 Men call it alas I by a false flvir name, 
 
 But it seared her heart with a fated flame. 
 
 Her blood ran quicker, her breath (grown 
 brief) 
 
 Threw a stain on her cheek like the rose’s leaf. 
 Poor Adele ! 
 
 She once was like day when the day is young ; 
 
 Poor Adele ! 
 
 From her eye shone morning, and on her 
 tongue. 
 
 The music of morning always hung. 
 
 Her song was laughtef, but time and wrong. 
 Have taught her a sadder and sweeter song. 
 
 Poor Adele 1 
 
 Adele has come back to her mountain nest. 
 
 Poor Adele! 
 
 She hath flown to her fond, blind, mother’s 
 breast, 
 
 For a word of love and a place of rest; 
 
 And rest awaits her, all green and lone. 
 
 Where the pine trees sigh o'er the graves un- 
 known, Poor Adele! 
 
 119 — Philip the Falconer. 
 
 Sung by Mr. Hogan. 
 
 Young Philip the falconer is up with the day, 
 With his merlin on his arm ; 
 
 And down the mill-meadows has taken his way, 
 To hawk— and pray where’s the harm? 
 
 Philip is stalwart, and Philip is young. 
 
 And Philip, they say, has a musical tongue ; 
 
 The miller’s young sister is fresh and is fair, 
 And Philip is always hawking there ! 
 
 For he vows and decliu-es, believe it or not. 
 There is not in the kingdom for herns such a 
 spot. 
 
 And falcons, they say, to fly true to their prey. 
 Should be tiained in the morning early. 
 
 The miller's to market to buy him some com, 
 For work it should never stand still: 
 
 A maiden is loitering under the thorn. 
 
 In the meadow below the mill; 
 
 And Philip, grown tired of a bachelor’s life. 
 Thinks the miller’s young sister would make 
 good tvife ; 
 
 And so comes a whisper, and so comes a smile. 
 And then comes a leave-taking over the stile. 
 
 Oh, when the miller returns from market, I 
 guess. 
 
 The miller will find he's a si>4ter the less, 
 
 For maidens, they say do not always say “ nay** 
 When they’re ask’d in the morning eany. 
 
 May be had here, price 2s. 
 
 120 — This Heart is Thine. 
 
 Wen-ds by F. P. Quin, Esq. Music by H. R. Allbn. 
 
 Sung by Mr. J. Hogan. 
 
 ’Tis true my tongue can ne’er reveal 
 One half the rapture that I feel. 
 
 When gazing on those laughing eyes. 
 
 That gleam like stars above- 
 I cannot, like the landsman, praise 
 Those pretty eyes a thousand ways. 
 
 Nor seek by artful flatt ring speech 
 My ardent love to prove. 
 
 I cannot chide the rose in bloom. 
 
 Nor say it stole from thee perfume 
 Nor, like a poet, liken thee 
 To ev rything divine. 
 
 But this 1 say, and this I’ll swear, 
 
 Ttiat thou art lovely, good, and lair. 
 
 And that this heart is thine ! 
 
 Tho’ others better may express 
 The warmth of true love’s tenderness, 
 
 Yet, trust me, they can never know 
 What fills my heart for you. 
 
 For oft when loud the tempest raged. 
 
 And sky and ocean battle waged. 
 
 The fond remembrance of thy smile. 
 
 Has kept my courage true. 
 
 Yes, hope has cheer’d me in the storm, 
 
 And in the battle nerv'd my arm. 
 
 To win renown and honour’s wreath, ( 
 Around thy brow to twine. 
 
 Then this I say, and this I’ll swear, 
 
 Ttiat thou art lovely, good and fair, 
 
 And tliat this heart is thine. 
 
30 
 
 121 — The Charm."*^ 
 
 Written and Composed by S Lover, Esq, 
 
 Sung bt Mb. J. Hogan. 
 
 They say there’s a secret chBrm that lies 
 In some wild tlovv’ret’s bell. 
 
 That grows in a vale where the west wind sighs 
 And where secrets best might dwell ; 
 
 And they who can find the tairy flower, 
 
 A treasure possess that might grace a throne 
 For oh! they can rule, With the softest power. 
 The heart they would make their own. 
 
 The Indian has toil'd in the dusky mine, 
 
 For the gold that has made him a slave; 
 
 Or, plucking the pearl from the sea-god’s shrine 
 Has tempted the wrath of the w'ave. 
 
 But ne’er has he sought, with a love like mine. 
 
 The flower that holds the heart in thrall. 
 
 Oh I rather I'd win that charm divine, 
 
 Than their gold, and their pearl, and all. 
 
 EVANS’S SUPPER-ROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN, 
 
 125 The Desert. Descriptive Song. 
 
 I’ve sought it by day, from morn till eve 
 I ve won it in dreams at night. 
 
 And then how 1 grieve my conch to leave. 
 
 And sigh at tlie morning liglit. 
 
 Yet sometimes I thinli , in a hopeful hour. 
 
 The blissful moment I ^et may see. 
 
 To win the flow’r irom the faii-y s bow’r. 
 
 And give it, love, to thee ! 
 
 * They say that a flower may be found in a valley open 
 ing to the west, whirh bestows on the tinder the power o 
 winning the affection of the person to whom it is present- 
 ed. Hence, it is supposed, has originated the custom ot 
 liresenting a bouquet. 
 
 22— Love! thou madd’ning pow’r 
 
 Music by K, R. .Allen. 
 
 .Sung by Ms. J. Hogan. 
 
 Love thou madd’ning pow'r 
 I feel thy dart: 
 
 Sighs, ev'ry anxious hour, 
 
 Speak my tortur'd heart. 
 
 Ah! vail!, ah! hopeless grief. 
 
 1 w 00 thy stay ; 
 
 Be thou my sad relief. 
 
 Wearing my life a.\\ ay. 
 
 123— Night at Sea. HenriHers 
 Sung bt Mons. Fernax©, 
 
 Winds hush’d to a sigh. 
 
 Waves that idly creep. 
 
 The moon beaming on high. 
 
 Stars gcinining the deep ;* 
 
 Heart yearning for home. 
 
 Thought dvvclleth with fhee; 
 Pray’rs that where thou dost roam 
 ^ I soon shall be ; 
 
 Thus, imny a time, 
 
 Pass the hours with me. 
 
 From the vesper chime, 
 
 Thro’ the night at sea. 
 
 Winds rous’d in their might. 
 Waves that madly bound. 
 Clouds scowling above, 
 Storms bursting around ; 
 Thro’ tempest and calm. 
 
 Still I think of thee. 
 
 And thought brings the halm 
 Of hope to me. 
 
 Yes ! tlio’ the skies low’r, 
 Thou art still to me 
 The star, cheering each hour 
 Of the night at sea. 
 
 124 — The Austr.alian Emigrant s 
 Lament. 
 
 'rYnUeux and Cermposedhy CEi!CPxeNi. 
 
 So.ng by Me. Woodman. 
 
 Words by J. F. Suiia. Music by L. Exanom.. 
 
 Song bt Mb. E. Williams. 
 
 Alone in the desert ! alone ~I’m alone ! 
 
 My good steed’s exhausted, my falseguide hath 
 
 My path to recover I’ve sought all in vain ; 
 
 Uh 1 God! I am lost in this desolate plain ' 
 
 No sti earn can I And, the cool waters to sip, 
 
 to moisten my blood-swollen lip ; 
 Still more faintly I draw the life-parting breath ; 
 ^'de^afh simoom, whose hot kiss is 
 
 For assistance in vain my glance wildly I fling, 
 a specs in the air save the vulture’s dark 
 
 Soon IbSoon shall I feel his keen beak in my 
 
 And th® d^e^s^ert’s hot sands prove my last couch 
 
 I am here like some wreck by the mad billows 
 tiirowH, 
 
 With death and its terrors to struggle alone. 
 
 ^ 
 
 Is the thought of those dear ones, wife, children, 
 and tiiends. 
 
 Must 1 die! must I die ! —see, the vultm'e draws 
 near. 
 
 Humanity’s form can no more cause him fear, 
 ■"‘’•‘'^•j^^hark! ’tis a bell faintly sounding, 1 
 
 desert, a camel, is near ! 
 
 ^ fleeting 
 
 ™^broke ‘deceives me my last hope is 
 
 I am sav’d' I am sav’d! friends, friends are at 
 hand— 
 
 They see me, tliey hear my lone cry on the sand; 
 And nearer, and nearer the camel-bell rings, 
 
 Ihe vulture sails from me with out-sureading 
 I am sav d, Sic. 
 
 126— Kitty Tyrrell. 
 
 Words by C. J ErrapYS. Music by C. W. Glover., 
 
 Sung by Me. Woodman. 
 
 Ymt re looking as fresh as the morn, darling 
 you’re looking as bright as the day, 
 
 BiU while on your charms I'm dilating. 
 
 You re stealing niy poor heart away, 
 is ut keep it a .d we co.ne, mavourneen, 
 
 It s loss I’m not going to mourn ; 
 
 Yet one heart’s enough for a body, 
 bo pray give me yours in return. 
 Mavourneen! Ma-.omneen 1 
 So pray give me yoms in return. 
 
 I’ve built me a neat little cot, darling, 
 
 1 ve pigs and potatoes in store, 
 i ve twenty good pounds in the bank, love, 
 a pound or ttvo more; 
 
 'veil to have richts. 
 
 But I’m such a covetous elf, 
 
 J t help still sighing for something. 
 
 And, darling, that something s yourself. 
 
 Mavourneen, &c. 
 
 128— Macgregors Gathkki.ng. 
 
 Music by A. Lee. 
 
 Sung by Mb. J. W. Williams. 
 
 And t>|e^clan, has a name, that is namdess b, 
 ^««“arclis w 
 
 teilloo^’’'^’ uis’iit.in our veangefu 
 
 Tf fh.. I-alloo, halloo, halloo, Gregalac'i 
 
 Lajles“® ^ ""t 
 
 telhe^^Vs® 
 
 \Vh;m , Ti'engmher,g.ather, ga’hc-r.Gregal.ach ' 
 
 the“7vlr 
 
 Macgregor.de.-'pite them, shall flourish forever. 
 
 Gleiiorchy’s proud mountains Colchura and 
 her towers, 
 
 ^enstrae and Glenlyon no longer are ours,— 
 We re landless, landless. Imdless, Gregalacli i 
 Ihiough the depths ot Loch Katrine tae steed 
 siitill career, 
 
 'steer^^ Lomond the galley shall 
 
 th^lt*’^cks of Craig Roystoii like' icicles 
 
 Ere our wrongs be forgot, or our vengeance 
 uiifelt. Tueu halloo, <xc. 
 
 129— Triste Exile. Ilalevg, 
 
 From the opera of^ La Heine de Ckypre.'’ 
 
 Song by Mo.ns. FenNANO. 
 
 Triste exi!e sur la terre etrangere. 
 
 Ah que de this j ai saupire ! 
 
 Gue (Je tourinems, C ma France si chd e ' 
 
 Que de regrets, o pay adore ! 
 
 au bouLeur quaiid je pouvais prg- 
 
 Pour la France, o mon Di u, que n'ai je pu 
 mounr! ^ J 
 
 J;a\ais un bras vaillant pour la defeiidre : 
 
 J avais uucceur ardent pour la che ir ! 
 
 SAD EXILE. 
 
 Sad exi’e in a foreign land. 
 
 Ah ' how often I have sighed i 
 What torments, oh! my deir France ! 
 
 What regrets, oh ! ador'd com.tiy ! 
 
 Wiien I coni t pre!end to glory and happiness 
 i' or trance, oh, Heav n ! whyeoudl iiuc di-' 
 I liad a valiant arm to defenil her: 
 
 I had an ardent heart to ctiei isli l.er! 
 
 You’re smiling, aiid that’s a good sign, darling, 
 Say -yes, and you’ll never reuent, 
 
 Qr if you would rather be silent," 
 rri I’ll take for consent; 
 
 lhat good-natured dimple’s a tell tale. 
 
 Now all that I have is vour own, 
 
 Ihis we k you may be Kitty Tyrrell, 
 
 N ext week yoa’U be Mistress Malone 
 
 Mavourneen, &c. 
 
 130 — Scenes that are brightest. 
 
 Sung lt Mr. Woodman. 
 
 Scenes that are b< ightest may charm awhile : 
 Hearts that are lightest, and eyes that smile. 
 Yet o'er ihein above us. though nature beam— 
 >T itii none to love us how sail they sceui. 
 
 Words cannot scatter the theugl.ts we 'ear, 
 lor though, they Hatter, they mock the ear. 
 Hopes vMil still deceive us nilh tearful cost, 
 
 And «hen they leave us, the heart is mst, 
 
 127 — Ever of thee. 
 
 Ballad. 
 
 131— Blow high, blow low 
 Old Sea So.vg. 
 
 Words and .Uutic by Djbdin. 
 
 Sung by Mb. E. Williams. 
 
 I’m thinking of the home I’ve left. 
 
 And all that's in it dear, 
 
 And of the pleasures I’m berelt. 
 Perhaps, for many a vear. 
 
 Yet, thru’ whatever lands I roam. 
 
 My heart remains the same, 
 
 Sweet home, dear, tliour't still mv home. 
 And I revere thy name. 
 
 I’m thinkirg of my mother's tears, 
 When in her fond embrace, 
 
 1 bade good bye, for many years 
 The cold, wide world to face: 
 
 J left her, then my heart was full, 
 
 To cross the sea’s great foam— ' 
 
 Tho’ much I've seen that’s beautiful, 
 
 I olten think of home. 
 
 I think of one and all each night. 
 
 When I my pillow press. 
 
 And pray to FIim who in his might. 
 
 Can guard you : keep you ! bless 1 
 Yet, tlio' to live so far away 
 Is now my hapless lot. 
 
 Let me not from thy mem’ries stray. 
 
 For I forget thee not. 
 
 Music by a. Lixit. 
 
 Sung by Me. Woodman. 
 
 Ever of thee I’m fondly dreaming! 
 
 Thy gentle voice iny'spirit can cheer; 
 
 Thou wert the star, tliat mildly beaming 
 Shone o’er my path when all was dai'k and 
 drear. 
 
 Still in my heart thy form I cherish ; 
 
 Ev’ry kind Uiought like a bird flies to thee; 
 Ah, never, till life ami memory perish. 
 
 Can I forget how dear thou art to me. 
 Morn, noon, and night, where’er I may be 
 
 Fondly I’m dreaming ever of thee. ’ 
 
 Ever of thee, when sad and lonely, 
 W.andering afar, my soul’s joy, to dwell— 
 Ah, then I fuit I love thee only; 
 
 All seem’d to fade Ixifore atfection’s spell 
 Years have not chill’d the love I cherish— 
 True as the stars hath my heart been to 
 thee; 
 
 Ah, never till life and memory perish. 
 
 Can I forget how dear thou art to me. 
 
 Morn, noon, and night, where’er I may be, 
 Fondly I'm dreaming ever of thee. 
 
 Blow high, blow low, let tempests tear 
 The iiiaimua.st by the baard; 
 
 5Iy hetirt u ith thoughts of thee, my dear, 
 -And love well stored, 
 
 Shall brave all dangers, scorn all fear, 
 
 The roaring wind and raging sea. 
 
 In hopes, on sliore, 
 
 To be once more 
 Safe moor’d with thee. 
 
 Aloft while mountains high wc go, 
 
 I’he whistling winds, that send along, 
 Aud the .surge roaring from belo.v, 
 
 Shall iny ,>-ignal be 
 To think on thee ; 
 
 And this shall be my song. 
 
 Blow high, blow low, S:C. 
 
 And on that night, wlien all the crew 
 The memory of their former lives 
 0 er flowing cans of flip renc.v. 
 
 And drink their sweethearts and their 
 wives, 
 
 I’ll heave a sigh and think on thee; 
 
 And, as the ship roils through the sea, 
 
 The bui’tlien of my song shall be — 
 
 Blow Iiigb, blow low, &C. 
 
ODDS AND ENDS 
 
 ABOUT THE ANCIENT DRAMA, MYSTERIES, MORALITIES, THE EARLY ENGLISH 
 DIVINITY AND CONTROVERSIAL PLAYS, HYMNS AND HYMNOLOGISTS, 
 POPULAR AMUSEMENTS OP THE 17th AND 18th CENTURIES, 
 MUSICAL BIOGRAPHIES, GLEES, SONGS, &c. 
 
 *** Those acquainted with Hone will observe some familiar readings in the following pages, but with faithful acknowledgments 
 Hone was not over scrupulous in giving his authorities. 
 
 The origin of the Greek drama is, by universal consent, referred tothe 
 ceremonies of the worship of Bacchus. The dithyrambs, which cele- 
 brated the triumph of the god, were transformed, by gradual changes, 
 into the drama, which represented a great portion of the national 
 mythology and legendary lore. In a similar way, the Miracle-plays of 
 modern Europe, which were purely religious festivals, became gra- 
 dually transformed into the drama. But, as the dithyramb did not, 
 throughout Greece, become a tragedy, so the Miracle-play, in every 
 European country, did not produce a national drama. England, Spain, 
 and France can alone be said to have succeeded in this ; the reason we 
 shall presently bring forward. 
 
 The first stage of our inquiry will embrace the detailed proofs of the 
 foregoing statements, respecting the uniformity everywhere visible in 
 the causes, which produced the drama. To begin with the Greek : — 
 An altar is erected, and on it a goat sacrificed to the god Diony- 
 sius ; around the altar is a band of drunken revellers, dis- 
 guised as satyrs, dressed in goat-skins and deer-skins, their bodies 
 stained with soot, vermilion, and green, their faces covered with masks 
 or huge leaves ; they dance and sing, roar out obscene jests and impas- 
 sioned songs, throw themselves into fantastic attitudes, and celebrate 
 the virtues, exploits, and sorrows of Bacchus. It is not clear how the 
 drama could proceed from such a “ rabble rout.” We see nothing here 
 but the mummeries, in which most nations have delighted ; the Lithu- 
 anians, the Swedes — nay, even the inhabitants of the Himnialayas— 
 have had such, yet no drama. We might as -well expect to see a 
 tragedy issuing from the mummeries of sweeps on May-day, wdiich 
 were also, we are told, once symbolical and religious. Nevertheless, 
 from this Bacchic rout the drama rose. Arion came, and transformed 
 this irregular band into a regular chorus. The flute was changed for 
 the cithara; the rapid pyrrhic dances for slow and solemn movements; 
 the wildness of jest for the tragic and impassioned strain, which ex- 
 pressed the sorrows and victories of the god. The comic element was 
 not suppressed, but separated from the tragic : it continued to flourish, 
 and gave birth to Comedy. 
 
 The dithyramb was formed ; the chorus was serious ; but a drama was 
 still far from being constituted. Thespis came, and laid the foundation 
 stone. Standing on an elevated platform, he varied the monotony of 
 the songs with recitations in character. He is said to have invented the 
 first actor ; and this one actor sufficed for all the parts, since, by means 
 of a linen mask, he was enabled to represent different characters, who 
 appeared on the platform one after the other, and occasionally answered 
 the chorus. This step, small as it appears, was in truth immense, for 
 it was in the right direction. To the singing of the chorus was now 
 added recitation, and this, with the aid of occasional dialogue, enabled 
 them to represent astory. The firstelementsof tragedy, viz., theassump- 
 tion of character, and the throwing the legend into an action instead 
 of a narration, were thus secured. Phrynicus succeeded Thespis, and 
 made another improvement in the introduction of female characters. 
 He did not venture on adding to the single actor of Thespis, but he 
 used it differently. It is not to be overlooked that, by the time Phryni- 
 cus wrote, the religious character of the drama had undergone con- 
 siderable change. Instead of a purely Dionysiac legend, he introduced 
 subjects of national interest. The ” Phcenissae ” and the “Capture 
 of Miletus” had nothing whatever to do with Bacchus. It is evident, 
 therefore, that, although we have no positive information as to the 
 nature of the plays of Phrynicus, they must have been very different 
 from those of Thespis. The drama had taken another considerable 
 stride : instead of being a mere religious festival, it had admitted sub- 
 jects of human and national interest. The honest populace occasionally 
 took offence ; for, as Plutarch informs us, missing and regretting the 
 satyrie chorus in the legends and tales of national suffering, which 
 Phrynicus and iEschylus represented, they cried out, “ What is this to 
 Bacchus?” 
 
 The English drama pursued a similar course, called “ Mysteries,” 
 or, more accurately, according to Mr. Collier, ” Miracle-plays ; ’ the 
 early plays being throughout Europe exclusively religious. Tliat their 
 object was religious instruction, in the shape of an entertainment, is ex- 
 pressly stated by various authorities. The Miracle-play was nothing 
 but a portion of religious doctrine represented in action ; an amuse- 
 ment with a religious object. The Scriptures were then untratislated, 
 and these plays must have formed one efficient source of religious in- 
 struction, far surpassing church service. 
 
 Mr. Collier, who is well entitled to speak on this subject, says, that 
 “in their earliest state these pieces were of the simplest construction, 
 merely following the incidents of Scripture, or of the Pseudo-Evan- 
 gelium, the dialogue being maintained by the characters introduced. 
 By degrees, however, more invention was displayed, particularly with 
 reference to the persons concerned in the conduct of the story.” 
 
 On looking into these Miracle-plays, we are struck with the extraor-* 
 dmary mixture of simplicity, buffoonery, extravagance, piety, and 
 what, to modern ears, sounds like blasphemy. Priests and sacred per- 
 sons kick and cuff each other, with all the freedom of a modern farce. 
 Scurrilous jests, obscene jests, and' dull, prosing sermons, (ill up the 
 greater portion of the dialogue.^ The excess of rustic buffoonery is fre- 
 
 quently mixed up with the most appalling subjects; as in'the quarrel 
 between Cain and Abel, which commences by an invitation from the 
 former to salute the least honourable part of his person, and that in 
 the least honourable manner. We may say, however, with the author 
 of the “ Historia Histrionica," the taste of that age “ was not so nice 
 and delicate in these matters ; the plain and incurious judgment of our 
 ancestors being prepared with favour, and taking everything ly the 
 easiest handle.” Touches of pathos, and “strains of higher mood,'* 
 occasionally redeem the dreary nonsense of these pieces. Of the former 
 we may notice Abraham’s turning aside to weep, pretending he had lost 
 something, exclaiming, “What water shoots into both mine eyes? 
 I should have been more glad than of all worldly gain, if I had found 
 him once unkind; but I never found him in fault.” It would be a 
 perilous thing for a modern clergyman to lead an ass up to the altar 
 during divine service. The fact, familiar enough to all, that our Saviour 
 entered Jerusalem on the back of an ass, would not suffice to keep 
 down the risible emotions even of the most devout. But \yhat would be 
 the effect, if the ass was not only placed there, but the minister was to 
 begin braying ? Would not every mind revolt at such a scene? Yet 
 our ancestors saw nothing in it but a symbolical act, at which they 
 bowed and crossed themselves. And what do we think now of the act 
 of initiation into the order of Knights Templars, viz., the spitting on the 
 cross? Is it not an infamy, a sacrilege, at which every one shudders? 
 It was once a sacred symbol. 
 
 The obscene jests and fantastic attitudes of the “ Bacchic rout” were 
 symbolical ; of course, in later times, they lost this sense, and had to 
 be stopped. So in Italy we find, about the middle of the fifteenth cen- 
 tury, the Archbishop of Florence, so scandalised by the vulgar buf- 
 fooneries, jests, and gestures, as well as by the absurd masks worn by the 
 actors, that he interdicted all further performance in churches, and 
 commanded the priests to abstain altogether from performing. 
 
 The Miracle-plays were succeeded by “Moralities;” a decided step, 
 though a small one, towards the formation of a drama. The difference 
 between the Moral-play or Morality and its predecessor, consists solely 
 in the characters being abstract and allegorical, instead of concrete 
 and historical. The Morality resembled the Autos Sacramentales of 
 Spain; Truth, Pity, Perverse Ignorance, Justice, Peace, and other 
 moral qualities, usurped the place of scriptural personages. Mr. 
 Collier has well shown how abstract impersonations, by degrees, found 
 their way into Miracle-plays. As these innovations became numerous, 
 the scriptural characters fell into the back-ground. Having got rid of 
 the purely religious subjects, and substituted others, moral and alle- 
 gorical, the next step was easy; it was only necessary to attempt indi- 
 vidual instead of allegorical character, and to represent scenes of real 
 life and manners instead of abstract morals, and the first rude sketch 
 of a drama was accomplished. This step was taken by Nicholas Udall, 
 in the comedy of “Ralph Royster Doyster,” which we have evidence 
 for asserting was in existence as early as 1551. In it, as in “ Gammer 
 Gurton,” “The Four P’s,” and the rest, we see religion and allegory 
 banished, and life, in its every-day aspects, substituted. 
 
 In Germany, the Miracle-play continued down to tbe time of the 
 Reformation; but the learned had previously veirtured on imitations; 
 indeed so little did they trouble themselves to please the public, that 
 they wrote in Latin and performed in universities. The Reformation 
 interrupted the Miracle-plays ; and many causes, the thirty years’ war 
 for one, prevented a national drama supplying the place. 
 
 In our own country there is but one name, from Dryden down to the 
 present century, which can be quoted with applause, and that is 
 Otway. Dryden, Lee, Southern, Addison, Thomson, Johnson, Murphy, 
 Ambrose Phillips, Young, and the rest, need only to be named to be 
 condemned. In France, we need only name La Motte, Diderot, 
 La Harpe, Ducis, Lemercier; in Spain, Montiano and La Huerta. 
 These were men of talent and celebrity; but they were not dramatists. 
 The public applauded their imitations. There was a fashion in admir- 
 ing foreign taste, just as there was in patches and powders. “Cato ” was 
 pronounced a chef d' oeuvre: the pit admired ; coffee-houses rang with 
 eulogiums ; grave-wigged citizens took their families to wohder at.it. 
 But they got tired at last. The French, “ our natural foes,” became 
 supplanted by a return to Shakspeare, and the introduction of German 
 sentimentality. 
 
 The theatres continued to fill as before, and, therefore, people sup- 
 posed the drama was alive; forgetting that the theatre had become a 
 mere amusement. Was it, then, come to this? That drama which, in 
 its high and palmy days, had been a secular pulpit, from whence the 
 poet instructed his nation— instructing them through their emotions — 
 was it#reduced to rivalry with rope-dancers and jugglers ? An amuse- 
 ment, and no more? 'To this complexion it had, indeed, come! In 
 the days of Shakspeare the great public had no source of instruction 
 comparable to that of the stage. Those w^ere not reading days; books 
 were few and dear; the habit of reading was confined to the learned; 
 the mass learnt only from the pulpit and the stage, spending in the 
 bear-garden and skittle-ground the time now bestowed upon cheap 
 literature. The public has become a reading public, so that the in- 
 structive office of the drama has gradually become less and less, and 
 
2 
 
 EVANS’S MUblO AND SUPPER 
 
 instruction, which is now sought in other and more effectual channels, 
 has become separated from the amusement; the result of which is, 
 that the drama has ceased to occupy its literary position. It is purely 
 an amusement, and, as such, must cater for the lower appetites of a 
 miscellaneous public. Hence the increased demand for scenery and 
 spectacle. This separation, though ineyitable, is perhaps the most 
 potent cause of the present decline. The poet feels that he can no 
 longer exercise that power over the national mind which the stage once 
 possessed. A new play, if very successful, will cause people to run 
 after it ; but not until it has been played so many nights that “ all the 
 world ’’has seen it. Formerly, the first night of a new play was an 
 event attended with impatience and literary excitement. The house 
 was always full on such an occasion; the pit was grave with critics. 
 Bad or good, the play was sure almost to cover the managerial outlay 
 by the first night’s receipts. So many persons were interested, that the 
 risk, which is now so enormous, amounted to almost nothing. Of 
 course, the increased splendour of decoration has to do with this ; but 
 why the necessity for decoration, if not because the public can not be 
 otherwise attracted ? When people now “ run after ” a new piece, it is 
 because “a sensation” has been made: they will crowd to see an 
 elephant or a criminal for the same reason. You cannot call this a 
 dramatic taste. 
 
 The usual .answer to all complaints is, that ” the present age is an - 
 dramatic.” It is so, but not for the reason alleged ; not because 
 modern passions are less energetic, modern manners less picturesque, 
 modern actions less heroic; but because the drama has lost its hold 
 upon our wants and sympathies. The ages of Pericles and Elizabeth 
 are now discovered to have been rich in dramatic materials. We are 
 told to regard the stirring adventures, novel opinions, social excite- 
 ments, and energetic passions which characterised those epochs. 
 Facile theorising ! Are not these things as abundant in our own day ? 
 Does the pulse beat more feebly? Is life a weaker struggle ? Are our 
 hopes realised— our ambition less? Are our affections less deep and 
 delicate — our imaginations less audacious ? Is there not a wide-spread 
 social anarchy, which, with the gaunt misery of millions, might furnish 
 subjects and passions as terrible as the tale of “Labdacus?” No one 
 will dare gainsay this; but these hopes, these passions, these wants, 
 and these opinions find other channels than the drama; they are repre- 
 sented in hooks, newspapers, and meetings. We leave the drama for a 
 wider sphere. If, as in Athens, we could assemble all our citizens in 
 one giant theatre, and there represent before them a drama typical of 
 their hopes and struggles, then would the stage be more mighty than 
 the press ; as it is, the stage is insignificant. 
 
 It is useless despairing. Hogarth, in his ” Old Burlington Gate,” 
 represents opera, masque, and pantomime flourishing in all their glory, 
 while our tragic poets are being trundled on a wheelbarrow to oblivion. 
 This is thought to be cutting satire, and to rejoice the hearts of 
 modern speculators on this subject. But, let us ask, what is the vital 
 force of a drama, which can be set aside by masques and pantomimes ? 
 Shakspeare had to contend against children, foreign dancers, and 
 “real” animals. We do not find that these were sufficient “ to ruin 
 the drama” in his day ; whythen should they now? Men will at all times 
 be pleased with anything uncommon, whether acting-children or 
 foreign dancers ; they will always be gratified with splendid scenes and 
 decorations. It is in their nature to be so. But there is a higher 
 faculty in man w'hich must also be delighted : he is not all sense, all 
 wonderment ; he has a soul ; he has thoughts and emotions which de- 
 mand their food. To this higher faculty Shakspeare appealed; and, in 
 spite of the reality of animals and the curiosity to see children, the 
 public flocked to Shakspeare’s theatre, there to enjoy those higher 
 leasures which they could enjoy nowhere else. In our day things 
 ave altered their position. The lower appetites remain the same, and 
 the theatre caters for them ; the higher appetites also remain, but the 
 theatre no longer successfully and exclusively offers them food. At 
 the library these higher pleasures must be sought. For a few pence a 
 man may revel in the finest poetry, be stirred with the most exciting 
 tale, be exalted by the most adventurous discoverer, be aroused to 
 meditation by the profoundest philosophy, or see his cause defended 
 by the press. Why should he go to the theatre for these! The library 
 cannot furnish him with music, with dancing, with spectacle, and 
 brute sagacity; for these he goes to the theatre. 
 
 In fact, the drama has no existence in Europeat the present time. In 
 ©ther words, it has ceased to be the form in which the national poetry, or 
 at least tne greater portion of it, is represented. Amongst the band of 
 poets, which made the beginning of this century illustrious, some few 
 wrote a play or two; but he is a hold man who would pronounce 
 Wordsworth, Coleridge, andByron, dramatists, or assert that their plays, 
 added to the innumerable plays of other writers, form a national 
 drama. 
 
 The public seeks amusement ; the author seeks to afford it; but when 
 he wishes to influence his nation, he does not use the stage. That, which 
 formerly constituted tiie greatness of the drama, and which gave it 
 life, is gone elsewhere : that, which constituted the mere husk (the 
 amusement), remains. 
 
 The interest excited by Shakspeare, Racine, Alfieri, and Schiller, in 
 their respective nations, must not be misunderstood. Their plays are 
 frequently performed, and before delighted audiences. These poets are 
 the national'idols, aud their names arouse such echoes through the world 
 that there is an universal interest excited in them. This is no evidence 
 Of a dramatic taste. We go to see Shakspeare, as we would to gaze 
 upon a Raphael. Our admiration for the prince of painters may be very 
 genuine, yet imply no curiosity for the productions of modern ai^. We 
 may spend days in the Louvre, and never enter an exhibition. The 
 interest excited by Raphael, is felt by almost all men ; he is a celebrated 
 person, and is. tlierefore, the object of curiosity, even to those who care 
 nothing for pictures. Some from fastidiousness, some from pedantry, 
 and otliers from indifference, would walk away from a modern exhibi- 
 tion, who would gladly see the ancient masters. In this way Shak- 
 Epeare, being identified with our national history and literature, is an 
 object of incessant curiosity ; not so the modern dramatists. 
 
 Such has been the course of the drama; such its origin, progress, 
 and decline. The uniformity of the phenomena indicates something 
 
 ROOMS, COVER T-GARDEN. 
 
 more than accidental resemblances, and demands more than a cursory 
 glance. If we be now asked the questions, Can the drama be revived ? 
 is the present depression temporary, or irremediable decay? Our 
 answers may assume somewhat the character of a philosophical con- 
 clusion drawn from historical facts. History says : As an art, such as 
 we behold it in the works of great writers, the drama has for ever 
 passed away; it is now lingering in the last period of its decay; it 
 cannot be revived. This is the reply made by history. But, as it would 
 be presumptuous in us to pronounce upon the future, even from such 
 evidence in the past, we would word our answer somewhat thus 
 
 The drama in its present form has no life, because it no longer springs 
 from the national wants and sympathies, no longer exerci>es an hn- 
 portant and lasting influence on the public mind, no longer occupies 
 the place of anything higher than a mere amusement. It is possible, 
 however, that, at no very distant period, some man will arise with an 
 eye keen enough to perceive the wants of his age in this matter, and 
 with genius enough to fulfil them. Then may the drama, assuming 
 altogether a new form, claiming a new office, and exercising a new and 
 powerful influence, become what it Avas of old, and be, indeed, 
 “ revived .” — See Art. Foreign Quarterly, July, ISfo. 
 
 ORIGIN OF MYSTERIES AND MORALITIES. 
 
 A Jewish play, of which fragments are still preserved in Greek 
 lambics, is the first drama known to have been written on a scripture sub- 
 ject. The principle characters are Moses, Sapphora, and God from ^he 
 bush. Moses delivers the prologue in a speech of sixty lines, and his 
 rod is turned into a serpent on the stage. The author of the play is Eze 
 kial, a Jcav, who is called the tragic poet of the Jews. Warton supposes 
 that he wroteit, after the destruction of Jerusalem, as a political spectacle, 
 to animate his dispersed brethren with the hopes of a future deliver- 
 ance from their captivity, under the conduct of a new Moses, and that 
 it was composed, in imitation of the Greek drama, at the close of the 
 second Translated into Latin by Fr. Morellus. Paris, 1530. 
 
 Warton, vol. ii., p. 371. 
 
 Rymer, the antiquarian, relates, that, in the first ages of Christianity, 
 any one concerned with the theatre Avas not allowed baptism. Cyril 
 declares “ That the pomps of the devil are stage plays and the like 
 vanities.” Tertullian affirms “ That they who in baptism renounced 
 pomp and vanity, cannot go to a stage play without turning apostates.** 
 — Rymer' s Short View of Tragedy, 1698. 
 
 Gregory Nazianzen, Patriarch and Archbishop of Constantinople, one 
 of the Fathers of the Church, and Master of St. Jerome, composed plays 
 from the Old and New Testaments, which he substituted for the plays 
 of Sophocles and Euripides, at Constantinople, where the old Greek 
 stage had flourished until that time. The ancient Greek tragedy Avas a 
 religious spectacle, so the sacred dramas of Gregory Nazianzen Avere 
 formed on the same model, and the choruses were turned into Christian 
 hymns. Folkard declares that the melody of the celebrated hymn to which 
 the name-notes have been given, Ut, Re,Mi, Fa, Sol, La, and which is sung 
 upon the festival of St.John the Baptist, was composed by Sappho,600 years 
 B.C., and subsequently introduced into the Christian Church. All agree, 
 that, in the beginning, the drama was purely a religious worship, and a 
 solemn service for their holydays, and that, afterwards, it came from the 
 temple to the theatre, admitted of a secular alloy, aud grew to be some 
 image of the world and human life. When it Avas brought to the 
 utmost perfection by Sophocles, the chorus continued a necessary 
 part of the tragedy; but the music and dancing, which came along 
 with the chorus, were mere religion, no part of the tragedy, nor had 
 anything of philosophy or instruction in them. — Rymer, p. 19. 
 
 One of the Archbishop’s plays is still extant ; it is a tragedy called 
 “ Christ’s Passion.” The prologue calls it an imitation of Euripides, 
 and, on the same authority, we learn that the patriarch has the honour 
 of introducing the Virgin Mary for the first time on the stage. 
 
 Gregory, all inflamed with the love of God and zeal for his glory, 
 applied himself to the making of comedies and tragedies, and the 
 writing of all such verse, which he performed with so much wit and 
 elegance, and with such rare and admirable sentences, that the Chris- 
 tians found in his writings all they could desiie in the heathen poets. — 
 Ribadeneira’s Lives, vol. i., p. 333. 
 
 At this time acclamations and applauses were used in churches as 
 well as in theatres.— See Clerc’s Lives (1696). p. 289. 
 
 Voltaire’s theory on this subject is also very ingenious, and quite 
 new. Religious plays, he supposes, came originally from Constanti- 
 nople, where the old Grecian stage continued to flourish in some de- 
 gree, and the tragedies of Sophocles and Euripides AA-ere represented 
 until the fourth century. The profane drama, however degenerated, 
 maintained its footing upon the stage, in the East and West, much 
 later than the era assumed in the text. It may be worth Avhile to offer 
 a few illustrations of this position. The imperial edict of 399, which 
 abolished the feast of Majuna, gave free permission for the continuance 
 of all other public entertainments; and among these the theatre, ofcourse, 
 was included. The petition of the African bishops, drawn up in the same 
 year, according to Godfrey, or in 4'1, according to Baronius, merely 
 solicits the suppression of plays on Sundays and other days observed as 
 festivals in the Christian Church, and begs an exemption for all 
 Christians from being compelled to attend tliem. In the year 425, the 
 prayer of this petition was confirmed by Theodosius the younger, and 
 then restricted to the most important feasts in the calendar. Four 
 years after the same Emperor found it necessary to rescind tlie law, 
 which prohibited female Christian proselytes from appearing on the 
 stage, who were thus allowed to resume their profession without fear 
 of spiritual censure. An edict of Justinian forbids deacons, priests, 
 and bishops from attending any specie* of representation ; and under 
 the same Emperor, Gregory, Ei>hop of Antioch, Avas publicly de- 
 famed by the spectators at the theatre, and ri iiculed by the actors upra 
 the stage. In the year 692, the Council of Trnllo prohibited ali Chris- 
 tians, both clergy and laity, under pain of suspension or exconamunica- 
 tion, from following the occupation of a player — Warton, vol. ii.,p. 516. 
 
 Subsequently it would appear that ecclesiastical policy considered it 
 better to divert the mind from the sensuality and ind> cencies of heathen 
 festival*. The heathens were delighted with the festivals of their gods, 
 
3 
 
 EVANS’S MUSIC AND SUPPER ROoMS, COVENT-GARDEN. 
 
 and unwilliTi'’ to part with those delights, and, therefore, Gregory 
 Thaumaturgus, wlio died in 263, in order to facilitate their confersion, 
 instituted annual festivals to the saints and martyrs. Hence it came 
 to pass that, for the exploding the festivals of the heathens, the prin- 
 cipal festivals of the Cliristians succeeded in their room; thus the keep- 
 ing of Christmas with joy and feasting, and playing and sports, suc- 
 ceeded, in the room of the Bacchanalia and Saturnalia; the celebrating 
 of May-day with flowers, in the room of Floralia; and the keeping of 
 festivals to the Virgin Mary, John the Bapti»-t, and divers of the 
 apostles, in the room of the solemnities, at the entrance of the sun into 
 the signs of the zodiac in the old Julian calendar. — Sir laaac Newton 
 on Daniel, p. 204. 
 
 In 1417, at the Council of Constance, the English fathers performed 
 the mystery of the Massacre of the Holy Innocents. In this play, a 
 low buffoon was introduced, who desired his lord to dub him a 
 knight, that he might be qualified to go on the adventure of killing 
 the mothers of the children of Bethlehem. The good women of Beth- 
 lehem, however, attacked the knight-errant with their spinning-wheels, 
 broke his head with their distaff's, abused him as a coward and a dis- 
 grace to chival.'y, and sent him home to Herod as a recreant champion. 
 — Warton, vol. i., p. 242. 
 
 In the Royal Library, Paris, there is a MS. note in French, purporting 
 to be an extract from an old chronicle, entitled “ Histoire de Metz, 
 1490, Veritable,” where it appears that the performance of the “ Passion” 
 was attended by many foreign lords and ladies, and that there were 
 lanthorns placed in the windows during the whole time of the plays. 
 There were nine ranges of seats, in height rising by degrees ; all 
 around and behind were great and long seats for the lords and ladies. 
 God was represented by the Lord Nicolle, Lord of Neufchatel, in 
 Loraine, who was curate of St. Victor, of Metz ; he was nigh dead 
 upon the cross, if iiehad not been assisted, and it was determined that 
 another priest should be placed on the cross to counterfeit the person 
 of the crucifixion for that day; but on tbe following day the said 
 Victor, curate, counterfeited the resurrection, and performed his part 
 very creditably during that day. Another priest, called Monsire Jean de 
 Nicey, and who was cliaplain of Metrange, played Judas, and was nearly 
 dead while hanging, for his heart failed him ; wherefore he was quickly 
 unhung and carried oflT ; and there ” the mouth of hell ” was very well 
 done, for it opened and shut when the devils required to enter and 
 come out. 
 
 On the fine east window of York Cathedral, before the fire, hell was 
 painted with an enormous mouth, containing the wicked at their final 
 doom. In the west front of Lincoln Cathedral, founded 1088, there is 
 a bas-relief, representing hell with a monstrous mouth vomiting forth 
 flames and serpents, with two figures walking into it, trampling over 
 the naked body of a third lying prostrate. Gough considered it to be 
 more ancient than the cathedral, and thought it was brought from 
 some old church, and placed in front of the cathedral whe At was 
 built. — Gough’s Camden, vol. ii,, p, 368. 
 
 In the reign of Francis I., 1541, the performance of a grand ' ystery 
 in. the “ Acts of the Apostles” was proclaimed with great solemnity, 
 and acted, at Paris, for many succeeding days before the nobility, 
 clergy, and a large assemblage, in the Hotel de Flandres. These plays, 
 written in French rhyme, by the Brothers Grelan, were printed in two 
 vols. folio, black letters, under letters patent from the King, The 
 dramatis personce were God the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, the 
 Blessed Virgin, Joseph, &c., Satan, Belial, the Attorney-General of 
 Hell, Cerberus, the porter, and a multitude of celestial, terrestial, and 
 infernal personages, amounting altogether to four hundred and eighty- 
 five characters. From the public notices and proclamations prefixed to 
 the work, it is evident much importance vras attached to it. Bayle 
 called it a rare and uncommon work. The notices may be seen, in the 
 original French, in the end of “ Rymer’s View of Tragedy.” 
 
 In the ” Play of Pentecost,” some idea may be formed of the gross- 
 ness and absurdity of portions of these mysteries, according to modern 
 notions, and yet many were remarkable for delicacy and tenderness of 
 expression. In the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin, she is addressed 
 by an angel sent to convey her to heaven. Mary requests that, before 
 they take her soul, her body may be laid asleep. She gent'v reclines 
 herself, and dies. The virgins enter, and, wrapping the body in a sheet, 
 carry her away. Gabriel receives her soul, and while he holds ic, 
 gives direction for the funeral. At his desire, an anthem of joy is sung 
 for the assumption, and a female then comes in, and says that they have 
 stripped the body to wash it, as, in holy charity, they were bound to do. 
 But such is tiie splendor thereof, and the brilliancy issuing from the 
 limbs, that it is not possible for human eyes to sustain it. Here they 
 all ascend into paradise, and carry the soul of the Blessed Virgin with 
 them. — Bayle, Die. Art. Choequet. 
 
 At Berlin, in 1804 and 5, the sacred comedy of “David,” in five acts, 
 with music, choruses, &c., was performed by the actors of the National 
 Theatre. Tlie same play was performed at Vienna, while the Congress 
 was held there in 1815. The back of the stage, extending into the open 
 air, gradually ascended to a distance sufficient to admit carriages and 
 horses, and the evolutions of at least five hundred Austrian soldiers, 
 infantry and cavalry, who, dressed in the characters of Jews and 
 Philistines, carried muskets and carbines, defiled and deployed, 
 charged with the bayonet, let off their fire-arms and artillery, to repre- 
 sent the battles described in the Book of Kings. The Emperor Alex- 
 ander, the King uf Prussia, and other monarchs, their ministers, and 
 the representatives of different courts at the Congress, attended these 
 plays at the great theatre.— Fan der Wien. 
 
 In 1816 were exhibited, at Strasbourg, scenes representing particular 
 events in the life of Christ, from the pictures of the best masters. 
 Not a word was spoken, and there was very little motion. Sacred 
 music was performed by female voices concealed from view. In this 
 way were successively exhibited the Annunciation, by Guido; the 
 Adoration of the Shepherds, by Domenichino; the Offerings of the 
 "Wise Men, by Rembrandt ; the Raising of the Widow’s Son, by 
 Da Vinci; the Disciples at Emmaus, by Titian ; the Last Supper, by 
 Cuido; the Washing of the Disciples’ feet by Reubens; the Crucifixion, 
 by Reubens; the Descent from the Cross, by Raphael; the Resurrection, 
 by Caxacci.— Blackwood’s Mag., Nov. 1, 1817. 
 
 ENGLISH CONTROVERSIAL AND DIVINITY PLAYS. 
 
 The established religion changed, within eleven or twelve years, 
 many times. These sudden revolutions, in the opinions of mankind, 
 form one of the most striking events in the history of the human mind. 
 Every pen was engaged in the dispute. The followers of the old and 
 new profession had their respective enthusia-^ts. Protestants, alter- 
 nately with the Catholics, used the stage and drama as instruments 
 of controversy, each party, of course, complaining, of their licentiousness. 
 The Protestant Li'urgy, restored at the accession of Elizabeth after its 
 suppression under Mary, was attacked by innumerable ballads and in- 
 terludes. The opposite party had their poets, and every day produced 
 some popular ballad for or against the Reformation. “The stage,” 
 observes Dr. Percy, “in those days literally was, what wise men have 
 always wished it to be, a supplement to the pulpit. Chapter and verse 
 were as formally quoted as in a sermon.” On the other side “the new 
 Gospellers” were ridiculed by the Catholics, and found support in the 
 elder part of their audience, who still clung to their oM doctrines ; the 
 young adopting the Reformation in its fullest sense. The conduct of 
 the Catholics called down a proclamation from Edward the sixth, 1549, 
 wherein we find that the government was most anxious that these play£ 
 should not be performed in “the English tongue;” whence we may 
 mfer that the government was not alarmed at treason in Latin. This 
 proclamat/.on states “ that a great number of those, that be common 
 players of interludes or palys, as well within the City of London as else- 
 where, for the most part play such interludes as contain matter tend- 
 ing to sedition, &c.” Here the King charges his subjects that they shall 
 not, secretly or openly, play, in the English tongue, on pain of imprison- 
 ment. This cleared the stage of Catholic dramatists, but reformed 
 INTERLUDES Were afterwards permitted. Statutes and councils of the 
 Church, which for a time regulated, at length abolished all religious 
 plays, as “pestiferous and noysome to the peace of the Church.”— 
 D’Israeli, Cur. Lit. 
 
 In the year 1547, a proclamation was published to prohibit preaching. 
 This was a temporary expedient to suppress the turbulent harangues of 
 the Catholic ministers, who still composed no small part of the paro- 
 chial clergy; for the Court of Augmentations took care, perpetually, to 
 supply the vacant benefices with the disincorporated monks, in orderto 
 exonerate the exchequer from the payment of their annuities. These 
 men, both from inclination and interest, and hoping to restore the 
 Church to its ancient orthodoxy and opulence, exerted all their powers 
 of declamation in combating the doctrines of Protestantism, and in 
 alienating the minds of the people from the new doctrines and reformed 
 rites of worship. Being silenced by authority, they had recourse to the 
 stage, and from the pulpit removed their polemics to the pla 3 '-house. 
 Their farces became more successful than their sermons. The people 
 flocked eagerly to the play-house, when deprived not only of their 
 ancient pageantries, but of their pastoral discourses in the Church. 
 Archbishop Cranmer and the Protector Somerset were the chief objects 
 of their dramatic invectives. At length the same authority, which had 
 checked the preachers, found it expedient to control the players, and 
 a new proclamation was promulgated in the following terms. The 
 inquisitive reader will observe that, from this instrument, plays appear 
 to have been a general and familiar species of entertainment ; 
 that they were not only acted in London but in the great towns ; and 
 that the profession of a player, even in our present sense, was common 
 and established: — “Forasmuch as a great number of those that be 
 common players of enterludes and playes, as well within the City of 
 London as elsewhere within the realm, doe, for the most part, play such 
 enterludes as contain matter tending to sedition, and contemning of 
 sundry good orders and laws, whereupon are grown, and daily are 
 likely to growe and ensure much disquiet, division, tumults, and 
 uprores in this realm, the King’s Majesty, by the advice and consent 
 of his dearest unkle, Edward, Duke of Somerset, and the rest of his 
 highnesse Privie Councell, straightly chargeth and commandeth all 
 and evrie his Majesty’s subjects, of whatsoever state, order, or degree 
 they be, that from the ninth day of this presen t month of August, untill the 
 feast of All Saiots next coming, neither they, nor any of them, openly or 
 secretly, play, in the English tongue, any kind of enterlude, play, dia- 
 logue, or other matter set forth in form of play, in any place, public or 
 private, within this realm, upon pain, that whosoever shall play in 
 English any such play, enterlude, dialogue, or other matter, shall suffer 
 imprisonment, or other punishment at the pleasure of his M;ijesty.” 
 But when the short date of this proclamation expired, the P».eformers, 
 availing themselves of the stratagems of an enemy, attacked the Catho- 
 lics with their own weapons, in an interlude, “Lusty Juventus, 
 lively describing the frailtie of youth, of nature prone to vice, by grace 
 •and good councell traynable to vertue.” The chapter and verse of 
 scripture are often announced, and, in one scene, a personage, called 
 “ God’s Mercyfull Promises,” cites Ezekial as from the pulpit: — 
 
 “ The Lord, by His prophet Ezekial, sayeth in this wise playnlye, as 
 in the xxiii it doth appear : — Be converted, O ye children.” 
 
 From this interlude, we learn that the young men, which was natu- 
 ral, were eager to embrace the new religion, and that the old were un- 
 willing to give up those doctrines and modes of worship to which they 
 had been habitually attached, and had paid the most implicit andrever- 
 ential obedience from their childhood. To this circumstance the devil, 
 who is made to represent scripture as a novelty, attributes the destruc- 
 tion of the spiritual kingdom. 
 
 The old people would believe stil in my laws, 
 
 But the younger sort lead them a contrary way! 
 
 They will not believe, they playnly say. 
 
 In old traditions made by men. 
 
 But they wyll live, as the scripture teacheth them. 
 
 The devil, then, in order to recover his interest, applies to his son 
 Hypocrisy, and says, that the Scripture can teach no more than that 
 God is a good man, a phrase which Shakspeare, with great good humour, 
 has put into the mouth of Dogberry. But he adds an argument, which 
 ♦he Catholics sometimes seriously used against the Protestants 
 
 The worlde was never merry, 
 
 Bince children wase so bolfiej 
 
EVANS’S MUSIC AND SUPPER ROOMS, COYENT-GARDEN. 
 
 \ Now every boy will be a teacher, 
 
 ' The father a foole aad the chyld a preacher. 
 
 It was among the reproaches of Protestantism, that the inexperienced 
 and the unlearned thought themselves at liberty to explain the Scrip- 
 tures, and to debate the most abstruse and metaphysical topics of 
 theological speculation. The two songs in the character of Youth, at 
 the opening and close of this interlude, are flowery and not inelegant. 
 — Warton, vol. iti., pp. 172, 3, 4, 5. 
 
 Note.— It should, however, be remembered, that the Reformers had 
 themselves shown the way to this sort of abuse long before. Bale’s 
 comedy of the “Three Laws," printed in 1538, is commonly supposed 
 to be a ‘ Mystery,’ and merely doctrinal : but it is a satirical play against 
 Popery, and, perhaps, the first of the kind in our language. Bale, a cler- 
 gyman, and afterwards a Bishop in Ireland, ought to have known that 
 this profane and impious parody was more offensive and injurious to 
 true religion than any part of the missal which he means to ridicule. 
 “Infidelity’’ then begins, in English verse, a conversation with “Lex 
 Moysis,’’ containing the most low and licentious obscenity, which I am 
 ashamed to transcribe. This is the most intolerable part of “ Infidel- 
 ity’s” dialogue.— p. 173. 
 
 The following may serve as specimens of the writings of each party, 
 from “Dodsley’s Old Plays.’’ Edit. 1741. 
 
 “A New Enterlude, no less wittie than pleasant, entitled ‘New 
 Custom.’ Devised of late, and lor diverse causes nowe set forthe. 
 Never before this tyrae imprinted, mdlxxiii. 
 
 Preface. — I have not been able to discover who was the author of 
 iliis piece. It was wrtiten purposely to vindicate and promote the 
 Reformation. It was printed in 1573, and contrived so that four people 
 might act in it. This was frequently done for the convenience of 
 those who were disposed to divert or improve themselves, by represent- 
 ing these kinds of entertainments in their own houses. Four may 
 play this interlude. 
 
 Perverse Doctrine. 
 
 Do you not see howe these newe-fangled prattling elfes 
 Prinke up so pertly of late in every place? 
 
 And go about us auncients flatly to deface ? 
 
 As who should say, in shorte time, as learned as wee. 
 
 As wise to the world, as good they might accoumptid bee. 
 
 Na}'e, naye, if many years and graie heares do know no more 
 But that every pevishe boye hath even as much witte in store ; 
 
 By the masse, then, have I lyved to longe, and I would I were dead 
 If I have not more knowledge than a thousand of them in my head. 
 For how should they have learning that were born but even now i 
 As fit a sighte it were to see a goose shodde or a saddled cow. 
 
 As to hear the pratlinge of any soch. Jack Straw; 
 
 For when he hath all done, I compte him but a very dawe. 
 
 As in London not longe since, you wot well where. 
 
 They rang to a sermon, and we chanced to be there ; 
 
 Up start the preacher, I thinke not past twenty yeares olde. 
 
 With a sounding voyce and audacitie bolde. 
 
 And beganae to revile at the holie sacrament and transubstanciation. 
 
 I never hearde one knave or other make such a declaration ; 
 
 But— but if I had the boye in a convenient place, 
 
 Wath a good rodde or twain, not past one ower’s space, 
 
 I woulde so have scourged my marchant that his breech should ake 
 So long as it is since that he those wordes spake. 
 
 What ! younge men to be medlers in divinitie ? It is a godless sight 
 Yet theiein nowe almost is every boye’s delight. 
 
 No booke nowe in their handes, but all Scripture, Scripture ; 
 Eytherthe whole Bible or the New Testament, you may be sure. 
 
 Give them that whiche is meete for them, a racket and a ball. 
 
 Or some other trifle to busie their heades with all ; 
 
 Playing at coytes or nine pooles, or shooting at buttes. 
 
 There let them be, a Goddc’s name, till their harles ake and their 
 guttes. 
 
 Let us alone with divinitie, which are of riper age ; 
 
 Youthe is rashe, they say, but old men hath the knowledge. 
 
 New Custome entrelh alone. 
 
 Paule to the Corinthians plainly doth tell. 
 
 That their behaviour pleased him not well ; 
 
 Sainte Paule prophecied that worse times should ensue. 
 
 In novissimis venient quidam, saith hee, this is trewe: 
 
 Adulterie no vice, it is a thing so rife, 
 
 A stale jest nowe, to lie with another manne’s wyfe; 
 
 For pride, that is now a grace ; for rounde aboute 
 The humbte spirited is termed a foole or a lowte ; 
 
 Whoso will bee so drunken that he scarcely knoweth his waye, 
 
 O, hee is a good fellowe, so now a daies they saye ; 
 
 Gluttonie is hospitalitie, while they meate and drinke spill 
 Which would relieve diverse whom famine doth kill ; 
 
 As for all charitable deedes, they be gone God noweth well. 
 
 Perverse Doctrine. 
 
 It were good to beate thee till thy head bleede. 
 
 Or to scourge thee well favoured lie at a carte’s tayle, 
 
 To teache such an horeson to blaspheme and rayle 
 At such holie misteries and matters so hie 
 As thou speakest of nowe, and raylest at so lately. 
 
 New Custome. 
 
 Verilie, I rayled not; so far as I can tell, 
 
 1 spake but advisedly, I know very well ; 
 
 F«r i wyll stand to it, whatsoever I sayde. 
 
 ' • Perverse Doctrine. 
 
 Wilt thou soe? But I will make thee well afraid«. 
 
 To recant thy wordes, 1 holde thee a pounde, 
 
 Bel’ore thou departe hence out of this grounde. 
 
 the 
 
 what 
 
 New Customs. 
 
 To recite them agayne, I am not afrayde : 
 
 I sayde that the masse, and such trumperie as that. 
 
 Were flatt against Godde’s woorde and primitive constitution. 
 
 Crept in through covetousnesse and superstition. 
 
 Perverse Doctrine. 
 
 What ! for a childe to meddle with the Bible ? 
 
 New Customs, 
 
 Yea, sure ; more better than so to be idle. 
 
 Perverse Doctrine. 
 
 Is studie, then, idleness? That is a new tearme. 
 
 New Custome. 
 
 They say better to be idle than to do harme. 
 
 Perverse Doctrine. 
 
 What harm doth knowledge ? I pray thee tell me . 
 
 New Custome. 
 
 Knowledge puffeth up, in Sainte Paule you may see. 
 
 ‘An Enterlude, called ‘ Lusty Juventus,’ lively describing the Frailtie 
 of Youth; of Nature prone to Vice; by grace and good councell 
 traynable to Vertue. Imprynted at London, in St, Paule’s Church 
 Yeard, by Abraham Vele, at the Sygne of the Lambe.” 
 
 Another instance may be quoted on the side of the Reformed, in the 
 play of “ Lusty Juventus.” Youthful passion is the weakness of the 
 hero. Satan and his old son. Hypocrisy, introduce him to a seductive 
 mistress, “ Abominable Living.” The Scriptures are freely given in a 
 dramatic form : — 
 
 I will show you what Sainte Paule doth declare 
 In his Epistle to the Hebrews, and the X. chapter. 
 
 The old is represented clinging, from habit and affection, to 
 associations of their youth; the young is ardent in establishing w 
 is new. 
 
 Devil. 
 
 The olde people would believe stil in my laws. 
 
 But the younger sort lead them a contrary way. 
 
 They will not believe, they playnly say. 
 
 In olde traditions made by men ; 
 
 But they wyll lyve as the Scripture teacheth them. 
 
 Hypocrisy informs the Devil of his obligations to him, and, in a 
 curious catalogue of holy things, recounts his services : — 
 
 And I brought up such superstition. 
 
 Under the name of holiness and religion, 
 
 That deceived almost all. 
 
 As holy hermits and friars. 
 
 Holy priests, holy bishops. 
 
 Holy monks, holy abbots. 
 
 Yea, and all obstinate liars; 
 
 Holy saints, holy images, 
 
 Holy crosses, holy bells. 
 
 Of mine own invention. 
 
 Had not you a holy son ? 
 
 There are a number of verses in the plav, and two songs of more than 
 average merit — “In youth is pleasure,” and “Report me to you.” 
 The conversations between “ Lusty Juventus” and his mistress, 
 “Abominable Living,” are singular, as a compound of religion and 
 obscenity; they could not be inserted here. 
 
 These Catholic dramas would afford some speculations to historical in- 
 quirers. We know that they made very free strictures on the first heads 
 of the Reformation— on Cromwell, Cranraer, and their party. Some 
 of the Catholic dramas were long afterwards secretly performed among 
 Catholic families. In an unpublished letter of the times, I find a 
 cause, in the Star Chamber, respecting a play acted at Christmas, 1614, 
 at the house of Sir John Yorke, the consequences of which ivere heavy , 
 fines and imprisonment. The letter-writer describes it as containing 
 many foul passages, to the vilifying of our religion and exacting of 
 Popery, for which he and his lady, as principal procurers, were fined 
 one thousand pounds apiece, and imprisonment in the Tower for a year ; 
 two or three of his brothers at five hundred pounds apiece, and others 
 in other sums. — Disraeli's Curiosities of Literature. 
 
 Although not aware of any controversial drama in Scotland, it must 
 not be supposed that bad passions were idle. 
 
 We have here a witty libel on the Reformation, under King Edward 
 the Sixth, written about the year 1550. The author artfully declines 
 entering into the merits of the cause, and wholly reflects on the lives 
 and actions of many of the reformed. It must be acknowledged that 
 our libeller had, at that time, sufficient room for just satire. For, under 
 the banners of the Reformation, had enlisted themselves many who had 
 private ends to gratify ; many who were of no religion; many greedy 
 courtiers, who thirsted after the possessions of the Church ; and many 
 dissolute persons, vho wanted to be exempt from all ecclesiastical 
 censures, and these men were loudest, of all others, in their cries for 
 Reformation. — Percy, vol. ii., p. 293. 
 
 The following is asserted by Ritson and Percy to be the oldest printed 
 ballad known ; — 
 
 On tue Downfall of Thomas Lord Crumwell, July 28, 1540. 
 
 Both man and chylde is glad to here tell 
 Of that false traytoure, Thomas Crumwell, 
 
 Now that he is set to Itarne to spell, 
 
 Synge trolle on away; 
 
 When fortune lokyd thee in thy face. 
 
 Thou haddyst fayre tyme, but thou lackydst grace; 
 
 Thy cofers with golde thou fyllydst a-pace, 
 
 Syng trolle, &c. 
 
EVANS’S MUSIC AND SUPPER ROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN. 
 
 Both plate and chalys came to thy fyst. 
 
 Thou lockydst them up where no man wyst, 
 
 Till in the Kynge’s treasoure such things were rayst, 
 
 Synge trolle, &c. 
 
 Both crust and crumme came thorowe thy handes, 
 
 Thy marchaundyse sayled over the sandes, 
 
 Therefore nowe thou art layde fast in bandes, 
 
 Synge trolle, &c. 
 
 All they that w'ere of the new trycke, 
 
 Against the Churche thou baddest them stycke; 
 
 Wherefore now thou hast touchyd the quycke, 
 
 „ Synge trolle, &c. 
 
 Both sacramentes and sacramentalles 
 Thou wouldst not suffer within thy walles, 
 
 Nowe let us praye for all Chrysten soules, 
 
 ' Synge trolle, &c. 
 
 VVho-so-ever dyd winne, thou would not lose, 
 
 VVherfore all Englande doth hate thee, as I suppose, 
 
 Because thou wast false to the redolent rose, 
 
 Synge trolle, &c. 
 
 Yet save that soule that God hath bought, 
 
 And for thy carcase care thou nought, 
 
 Let it suffer payne, as it hath wrought, 
 
 Synge trolle, &c. 
 
 Other verses may be seen in Ritson and Percy. The latter adds : — 
 “ The foregoing piece gave rise to a poetic controversy, which was 
 carried on through a succession of seven or eight ballads, w^ritten for 
 and against Lord Cromwell. These are preserved in a folio Collection 
 of Proclamations, made in the reigns of Henry VIII., Edward, Mary, 
 and Elizabeth, in the Library of the Antiquarian Society.” 
 
 John Nobody. 
 
 In December, when the dayes draw to be short, 
 
 After November, when the nights wax noysome and long. 
 
 As I past by a place privily at a port, 
 
 I saw one sit by himself making a song. 
 
 » * » » * * 
 
 John Nobody, quoth I, what new's? Thou soon note and tell 
 What maner men thou meane, thou art so mad. 
 
 He said — These gay gallants that will construe the Gospel, 
 
 As Solomon the sage, with semblance full sad ; 
 
 To discuss divinity they nought adread ; 
 
 More meet it were for them to milk kye at a fleyke. 
 
 Thou lyest, quoth I, thou losel, like a lend lad. 
 
 He said he was little John Nobody, that durst not speake. 
 
 The entire poems may be seen in Percy, vol. iii., p. 294, and can be 
 looked upon as specimens of public feeling, during the most interesting 
 period of English history. 
 
 “ Every Man.”— The design of this Morality is to inculcate great 
 reverence for Old Mother Church. It.was published early in the reign of 
 Henry VIII., and is given from a black letter copy, preserved in the 
 library of Lincoln Cathedral, prefaced as follows; — ‘‘Here begynnetli 
 a Treatyse, How the Hye Fader of Heveti sendeth Dethe to Somon 
 Every Creature to Come and Gyve a Counte of Theyr Lyves in this 
 Worlde, and is in maner of a Moralle Play.” The subject of this 
 piece is the summoning of man out of the world by death; and its 
 moral is, that nothing will then avail a man but a well-spent life. God 
 is represented on the stage, and, after some general complaints of the 
 degeneracy of mankind, calls for Death, and orders him to bring before 
 his tribunal ” Every Man,” for so is called the personage who repre- 
 sents the human race. ” Every Man” appears, and receives the summons 
 with all the marks of confusion and terror. When Death is withdrawn, 
 “ Every Man” applies for Pi,elief,in his distress, to Fellowship, Kindred, 
 Goods, or Riches; but they successively renounce and forsake him. 
 In this disconsolate state, he betakes himself to “ Good Dedes,” who, 
 after upbraiding him with his long neglect of her, introduces him to 
 her sister, Knowledge, and she leads him to the Holy Man, who ap- 
 points him penance; this he inflicts upon himself on the stage, and 
 then withdraws to receive the sacrament. On his return he becomes 
 faint, and, after Strength, Beauty, Discretion, and Five Wits (that is, 
 the Five Senses), have all taken their final leave of him, dies on the 
 spot, “ Good Dedes” remaining with him. to the last. Then, an angel 
 descends to sing his requiem; a person called the “ Doctour” recapitu- 
 lates the whole, and delivers the moral, telling the audience to forsake 
 Pride, and remember Beauty, Five Wits, Strength, and Discretion— 
 They all at last do Every Man forsake, 
 
 Save his “ Good Dedes,” there doth he take; 
 
 If his rekenynge be not clene whan he doth come, 
 
 God wyll saye — lie, maledicti, in ignem elermim; 
 
 And he that hath his accounte hole and sounde, 
 
 Hye in heven he shall be crounde ; 
 
 Unto whiche place God bringe us all thyder, 
 
 That we may lyvebody and soule togyder; 
 
 Therto helpe the Trynyte : 
 
 Amen, say ye, for Saynte Charyte. 
 
 Encomiums on the priesthood : — 
 
 Five Wyttes. 
 
 There is no emperour, kynge, duke, or baron 
 
 That of God hath commycion, as hath the leest priest in the worlde • 
 For of the blessed sacramentes pure and benynge ’ 
 
 He beareth the keyes, and thereof hath the cure 
 For man’s redempcyon ; it is ever sure, 
 
 Whiche God for our soules’ medycyne 
 Gave us oute of his herte with grete payne. 
 
 Here in this transytory lyfe, for thee and me, 
 
 The blessed sacraments VII, there be — 
 
 -^■^aptysm, Confyrmaciou, with preeifthode good, .. .. _ 
 
 And the sacryment of Godde’s precyons fleshe and blood, 
 
 Maryage, the holy extreme unccyon, and penaunce. 
 
 These seven be good to have in remembrance, 
 
 Gracyous sacraments of hye devynyte. '' 
 
 Every Man. 
 
 Fayne wolde I receive that holy body. 
 
 And mekely to my ghostly fader I wyll go. 
 
 Five Wyttes. > • , 
 
 Every Man, that is the best that ye can do ; ' 
 
 God wyll you to salvacion brynge, 
 
 For preesthood excedeth all other thynge; 
 
 To us holy Scripture they do teeche, 
 
 And converteth man fro synne, heven to reche; 
 
 God hath to them more power gyven 
 Than to any aungel that is in heven ; 
 
 The preest byiideth and unbyndeth all bandes 
 Bothe in erthe and in heven. 
 
 God gave preest that dygnyte. 
 
 And setteth them in his stede amonge us to be; 
 
 Thus be they above aungels in degree. 
 
 Hawkins, Orig. of Eng. Drama, vol. 1, p. 61. 
 
 Theatrically considered, Mysteries are dramatic representations of 
 religious subjects from the Old or New Testament, or Apocryphal story, 
 or the lives of saints. Moralities are dramatic allegories, in which the 
 characters personify certain vices or virtues, with the intent to enforce 
 some moral or religious principle. Moralities were of later origin than 
 Mysteries ; but they existed together, and, sometimes, each partook of 
 the nature of the other. A dramatic piece in MS., entitled "The 
 Castle of Good Perseverance,” formerly belonging to the late Dr. Cox 
 Macro, is of this mixed character. In a sort of stage direction written 
 on the first leaf, the amanuensis has drawn a diagram of two circles, 
 one within the other; in the space, between these two circles, he has 
 written in words, filling the circumference, “ This is the wat>r a bowte 
 the place, if any dyche may be mad it schall be pleyed; or ellys that it 
 be strongely barryd al a bowte; and lete nowth ov’r m.a,ny sty telerys be 
 w’t inne the place.” On the outside|of the “dyche” or circle, at five 
 several stations, are written words, d'enotiog the relative positions of 
 five scaffolds, and the characters of the play. 
 
 Though there let no existing memorial of the representations of mys- 
 teries in England, since the latter end of the sixteenth century, yet, for 
 some time after the Reformation, mysteries and moralities continued to 
 be written expressly to promote and secure the new order of things. 
 They lashed the Catholics unsparingly, who do not appear to have at 
 all ventured on retorting the same way, except in the reign of Henry 
 VIII., by a dramatic piece, entitled “Every Man, in manner of a 
 Moralle Play,” designed to reconcile the people to the doctrines and 
 worship of the ancient Church.” — Dodsley’s Old Plays. 
 
 Dr. Burney purchased, at the sale of the Hon. Topham Beauclerc and 
 the Rev. Mr. Croft, many Italian mysteries, evidently earlier than the 
 discovery of printing. He mentions that the first dramatic representa- 
 tion was a spiritual comedy, performed at Padua, 1243. In 1554, were 
 printed, at Rome, the statutes of a company instituted in that city in 
 12G4, whose chief employment was to represent the sufferings of Christ 
 in Passion-week. — Burney, Hist, of Mus. 
 
 Milton’s sublime poem “ The Paradise Lost,” is considered to be 
 derived from Italian Mysteries, entitled*' La Scena Tragica d’ Adamoed 
 Eva; da Troilo Lancetta, Benacensa, Venetia. 1644.” 
 
 “ The Adamo of Andreini,” printed at Perugia 1641, and from “ The 
 Adone of Marino,” pointed cut by Bishop Newton in his edition of 
 Paradise Lost. 
 
 The Sophonisba of Thomson is derived from the Sophonisba of 
 Tressino, and Addison’s Cato from the Catoni of Metastasio.— 
 Appendix No. 1. 
 
 Mrs. Hannah More’s sacred dramas may fairly be considered as 
 moralities. 
 
 As far as can be ascertained, the last Miracle-play was acted at 
 Chester, by the Company of Tailors, in 1675; at Kenilworth, near 
 Coventry, 1575; at Bartholomew Fair, in Southwell’s Booth, in Quen 
 Ann’s time; and at Southwark Fair, 1738, 
 
 Comedies were written before tragedies.— Sindey Hawkins's En~ 
 quiry. 
 
 The first comedy, “Ralph Rcister Doister,” was written by Nicholas 
 Udal, head master of Eton, who wrote several Latin plays, to be acted 
 in the long nights of winter by his boys. “ Gammer Gurton’s Needle ” 
 was written twenty years afterwards. The latter comedy long held pre- 
 cedence in our dramatic annals. — Collier, Hallam, Warton. “Gammer 
 Gurtoii’s Needle ” was first published in 1575, and has long been known 
 as the production of Bishop Sill. It appears by this play that the 
 practise of entertaining the audience with music between the acts pre- 
 vailed in the very infancy of the stage. — Hawkins. 
 
 The abuse of performing in churches led to the practise of 
 performing plays in inn yards, on scaffolds, or on a stage, erected 
 in the street, or upon a green adjoining a town or village, some- 
 times in the public halls of boroughs and cities, and sometimes in 
 the dwellings of the nobility. There were two important personages 
 always ready, Vice and the Devil, the latter a sort of wife to Mr, Vice, 
 who, upon every occasion, received kicks and thumps without number. 
 Mr. Vice generally possessed a lath or golden stick, and poor Mrs. 
 Devil had much to endure. In the opinions of Mr. Collier and Mr. 
 Hallam, the offsprings of this happy pair are the beloved friends of our 
 childhood, dear Mr, and Mrs. Punch. 
 
 The following is curious, as an instance not without grace. Seven 
 deadly sins have to contend with Patience, Humility, Charity, &c. 
 They are beaten with roses, flung at them from the walls, until they are 
 “black and bio,” then a bad angel takes on his back one of the sins 
 setts off for the infernal regions, ending his speech “ Have good daye, 
 
 I goo to Helle.” The other sins are defeated by virtues attired as vir- - 
 ins, who come in singing—. 
 
6 
 
 EYANS’S MUSIC AND SUPPER ROOMS, COYENT-GARDEN. 
 
 All men example here may take, 
 
 To save you from synnynge, ever at the hegynnynge. 
 Thanks on youre las-t endynge Te deum laudamus. 
 
 Collier, Warton. 
 
 The first tragedy, divided into acts, that has been met with, is in 
 Dodsley’s Old Plays, vol. i., entitled “ A Tragedye or Enterlude, many- 
 festyng the chefe promyses of God unto man, by ali ages in the old 
 lawe, from the fall of Adam to the incarnacyon of the Lorde Jesus 
 Christ. Compyled by Johan Bale, Anno Domini, mdxxxviii.” — This 
 play was published thirty years after printing was first brought into 
 England, not in the black letter, but in a letter imitating the old MS. 
 of the time. This is one of the plays performed by the Parish Clerks 
 of London in early times. 
 
 Interlocutores. 
 
 Pater coelestis. Adam, primus homo. 
 
 Justus Noah. Abraham fidelis. 
 
 Moses sanctus. David, rex pius. 
 
 Esaias propheta. Joannes Baptista. 
 
 Balens Prolocutor actus septiraus — i. e., seven acts. 
 
 John Bale, having been a Catholic of the Carmelite Monastery at 
 Norwich, became a student at Oxford, and renounced the tenets of 
 Rome. “ I took,” says he, “ to wife the faithful Dorothy, in obedience 
 to that divine command. Let him that cannot contain, marry.” He 
 obtained church preferment, was successively Bishop of Ossory and 
 Archbishop of Dublin, with a Prebendal Stall at Canterbury, where he 
 died In 1563. 
 
 ORIGIN OF ORATORIOS, 
 
 Dr. Burney saj’’s, “ It is certain that the modern tragedy is taken from 
 the mysteries, and that the oratorio is only a mystery or morality in 
 music. The oratorio commenced with the priests of the oratory, a 
 brotherhood founded at Rome, in 1540, by St. Philip Neri, who, in 
 order to draw youth to church, had hymns, psalms, and spiritual songs 
 sung, either in chorus or by a single voice. These pieces were divided 
 into two parts, the one performed before the sermon and the other after 
 it. Sacred stories, or events from Scripture, were written in verse, 
 and, by way of dialogue, were set to music, and, the first part being per- 
 formed, the sermon succeeded, which the people were induced to stay 
 and hear, that they might be present at the performance of the second 
 part. The subjects, in early times, were the Good Samaritan, the Pro- 
 digal Son, and similar histories, which, by the excellence of the com- 
 position, the instrumental music, and the performance, brought the 
 oratory into repute; and hence this species of musical drama obtained 
 the general appellation of oratorios. 
 
 MYSTERIES PERFORMED IN THE PRINCIPAL CITIES OF 
 ENGLAND, AND RECEIVED OPINIONS UPON THE SUBJECT. 
 
 About the eighth century trade was principally carried on by means 
 of fairs, which lasted several days. Charlemagne established many 
 great marts in France, as did William the Conqueror .and his Norman 
 successors in England. The merchants, who frequented these fairs in 
 numerous caravans or companies, employed every art to draw the 
 people together; they were, therefore, accompanied by jugglers, 
 minstrels, and buffoons, who were no less interested in giving their 
 attendance and exerting all their skill on these occasions. In those days 
 but few large towns existed, no public spectacles or popular amuse- 
 ments were established, and, as the sedentary pleasures of domestic life 
 and private society were yet unknown, the fair time was the season for 
 diversion. In proportion as these shows were attended and encouraged, 
 they began to be set off with new decorations and improvements ; and 
 the arts of buffoonery, being rendered still more attractive by extend- 
 ing their circle of exhibition, acquired an importance in the eyes of the 
 people. By degrees the clergy, observing that the entertainments of 
 dancing, singing, and mimicry exhibited at these protracted annual 
 celebrations made the people less religious, by promoting idieness and a 
 love of festivity, proscribed these sports and excommunicated the 
 performers. But, finding that no regard was paid to their censures, 
 they changed their plan, and determined to take these recreations into 
 their own hands. They, therfore, turned actOis themselves, and, instead 
 of profane mummeries, presented stories taken from the legends of the 
 Bible. This was the origin of sacred comedy. — Warion, vol. ii., p. 515. 
 
 The parish clerks of London were, doubtless, the first actors and 
 originators of the ecclesiastical drama in the metropolis. It was an 
 essential part of their profession not only to sing, but to read — an 
 accomplishment almost solely confined to the clergy. They came 
 under the denomination of a religious fraternity. They were in- 
 corporated into a guild, or fellowship, by Henry III., 1240. It was, 
 anciently, customary for men and women of the first quality, eccle- 
 siastics and others, who were lovers of Church music, to be admitted 
 into this corporation, and they gave large gratuities for the support 
 and education of many persons in the practice of that science. Tlieir 
 public feasts were frequent, and celebrated with singing and music, 
 most commonly at Guildhall Chapel or College .— Survey Loud. 
 
 Before the Reformation this society was constantly hired to assist, as 
 a choir, at the magnificent funerals of the nobility or other distinguished 
 persons, which were celebrated within the City of London or in its 
 neighbourhood. The splendid ceremonies of their annual precession 
 and mass, in the year 1554, are thus related by Strype, in his 
 EcLles. Mem., vol. iii. ; — “May the sixth was a goodly even song at 
 Guildhall College, by the masters of the claiks and their fellowship, 
 ■with singing and playing; and the morrow after this v/as a great mass 
 at the same place and by the same fraternity, when every dark offered 
 an halfpenny. The mass was sung by divers of the Queen’s (Mary) 
 Chapel and childre ; and, after the mass done, ev -ry dark went in their 
 procession, two and two together, each having on a surpl ce and a rich 
 cope and a garland, and then fourscore standards and banners, and each 
 one that bore them had an alb or a surplice. Then came in order the 
 waits playing; and then thirty darks singing ‘ Festa dies.’ ” Warton 
 says, “ Their profession, employment, and character naturally dictated to 
 
 this spiritual bro^erhood the representation of plays, especially those 
 of a Scriptural kind; and their constant practice in shews, processions, 
 and vocal music easily accounts for their address in entertaining the 
 company.” 
 
 Stow informs us that, in 1391, the parish clerks of London performed 
 a playat Skinner’s Well, near Srnithfield, in presence of the king, queers 
 and nobles of the realm, which lasted three A&ys.— Cotton M.S. 
 
 The great play at Skinner’s Well is noted as the chief event of the 
 years 1408 and 9. “ This yere was a play at Skynner’s Welle, which en- 
 dured Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and on Soneday it was ended.” — 
 Stow, 1, Chro., p. 549. 
 
 “ Thanne beganne the fetees of warre at Smythfield for diverses 
 chalanges. This yere, 1409, was a grete play at Skynner’s Well, nere 
 unto Clerken Well, beside London, which lasted eight dais, and was of 
 matter from the Creation of the World ; there were to see the same the 
 mest part of the nobles of England, and forthwith after begun a royall 
 justing in Srnithfield betweene the Earl of Somerset and the Seneshall 
 of Henalt, Sir John Cornwall, Sir Richard of Arundal, and the son of 
 Sir John Cheyney, against other Frenchmen.” 
 
 The site of the parish clerks’ performances may be gathered from 
 the following inscription, in raised letters of iron, upon a pump on the 
 east side of Ray-street :—“A.D. 1800. William Bound, Joseph Bird, 
 churchwardens. For the better accommodation of the neighbourhood, 
 this pump was removed to the spot where it now stands. The spring, 
 by which it is supplied, is situated four feet eastward, and round it, as 
 history informs us, the parish clerks of London, in remote ages, com- 
 monly performed sacred plays. That custom caused it to he denomi- 
 nated Clerks’ Well, and from which this parish derived its name.” The 
 water was greatly esteemed by the Prior and Brethren of the order of 
 St. John of Jerusalem and by the Benedictine nuns in the neighbourhood. 
 
 The nunnery stood half way down the hill, which, commencing near 
 the church on Clerkenwell-green, terminates at the river Fleet. At the 
 N.N.E. part of the hill there was a bear-garden, and a little to the 
 north, in the hollow of Air-street, lies Hockley in the Hole, the scene 
 of rude sports.— Malcome's London. 
 
 The last Prioress of Clerkenwell died, Oct. 21, 15*70. ^ Her name wae 
 Isabella Sackville, of the Dorset family. She was buried in the old 
 church, destroyed by fire many years since. ,Here also was buried. 
 Sir William Weston, the last Prior of St. John of Jerusalem, who, on 
 the suppression by Henry VIII., had a pension of £1,000 a year, but 
 died of a broken heart on Ascension-day, 1540, the very day that the 
 house was suppressed.— PewmaraTs, London, p. 208. 
 
 THE CHESTER MYSTERIES. 
 
 The Chester Mysteries are ascribed to Ranulph Higden, a Bene- 
 dictine monk of that city, where they were performed, in the year 
 1328. at the expense of the incorporated trades, with a thousand 
 days of pardon from the Pope, and forty days of pardon from the 
 Bishop of Chester, to all who attended the representation. The 
 Whitsun play was made by one “ Monke of Chester Abbaye, Done 
 Rondle,” (dominus Randal) who was thrice at Rome before 
 he could obtain leave of the Pope to have it in the English 
 tongue. Our chronicler’s name, in the text, was sometimes written 
 Hikeden, and Higgedeii is easily corrupted into Higgenet or 
 Heggenet; and Randal is Ranulph or Randolph, Ralph, He died, 
 having been a monk of Chester Abbey sixty-four years, in the year 
 1363. If it be true that these mysteries were composed in the year 
 1328, and that there was so much difficulty in obtaining the Pope’s 
 permission that they might be presented in English, a presumptive 
 proof arises that all our mysteries before that period were in Latin. 
 These plays will, therefore, have the merit of being the first English 
 interludes (Warton, vol. ii., p, 367), and doubtless the oldest extant; 
 although it appears from, Fitzstephen, who wrote about the year 1174, 
 that religious plays were by no means then uncommon. Notwithstand- 
 ing the total disregard of important unities, and the introduction of 
 the Almighty Creator upon the stage, filling so conspicuous a part in 
 these sacred dramas, as in our days would be considered absolute 
 blasphemy, our progenitors, in the simplicity of their hearts, and in 
 the absence of the divine record itself, considered it as Gospel, and as 
 authentic “ as proof of holy writ.” Therefore the fondness of our 
 ancestors for mysteries and moralities may be, in some degree, ascribed 
 to the circumstance, of there being at that time, no other species of dra- 
 matic entertainment. But a still more powerful cause of this partiality 
 was in the subjects of the sacred dramas ; few being able to read the 
 Scriptures, and those that could being shut out from a perusal, by the 
 want of a tr.nnslation. It is not surprising that, considering the Scrip- 
 tures as the oracles of God, they should seize with avidity the only 
 means open to them of obtaining knowledge of holy writ, and treasure 
 up in the holy tabernacle of their memory, even the poor and feeble 
 exhibition of it, contained in the mysteries. — Retrospective, vol i. 
 
 In the Harl, 2013, and Warton, vol. ii., were exhibited at Chester, 
 1327, at the expense of the different tracing companies of that city, “ The 
 Fall of Lucifer,” by the Tanners; “The Creation,” by the Drapers; 
 “Abraham,” “Lot,” by the Barbers; “Moses,” “Balaam,” by the 
 Cappers; “The Salutation and Nativity,” by the Wrights; “The 
 Shepherds Feeding their Flocks by Night,” by the Painters and Glaziers ; 
 “The Three Kings,” by the Vintners; “The Oblation of the Three 
 Kings,” by the Mercers; “The Killing of the Innocents,” by the 
 Goldsmiths ; “ The Purification,” by the Blacksmiths ; “The Tempta- 
 tion,” by the Butchers ; “The Last Supper,” by the Bakers; “The 
 Blindman and Lazarus,” by the Glovers; “Christ’s Passion,” by the 
 Bowyers, Fletchers, and Ironmongers; “Descent into Hell,” by the 
 Cooks and Innkeepers; “The Resurrection,” by the Skinners; “The 
 Ascension,” by the Tailors; “The Election of St. Matthias,” by the Fish- 
 mongers; “The Day of Judgment,” by the Clothiers. The following is 
 the substance and order of the play. God enters, creating the world— he 
 breathes life into Adam, leads him into Paradise, and opens his side, 
 while sleeping. Adam and Eve appear naked upon the stage, and are 
 not ashamed. The old serpent enters, lamenting his fall— he con- 
 verses with Eve— she eats of the forbidden fruit, and gives part to 
 Adam. They propose, according to the stage directions, to cover their 
 nakedness with leaves, and converse with God. 
 
7 
 
 EVANS’S MUSIC AND SUPPER ROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN. 
 
 We will make a short extract from the Drapers’ play, “ The Creation.” 
 —■Then God dotii make the wonuin of the ribh of Adam. Tlieii Adam 
 wakinge speakoth unto God as followeth : — 
 
 Adam. 
 
 0 Lord, '.vhere have I long been, 
 
 For since I .siepte, much have I seen; 
 
 W'oonder that withenten weene, 
 
 Hereafter shal he wiste. 
 
 Deus. 
 
 Rise up, Adam, and awake, 
 
 Here have I formed thee a make, 
 
 Her to th le thou shall take. 
 
 And name her as thy (liste.) 
 
 o\.DAM {rising up, sailh). 
 
 1 see well, Lorde, through thy grace, 
 
 Bone of my bone, thou her mase. 
 
 And fleshe of my fleshe she base. 
 
 And my shape tiirough thy lawe. 
 
 Theretire, man kindly ,-hall lorsake 
 Father and mother, and to wife in take : 
 
 I Too in one fleshe, as thou fane make 
 
 Either other for to gladd. • 
 
 Then Adam shall stand naked, and shall not be ashamed, and then 
 the serpent shall come out of a hole, and the devill, walkinge, sliall say 
 * * * Then Adam and Eve shal) cover themselves with leaves, 
 
 hydinge themselves under the trees. Then God shall speak to Adam, 
 sayinge, (mgnslrdLs playinge) : — 
 
 Deus. 
 
 Adam, Adam, where art thou ? 
 
 Adam. 
 
 O Lorde, I harde thy voice anowe, 
 
 For I am naked and make a vowe, 
 
 Therefore now I hyde mee. 
 
 Deus. 
 
 Who told thee, Adam, thou naked was? 
 
 Save only thine own trespass, 
 
 That of the tree thou eaten hast, 
 
 That I forbade thee. 
 
 Adam. 
 
 Lord, this woman that is here, 
 
 That thou gave to my fere, 
 
 Gave me part at her prayer, 
 
 ! And of yt I did eate. 
 
 ( Mynstrells playinge.) 
 
 Adam. 
 
 Highe God and highest kinge, 
 
 1 That of nought made all thinge, 
 
 Beaste, foule, and grasse growinge, 
 
 And me of earth made. 
 
 Thou gave me grace to do thy willinge. 
 
 For after greate sorrou and sighinge. 
 
 Thou hast me lent great lykinge, 
 
 Two sons my harte to gladd. 
 
 This extraordinary spectacle was beheld by a very numereus com- 
 pany of both sexe,s with great composure. They had the authority of 
 Scripture for such a representation, and they gave matters just as they 
 found them in the third chapter of Genesis.— vol. i, p. 244. 
 
 Mr. Markland, in his researches upon this subject, observes The 
 Chester, as well as the Coventry, Mysteries afford various proofs that 
 their composers did not adhere too rigidly to the text of Scripture, but 
 introduced many licentious pleasantries, calculated to relieve the so- 
 lemnity of the plot, and amuse the audience.” 
 
 _ The present age rejects, as gross and indelicate, those free composi- 
 tions which our ancestors not only countenanced but admired. Yet in 
 fact, the moralsofour forefathers were asstrictas, and perhaps’purer ’and 
 sounder than, our own ; and we have been taught to look up to them as 
 genuine models of the honest, incorruptible character of Englishmen 
 They were strangers, indeed, to delicacy of taste ; they beheld the broad 
 and unpruned delineations of nature, and thought no harm ; while we 
 on the most distant approach to freedom of thought and expression 
 turn away in disgust, and vehemently express our displeasure. Humarl 
 nature is ever the same, but society is always progressive, and, at every 
 stage of refinement, the passions require stronger control, not only 
 because they are more violent, but because the circumstances which 
 excite them are multiplied. If we trace back the progress of society 
 to its primitive state, we shall find that the innocence of mankind is in 
 an inverse ratio to their advancement in knowledge.— Crojwe/c’i Re- 
 mains, p. 70. 
 
 COVENTRY MYSTERIES. 
 
 The ancient City of Coventry is rich in the antiquarian lore J 
 remains of Us numerous religious houses, and in the curious conte 
 of thC' corporation chest. Tradition and superstition have consecra 
 the ground ot Coventry. From our childhood we have l>een 
 and ballads of that “most devout and be 
 titul LadyGodiva, who patriotically, upon a certain day, rode on ho: 
 back with the sole^ dishabille of her long flowing hair covering 
 person, and of Peeping Tom, whose curiosity was miraculously punis 
 in the loss of his eyes ! and also of the municipal privileges consequ 
 OQ the self-devotionof Lady Godiva ; for, as the poet says 
 
 I, Lurick, for the love of thee. 
 Do make Coventry toll free.” 
 
 The MS. Annals of the City state that the king and nobles, in 1416, 
 took great delight in the pageants which were exhibited. The occasion 
 of their sojourn at Coventry was a Parliament at that time held in the 
 Priory . 
 
 Drapers’ Pageant (Coventry Mysteries). 
 
 The oldest book of accounts of this company now to be found com- 
 mences in 15.34, and we are, in consequence, without any particulars of 
 their pageant anfecedently to this period, which is much to be regretted, 
 since it a.upears that they were in possession of one as early as the 16th 
 of Richard II., 1392. 
 
 The subject of the Drapers’ Pageant, as exhibited in 1534 and su«- 
 ceeding years, was “ Doomsday,” and the same mode of analysis 
 adopted in describing the Smiths’ and Cappers’ Pageants applies to 
 that of the Drapers, and presents many particulars tending materially to 
 illustrate this portion of our national antiquities. Pursuing this 
 system, the first head is the 
 
 God. 
 
 Two Demons. 
 
 Two Spirits. 
 
 Four Angels. 
 
 Three Patriarchs. 
 
 Two Worms of Conscience. 
 
 Characters. 
 
 Three White Csometimes saved) Souls. 
 Three Black(sometimes damned) Souls. 
 Prologue. 
 
 Two Clarks for Singing. 
 
 One to sing the Bass. 
 
 Pharisee. 
 
 Machinery. 
 
 Hell Mouth — a fire kept at it, etc 
 Earthquake — Barrel lor the same. 
 Three Worlds — painted. 
 
 A Link to set the World on fire, etc. 
 
 Dresses. 
 
 Gods, Coat of Leather. Suit for Angels, Gold Skins 
 
 Red Sendai for God. Wings for Angels. 
 
 Demon’s Head (or Vizor), Three Cheverals and a Beard 
 Coats for the White and Black Souls. 
 
 Music. 
 
 Trumpets. Organ. Regalls. 
 
 Expenses. 
 
 (The charge of performing varies from 21s. to £4 8s. 6d.) 
 Payments to Performers. 
 
 1556, Payde for vij. Skynnes for Godys Cote (inter alia). 
 
 1557. Paid for a Peyre of Gloves for God. 
 
 1562. Payde for a Cote for God. 
 
 1565. P’d for iij. yards of Red Sendall for God. 
 
 Itm. for Mend\ ng the Demones Hede, 
 
 Itm. for Pepting and Making ij. Demons Heas, etc. 
 
 1557. Itm. payd for kepyng of fyer at Hell Mothe. 
 
 Itm. payd to Crowe for Makyng of iij. Worldvs. 
 
 1558. Payd for Settyng the World of fyer. 
 
 Payd for kepying fyre. 
 
 In other Pageants, curious items. 
 
 Itm. paid for half a yard of Rede Sea. 
 
 paide towards the players’ breakfast and drynke In the 
 pagn., and a nyght when they had played. 
 
 Paide more ffor ale that was dronke at the settinge in oflf the 
 pagyn and skaffolds. 
 
 Itm. payd to hym that playeth Godde’s parte. 
 
 Itm. payd to iij. Pattryarkys. 
 
 Itm. payd to Wormes of Conscience, 
 p’d for alle (ale), iiijd. 
 
 1560. Payd to Cro for mendyng the Devyll’s cottes. 
 
 P’d to hym that drove the pageant. 
 
 P’d for alle at the Swanne dore. 
 
 P’d .Thon Grene, for playe booke. 
 
 P’d Wyllm Walden, for stufe. 
 
 P’d iij. Boyes thatplaied. 
 
 P’d to Clarkys for syngyng, for playng on the reygalles, etc. 
 
 Itm. to Jhon Deane, for hys dyuer, sowper, and drynkynge. 
 
 Itm. to Fawst n, for hangynge Judas. 
 
 Itm. to Gabryel Foster, for playenge of Justus. 
 
 Itm. to Jhon Grene, for playenge of Mathias and Esron. 
 
 Itm, to Rich Fitzharbert and Edward Platte, for playenge 
 Chyldren to Solome. 
 
 Itm. to Durrant, for kepynge of the hoke (prompter). 
 
 P’d for a new hoke to hange Judas. 
 
 Itm. p’d to Wattes, for dressynge of the Devell’s hede. 
 
 Itm. The Devell’s hede repayred. 
 
 Itm. p’d to Waytes (Waits) for Mynstrelship. 
 
 P’d. to Waytes, for pypyng. 
 
 P’d to Fawston, for coe croyng, iiij. 
 
 Itm. p’d to Jhon Deane, for takynge paynes abowte the pageant, 
 ij. vjd. 
 
 P’d Pilate, the Bishops and Knights to drynke, in play 
 times. 
 
 Itm. p’d to Jhon Foxall, for the hyer of hysshe Mantylls in the 
 Pageant of “ Mary Magdalen, or Mawdlen.” 
 
 Itm. p’d for mendynge Maudlen’s Cote. 
 
 Paid for mendynge tlie Marie’s heare. 
 
 Itm. p’d for mendynge Hell Mowthe. 
 
 Itm. paid Horsley (inter alia), for pentying Hell Mowthe. 
 
 In the early dawn of literature, and when the sacred mysteries were 
 the only theatrical performances, what is now called the stage did then 
 consist of three several platforms, or stages, raised one above the other. 
 On the uppermost sat the Pater Coeleslis, surrounded with his angels ; 
 on the second appeared the holy saints and glorified men ; and the lowest 
 
3 
 
 EVANS’S MUSIC AND SUPPER ROOMS, COVENP-GARDEN. 
 
 was occupied by mere men, who had not yet passed from this transitory 
 life to the regions of eternity. On one side of ihe lowest platform was 
 the resemblance of a dark pitchy cavern, from whence issued appear- 
 ance of fire and flames ; and, when necessary, the audience were treated 
 with hideous yelling and noises, as imitative of the bowlings and cries 
 of the wretched souls tormented by the relentless demons. From this 
 yawning cave the devils themselves constantly ascended, to delight and 
 instruct the spectators ; to delight, because generally they were the 
 greatest jestors and buffoons that then appeared ; and to instruct, for 
 they treated the wretched mortals who were delivered to them 
 with the utmost cruelty, warning thereby all men carefully to avoid the 
 falling into the clutches of sunL hardened and remorseless spirits.— 
 Strutt's Manners and Customs, vol. iii., p. 130. 
 
 The scenic representations of Gospel history, which, on high fasts 
 and festivals, are to be met with in almost all the churches of the 
 Peninsula, however ridiculous they may appear, are not without their 
 use; for to them (most inadequate, I admit, for their purpose) the 
 poorer classes are, nevertheless, indebted for much of the instruction 
 they receive. — Recollections in the Peninsuta, 1811. 
 
 In the Priory, in 1455, a splendid series of pageants was prepared 
 for the reception of Queen Margaret. The King and Queen came to 
 Coventry, and lay at the Priory, on which occasion fifty marks were 
 given to her Majesty. The next royal visit recorded in the City Leet 
 Book, is that of Prince Edward, 1474. The annals record that Prince 
 Edward came first to Coventry this year, and had one hundred marks 
 and a cap given to him, that his house was kept at Cheylsmore, and 
 that the gracious Prince was one of the godfathers to the Mayor’s 
 child. In 1510, Henry VIII., and his then Queen, visited Coventry, 
 upon which occasion three pageants were set forth : one at Jordan 
 Well, with nine orders of angels; one at Broad Gate, with divers beau- 
 tiful damsels; and another at the Cross, with a goodly stage play. 
 The Lady Mary, eldest daughter of Henry VIII., came to Coventry, 
 and, we are told, lay at the Priory, where she remained two days. The 
 Itlercers’ pageant was gallantly trimmed, and stood in Cross Cheaping. 
 At her going away, one hundred marks and a kerchief were presented 
 to her. The next and last royal visit to the city, attended with a dis- 
 play of pageants, was that of Queen Elizabeth, in 15G5. 
 
 By the records of these companies, the pageants ceased, or gradually 
 were abandoned, about 1580. The growing taste of the times established 
 the early drama, by Shakespeare, Ben Jonson, and Massinger, upon 
 the ruins of the religious mysteries.— Coventry Mysteries— Re- 
 trospective Review, May, 1826. 
 
 The old country play of “ Hock Tuesday,” was founded on the story 
 of the massacre of the Danes, as it happened on St. Brice’s night, Nov. 
 13th, 1002. This play was performed in July, 1675, by certain men in 
 Coventry, and was one among the other shows and entertainments 
 Castle, prepared for Queen Elizabeth, and this the rather “ be- 
 cau^e the matter mentioned how valiantly our English women, for 
 the love of their country, behaved themselves. * * * And as the 
 
 Queen was much diverted with the Coventry play, ‘whereat her Ma- 
 jesty laught well,’ and rewarded the performers with 2 bucks, and 5 
 marks in money, they, rejoicing upon their ample reward, and 
 triumphing upon the good acceptance, vaunted tliat the play was 
 never so dignifyed, nor ever any players before so beatified. The play 
 presented was of a very good theme, but so set forthe by the actors’ well 
 handling, that pleasure and mirth made it seem very short, though it 
 lasted two good hours and more.” — Percy, vol. i. 
 
 The Chester plays, with one exception (the “ Descent into Hell”), are 
 founded on Scripture; the Coventry mysteries, which were produced 
 ninety years afterwards, have no less than eight founded on apocryphal 
 New Testament stories. — Hone. 
 
 MYSTERIES AND PAGEANTS AT YORK. 
 
 The religious guild, or fraternity of Corpus Chiisti, at York, was 
 obliged annually to perform a Corpus Christ! Play. Every trade in the 
 city, from the highest to the lowest, was obliged to furnish out a 
 pageant at its own expense on this occasion. Many orders and ordi- 
 nances existing in the city’s registers regulate the performance of this 
 religious ceremony. One of these recites, that, whereas the feast of 
 Corpus Cbristi, by a solemn procession, is represented in reverence to 
 the sacrament of the Body of Christ, beginning first at the great gates 
 of the Priory of the Holy 'frinity, in York, and so going in procession 
 to and into the cathedral church of the same, and afterwards to 
 the Hospital of St. Leonard, in York ; and further reciting, that, 
 whereas a certain very religious father, William Melton, of the order of 
 Friars Minors, Professor of Holy Pageantry, and a most famous 
 preacher of the word of God, coming to the city, in several sermons 
 recommended the aforesaid play to the people, affirming that it was 
 good in itself and very commendable so to do, yet also said that the 
 citizens of the said city, and other foreigners coming to the said feast, 
 had greatly disgraced the play by revellings, drunkenness, shouts, 
 songs, and other insolences, little regarding the divine offices of the 
 said d.ay ; therefore it seemed most wholesome to the said Father 
 William, that the play should be played one day and the procession on 
 another, that the people might attend divine service in the churches on 
 the said feast. William Bowes, Mayor, by regulation dated 7th of 
 June. 1417, ordains that all the pageants of the play of Corpus Christ! 
 should be brought forth in order by the artificers of the City of York, 
 and begin to play first at the gates of the Priory of the Holy Trinity, in 
 Mixel-gate; next at the door of Robert Harpham ; next at the door of 
 the late John Gyseburn; next at Skeldergate hend and Northe-slrete 
 bend ; next at the end of Conynge-strete, towards Castel-gate; next at 
 the end of Jubir-gate; next at the door of Henry Wyman, deceased, in 
 Conynge-strete ; then at the Common-hall, at the end of Conynge- 
 strete ; then at the door of Adam del Brigs’, deceased, in Stayne-gate ; 
 then at the end of Stayne-gate, at the Minster-gates; then at the end of 
 Girdler-gate, in Peter-gate; and lastly, on the Pavement. And Father 
 William de Melton, willing to destroy sin, and being a great lover of vir- 
 tue, exhorted the people that they should cause to be removed all public 
 concubines in fornication and adultery, w’herefore the Mayor ordained 
 that they should depart the city within eight days, unless any of them 
 
 could give security that she would not exercise her illegal vocation 
 the future. It appears from the regulation of the pageants for this 
 play at York, in the Mayoralty of William Alne, in 1415, compiled by 
 Roger Burton, the Town Clerk, that they were fifty-four in number. 
 The Town Clerk’s entry mentions the torch-bearers in the procession : 
 —Porters, eight torches; Cobblers, four torches; Fullers, four torches; 
 
 Cordwainers, fourteen torches : Cottelers, two torches; Wevers, 
 
 torches ; Carpenters, six torches; Chaloners, four torches; Girdellers, 
 
 torches; fifty eight citizens had torches alike. The trades first 
 
 moved in procession : then the better sort of the people; the twenty- 
 four Common Councilmen, the twelve Aldermen, the Mayor, and four 
 torches of Mr. Thomas Buckton. This religious ceremony was insti- 
 tuted about the year 1250, and was so much esteemed that it was acted 
 in York until the 26th of Queen Elizabeth, 1584.— Drake’s York, p. 22S 
 —246, Appen. 29. 
 
 LEEDS. 
 
 “ Corpus Christy Playe, in Antique English Verse, by Tho. Cutle, 
 and Rich. Nandyke.” 'The MS. afterwards came into the possession or 
 Horace Walpole. Some of the trades themselves are antiquated! 
 as are the names of others: thus — Bowers and Fletchers, Wefleres, 
 Cappers (Hatters), Estrereners, Gyrdillers, Tyllthekkers, Spicers, 
 Shavers, Parchmynners, Sherraen and Wynedrawers (Wiredrawers) 
 are of old; but Merceres are comparatively modern— Richard, tke 
 father of Bishop Morton, of Durham, being the first of that trade, 
 at least, in these northern parts of England — Thoresby's Leeds — Sharp’s 
 Coventry Mysteries. 
 
 MYSTERIES AT NEWCASTLE-UPON-TYNE. 
 
 The earliest mention of the performance of the Mysteries there, is 
 in the Ordinary of the Coopers in 1426. In 1437 the Barbers played 
 the “ Baptizing of Christ.” In 1563, the “ Offering of Abraham and 
 Isaac” was exhibited by the Slaters. By the Ordinary of the Goldsmiths, 
 Plumbers, Glaziers, Plasterers, and Painters, dated 1536, they were com- 
 manded to play, at their feast, “ The Three Kings of Coleyn.” In the 
 books of the Fullers and Dyers, one of the charges for the play of 1561 
 is “ Item for 3 yard and a lyn cloth for God’s cote, 3s. 2d.” From the 
 Ordinary of different trades, it seems that, about 1578, the Corpus 
 Christi plays were on the decline, and never acted, but by a special 
 command of the magistrates of Newcastle. They are spoken of as the 
 general plays of the town of Newcastle, and, when thought necessar}* 
 by the Mayor, to be set forth and played. The Millers were to perform 
 the “Deliverance of Israel;” the House Carpenters, the “ Burial of 
 Christ the Masons, the “ Burial of Our Lady, Saint Mary the Virgin.” 
 — Brand’s History of Newcastle. 
 
 It must have been a commonly received opinion that Noah’s wife 
 was a shrew, as in Chaucer’s “ Miller’s Tale,” we have this passage : — 
 
 Hast thou not heard, quod Nicholas also, 
 
 The sorwe of Noe with his fellowship, 
 
 Or that he might get his wif to ship ? 
 
 Another instance may be cited from the play of the “ Flood,” which 
 represents Noah’s wife positively refusing to enter the ark ;— 
 
 Noe. 
 
 Good wife, doe now as I thee bidd. 
 
 Noe’s Wife. 
 
 By Christ not I, ere I see more need, 
 
 Though thou stand all day and stare. 
 
 Brand’s “ History of Newcastle” mentions “ Noah’s Ark, or the 
 Shipwright’s Ancient Play" :— 
 
 Noe's Wife. 
 
 The devil of hell thee speed 
 
 To ship when thou shalt go. 
 
 To return to the Chester Whitsun plays, the altercation between 
 Noah and his wife, takes up almost the whole of the third pageant of 
 these interludes. Noah, having reproached his wife for her usual fro- 
 wardness of temper, at last conjures her to come on boai;d the ark, for 
 fear of drowning ; his wife insists on his sailing without her, and 
 sneers, by Christ and St. John, that she will not embark, till some of 
 her old female companions are ready to go with her. She adds, that, if 
 he is in such a hurry, he may sail alone, and fetch himself a new wife. 
 At length Shem, with the help of his brothers, forces her into the 
 vessel ; and, while Noah, very affectionately, welcomes her on board, she 
 gives him a box on the ear. — Warton, vol. ii., p. 373. 
 
 GLOU«ESTER. 
 
 In a book, noticed in the “ Retrospective Review,” vol. i., p. 
 335, entitled “ Mount Tabor, or the Private Exercises of a 
 Penitential Sinner, by R. W., 1639,” we read the following ex- 
 tract:— “Upon a stage play, which I saw when I was a child, in the 
 City of Gloucester, the manner is (as I think it is in every other like 
 corporation) that, when players of enterludes come to toune, they just 
 attend the Mayor, to enforme him what nobleman’s servants they are, 
 and so get licence for their publik playing; and, if the Mayor like the 
 actors, or would show' respe.t to their lord and master, he appoints 
 them to play their first play before himself, and the Alderman and 
 Common Counsell of the City; and that is called the Mayor’s play, 
 where every one, that will, comes in without money, the Mayor giving 
 the players a reward, as he thinks fit, to shew respect unto them,” 
 
 CAMBRIDGESHIRE. 
 
 In Cambridgeshire, in an open field at Bassingborne, on the Feast 
 of St. Margaret, in 1511, the Miracle-play of “ St. George the Martyr 
 was performed, and three waits was hired from Cambridge, with a 
 minstrel, a painter, and a property man,— .dnfig. Eepert, Warton, vol, 
 iii. p. 326. 
 
9 
 
 EVANS’S MUSIC AND SUPPER ROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN. 
 
 The First Latin Plays acted before the University of Cambrid're, and 
 the names of the Colleges at whicli they were played, with their 
 dates, and by whom they were .written. 
 
 LtidusFiliorumlsraelis 
 
 Pammachius 
 
 depth a 
 
 Dido 
 
 Ricardus Tertius 
 
 Lelia 
 
 Club Law 
 
 The Grateful Fair 
 
 Author not known. 
 Author not known. 
 J. Christopherson. 
 E. Haliwell. 
 
 T. Legge. 
 
 G. Ruggle. 
 
 Smart. 
 
 Corpus Christi. 
 Clirist’s. 
 Trinity 
 King’s. 
 
 St. John’s. 
 Queen’s. 
 
 Clare Hall. 
 Pembroke. 
 
 1.350 
 
 1544 
 
 1540 
 
 1504 
 
 1579 
 
 1590 
 
 1599 
 
 1747 
 
 The First Plays acted at Oxford University. 
 
 Julius Caesar 
 
 Amoribus Perintlii et ) 
 
 Tyenthes j 
 
 Atalanta ConicKdia ... 
 
 Dr. Gedes. 
 
 W. Burton 
 Philip Parsons. 
 
 Christ Church. 
 
 15S2 
 
 1596 
 
 1612 
 
 The Latin Play, written by Henry Lacy, Trin. Coll., Camb., 1556, 
 ' “ Jane Shore,” the music by Mr. Bird. 
 
 Frocessio Soleintiis. 
 
 1. A Tipstaffe. 
 
 2. Shore’s Wife in her pettycote, having a burnynge taper in her hande. 
 
 3. The Verger. 
 
 4. The Queiisters. 
 
 5. Singing Men. 
 
 6. Prebendaryes. 
 
 7. Toe Bishoppe of London. 
 
 8. Citizen.s. With Music. 
 
 Preces Deo fundaraus ore supplices, ne sit nota polluta mens adultera, 
 &c . — Stafford Smith's Miis. Antiqua., p. 46. 
 
 WINCHESTER. 
 
 In the reign of Henry VII., 1487, the King, in his Castle of Win- 
 chester, was entertained on a Sunday, while at dinner, with the per- 
 formances of “Christ’s Descent,” by the Choir boys of Hyde Abbey 
 and St. Svvithiii's Priory. — Warton, vol. ii. p. 239. 
 
 CORNWALL. 
 
 In Cornwall they had interludes in the Cornish dialect. These w'ere 
 called the Quarry Miracle-plays, and were sometimes performed in 
 the bottom of earthen amphitheatres, the people standing around on 
 the inclined plane. Tlie jilayers did not leain their parts, but were 
 followed by a prompter, called the ordinary, with the book in his hands. 
 Long after the mysteries had ceased elsewhere, and the regular stage 
 had been established, they were exhibited in Cornwall to the conntry 
 jieople — Borlus ’s Antiq. Corriwall — Carew’s Survey of Cornwall — In- 
 troduction to Big. Drama, vol. i., p. 1 — Introduction to Dodsley's Old 
 Play, p. 12. 
 
 MYSTERIES IN OXFORDSHIRE. 
 
 “ In the days of ceremonial religion they used at Wytney (in Oxford- 
 shire) to set fourtl’.e yearly, in manner of a show or interlude, the 
 • Resurrecfinii of our Lord,’ &c.. for the which purp-'se, and the more 
 to exhibit to tlie eye the hole action of the Resurrection, the priestes 
 garnished out certain small puppetes, representing the persons of 
 Christe, tlie W.Kclimen, M.irie, and others; amongst the which one 
 bare the parte of a wakinge Watchman, who, espiinge Christe to arise, 
 made a continuel noyce, like to the sound that is caused by the 
 metynge of t.vo rtyches.” * The like toye I myself, being then a 
 cliilde, once sawe in Fowle’s Church, at London, at a feaste of Wliitsun- 
 tyde; wheere the “ Corny iige Downe of the Holy Gost” was set forthe 
 by a white jiigion, ti.at was let out of a hole in the myclst of the roof of 
 ine great ile, ami hy a large censor, which decendinge out of the same 
 place ahno.st to the verie grounde, was swinged up and downe at suche 
 ienghte, that it readied with th’ one swepe almost to the west end of 
 the churche, and with the other to the quyre staires of the same; 
 breathings out over tlie whole church and companie a most pleasant 
 perfume of such sweet ihinges as burned therein. With the like doonie 
 .shewes also they used everie where to furnish sondrye parts of their 
 church service, as in their spectacles of the Nativitie, Passion, and 
 Ascension. — Lambarde's Die., published about 1570. 
 
 EDINBURGH. 
 
 In the Record of the City of Edinburgh, under the 12th of October, 
 1554, there is the fallowing entry : - “ The provest, b.aillies, and coun- 
 salc ordain the treasurer, Robert Grahame, to content and pay to 
 Walter bynryng the soume of j£v., for the making of the playe ground, 
 and painting of the handsenye ; and the piayeris’s facis, quhill beam! 
 pHvet providi'iid always that the said Walter mak the play gelr under- 
 written furtli cuinaiid to the towne, qiihen thai haif ado tkarewith, 
 quhilxis he ii.is now ressavit; viz., viij. playhattis, aiie Kingis crown, 
 aiie myter, ane fuiis iiude, ane foxis, ane pair angell-wingis, twa 
 augell hdir, ane chaplet of tryuinphe.”— Scotish Poems \6ih 
 Century, p. 32. 
 
 DUBLIN. 
 
 ItieGiovers represented Adam and Eve, an angel carrying a sword 
 before them; tue Ci.rrisees (Corirsers, perhaps Curriers), Cain and 
 Ahel, with an altar, and their offering; the Mariners and Vintners, 
 Noah and the peisons in the Ark apparelled in the habits of Carpenters 
 ami Salnioii-ta’Kers ; the Weavers personated Abraham and Isaac, with 
 their offering and altar; the Smiths, Pharaoh v/ith his Host; the 
 Sk.nner.s, the Camel with the Children of Israel; the Goldsmiths repre- 
 sented the King of Cullen (Cologne); the Hoopers, the Shepherds, 
 With an Angel .singing Gloria, &e. ; Corpus Christi Gild, Christ in his 
 1 assioti, wiiii the Marys and Angels; the Taylors, Pilate and his Fel- 
 lowsh p, and h.s wile cloathed accordingly ; the Barbers, Anna and 
 
 Caiphas; tlie Fishers, the Apostles; the Merchants, the Prophets; and 
 the Butchers, the Tormentors. Tho. Fitzgerald, E. of Kildare, Lord 
 Lieut., was invited at Christmas, 1523, to a new play every day, wherein 
 tho Taylors acted Adam and Eve; the Shoemakers, Crispin and Cris- 
 jiianus; the Vintners, Bacchus and his Story; the Carpenters, the story 
 of Jo.‘<eph and Mary; the Smiths, that of Vulcan; and the Bakers, 
 that of Ceres. The Priors of St. John of Jerusalem, Trinity, and All 
 Saints, caused to bo represented on the same stage two plays, “ Christ’s 
 Passion” and “The Death of the Apostles.” The play of “The Nine 
 Worthies” was also acted on Corpus Christi-day, 1541. — Harris's Hist, of 
 Dublin, pp. 143-145-147. 
 
 PLAYS REPRESENTED BY BOYS. 
 
 So early as the year 1378, the scholars or choristers of St. Paul’s Ca- 
 thedral, in London, presented a petition to King Richard the Second, 
 that his Majesty would prohibit some ignorant and inexperienced per- 
 sons from acting the History of the Old Testament, to the great preju- 
 dice of the clergy of the church, who had expended considerable sums 
 at the ensuing Christmas. From mysteries this young fraternity pro- 
 ceeded to more regular dramas, and, at the commencement of a theatre, 
 were the best and almost the only comedians. They became at length so 
 favourite a set of players as often to act at court; and, on particular 
 occasions of festivities, were frequently removed from London, for this 
 purpose, to the royal houses at some distance from town. This 
 circumstance in their dramatic history is not commonly known : — In 
 the year 1554, while the Princess Elizabeth resided at Hatfield House, 
 in Hertfordshire, under the custody of Sir Thomas Pope, she was visited 
 by Queen Mary. The next morning, after mass, they were entertained 
 with a grand exhibition of bear baiting, with which their highnesses were 
 right well content. In the evening the great chamber was adorned with a 
 sumptuous suit of tapestry, called the“ Hanginge of Antioch," and after 
 supper a play was presented by the children of Paul’s. After the play, 
 and the next morning, one of the children, named Poines, sung to the 
 Princess, while she played at the virginalls. Strype, perhaps from the 
 same MS. chronicle, thus describes a magnificent entertainment given 
 to Queen Elizabeth, in the year 1559, at Nonsuch, in Surrey, by Lord 
 Arundel, her Majesty's superintendant at that palace, now destroyed. 
 I choose to give the description in the words of this simple but pic- 
 turesque compiler;— “ There the Queen had had great entertainment, 
 with banquets, especially on Sunday night, made by the said Earl, 
 together with a mask, and the warlike sounds of drums a.id flutes, and 
 all kinds of music, till midnight. On Monday was a great supper for 
 her; but before night she stood at her standing in the further park, 
 and there she saw a course. At night was a play by the children of 
 Paul’s and their music master Sebastion; after that a costly banquet, 
 with drums and flutes. This entertainment lasted till three in the 
 morning, and the Earl presented her Majesty with a cupboard of plate. 
 In the year 1562, when the parish clerks of London celebrated one of 
 their annual feasts, after a morning service in Guildhall Chapel, they 
 retired to their hall, where, after dinner, a goodly play was performed 
 by the choristers of Westminster Abbey, with waits, and regals, and 
 singing. The children of the Chapel Royal were .also famous actors 
 under the conduct of Richard Edwards, a musician and a writer of 
 interludes already mentioned. All Lilly’s plays, and many of Shakes- 
 pear’s and Jonson’s, were originally performed by boys, and it seems 
 probable that the title given by Jonson to one of his comedies, called 
 “ Cynthia’s Revels,” first acted in 1605, by the children of her Majesty’s 
 Chapels; with the allowance of the master of the revels, was an allu- 
 sion of this establishment of Queen Elizabeth, one of whose romantic 
 names was Cynthia. The great reputation which they gained, and the 
 particular encouragement and countenance, which they received from 
 the Queen, excited the jealousy of the grown actors at the theatres ; 
 ami Shakespear, in Hamlet, endeavours to extenuate the applause 
 which was idly indulged to their performances, perhaps not always 
 just. In the following speeches of Rosencrantz and Hamlet, there is 
 an aiery of little children, little eyases, that cry out on the top of the 
 question, and are most tyrannically clapped for’t. These are now the 
 fashion, and so be-rattle the common stages, so they call them, that 
 many, wearing rapiers, are afraid of goose quills, and dare scarce come 
 hither. 
 
 Ham. What are they, children? Who maintains them? How are 
 they escorted? Will they pursue the quality no longer than they can 
 sing, &c. 
 
 This was about the year 1599. The latter clause means, “Will they 
 follow the proression of players no longer than they keep the voices of 
 boys and sing in the choir ? ” So Hamlet afterwards says to the players, 
 “Come, give us a taste of your quality; come, a passionate speech.” 
 Some of these, however, were distinguished for their propriety of action, 
 and became admirable comedians at the theatre of Blackfriars. Among 
 the children of Queen Elizabeth’s Chapel was one Salvadore Pavy, who 
 acted in Jonson’s “ Poetaster” and “ Cynthia’s Revels,” and was inim- 
 itable in his representation of the character of an old man. He died 
 about thirteen years of age, and was elegantly celebrated in one of 
 Johnson’s epigrams. — Strype — Warton, vol. ii., p. 534. 
 
 THE CEREMONY OF THE BOY-BISHOP. 
 
 The ceremony of the Boy-Bishop is supposed to have existed, not 
 only in collegiate churches, but in almost every parish. He and his 
 companions walked in procession. A statute of the collegiate church 
 of St. Mary Ottery, in 1337, restrained one of them within the limits of 
 his own parish. On December 7, 1229, the day after St. Nicholas’s 
 day, the Boy Bishop, in the chapel at Heton, near Newcastle-upon- 
 Tyne, said vespers before Edward I., on his way to Scotland, who made 
 a considerable present to him, and the other boys that sang with him. 
 In the reign of Edward III. he received a present of nineteen shillings 
 and sixpence for singing before the King in his private chamber, on 
 Innocent’s day. Dean Colet, in the statutes of the school founded by 
 him in 1512, at St. Paul’s, expressly orders “That his scholars shall, 
 every Childermas (Innocents’) day, come to St. Paule’s Churche, and 
 heare the Chylde-Bishop’s sermon ; and after bee at the Hygh Masse, 
 and each of them offer a penny to the Chyide-Byshop, and with them 
 
 • And was, thereof, commonly called •* Jack Snacker of Wytney.' 
 
[0 EVANSES MUSIC AND SUPPER 
 
 ’■he Maister and Surveyors of the Schole,” By a proclamation of Ken. 
 VIII., dated July 22, 1542, the show of the Child-Bishop was abrogated, 
 but, in the reign of Mary, it was revived. One of the flattering songs 
 sung before that Queen by the Boy-Bishop, and printed, was a panegyric 
 on her devotion, and compared her to Judith, the Queen of Sheba, and 
 tlie Virgin Mary. The accounts of St. Mary-at-Hill, London, in toe 
 10th Hen. VI., for 1549 and 1550, contain charges for the Boy- 
 Bishop of those years. At this period his estimation seems to have 
 been undiminished; for on Nov. 13, 1554, the Bishop of London issued 
 an order to all the clergy of his diocese to have a Boy-Bishop in proces- 
 ^on ; and in the same year he went about St. Andrew’s, Holborn, and 
 St. Nicholas Olaves, in Bread-street, and other parishes. In 1556, the 
 Boy-Bishop again went abroad, singing in the old fashion, and was re- 
 ceived by many ignorant but well-disposed persons into their houses, 
 and had much good cheer. Warton affirms that the practise of electing 
 a Boy-Bishop subsisted in common grammar-schools; for St. Nicholas, 
 as the patron saint of scholars, has a double feast at Eton College, 
 •where, it seems, before the Reformation, the scholars (to avoid inter- 
 fering, as it should seem, with the Boy-Bishop of the college on St. 
 Nicholas day), elected their Boy-Bishop on St. Hugh’s day, in the 
 month of November. Brand is of opinion that the anniversary 
 Montem at Eton is only a corruption of the ceremony of the Boy-Bishop 
 and his companions, who, by the edict of Hen. VIII. being prevented 
 from mimicking their religious superiors, gave a new face to their fes- 
 tivity, and began their present play at soldiers, by electing a captain. 
 When Brand wrote, the Montem was kept in the winter time, a little 
 before Christmas; it was subsequently kept on Whit-Tuesday. We have 
 seen the nature of the diversions provided for the people on the Conti- 
 nent, and one of them, the ceremony of the Boy-Bishop. From the same 
 source England derived the precursors of its regular drama, the Mys- 
 teries. The first trace of theatrical representation in this country, is 
 recorded by Matthew Paris, who wrote about 1240, and relates that 
 Geoffrey, a learned Norman, and Master of the School of the Abbey of 
 Dunstable, composed the play of “ St. Catherine,” w'hich was acted 
 by his scholars. Geoffrey’s performance took place in the year 1110, 
 and he borrowed copes from the sacrist of the neighbouring Abbey of 
 St. Albans to dress his characters. Geoffrey afterwards became Abbot 
 of St. Alban’s Priory. — Warton, vol. i. 
 
 The last Montem was in 1844. 
 
 Let those, who are disposed to ridicule these rude beginnings and in- 
 fancy of the drama, remember, that the troubadours and minstrels were 
 the parents of the sublime inventions of the Italian poets, and of their 
 disciple Spenser, and that the pantomimes and extempore comedy were 
 the nurseries of the epic poets of the middle ages. As popular amuse- 
 ments, which brought together all classes of the community, they were 
 of peculiar and essential service not only in civilizing the people, 
 whe could not read, but in abolishing the barbarous attachment to 
 military games, and the bloody contentions of the tournament, which 
 had so long prevailed as the sole species of popular amusement. Rude, 
 and even ridiculous, as they were, they softened the manners of the 
 people, by diverting the public attention to spectacles, in which the 
 mind was concerned, and by creating a regard for other arts than for 
 those of bodily strength and savage valour.— iZefrospeciite Review, May, 
 1826. 
 
 THE SUPPRESSION OF THEATRES DURING THE CIVIL 
 WARS. 
 
 The drama, as well as the fine arts, suffered with the monarch Charles I. 
 Actors were often called “proud, parroting players; supervious ruffians; 
 asses clothed in lions’ skins; dolts, who imagine themselves somebody, 
 and walk in as great state as Caesar.” The anecdote is sufficiently well 
 known of the actor who surrendered himself in battle to one of the 
 “Saints,” whereupon the Saint exclaimed — “ Cursed is he that doeth the 
 work of the Lord negligently,” and then shot his prisoner because he was 
 an actor. Many actorswho had lived in the sunshine of a court, amidst 
 taste and criticism, perished in the field from affection for their royal mas- 
 ter; some sought humble occupations; and not a few, who, by habits long 
 indulged, had hands too delicate to work, attempted often to enter- 
 tain secret audiences, and were in consequence often dragged to prison. 
 At this period, though deprived of a theatre, the taste for the drama 
 was perhaps the more lively among its lovers ; for, besides the per- 
 formances already noticed — sometimes connived at, and sometimes pro- 
 tected by bribery — in Oliver Cromwell’s time, a practise of privately act- 
 ing at noblemen’s houses, particularly at Holland House, Kensington, 
 •was stealthily introduced ; and Alexander Goffe, the woman actor, 
 was the jackall to give notice of time and place to the lovers of the 
 drama. The players, urged by their necessities, published several 
 MS. plays, which they had hoarded in their dramatic exchequers, as 
 the sole property of their respective companies. In one year appeared 
 fifty of these new plays. Of these dramas many have, no doubt, perished ; 
 for, though numerous titles are recorded, the plays themselves are not 
 known; nevertheless some still remain, in their MS. state, in hands 
 not capable of valuing them. All our old plays were the property 
 of the actors, who bought them for their own companies. The im- 
 mortal works of Shakespeare would not have descended to us had Hem- 
 minge and Condell felt no sympathy for the fame of their friend. But 
 for them they would have been scattered and lost, and perhaps never have 
 been discriminated among the numerous MS. plays of the age. Actors 
 sold MS. plays to relieve their necessities. Middleton’s “ Witch ” was 
 not printed until 1778, and “The Second Maiden’s Tragedy” con- 
 tinued in MS. until 1824. — Collier, vol. iii., p. 389. 
 
 1578. Plays were performed on Sundays, after prayer hours. 
 
 1580. Plays were forbidden on Sundays and on holidays except after 
 evening prayer. 
 
 1585. A regular company was established of “the Children of the 
 Royal Chapel,” under the management of Richard Edwards, and 
 shortly after there was formed another company, stiled “the Children 
 of the Revels.” Besides these. Queen Elizabeth, at the request of Sir 
 Francis Walsingham, established on handsome salaries, twelve of the 
 principal players, under the name of Her Majesty’s comedians aud 
 servants. 
 
 ROOMS, CO VENT-GARDEN, 
 
 CONTROVERSIAL LITERATURE FOR AND AG.|\INST TH-F. 
 
 STAGE. 
 
 “ Th’ overthrow of stage playes, by the way of controversie, betwixt D. 
 Gager and D. Rainoldes, wherein is manifestly proved that it is not 
 only unlawful to be an actor, but a beholder of those vanities. Here- 
 unto are added also, and annexed in th’ end, certeine Latine letters, 
 betwixt the sayed Maister Rainoldes and D. Gentiles, reader oi the 
 Civill Law in Oxford, concerning the same matter.” — 1599. 
 
 Of the remarkable works, in opposition to the drama, the following 
 are the most powerful : — 
 
 Stephen Gossen published in 1579, “ The School of Abuse, or a Plea- 
 sant Invective against Poets, Players, Jesters, and such like Caterpil- 
 lars.” Dr. Reynolds published “ The Overthro'sv of Stage Plays” in 
 1593. This volume of Reynolds seems to have been the shadow and 
 precursor of one of the most substantial of literary monsters, in the • 
 tremendous “ HistrioMastrix, or Players’ Scourge of Prynn,” in 1633. — 
 See Opposition to Plays and Actors. In that volume, of more than a 
 thousand closely printed quarto pages, all that ever was written against 
 plays Slid players, may be found. 
 
 Collier, in 1698, renewed the attack. Arthur Bedford, a few years after- 
 wards, wrote his “ Evil and Danger of Stage Plays,” in which extraor- 
 dinary work he produced “ seven thousand passages, taken out of plays 
 of the present century,” in which fourteen hundred texts of scripture 
 were ridiculed by the stage. This anti-dramatic religionist must have 
 been more deeply read in the drama than its most fervent lovers. — 
 D’Israeli’s Cur. Lit. 
 
 The proper title of this singular book is “ A Serious Remonstranpe, in 
 behalf of the Christian Religion, against the horrid Blasphemies and 
 Impieties which are still used in the English Play-houses, to the Great 
 Dishonour of Almighty God, aud in Contempt of the Statutes of this 
 Realm.” Certainlyit isan extraordinary book, and assuredly written with 
 the best intentions ; but selecting the most obscene and indelicate por- 
 tions of the drama without comment or context, and publishing them, 
 was not judicious. It is impossible to read a more indelicate work. 
 
 “ Histrio-Mastrix, the Player’s Scourge, or Actor's Tragedie, by 
 William Prynne, an Utter Banester of Lincolne’s Inne. Divided into 
 two parts, wherein it is largely evidenced, by divers arguments, by the 
 concurring authorities and resolutions of sundry texts of Scripture, of 
 the whole Primitive Church, both under the Law and Gospel ; of 55 
 Synods and Councels; of 71 Fathers and Christian Writers, before tho 
 year of our Lord 1200; of the above 150 foraigne and domestiqne Pro- 
 testant and Popish Authors ; since, of 40 Heathen Philosophers,” &c. 
 
 The work entitled “ Prjmne (W.), his Defence of Stage Plays, ora 
 retraction of a former Book of his called ‘ Histrio-Matrix’ (reprint)," is 
 considered a fabrication. 
 
 Collier says: — “ In Prynne’s ‘Histrio-Mastrix’ (1633), p. 414,* is in- 
 serted a marginal note, in these words: ‘Some French women, or 
 monsters rather, in Michaelmas term, 1629, attempted to act a French 
 play at the play-house in Blackfriars— an impudent, shameful, un- 
 womanish, graceless, if not more than whorisb attempt.’ In the fol- 
 lowing letter, written by a person, named Thomas Braude, which was 
 discovered, among some miscellaneous papers, in the library of the Arch- 
 bishop of Canterbury, at Lambeth, after giving some other informa- 
 tion, Brande proceeds as follows: “Furthermore, you should know that 
 last daye certaine vagrant French players, who have been expellqd from 
 their own countrey, and certain women did attempt, thereby giving just 
 offence to all vertuous and well-disposed persons in this town, to act a 
 certain lascivious and unchaste comedye, in the French tongue, at the 
 Blackfriars. Glad I am to saye they were hissed, hooted, and pippen- 
 pelted from the stage, so as I do not thinke they will soone be ready to 
 trie the same againe. Whether they had license lor so doing I kuo'us 
 not ; but I do know that, if they had license, it were fit that the 
 Master (of the Revels) be called to an account for the same. 
 About 1633, came out the most learned and notorious work 
 ever published against theatrical performances, ‘ Histrio-Mastri.x, 
 the Player’s Scourge,’ by William Prynne, bearing the date, of 
 1633, but published in 1632. ” 
 
 The following extract is from a familiar communication, con- 
 taining a summary of the current news, from Justinian Pagett, | 
 a barrister, dated 28th of January, 1632--3. It is addressed “To 
 my much-honoured friend, James Harrington, Esq., it Walton- 
 upon-Trent.”— H^ar/. (MSS. No. 1026.) “Mr. Prynne, of Lincolne’s 
 Inn, hath lately set forth a book, entitled ‘ Histrio-Mastrix, or Players’ 
 Scourge,’ the sale of which is prohibited, and he is to appeare at the High 
 Commission on Thursday next, where, when I have heard what is 
 charged against him, I will (if you desire it) send you a more particular 
 relation. His book is extraordinarily stuffed with quotations of old 
 authors, which (they say) are his only arguments. He cites St. Austen, 
 woo sayeth, Si tantummodo boni et honesti viri in eivitale e^sent, nec in 
 rebus fiumanis Ludi Scenici esse debuissent ; but Ido not conceivethis 
 to be the cause why he is called in question, but rather some exorbitant 
 passage concerning ecclesiastical government; for, Iheare, he compares 
 the playing on the organ, ’twixt the first and second lesson, to enterludes 
 in stage playes. It is observable that his booke was published the next 
 day after the Queene’s Pastorall at Somerset House.” The writer of the 
 preceding account, on the 28th of January, had not seen Prynne’s book, 
 and only spoke of its contents from rumour; but Mr. George Gresley, 
 in a letter dated from Essex House, 31st of January, 1632 3, 
 
 to Sir T. Pickering, quotes the author’s words, aud gives very exactly 
 the nature of the charge against Prynne, He says: “ Mr. Prynne, an 
 Utter Barrister of Lincoln’s Inne, is brought into the High Commission 
 Court and Star Chamber, for publishing a booke on the Unlawfulness 
 of Plaies; wherein, in the Table of his Booke, and his brief additions 
 thereunto, he hath these words ; ‘ Women actors are notorious wnores, 
 and St. Paul prohibits women to speake publiquely in the church; 
 and dares then, (sayth he), any Christian women be so more than 
 whoreshly impudent as to act and to speake publiquely on a st^e (per- 
 chaunce in man’s apparell and cut haire), in presence of sundry men 
 and women, which wordes, it is thought by s tme, will cost him ma 
 eares, or heavily punisht and deeply fined! Having been tried in tUa 
 Star Chamber, he was twice set at the pillory, lost parts of both eares. 
 
 I 
 
11 
 
 EVANS'S MUSIC AND SUPPER ROOMS, COVENT-GARDBN. 
 
 was fined £5,000, expelled Lincoln’s Inn, disbarred, deprived of his 
 degree in the University of Oxford, and ordered to be imprisoned for 
 life.” 
 
 The following is from the “ Harleian Miscellany:”—" A brief rela- 
 tion of certain special and most material passages and speeches in the 
 Star Chamber, occasioned and delivered, June 14th. 1637, at the cen- 
 sure of those worthy gentlemen, Dr. Bastwicke, Mr. Burton, and Mr. 
 Prynne, as it hath been truly and faithfully gathered, from their own 
 mouths, by one present at the said censure— Between 8 and 9 o’clock 
 in the morning, the 14th June, the lords being set in their places in the 
 said Court of Star Chamber, and casting their eyes at the prisoners then 
 at the bar. Sir John Finch, Chief Justice of the Common Pleas, began 
 to speak after this manner: ‘ 1 had thought Mr. Prynne had no ears, 
 but methinks he liath ears,’ which caused many of the lords to take the 
 stricter view of him ; and, for their better satisfaction, the us! er of the 
 court was commanded to turn up his hair and shew his ears ; upon the 
 sight whereof the Lords were displeased they bad been formerly no 
 more cut oflf, and cast out some disgraceful words of him. To which 
 Mr. Prynne replied : ‘ My Lords, there is never a one of your honours 
 but would be sorry to have your ears as mine are.’ The Lord Keeper 
 again; ‘In good faith, he is somewhat saucey.’ ‘I hope,’ said Mr. 
 Prynne, ‘ your honours will not be offended ; I pray God give you ears 
 to hear.’ Thus the prisoners, desiring to speak a little more for them- 
 selves, were commanded to silence, and so the lords proceeded to 
 censure. The Lord Cottington’s censure: — ‘I condemn these three 
 men to lose their eares in the Palace Yard at Westminster ; to be fined 
 five thousand pounds a man to his Majesty; and to perpetual imprison- 
 ment in three remote places of the kingdom — namely, the Castles of 
 Caernarvon, Cornwall, and Lancashire.’ The Lord Finch added to this 
 censure: ‘ Mr. Prynne to be stigmatised in the cheeks with two letters 
 (S and L) for a seditious libeller:’ to which all the lords agreed. The 
 execution of the lords’ censure, in the Star Chamber, upon Dr. Bastwicke, 
 Mr. Prynne, and Mr. Burton, took place, in the Palace Yard of West- 
 minster, the 15th day of June last, 1637 ; at the spectation whereof the 
 number of people was great (the place being very large), that it caused ad- 
 miration in all that beheld them, who came, with tender affections, 
 to behold those three renowned soldiers and servants of Jesus Christ; 
 they paved their w'ay with sweet herbs, from the house of which 
 they came to the pillory, with all honour that could be done unto 
 them. Dr. Bastwicke and Mr. Burton first meeting, they did close one 
 in the other’s arms three times, with as much expression of love as 
 might be, rejoycing that they met at such a place, upon such an occa- 
 sion, and that God had so highly honoured them as to call them forth 
 to suffer for his glorious strength. Then, immediately after, Mr. 
 Prynne came, the doctor and he saluting each other, as Mr Burton and 
 he did before. The doctor then went up first on the scaffold, and his 
 wife, immediately following, came up to him, and, like a loving spouse, 
 saluted each ear with a kiss, and then his mouth, whose tender love, 
 boldness, and cheerfulness so wrought upon the people’s affections, 
 that they gave a marvellous shout for joy to behold it. Her husband 
 desired her not to be, in the least manner, dismayed at his sufferings: 
 and so, for a while, they parted, she using these words : ‘ Farewell, my 
 dearest; be of good comfort, I am nothing dismayed.’ Now. the ex- 
 ecutioner being come to sear him and cut off his ears, Mr. Prynne 
 said these words to him, ‘ Come, friend, come ; burn me, cut me ; I 
 fear not. I have learned to fear the fire of hell, and not what men 
 can do unto me. Come, sear me, sear me. I shall bear in my body 
 he marks of my Lord Jesus ;’ which the bloody executioner performed 
 ■with extraordinary cruelty, heating his iron twice to burn one cheek ; 
 and cut one of his ears so close that he cut off a piece of his cheek; 
 at which exquisite torture he never moved wdth his body, or so much 
 as changed his countenance, but still looked up, as well as he could 
 towards heaven, with a smiling countenance, even to the astonishment 
 of all beholders, and uttering, as soon as the executioner had done, this 
 heavenly sentence : ‘ The more I am beaten down, the more am I lift up 
 and, returning from the execution, in aboat, made, as I hear, these two 
 verses by the way, on the two characters branded on his cheeks, S. L. 
 Stigmata Laudis. 
 
 ‘ Stigmata maxillis bajulans insignia Laudis, \ 
 
 Exultans remeo, victima grata Deo.’ / 
 
 Which is thus Englished :—S. L. Laud’s Scars. 
 
 ‘ Triumphant I re|urn, my face decries ^ 
 
 Laud’s scorching scars, God’s grateful sacrifice. ’” 
 
 Prynne’s book was published " At the Blue Bible, in Greene Harbour, 
 in Little Old Bailey, 1633.” If the following extracts indicate only the 
 commencement of the reign of James, I., we, in these days, can well 
 sympathise rvith the author’s abhorrence of the many things, which 
 must have been known at that period. 
 
 Prynne’s exhortation to his legal brethren, in ‘‘The Epistle Dedica- 
 tory” of his book, is worth quoting ; — ‘‘ And so much the rather that 
 you may now at last falsifie that ignominious censure, which some 
 English writers, in their printed works, have passed upon Innes of Court 
 Students; of whom they record, ‘That Innes of Court men w^ere un- 
 done but for players; that they are their chiefest guests and imploy- 
 ment, and the sole busines that makes them afternoou’.s men ; that this 
 is one of the first things they learne, as soone as they are admitted to 
 see stage plays, and take smoke at a play-house, which they commonly 
 make their studie, where they quickly learne to follow all fashions, to 
 drink all healths, to weare favors and good cloaths, to consort with 
 ruffianly companions, to sweare the biggest oaths, to quarrell easily, 
 fight deperately, game inordinately, to spend their patrimony ere it fall, 
 to use gracefully some gestures of apish complement, to talk irre- 
 ligiously, to dally with a mistresse, to hunt after harlots, to prove 
 altogether lawlesse in steed of lawyers, and to forget that little learn- 
 ing, grace, and vertue, which they had before ; so that they grow at last 
 past hopes of ever doing good either to the Church, their country, 
 their owne or others’ soules ;’ which heavy censure, if any dissolute 
 Juay-hunters have justly occa.sioned heretofore, to the dishonour of 
 those fameuslaw societies wherein they live.” 
 
 Prynne was a ■wayward, ill-conditioned man ; he opposed the Court, 
 and suffered terribly. He has been looked uiion as a i egicide (see Dr. 
 Hookwell's Life of Johnson) ; but before the trial of Charles I., he was a 
 Royalist. 
 
 ‘‘ The Stage Condemned,” 1698. (Second Edition.) 
 
 ‘‘The Ancient and Moslem Stages Surveyed, or Mr. Collier’s View 
 set in a True Light,” 1699, published without name, by Dr. Drake, M.D. 
 
 ‘‘A Short View of the Profaneness of tlie Stage, in Answer to Mr. 
 Congreve, Dr. Drake, Jeremy Collier, A.M., 1738. 
 
 Bedford published, in addition to his “ Pi.emonstrance,” ‘‘ The Great 
 Abuse of Music,” 1711 ; and ‘‘ The Temple Music,” 1712. 
 
 ‘‘A Defence of Dramatic Poetry; being a Review of Mr, Collier’s 
 Immorality and Profaneness of the Stage,” 1698. 
 
 Of the entertainment, given by Cecil, in honour of the two Kings of 
 Great Britain and Denmark, at Theobald’s, July 24, 1606, Dr. Lingard 
 gives the following acccount (see L'wgard’s His, vol. ix., p. 83); — 
 ‘‘ No expense, no decoration ■was spared to give a splendour to this en- 
 tertainment. There was, however, one drawback. Ebriety, at this 
 period, was not corifined to the male sex, but, on some occasions, 
 females of the highest distinction, who had spent weeks in the study 
 of their respective parts, presented themselves to the spectators, in a 
 state of the most disgusting intoxication.” 
 
 Dr. Lingard was abused by one of the Reviews for publishing the 
 above: it must be observed his sense of decency was, perhaps, over- 
 scrupulous. The letter of Sir John Harrington, one of the guests, 
 how'ever, places the -whole affair before us. Some portions of the letter 
 cannot be printed.* 
 
 Wright says, ‘‘ That, before the civil -w'ars, there were five companies 
 and six play-houses, viz., the Blackfriars and the Globe, belonging to the 
 same company, called the King’s servants ; the Cockpit, or Phoenix, in 
 Drury- lane, called the Queen’s servants ; the private house, in Salis- 
 bury-ccurt, called the Prince’s servants; the Fortune, and the Red 
 Bull. The t-wo last were mostly frequented by citizens and the meaner 
 sort of people. Blackfriars. Cockpit, and Salisbury-court -were small, 
 and were all three built almost exactly alike for form and bigness. 
 Here they had pits for the gentry, and acted by candlelight. 'The 
 Globe, Fortune, and Bull were large houses, and lay partly open to 
 tlie weather, a;id there they always acted by daylight. * * * 
 
 All these companies got money and lived in reputation.” 
 
 Randolph, in his ‘‘ IMuse’s Looking-Glass,” mentions five of the six 
 play-houses in a dialogue between Mrs. Flowerdew and Bird, two 
 Puritans, who serve the theatre with their wares ; — 
 
 Flow. It was a zealous prayer 
 
 I heard a brother make concerning play-houses. 
 
 Bird. For charity, whatis’t? 
 
 Flow. That the Globe, 
 
 Wherein (quoth he) reigns a whole world of vice. 
 
 Had been consumed ; the Pheenix burnt to ashes ; 
 
 The Fortune whipt for a blind whore ; Blackfriars 
 He wonders how it ’scaped demolishing, 
 
 I’ th’ time of reformation. Lastly, he wished 
 
 The Bull might cross the Thames to the Bear Garden, 
 
 And there be soundly baited. 
 
 Bird. A good prayer. 
 
 Flow. Indeed, it sometimes pricks my conscience ; 
 
 I come to sell them pins and looking-glasses. 
 
 Bird. I have their custom, too, for all their feathers. 
 
 ’Tis fit that we, which are sincere professors. 
 
 Should gain by infidels. 
 
 The Puritans having the ascendancy in Parliament, an Act was passed, 
 Feb. 1 1 , 1647, O.S., ‘‘ T.hat all stage galleries, seats, and boxes should be 
 pulled down, by warrant of two ju-tices of the peace ; that all actors of 
 plays, for the time to come, being convicted, should be publickly 
 whipped ; and all spectators of plays, for every offence, should pay five 
 shillings.” —iVeaZe. This was literally putting Prynne’s ‘‘Histrio- 
 Mastrix into execution. When the civil w'ars began, most of the 
 players, except Lowin, Taylor, and Pollard (who were superannuated), 
 wentintothe King’s army. For instance, Robinson was killedby the well- 
 known enthusiast, Harrison, who refused him quarter, and shot him in 
 the head, after he had laid down his arms, saying, ‘‘ Cursed is he that 
 doth the work of the Lord negligently.” Mohun was a captain, and, after 
 the civil -wars were over, served in Flanders, where he received pay as 
 a major. Hart was a lieutenant of horse in Prince Rupert’s Regi- 
 ment. Burt was a cornet in the same troop. Allen, of the Cockpit, 
 
 ■* " Those, whom I never could get to taste good liquor, now follow 
 the fashion, and wallow in beastly delights. The ladies abandon 
 society, and are seen to roll about in intoxication. After dinner, the 
 representation of ‘Solomon, his Temple, and the Coming of the Queen 
 of Sheba,’ was made, or (as may I better sa)^) was meant to have been 
 made. * * * xhe lady who did play the Queen’s part, did 
 
 carry most precious gifts to both the Majesties; but, forgetting the 
 steppes arisirg to the canopy, overset her caskets into his Danish 
 Majesty’s lap, and fell at his feet, though I rather think it -was in his 
 face. Much was the hurry and confusion; cloths and napkins were 
 ready to make all clean. His Majesty then got up, and would dance 
 with the Queen of S’neba, but he fell down and humbled himself before 
 her, and was carried to an inner chamber, and laid on a bed of state, 
 which was not little defiled with the presents of the Queen. * * ♦ 
 
 The entertainment and show went forward, and most of the presenters 
 went backward or fell down; wine did so occupy their upper chambers. 
 Now did appear, in rich dress, Hope, Faith, and Charity. Hope did 
 essay to speak, but wine did render her endeavours so feeble, that she 
 withdrew. Faith was then all alone, for I am certaine she was not 
 joyned with good works, and left the court in a staggering condition. 
 Charity came to the King’s feet, and seemed to cover a multitude of 
 sins her sisters had committed; in some sorte she made obeysance, and 
 brought gifts. * » * * She then returned to Hope, and 
 
 Faith, who were both sick in the lower hall.”— Sir John Harrington. 
 
12 
 
 EVANS’S MUSIC AND SUPPER ROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN. 
 
 was a major and quartermaster-General at Oxford. Swanston is said 
 to be the only player of note who sided Avith the other party; he Avas 
 a Presbyterian, and took np the trade of a jeweller. — (H. H.) 
 
 Chalmers, after mentioning the story Avhich Wright relates of Robin- 
 son, says, “ The fact, Avhich is more creditable than the story, is that 
 Richard Robinson died quietly atLondon, in 1647 ; for the parish regis- 
 ter of St. Anne’s, Blackfriars, expressly records that Richard Robinson, 
 3. player, was buried on the 23rd of March, 1646—7. William Robins, of 
 the Cockpit, seems to have been called William Robinson in the D. P. of 
 “ Fair Maid of the West,” John Robinson’s name, in 1640, stands for 
 a part in “Messalina.” It was, perhaps, one of the actors Avhom 
 Harrison killed, and Avhom Wright supposed to be Richard Robin- 
 son; the story may not be true, but it certainly AA'ears a strong 
 appearance of probability. When the wars were over, and the 
 Royalists totally subdued, most of the actors who survived made 
 up one company out of the wreck of several, and, in the vA’inter 
 of 1648 they ventured to act some plays, with as much caution 
 and privacy as could be, at the Cockpit. They continued undis- 
 turbed for three or four days, but at last, as they Avere acting the 
 Bloody Brother {Rollo, Duke of Normandy,) in which LoAvin played 
 Aubrey; Taylor, Rollo; Pollard, the Cook-, Burtha, Torch; and Hart 
 (probably), Otio, a party of soldiers beset the house, surprised them 
 about the middle of the play, and carried them aAvay to prison dressed 
 as they were ; Avhere, having detained them some time, and plundered 
 them of their deaths, they set them at liberty. Afterwards, in Oliver’s 
 time, they used to act privately three or four miles or more out of town, 
 sometimes at one place and sometimes at another— occasionally at 
 noblemen’s houses, in particular at Holland House, Kensington, where 
 the nobility an dgentry met, but in no great numbers, and made acollection 
 for them: Alexander Goffe, the woman-actor at Blackfriars, used tobe the 
 person to give notice of time and place. At Christmastime and at Bar- 
 tholomew Fair, they generally bribed the officer, who commanded at 
 Whitehall, and were thereupon connived at, to act for a few days at the 
 Red Bull: but Avere sometimes, notwithstanding, disturbed by sol- 
 diers. Some picked up a little money by publishing copies of plays 
 never before printed. For instance, in 1652, Beaumont and Fletcher’s 
 “ Wild Goose Chase” Avas printed, for the public use of all the ingenious, 
 (as the title-page says) and the private benefit of John Lowin and 
 Joseph Taylor, and, by them, dedicated to the honoured few lovers of 
 dramatic poesy; wherein they modestly intimated their Avants, and 
 that Avith sufficient cause ; for they Avere now reduced to a necessitous 
 condition. Lowin, in his latter days, kept the Three Pigeons, at 
 Brentford, Avhere he died very old and very poor. Taylor died at 
 Richmond, and Avas there buried. Pollard, who lived single, and had 
 a competent estate, retired to some relations he had in the country. 
 Peking and Sumner, of the Cockpit, kept house together at Clerken- 
 w’ell, and were there buried. They all died some years before the 
 Restoration. — Histre. Hist. 
 
 While the stage was suppressed, one Robert Cox, who was an excellent 
 comedian, betook himself to make certain drolls or farces ; these he found 
 means togetperformed,by stealth, under the pretence of rope-dancing. 
 In these drolls he used to perform the principal parts himself, and was 
 a great favourite both in London and in the country. He was so natuml 
 aperformer, that, after he had been playing in the part of Simpleton the 
 Smith, at country fairs, a real smith, of some eminence in those parts, 
 offered to take him as his journeyman, and even allow himtwelvepence 
 per week more than the customary wages. — Langbain. 
 
 In 1809, Avas published a print of the inside of the Red Bull 'Theatre ; 
 it was taken from the frontispiece to a Collection of Drolls printed by 
 Kirkham, in 1672. 'The figures, brought together on the stage, are in- 
 tended as portraits of the leading actors in each droll; the one playing 
 Simpleton is Cox. This print may be considered, not only as highly 
 curious for the place it represents, but as an unique specimen of the 
 interior economy of our English Theatres. — Collier's A7inals of the Stage, 
 5 vols. 
 
 No record, it is believed, is extant of the City Companies of London per- 
 forming plays, except the Parish Clerks of London 1390, and again in 1409. 
 
 Vt’hitsuntide, 1584. — Upon Whitsondaye, there was a very good sur- 
 mond preached at the New Churche-yard, nere Betlielem, Avhereat my 
 Lo. Mayor Avas, with his brethren; and by reason no playes were the 
 same daie, all the city Avas quiet. * * * That night (Monday) I re- 
 
 turned to London, and found all the Avards full of watches ; the cause 
 therof was, that very nere the theatre or curten, at the tyme of the 
 playes there, laye a prentice sleping upon the grasse, and one Challis, 
 at Brostock, dyd turn upon the too (toe) upon tlie belly of the same 
 prentice, Avherupon the prentice start up, and after Avords they fell to 
 playne blowes. Upon Weddensday, one Brown, a serving man in a 
 bleu coat, a slashing fellowe, having a peirelous witt of his OAvne, en- 
 tending a sport, if he cold have brought it to passe, did at the theatre 
 doore quarrel 1 Avith certen poore boys, handicraft prenteses, and shooke 
 some of them; and lastely, he with his sword wounded and maymed 
 one of the boyes upon the left hande; Avhereupon there assembled nere a 
 thousand people. Upon Sondaye my lord sent two aldermen to the court, 
 for the suppressing and pulling downe of the theatre and curten. All the 
 lords were thereunto, saving my Lord Chamberlen and Mr. Vyce, but 
 Ave obteyned a letter to suppress theym. Upon the same night, I sent 
 for the Queue’s players, and my Lo. of Arundel, his players, and they 
 all willinglie obeyed the lords’ letters. The chiefost of her highness’ 
 players advysed me to send for the OAvner of the theatre, Avho Avas a 
 stubborne fellow, and to bynd hym. I did so: he sent me Avord that 
 he Avasmy Lord of Hunsden’s man, and that he Avould not come at me, 
 but he Avoid in the mornyng ride to my lord. Then I sent the Under- 
 SherifT for him, and he brought him to me ; and, in the end, I shewed 
 him my lord his master’s hand, and then he Avas more quiet ; but to die 
 for it he would not be bound. And then, I mynding to send him to 
 prison, he made sure that he might be bound to appear at Oier and 
 Determiner, the Avhich is to-morowe, Avher hs said that he A^as sure 
 the court wold not bind hyin, being a counselor’s man; and so I have 
 graunted his request, where he shal be sure to be bounde, or else ys 
 lyk to do worse. An old mucision of the Queue’s had this last night 
 weretioem in his lectulo; one Alen, a constable, being homo barbatus, 
 
 toke theym. The Italien most violentlie tore off Alen’s berde, and said 
 he might have a Avenche in his chamber, because for that he Avas a 
 Queue’s man. Alen now is become a marques unto my Lo. Mayor, 
 hath bounde the Italien to answere at th e next gaole delyverie. — Fleet- 
 wood's Reports, sent occasionally to Lord Burghley ; Lansdown MSS. 
 (FleetAvood Avas Recorder of London, Collier. 
 
 Of English Comedies.— The last, and not the least, defect of the 
 English comedies is their offensiveness. I may sum up the whole' in 
 one word, by saying, that, after all we know of the licentiousness of 
 manners, under Charles II.,Ave are still lost in astonishment at the 
 audacious ribaldry of Wycherly and Congreve. Decency is not merely 
 violated in the grossest manner in single speeches, and frequently in 
 the Avhole plot, but in the character of the rake, the fashionable de- 
 bauchee, a moral scepticism is directly preached up, and marriage is 
 the constant subject of their ridicule. Beaumont and Fletcher pour- 
 trayed an irregular but vigorous nature; nothing, however, can be 
 more repulsive than rude depravity coupled Avith claims to higher 
 refinement. Under Queen Anne, manners again became more decorous ; 
 and this may easily be traced in the comedies. In the series of 
 English comic poets, Wycherly, Congreve, Farquhar, Vanbrugh, 
 Steele, Cibber, Sic., we may perceive something like a gradation, from 
 the most unblushing indecency to a tolerable degree of modesty. 
 The latest period of English comedy begins with Colman. Since 
 that time, the morals have been irreproachable, and much has been 
 done in the Avay of refined and original characterization : the form, 
 however, has, on the whole, remained the same, and in that respect I do 
 not think the English comedies at all models. But why has the re- 
 vival of the admiration of Shakespeare remained unproductive for 
 dramatic poetry? Because he has been too much the subject, of 
 astonishment, as an unapproachable genius who owed everything to 
 nature and nothing to art. His success, it is thouglit, is without ex- 
 ample, and can never be repeated : nay, it is even forbidden to venture 
 into the same region. Had he been considered more under an artistic 
 point of vieAV, it would have led both to an endeavour to understand the 
 principles which he followed in his practice, and to an attempt to master 
 them. A meteor appears, disappears, and leaves no trace behind ; the 
 course of a heavenly body, however, ought to be delineated by the 
 astronomer, for the sake of investigating more accurately the laws of 
 general mechanics. May the romantic drama, and the grand historical 
 drama, those truly native species, be again speedily revived, and may 
 Shakespeare find such worthy imitators as some of those whom Ger- 
 many has produced. — Schlegel, p. 483. 
 
 THEATRES AT FAIRS— BARTHOLOMEW AND OTHERS. 
 
 From 1734 to 1742 the editor of “The Theatre, or Dramatic Mirror,” 
 in 1819, has reprinted some advertisements relative to the drolls per- 
 formed at Bartholomew Fair; they are taken from an old neAvspaper 
 dated Sept. 5th, 1734:— “At Ryan, Lagurre, Chapman, and Hall’s ' 
 Booth, an excellent new Droll, called ‘ Don John, or the Libertine 
 Destroyed.’ Don John, Ryan; lacomo. Chapman; Leonora, Miss 
 Mann. With a Ballad Opera, called ‘ The Barren Island, or the Petti- 
 coat Government.’ In order to entertain the toAvn with greater variety, 
 
 N. B. Ryan and Co „ have been at the expense of causing this enter- 
 tainment to be made. To begin every day at one o’clock, and continue 
 till eleven at night ” (The same notice as to the time of performance is 
 added to the other bills.) “ At Hippisly, Bullock, and Hallam’s Booth, 
 
 ‘ The Trial and Ancient History of Fair Rosamond.’ This being the 
 last week of the Fair, Hippisly intends to entertain the company with 
 his diverting medley of ‘The Drunken Man,’ which he has been so 
 long celebrated for.” “At Fielding and Gate’s Booth, in the George Inn 
 Yard, ‘ Don Carlos, Prince of Spain.’ The passage to the booth will 
 be comraodiously illuminated with several large moons and lanthorns 
 for the conveniency of the company; and the coaches of persons of 
 quality may drive up the Yard.” “ At SouthAvark Fair, ‘ The True and 
 Ancient History of Maudlin, the Merchant’s Daughter of Bristol, and 
 her Constant Lover, Antonio; with the Comical Humours of Roger, 
 Antonio’s Man.’ ” Most of the pieces acted at BartholomeAv Fair, like 
 many of those produced in modern times at the minor theatres, Avere 
 doubtless never intended for publication; some few are published. 
 
 ‘ Unnatural Parents, or the Fair Maid of the West; with the Comical 
 Humours of Trusty, her Father’s Man ;’ and ‘ Dame Strikefire, the 
 Wicked Witch of CornAvall.’ This little piece was acted at Lee’s 
 Booth, probably about 1720 or 1725; it is printed Avithout a date, i 
 'Tottenham Court 1738. “ At Fielding and Hallara’s Great Booth, near 
 the turnpike, in 'fottenham Court, during the time of the fair, the town , 
 will be diverted Avith a neAV entertainment (never performed before), 
 called ‘The Mad Lovers, or Sport upon Sport;’ with ‘The Comical I 
 Humour of Squire Graygoose and his Man Doodle, My Lady Gray- 
 goose, and Captain Astall.’” “ At Hallam’s Great Theatrical Booth, in 
 the George Inn Yard, in Smithfield, during the short time of Bartholo- ' 
 meAv Fair, the town Avill be diverted Avith that celebrated Burlesque 
 Opera, called ‘ The Dragon of Wantley,’ to be performed by the Lilli- 
 putian Company from D.L.” “ At Penkethman’s Great Theatrical Booth, | 
 over against the Hospital-gate, in Smithfield, during the short time of 
 Bartholomew Fair, the toAvn Avill be humorously diverted with a new 
 entertainment, called ‘The Man’s BeAvitched, or the Devil to do About 
 Her.’ ” “ At the New Wells, near the London SpaAv, Clerkenwell, the 
 diversions will begin this day, at five o’clock in the afternoon, consist- 
 ing of a great variety of new humorous songs, serious and comic 
 dances; together with the grand views of Vau.xhall, and the celebrated I 
 enteitainment of that place, called ‘ A Hint to the Theatres, or Merlin 
 in Labour; with the Birth, Adventures, Execution, and Restoration of 
 Harlequin.’ The Avhole will conclude Avith a new Avhimsical, chyraical, 
 pantomimical amusement, called • The Sequel.’ N.B The first view 
 of Vauxhall Avill be opened at six, and tbe entertainment of ‘Merlin’ 
 exactly at seven.” 1739. Bartholomew Fair. — “At Bullock’s (from 
 C. G.) Great Theatrical Booth, the largest in the fair, during 
 the short time of Bartholomew Fair, the town will be agreeably 
 diverted with a variety of humorous songs, dances, and extra- 
 ordinary performances.” “ At Hallam’s Great Theatrical Booth, over 
 against the Hospital-gate, in Smithfield, during the short time of Bar- 
 
EVANS'S MUSIC AND SUPPER-ROOMS. COVBNT-GARDEN. IS 
 
 tholoniew Fair, the town will be humorously diverted with anewenter- 
 ment, called “ Harlequin Turned Philosopher, or the Country Squire 
 Outwitted.” “ At Hippisley’s, Chapman’s, and Legar’s Great Theatrical 
 Booth, in the George Inn Yard, Smithfield, during the short time of 
 Bartholomew Fair, the town will be humorously diverted, with an ex- 
 cellent entertaiment : Signor Arthurini, who has a most surprising 
 talent at grimace, and will, on this occasion, introduce upwards of fifty 
 •whimsical, sorrowful, comical, and diverting faces.” “ At Fawkes and 
 i Pinchbeck’s Great 'I'heatrical Booth, the end of Hosier Lane, West 
 Smithfield, during the time of Bartholomew Fair, the town will be 
 humorously diverted, by Punch’s celebrated Company of Comical Tra- 
 gedians from the Hay, who will perform the tragedy of tragedies, being 
 the most comical, whimsical tragedy that was ever tragedized, by any 
 tragical company of comedians, called ‘ The Humours of Covent 
 Garden, or the Covent Garden Tragedy,’ written by Henry Fielding, 
 Esq. Boxes, 2s. ; pit. Is.; gallery, 6d.” “ At Goodwin’s Large Theatrical 
 Booth, opposite the White Hart, in West Smithfield, near Cow Lane, 
 during the short time of Bartholomew Fair, the town will be enter- 
 tained with a humorous Comedy, of three acts, called ‘ The Intriguing 
 Footman, or the Spaniard Outwitted ;’ with a Pantomime entertainment 
 of Dancing, between a Soldier and a Sailor, and a Tinker and a Tailor, 
 and Buxom Joan of Deptford.’ To begin each day at twelve o’clock, 
 and end at ten at night.” “ At Turbutt and Yates’ (from Goodman’s 
 Fields) Great Theatrical Booth, formerly Hallam’s, opposite the Hos- 
 pital-gate, in Smithfield, during the short time of Bartholomew Fair, 
 will be presented a dramatic piece, called ‘ The True and Ancient His- 
 tory of the Loves of King Edward the 4th and his famous Concubine, 
 Jane Shore ;’ containing the reign and death of King Edward ; the 
 distresses and death of Jane Shore in Shoreditch ; the acquisition of 
 the Crown by King Richard the 3rd (commonly called crook-back’d 
 Richard), and many other true liistorical passages.” ” At Hippisley and 
 Chapman’s Great Booth, in the George Inn Yard, Smithfield, during 
 the short time of Bartholomew Fair, will be presented a most humorous 
 and diverting Droll, called ‘Scaramouch Scapin, or the Old Miser 
 caught in a Sack, with the comical shifts, tricks, and cheats of Scapin’s 
 three companions, Trim the Barber. Sly, and Bully Bounce About.” “At 
 [Crawley’s Booth, over against the Crown Tavern, in Smithfield, during 
 •he time of Bartholomew Fair, a little Opera, called ‘ The Old Creation 
 Df the world, yet newly revived, with the addition of Noah’s Flood,’ ” 
 l&c. — Collier’s Annals of the Stage. 
 
 ACTRESSES WHO BECAME ENNOBLED BY THEIR 
 MARRIAGE. 
 
 “ Half a century elapsed before knight or gentleman took an actress 
 from the stage, for the purpose of making her his wife. The squires, 
 in this case, had precedence of the knights ; and the antiquary, Martin 
 Folkyes, led the way, by espousing Lucretia Bradshaw, the uncorrupted 
 [imid corruption, and the original Cor/nwa in the ‘Confederacy,’ Dorinda 
 in the ‘ Beaux Stratagem,’ and Arabella Zeal in the ‘ Fair Quaker of 
 Deal.’ This marriage took place in 1713, and there was not a happier 
 learth in England than that of the antiquary and the actress. A 
 Knight of the Garter followed, with an Earl’s coronet, and in 1735 the 
 j»reat Lord Peterborough acknowledged his marriage with that daughter 
 !)f sweet sounds, Anastasia Robinson. This example at once flattered, 
 provoked, and stimulated the ladies, one of whom, the daughter of 
 iEarl de Waldegrave, Lady Henrietta Herbert, married young Beard 
 he actor. 'I'his was thought ‘low,’ and another knight’s daughter was 
 ess censured for marrying her father’s footman. The ‘Beggai's’ 
 ppera’ gave two coronets to tyro Pollgs. Lavinia Fenton (Betswick), 
 he original Polly at Lincoln’s Inn, in 1728, became Duchess of Bolton, 
 li few years later; and in 1813, no less a man than Lord Thurlow mar- 
 led Mary Catherine Bolton, who was scarcely an inferior Polly to the 
 triginal lady, who gave up Polly to become a Bolton. The squires 
 mce more took their turn when Sheridan married Miss Lindley ; but 
 )efore the last century closed. Miss Farren gave her hand to ‘the 
 |)roudest Earl in England,’ the Earl of Derby, Knight of the Bath. In 
 i 807, knight and squire took two ladies from the stage. In that year 
 tlr. Heathcote married the beautiful Miss Searle ; and Earl Craven 
 harried Louisa Brunton. We have still amongst us five ex-actresses 
 'vho married men of the degree of noble, knight, or squire. These are 
 tiiss Stephens, the widowed Countess of Essex; Miss Foote, the 
 widowed Countess of Harrington; Miss O’Neill, the widow of Sir 
 itVilliam Becher, Bart. ; Mrs. Nisbett, (since dead), the relict of the 
 |)old Sir William Bootbby ; and Miss M. Tree, whose late husband, Mr. 
 Iradshaw, was at onetime M.P. for Canterbury.”— Dr. Doran's Knights 
 and their Days. Bentley. 
 
 There are some interesting particulars of the festivities of the inns 
 »f court in Dugdale's Origines Juridiciales. 
 
 For London pageants, consult The Lord Mayor's Pageants, edited by 
 — Fairholt, Esq. Percy Society. 
 
 lYMNS AND RELIGIOUS SONGS ANTECEDENT TO KNOWN 
 SECULAR MUSIC. 
 
 Notwithstanding the perpetual vanity and injustice of the Greeks, in 
 issuming to themselves the invention and discovery of all arts, 
 ciences, and branches of knowledge, and their arrogant censure on all 
 tther nations for barbarism and inferiority of understanding, it is an 
 inquestionable fact, as will soon be shown from the strongest evidence, 
 hat all that boasted intelligence and knowledge which they affected to 
 lisclose as the result of their own sagacity, was already known in the 
 world, long before the Greeks existed as a nation. Those nations, 
 yhcm, in their superlative wisdom, they have chosen to term and coll- 
 ider as barbarians, were so far their superiors in intellect, intelligence, 
 md information, as to be able to become, as they actually did, their in- 
 tructors; and that, in point of fact, it was from those very nations, 
 nd not from their own discoveries, that the Greeks themselves ob- 
 ained what they knew of the subject. Even their own system of my- 
 hology, their only code of religion, contemptible as it was, as being 
 
 destitute of the foundation of morality, they were unable to frame 
 without the assistance of the sacred writings. At the very time when* 
 they sought to advance their own reputation for wisdom and sagacity, 
 by the production of something which should astonish all mankind by 
 its excellence, their superior int..Iiects and sagacity were able to suggest 
 no better plan than one teeming with the grossest absurdities : and 
 even for the formation of this contemptible fabric they found them- 
 selves reduced to the wretched necessity of borrowing from those very 
 truths which it was their decided intention to treat as falsehoods, and 
 which they corruptly and dishonestly distorted and sophisticated. In 
 order, however, to promote their own sinister purposes to avoid detec- 
 tion, they have, it is true, disguised their fables by changing the names 
 of persons and countries, by uniting in the history of one person the 
 action of several, and by fixing for the residence and existence of their 
 heroes and deities, countries and periods of time, different from those in 
 which their originals flourished. But the foundation of all their prin- 
 cipal fables are to be traced in the histories of the Old and New 
 Testaments; and it is believed that, perhaps, without a single excep- 
 tion, scarcely any one Deity occurs in their system, for which a. 
 parallel instance may not be discovered in the Scriptures, which existed 
 long before their time, and with which it is proved beyond a doubt, 
 that they were thoroughly acquainted. 
 
 Megasthenes, a Greek historian, cited by Eusebius, says, that all 
 which the ancient Greeks have delivered on the subject of nature, had 
 been written by the Jews long before ; and Aristobulus, a Jewish plii- 
 losopher, and Numenius, a celebrated Greek, Pythagorean and Pla- 
 tonic, both affirm that Pythagoras and Plato have only rendered into 
 Greek, what they had already found in the writings of Moses; the 
 former expressly adds, that the Books of Moses had been translated 
 into Greek, not only before the time of Alexander, but even prior to 
 that of the Persian monarch ; and Numenius’s assertion is well known, 
 that Plato is no other than IMoses speaking Greek. That the Greeks 
 had received from the Egyptians, the knowledge of astrology and 
 divination, the names of their gods and the system for their worship, 
 together with their code of laws, the historians themselves teach us. 
 Herodotus even mentions some of the laws of Solon, which had been 
 borrowed and taken from the Egyptians; and Solon himself tvas re- 
 proached by the learned Egyptians with the ignorance of the Greeks, 
 who, as they said, were only children in the ancient branches of 
 knowledge. Diodorus Siculus has given the names of the first sages 
 and celebrated learned men among the Greeks, who went into Egypt to 
 acquire there, during a residence of great part of their lives, any ac- 
 quaintance with those laws and branches of knowledge, without which 
 they found they knew nothing. “ The Egyptian priests,” says this his- 
 torian, “show from their registries, and prove by substantial evidence, 
 that Orpheus, Daedalus, Lycurgus of Sparta, Solon the Athenian, 
 Plato the mathematician, Eudoxus, Democritus of Abdera, and 
 Oinopis of Chios came among them.” Bishop Louth gave it as his 
 opinion that Hebrew poetry formed the model of all sorts of Greek, 
 poetry. — An Enquiry into the Nature of Poetry, particularly the Dra,r 
 matic Species, 1817 — Sidney Hawkins, vol i., p.4. 
 
 THE ORIGIN OF CHRISTIAN HYMNS. 
 
 Christian hymns and religious poetry date from our Saviour and his 
 disciples; it is from those days that hymns have been handed down 
 from age to age, for our instruction. Thus the disciples (Acts ii,*) were 
 singing psalms with a loud voice, when the ignorant people who sur- 
 rounded them, said, “These men are filled with sweet wine.” They 
 also speak of singing hymns, Eph. v., 18, 19. Our Saviour himself 
 sang hymns. Matt, xxvi., 30. The prophets also sang hymus on the 
 way to Judea, Acts ii., 16 — 25, St. Paul recommends to the Phillip- 
 pians, xvi., 25, to sing hymns. The Doxology was made into 
 hymns of praise for the morning, Jes. vi. 8. The Magnificat, the Song 
 of Zacharias (Luke i.), that of Simon (Luke ii., 29), the greater and th& 
 lesser Doxology (Apoc. i., 6 — Luke ii., 13), and the Agnus Dei (John i., 
 29) were also hymns of that time. A legion, of hymns appear to have 
 been written about this time, the entire of which are lost. Two psalms 
 are said to have been sung by our Saviour, Ps. cxx., cxxxvii. — J. 
 Winer’s Die. of the Bible — liambachs Antology and Christian Hymns of 
 the Old and Middle Time. 
 
 The apostles in their imprisonment wrote psalms and hymns ; but 
 the pagans, supposing them to be magical charms, destroyed them. 
 They were taught this by the enemies of the Christians, In the first 
 and second century, Pliny writes to the Emperor Trajan, and says, 
 “ The Christians arise before daybreak to sing to Christ their God.” 
 Tertullian, in his work, “Ad Uxor,” ii., 9, says of the Christians, 
 “ They divide their time in singing psalms and hymns, but they reserve 
 their finest for God’s day.” Lucianus also mentions the new sect, viz. 
 the followers of Christ, singing hymns to their God. 
 
 DOGMATIC PERIOD. 
 
 The Gnostica, in the beginning and middle of the second century, 
 were well known to cause many that would have been Christians, 
 through their fantastic and false principles of philosophy, to discard the 
 true faith and follow them. The followers of Arius, at the end of the 
 second, and beginningof the third century, made many proselytes; forit 
 is incredible the quickness with which they gained adherents. — 
 Neander's Church History, vol. i., p. 532. These men wrote hymns 
 according to their own manner, and odes also. — S. Munter, 1812. The 
 Gnostica had bards who sang, with what they called their corrections, 
 the Psalms of David, to realiy beautiful melodies, some of which 
 
 * Ehrenfeucter, in his “Christian Study of Church Song,” gives ex- 
 amples of hymns sung by the apostles;, also Klopper, iu his book on 
 the Liturgy. 
 
EVANS'S MUSIC AND SUPPER ROOMS, CO VENT-GARDEN. 
 
 14 
 
 have been preserved in the Church.* Later the psalms sung by 
 Arius and his follovrers, name.', “The Wandering Hymns,” were 
 adopted by the Bishop of Laodice '. in 381. The streets of Constant! 
 nople re-echoed in the silent night t the heretic Arian songs ; indeed 
 they became formidable ; the vulgar v: i captivated by their seductive 
 
 music. St. John Chrysostom, or Golde Mouth, saw the necessity of 
 resisting the powerful organised bands of well-trained choristers, 
 who, in their processions through the city, sang their hymns. 
 
 In the fourth century the Man ichees, the followers of a Spaniard named 
 Manichi, amongst whom were Hieray and Agapius, established a new 
 sect upon their own principles; one of their hymns is still preserved. — 
 F. Rheinwalds Arch. S. 4, 60, Hymvus Domini. Their books also con- 
 tained those hymns, that Paul of Samosata banished from the Church. 
 Neander, in “Church Hist.,” s.ays, “The Syrian Synod condemned 
 Paul of Samosata for heresy, on the particular charge of writing hymns 
 in his own praise, and not in praise of our Lord, he giving as a reason, 
 that the hymns of the Lord had an improper tendency ; the fact is he 
 had a dogmatic interest in the destruction of the Church hymns.” 
 
 There is no authentic church music or hymn of the fourth century 
 known. The heretics of the time, namely — “ The Donatists,” maddened 
 their followers by the passionate and wild character of their hymns, in- 
 flaming their enthusiasm, as wuth a trumpet’s sound: — “ Donatista nos 
 reprehendunt, quod sohrie psallimus in ecclesia divina Cantica Prophe- 
 tarum, cum ipsi ebrietates suas ad canticum psalmorum humane in- 
 genio compositorum, quasi tubas exortationes inflammani.” — St. 
 Auqust. Confes. 
 
 The hymns and music of the Church were now' divided into three 
 schools, viz. — the Syrian,, the Greek, and the Latin. Harmonius, the 
 son of the Syrian hymnologist, Bardasamus, 172, followed the footsteps 
 of Ephrain, the Syrian; his hyunns will be found in the collection of 
 his works, Rome 1732, in six books. They had five syllables and twelve 
 strophe. Harmonius had seven syllables. Many of their hymns 
 were set to common and pnpirlar melodies, which no doubt belonged to 
 the temple music of the Hebrews, and were formerly sung to their 
 psalms. Some of these melodies were set to lyturgical, penitential, 
 and praise hymns In the Greek Church, 169, the martyr Aihenagoras 
 left hymns, one of which we believe is extant, and will be found in the 
 work of Basil, de Spir, S. C. 29. The old hymns, which were used for 
 so long a time in the Church, both praise and penitential, are by 
 Clement of Alexandria, 220, in three books of the Paedagogus. These 
 works are remarkable for their clearness of diction and beauty of lan- 
 guage. 
 
 In the third era, the Egyptian Bishop, Nepos, was known as the 
 author of Church niusic. Some of the Greek hymns are to be found 
 in the London edition of the Polyglot Bible, taken from the Codex 
 Alexandrinus, also a hymn of the F.edemption, said to be of the 
 Apostles’ Constitut., B. 7. The Bishop Nepos elevates the great 
 Doxology and the Hymnus A.ngelicus. An evening hymn by him will 
 be found in Apostol. Constitut., B. 8, C. 36. 
 
 In the fourth century, St. Gregory of Nazianzen gives us three 
 hymns, two of praise, and an evening hymn. Syne.<ius, Bishop of 
 Ptolomy, 430, left us some hymns, but they are more individual than 
 church like. In the Western Church, Pontius Meropius Paulinus, 
 Bishop of Nola, 432, wrote a collection of hymns, “ Hymnarium ;” in 
 which are found some beautiful hymns. 
 
 In 370, Fabius Marius Victorinus added some church music. Hila- 
 rius, Bishop of Poictiers, 368, was a man of great learning and knowledge 
 in church music; he lived under Constantius, in Phrygia, and was well 
 acquainted with the music of the Eastern Church. To him is given 
 the celebrity of writing the better and more beautiful hymns to be found 
 in the Western Church. “ Lucis largito Splendide ;” this is attributed 
 to him, and written at the desire of his daughter Abra, a pious woman. 
 Daniels pronounces this the earliest hymn known. Wackerna;;le 
 gives “ Afterne rerum Conditor” as the first known hymn. The 
 Bishop of Damascus, 384, wrote forty hymns of great merit; one upon 
 St. Agatha, virgin and martyr. This hymn was written, according to 
 the new manner of church music, viz. — that of Ambrosius, of whom 
 we shall speak presently. At this time appeared many heretical hymns ; 
 some were from the Eastern and Western Churches, and portions of the 
 New Testament were misapplied to their principles. The Council of 
 Laodicea, 370, commanded that no psalms or new hymns, but those ap- 
 proved of by them should be sung. The Synod of Tours, 567, strongly 
 
 * As for the manner of the Primitive singing, it was in good tune and 
 concert, ail the people bearing a part in it; but whether they sang altoge- 
 ther or antiphonally, cannot well be determined ; proiiably every country 
 followed its own mode, singing only in general being commanded, not 
 the particular manner or fashion of it. In a preceding quotation mention 
 is made of singing in concert, or with voices all together. In other 
 places, the alternative method of singing seems expressly to be used, as 
 Pliny writes, Epist, ad Tr.ajan, “ sing a hymn to Christ, by course, 
 or one against another.” And so in that before cited passage of Tertulli .n, 
 what “ will a believing husband sing to an unbelieving wife? or what 
 will a believing wife sing to an unbelieving husband ?” As for singing 
 men and singing wonien, I find that Paulus Semosatenus, the heretical 
 Bishop of Antiodi, abolished the old usual hymns, and appointed cer- 
 tain women on Easter day, in the middle of tire church, to sing psalms 
 in his praise; but whether these singing women were first intr' duced 
 by this heretical Bishop, or were before his time, I cannot tell. As 
 for organs for church music, those primitive ages were tottdly ignorant 
 of them; lor it cannot tationaily be conceived that, in those .days 
 of continual persecution or violenre, they C( uld - itlmr use or' pre- 
 set ve tliem ; all that tlu y thought of was to sing in rhj'ine, metre, tune, 
 and concert— Origin de orat. Wlien the singing of psalms was ended, 
 then succeeded the preaching of tl.e word : so writes Teriullian. 
 
 “ Scriptures are read, p.'-alms sung, and then sermon pronounced .” — The 
 Wrsohip, Cercmovics, %c., of the Primitive Church, hii an impartial hand 
 that flourished :m) years A.C. Printed at the Goldin Lijmi, St. Paul’s 
 Chu- ehijard. No date. 
 
 condemns nameless and obscure hymns, that were becoming too pre- 
 valent. The Synod of Toledo, 633, in alluding to church music, says 
 “ that the hymns of Hilarius and Ambrosius are proper for the Church, 
 but that others impart fear unto men, and make them shut their 
 eyes against the light, and open them not.” 
 
 LYTURGICAL HYMNS. 
 
 The first hymns of the Western Church were by St. Ambrose at 
 Milan, 397, at least those that were of a Lyturgical character. The 
 subject matter of these hymns tvas universally known before the •' 
 word “ Lyturgical” was comprehended; for if the ecclesiastics of that ‘ 
 period had been asked what was the meaning of the words" Lyturgical, 
 hymns,’’ they would probably have answered they did not belong to 
 rel’gious poetry. Yet, had it been said to them, have you no hymns 
 set apart for Sunday and other holy days? they would place in your ,■ 
 hands a book of their own, containing hymns proper for Sundays. A , 
 glance at the “Thesaurus Hymnologicus of Daniels,” will be sufficient to 
 show that it was not the subject alone that was beautiful, but that it was i' 
 executed with deep feeling. Later the hymns were more metaphorically i 
 written, and a greater display of learning was exhibited. It must not ’ 
 be forgotten that religious odes formed a very important part of the 
 Christian Church, and that they w'ere even more regarded than hymns I 
 in the second century. We regret to say there are but few novr ;i 
 extant. W'hen the Ambrosian Chant became general in the church, 
 the odes began to disappear, and, at the adoption of the Gregorian ; 
 improvements, they were discarded, as unworthy of a place in a Christian ' 
 Temple. ' 
 
 THE TIME OF AMBROSIUS. 
 
 In the Western Church, Ambrosius found the ground prepared for eccle- 
 siastical musical study before his time. Hilarius of Poictiers had much 
 enlarged the holy odes and hymns, but Ambrosius found them a mass 
 of confusion, without rule or order. He found the material there, but it 
 wanted arrangement. He divided it into four parts ; took from it, or 
 added to it as it required. His fame soon spread, and the following 
 hymns are considered, upon authority, as Ins writing. “ Aeterne 
 rcrum conditor,”," Veni redemptor gentium,”,'" Jam surgithoratertia,” 
 “ Deus Creator Omnium,” “ Illuminans Altissimus,” and “ Orabo 
 mente dominum ;” each hy'-mn gives its peculiarity in its name. St. 
 Augustine wrote a hymn against the Donatists, in which it is said Am- 
 brosius assisted. Aurelius Prudentius Clemens, who died in the year 
 405, appears to be one of the first writers of hymns peculiar to the 
 Western Church. A hy^mn of great beauty, “Jam Moesta quiesce 
 querela,” is ascribed to him. Coelius Sedulias, a Christian Presbyter 
 in 450, wrote a remarkable work, called “ Opus paschale,” iu live books 
 which is much spoken of. Ennodias, Bishop of Ticinum or Pavia, 521, 
 ami Fortunatus, Bishop of Poictiers, 600, are both mentioned as hymn 
 writers. The sublime “ Te deum,” is ascribed by some to Ambrosius, 
 but without sufficient authority ; however it is now, we believe, well 
 known as a morning hymn of the Eastern Church. The ninth century 
 completed that which was begun in the sixth, crowning with perfection 
 the Godlike hymns and music of the church. 
 
 THE TIME OF GREGORY THE GREAT. 
 
 Gregory, 604, found much in the music and poetry of the Church to 
 improve ; for the study, in particular, of the Ambrosian Chant, he gave 
 many new rules and enlarged upon it. The Gregorian Chant is, at this 
 day, well known for its grand severity, ecclesiastic majesty, and, still 
 more for its sublime simplicity ; but to St. Ambrose must be awarded 
 the merit of the invention of the system and much of the melody. The 
 beginning is the trial of genius, the improvement is the labour of wisdom. 
 Even in his hymns, St. Gregory preserved the character given them by 
 St. Ambrose. The Benedictines, Paris, 1705, had in their possession a 
 work of St. Gregory, which contained eight hymns. In his “ Hymni ad 
 nocturnum diebus,” there is one for the morning waking on Sunday, 
 which was sung by the monks — “ Quick, arise, and haste away,” and 
 another “ To seek your God while yet ’tis night,” which St. Gregory 
 seems to have made the morning sacred song and night prayer. There is 
 one for Easter, a sublime hymn, viz., “ Rex Christe, factor Omnium.” 
 This may be properly called a Lyturgical hymn. Isidorus of Seville, 
 636, wrote some hymns upon St. A;;atha, 251. Cyiille, a Spaniard 
 of this time, wrote some also. Tlie venerable Bede, 735, wrote hymns 
 upon the Church Festivals, upon St. Peter and St. Paul, and upon 
 the Holy Innocents. Paulus Diaconus, 800, wrote religious odes. 
 Rabanus Maurus, 856, also wrote odes, viz., one for tlie Fesiival of 
 St. Michael the Archangel, two others W'ell known at this day — “.Ave 
 Maris Stella,” and “ Veni Creator Spiritus.” In the Eastern Church, 
 Co.smas of Jerusalem, 730, and Johannes Damascenus, 750, wrote the 
 best hymns of the Greek Church, vhich are collected by Juid- s. In 
 the ninth cetitury, Theodorus Studites, 826, a brother ot the Cloi.^ters 
 Studium at Constantinople, atid his brother Josephas, Archbishop 
 of Thessalonia, wrote church hymns. 
 
 The history of church song must also treat of the music. Little, how- 
 ever, has beeti done for this branch. The melodies of the fir.-t songs 
 were not always original : they were sometimes profane and sometimes 
 old Latin. We can trace the sacred melodies as far back as the fourth 
 century, the worldly only to the thirteenth. After the time of Gregory 
 we can make a distinc tion between sacred and profane music, but not 
 bef re. The Gregorian Chant has notes of ■ qual length, but no rhj thm, 
 'which makes it peculiarly dead, unle>sit i.s comparatively quickly sung. 
 In this respect, viz., only having notes of the same length, it undoubt- 
 edly approaches nearer to the original formation of language in which 
 the consonants and vowels were siinide. The difference, therefore, be- 
 tween the two branches, viz., profane and sacred music, is very old, 
 ' for sacred music remained true to the original genius of language, 
 whereas worldly music followed it in its progress. 
 
 I 
 
EVANS’S MUSIC AND SUPPER ROOMS, CO VENT-GAR DEN. 15 
 
 THE INTERVENING TIME BETWEEN ST. GREGORY AND 
 
 THE REFORMATION. 
 
 Of the middle times, which may be called the birth of Chris- 
 tian Philosophy and Theology, we cannot say much, and for their 
 music they appear to have had no regular character. Notker intro- 
 duced the Jubilate into the church service. This form of music was 
 new to the clergy. St. Bernard, 1153, wrote hymns of this sort, and 
 also enlarged the Roman Liturgy. With great labour he adapted the 
 “Lays of Provence,” famous at that period, to religious poetry. The 
 celebrated Abbey of Clugny was well known in the middle ages for its 
 piety, religious music, and poetry. The odes of Clugny were in the 
 manner of the Sequentia. Some of the hymns of St. Bernard were also 
 in this style, but his splendid hymn “ Jesu dulcis memoria” is Lyturgi- 
 cal. The church songs of Fulbert of Chartres and Petrus Damiani, 1077, 
 are in this manner. In the year 912, Notker Ballulus wrote a new kind 
 of hymn, “The Sequentia, or Prose.”* 
 
 HISTORY OF LAYS AND SEQUENCES. 
 
 Wolf informs us that the word Lay is derived from the Celtic, being 
 originally spelt Llais, meaning tune or song. In the Gaelic, Laoidh, or 
 Laidh, means verse, hymn, or rhyme, and was used indiscriminately. 
 Some Church Lays were written on the “ Kyrie Eleison,” in the middle 
 ages; and subsequently, at the time of Luther, by Hoffmann and 
 others. The word sequence, or, in the Latin Church, sequentia or prose, 
 is from the same source. One of the finest handed down to us is the 
 “ Stabat Mater Dolorosa,” by Jacoponus, 1306; and the “ Dies Irae,” by 
 Thomas of Celano, also of the 13th century. Such was the extraordi- 
 nary desire for Church music and hymns at this period, that whatever 
 could be rendered sense was converted into them, yet nevertheless the 
 lyturgical was most esteemed by the people. Walter Von Vogel weide, t 
 1230, and Godfrey of Strasburg, appear to have written some works with- 
 out rhjmie ormetre, but rich in harmony. In Germany hymns were trans- 
 lated as early as the ninth century, into the vulgar tongue. In the 14th 
 century, the dawn of the Reformation began to appear, and the 
 music and poetry of the Church assumed a form corresponding with 
 the changes that were gradually making. Doubtless these changes 
 were effected, to some extent, by the parodizing of the hymns of the 
 Church. Of the thousands of the rabble that went to the crusades, but 
 few returned, and these were certainly not improved. Drinking-songs, 
 half Latin, half vernacular, were sung ; the sacramental processions 
 were met at the church doors, and side by side walked the priest and 
 the ribald layman; the former singing his church hymn, the latter his 
 obscene imitation, both to the same music. Songs in Church metre 
 were composed, which, with great ability, occasionally denounced the 
 priesthood. These were popular, and the effect terrible. Some have 
 been preserved.! 
 
 MORAVIAN HYMNS. 
 
 The Bohemian Brothers sang the new hymns of this period. Of 
 the music of the followers of John Huss and Jerome of Prague, we can 
 not find a trace, though some of their hymns are extant. Of the Hymno- 
 logists of the time, Bunsen stands foremost. The lyrical productions of 
 the new faith now followed each other with surprising rapidity, and 
 awakened the attention of the Hierarchy, who opposed them. Of the 
 immense numbers that were written, it is impossible to speak; one how- 
 ever was written by Tauler, 1361; and an Evening Hymn, by John 
 Huss, 1415. 
 
 Of the Moravian Hymns, the better known are those translated from 
 the German of Michael Weiss, by Count Tingindorf who died in 
 1760; he translated some of the best hymns in Germany for the 
 brethren. Gottliele Spangenberg, a bishop and brother, 1792, trans- 
 lated and wrote hymns. So did Christian Gregor, 1801. 
 
 Burkard Waldis wrote in all about 30 psalms, to be found in the 
 later books of the 16th century— in the Brother Song-book 1566; 
 the Strasbourg book, 1569; the Altstetten book, 1576; the Brother- 
 book of John Horn, and the Low German book of Hermann Vespasius. 
 He was born in Allendorf on the Wera, year unknown. His three 
 years and a half imprisonment probably took place after his becoming 
 Lutheran. His Essay appeared 1548; according to the date of the 
 preface to his Psalter, he must have been in Abterode in 1552, 
 where he died, 1555. I find that he was Chaplain to the Landgrdfin 
 Margaret of Hessen. 
 
 LUTHER AND THE HYMNOLOGISTS OF HIS TIMES, 
 
 Luther knew the importance of religious poetry and music, w'hen he 
 published his “Godly Hymns.” He translated the “Veni Creator,” 
 and composed one, “Now be joyful, Chrisuans.” The latter was 
 sung throughout Germany, which gained him many followers, and added 
 to his success. Paulus Speratus wrote, “Now the light is come at 
 last,” which Wolf mentions as an admirable one, and “ In God I believe,” 
 1552. In Wien, and later in Ofen, in Matren, in Wurtemberg, and in 
 Prussia, the above was eminent in forwarding the reformation of the 
 Hyranologists of the time, among whom stand foremost Luther, Justus 
 Jonas, John Agricola, Hans Sachs, Lazarus Spengler, Michael Stiefel, 
 Erasmus Alberus, Nicolaus Decius, Paulus Eberus, Nicolaus Herman, 
 Martin Schalling (Luther’s correspondent), author of “ The Queen of 
 Hungary’s Hymn,” “The Margrave Casimer of Brandenberg’s Hymn,” 
 and also “ The Hymn of the Margrave George of Brandenburg ;” Walter 
 
 * Uber Die Lais, Sequenzen und Leiche, von Ferdinand Wolf, 
 Heidelberg. 
 
 + Walter Von Vogelweide “ (of the bird meadow )”— Viand 
 Stuttgart, 1822 was anextraordinary man, poet, statesman, and historian. 
 
 I M. de St. Pelaye collected four thousand pieces of Troubadour 
 poetry. He admits his fear “that some licentious pen should give to 
 the public his work in a form dangerous to the morals of society.” 
 Sufficient was printed ; much of excellence, and assuredly much whim- 
 sical, degraded, and wortihless. 
 
 of the Vogelweide, Octfried of Strasburg, Johannes of Saltzburg, and 
 Martin Myllius. 
 
 The following books are upon Hymnology : “ Hoffman’s History of 
 Sacred Songs up to the time of Luther;” “ The History of the Reforma- 
 tion in the Church of Strasbourg up to 1520 ; Rambach’s “Treatise and 
 Anthology of Christian Sons in all the Centuries of the Church, and 
 “ On the Services rendered by Dr. Martin Luther to Church Poetry;” 
 “ The Songs of Hans Sachs (the Shoemaker of Nuremberg),” 1525, 
 1526; “The Augsburg Song-book,” 1523 — 3; “Erfurt Enchiridion,” 
 1524; “ John Zurich,” 1540 ; “ Valentine Balst,” 1545, (Luther revised 
 this work). 
 
 Christopher Olearius, George Serplius, Joh. Gaspa, Lucas Lossius 
 — Nuremburg, 1553, folio. — Hymni Ecclesiastici, Colon., 1558. 
 
 Calvin leturned from Strasbourg to Geneva, 1541, and from the latter 
 place sent “ La forme des Pri^res et Chants Eccl6siastiques,” mdxlii. 
 with thirty-five prayers composed in different metres by himself, the 
 music noted by Clement Marot. Second edition, published 1545, by 
 John Knoblock, Strasbourg. 
 
 To fulfil our promise to our readers, it is necessary to preserve the 
 order and regularity of remarkable men who flourished as hymn- 
 writers in the Lutheran and Protestant Churches, subsequently to the 
 Reformation. Their names, at least many of them, may not be known 
 even to the learned ; but that ttiey were extraordinary men there can 
 be no doubt, and that they were also mainly instrumental to the success 
 of the reformed faith, is certain. We, therefore, shall not apologise to 
 our readers for the probably uninteresting catalogue of the learned 
 Hymnologists of the 17th, 18th, and 19th centuries, forming as they do 
 a direct chain of religious poetry and music from the apostolic periods, 
 William the Second Duke of Saxony, 1662 ; Michael Schirmer, 1673; 
 John Frank, 1677; Sebastian Frank, 1668 (better known as Diaconus of 
 Schweinfurt); also Michael Frank Schurath, of Cobourg, 1667 ; Sieg- 
 mund, of Birkin, 1681: Christian, of Birkin, 1677; J, G. Albinus, 
 1679; George Naumark, 1681; E. Ehr, in Hombourg, author of the 
 “Passion H5'mn ;” Knoor Von Rosenroth, 1688; Michael Kongehe, 
 1710, singer in the church of Hingeburg; Anthony Ulrick, Duke of 
 Brunswick, 1714. The last of this period is John Schiffeer, known as 
 Angelus Silesius; he also wrote upon the “Confession.” Plis cele- 
 lebrated book, “ Holy Love,” was reprinted at Manheim, 1838. The 
 illustrious Luise Henrietta, Princess of Brandenburg, gave a popu- 
 larity to the religious poetry of Paul Gerhardt. Joachim Neander died 
 at Bremen, 1680 ; after his death his sacred poems were greatly esteemed. 
 Frederick Adolph Lampe: his hymns were well received, but they 
 wanted the freshness of Neumeister’s and the vigour of Woltersdorf’s. 
 
 Zuinglis wrote one Reformation hymn; Anna Reinhard, wife and 
 widow of Ulrich Zuinglis, also wrote hymns. Leo Jud, Wolfgang 
 Capito, Ambrosius Blaurer, Thomas Biaurer, Burchard Waldis, the 
 famous, fable-writer, and many others. Luther and his followers of 
 the reformed Church took their hymns, in most instances, from the 
 Psalms, but few from the Old Testament. Church liturgical hymns 
 again revived, and martyr hymns; the latter were by the following 
 authors, viz.: — Hans Schlaffer, J dig Wagner, Hans Hut, Jdig Blauroe. 
 One of the objectional points in the old Church was, that they 
 were too credulous. These hymns alluded to the fault, in accordance 
 with the example of the Apostle and their divine Master. In the 
 end of the 16th, and beginning of the 17th century many authors 
 appeared: Philip Nicolai, 1608, Minister of the Church at Hamburg; 
 Siegmund Weingartner, Martin Rutitrus, and Balerius Herberger, 
 1627; John Weissel, 1635; Martin Opig, 1639; Paul Fleming, 1640; 
 John Nist, 1667; Valentine Thilo, 1662; Martin Rinkart, 1685; An- 
 dreas Eryphius, 1684; Henry Held, Justus Gesenius, 1673; and David 
 Denike. We have selected the above names, as they were the remark- 
 able men of their times, each original, each forming his own school, 
 and all having one object — assisting religion by religious poetry. 
 
 THE TIME OF PAUL GERHARDT AND OF GELLERT. 
 
 Paul Gerhardt, 1673, was w'ell known as an author of hymns for the 
 New Church, each of which had an individuality; his eloquence 
 was exhaastless. He was not speculative, but remained firm to the 
 truth. Once in possession, he never swerved, his courage was indo- 
 mitable, amidst dilficulties and contentions. 
 
 Gellert and our own Times.— Zinzindorf formed his transla- 
 tions upon Gellert, who was the most eminent man of his time. Whether 
 the language of Gellert was more easy, or his thoughts more elegant, 
 and more according to the principles of Zinzindoif, we know not; 
 one thing is certain he took liberally from Gellert, particularly in his 
 lyturgical hymns. .Gellert, had he been a pupil of Paul Gerhardt 
 could scarcely have resembled him more, possessing the same vigour, 
 the same disregard of worldly affairs, the same love of truth. During 
 his life he was beloved by all Christians, though he dared to utter dis- 
 pleasing truths to many. He possessed much dogmatic knowledge, 
 \mt his sacred poetry was clothed in the simplest manner, which rendered 
 it truly beautiful. His love of the Creator was fervid ; he ex- 
 pressed his want of language to convey the intensity of his affection for 
 Him: in his illness it was his best comfort. What might we not 
 have gained from his piety and genius? but sickness with its 
 cankerous breath fell upon him, and, ere his pure spirit was developed, 
 he drooped and passed away. When informed by kind friends that his 
 health would suffer from laborious study, with a smile he would say, 
 “Oh, no; here is my specific. When I am writing 1 have no pain; 
 that is, I feel none. 1 will do what I can for my fellow-creatures to-day, 
 to-morrow I may not have the power.” After Gellert, the most 
 eminent modern hymn-writers, may be classed as follows Mar, 
 Von, Schenkendorf, 1817; John Baptist Von Albertine, 1831; Luise 
 Hensell, authoress; Frederick della Motte fogue, Joseph of Eichen- 
 dorf, Agnes Franz, G. Schwab, E. Griineisen (these are well known as 
 dogmatic writers), K. B. Garve, G. Knak, H. Mdwes, C. I. P. Spitta, 
 A. Knapp, J. Krais Wakonagle, Hager Bache, Reithart, Victor Strauss. 
 The best knuwm are by Knapp. 
 
 The hymns of Sweden are those contained in the work of Segner, 
 published by Bergl, Munich. 
 
16 EVANS’S MUSIC AND SUPPER ROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN. 
 
 In the French Protestant Church there is a collection of hymns, se- 
 ected by Mme. Ollivier, under the title of “ Po^sie Chretienne.” 
 
 HYMNOLOGY IX FRANCE. 
 
 About the year 1540, Clement Marot, a valet of the bed-chamber of 
 King Francis the First, vras the favourite poet of France. This writer 
 having attained an unusual elegance and facility of style, added many 
 new embellishments to the rude state of French poetry. It is not 
 the least of his praises that La Fontaine used to call him his master. 
 He was the inventor of the rondeau and the restorer of the madrigal ; 
 but he became eminent for his pastorals, ballads, fables, elegies, epi- 
 grams, and translations from Ovid and Petrarch. At length, being 
 tired of the vanities of profane poetry, or rather privately tinctured 
 with the principles of Lutheranism, he attempted, with the assistance 
 of his friend Theodore Beza, and by the encouragement of the Professor 
 of Hebrew in the University of Paris, a version of David’s Psalms into 
 French rhymes. This translation, which did not aim at any innovation 
 in the public worship, and which received the sanction of the Sorbonne 
 as containing nothing contrary to sound doctrine, he dedicated to his 
 master, Francis the First, and to the ladies of France. In the dedica- 
 tion to the ladies or les dames de France, whom he had often before 
 addressed in the tenderest strains of passion or compliment, he seems 
 anxious to deprecate the raillery which the new tone of his versification 
 was likely to incur, and is embarrassed how to find an; apology for be- 
 coming a saint. Conscious of his apostacy from the levities of life, in a 
 spirit of religious gallantry, he declares that his desire is to add to the 
 Iiappiness of his fair readers, by substituting divine hymns in the place 
 of chansons d' amour, to inspire their susceptible hearts with a passion 
 in which there is no torment, to banish their fickle and fantastic deity 
 Cupid from the world, and to fill their apartments with the praises, not 
 of the little god, but of the true Jehovah. 
 
 E VOS doights sur les espinettes 
 Pour dire sainctes chansonettes. 
 
 He adds, that the golden age would now be restored, were we to 
 see the peasant at his plough, the carman in the streets, and the me- 
 chanic in his shop, solacing their toils with psalms and canticles; and 
 the shepherd and shepherdess reposing in the shade, and teaching the 
 rocks to echo the name of the Creator : — 
 
 Le laboureur a sa charrue, 
 
 Le Charretier parmy le rue, 
 
 Et Partisan en sa boutique, 
 
 Avecques un Pseaume ou Cantique, 
 
 En son labour se soulager. 
 
 Heureux qui ovra le Berger 
 Et la Bergere au bois estans. 
 
 Fair que rochers et estangs, 
 
 Apres eux chantant la hauteur 
 Du sainct de Crdateur. 
 
 Marot’s Psalms soon eclipsed the brilliancy of his madrigals and sonnets. 
 Not suspecting how prejudicial the predominant rage of psalm-singing 
 might prove to the ancient religion of Europe, the Catholics themselves 
 adopted these sacred songs as serious ballads, and as a more rational 
 species of domestic merriment. They were the common accompani- 
 ments of the fiddle. They were sold so rapidljs that the printers could 
 not supply the public with copies. In the festive and splendid court of 
 Francis the First, of a sudden nothing was heard but the Psalms of 
 Clement Marot. By each of the'royal family and the principal nobility 
 of the court a psalm was chosen, and fitted to the ballad tune which 
 each liked best. The dauphin. Prince Henry, who delighted in hunting, 
 was fond of “ Ainsi qu’on oit le cerf bruire,” or, “Like as the hart de- 
 sireth the water brooks,” which he constantly sung in going out to the 
 chase. Madame de Valentine, between whom and the young prince 
 there was an attachment, took “ Du fond de ma pensde,” or “ From the 
 depth of my heart, O Lord.” The Queen’s favourite was “ Ne vueilles 
 pas, O Sire,” — that is, “ O Lord, rebuke me not in thine indignation,” 
 which she sung to a fashionable jig. Anthonj^ King of Navarre, sung, 
 “ Revenge moy, pren le querelle,” or, “ Stand up, O Lord, to revenge 
 my quarrel,” to the air of a dance of Poitou. — Warton. vol. iii., p. 144. 
 
 Note.— Claude Marot was the favourite poet of Margaret Duchess of 
 Alencon, sister of Francis the First. Margaret was accused of living in 
 open incest with her brother (Crapelet). Her poem — “ Le Miroir de 
 I’dmepecheresse.” 1531, was proscribed by the Parliament as too indecent 
 even for that age. The Duke, her husband, was tenderly attached to 
 her, but died of grief at her immorality, not for the loss of the battle of 
 Pavia, as is generally supposed. Her court was extremely dissolute, 
 filled with bad clergymen and effeminate poets.— Fczo, Brantome. 
 Francis boasted that he had received favours from Anne Boleyn. He 
 called her “ La Hoquende du Roi.” — Le Grand-Sauders. 
 
 EARLY ENGLISH SACRED POETS. 
 
 Although Wyat and Surreyhad before made translations of the Psalms 
 into metre, Thomas Sternhold was the first whose metrical version of 
 the Psalms was used in the Church of England. He was much offended 
 at the lascivious ballads whicli prevailed among the courtiers, and, with 
 a laudable design to check these indecencies, undertook a metrical 
 version of the Psalter, “thinking thereby,” says Anthony Wood, 
 “that the courtiers would sing them instead of their sonnets, btit did 
 not, only some few excepted.” Marot versified fifty, and Sternhold 
 fifty-one psalms. Sternhold died in 1549. His fifty-one Psalms were 
 printed the same year, without the musical notes, as in the second 
 (third) edition, in 1552. Contemporary with Sternhold was John Hop- 
 kins. He is rather a better English poet than Sternhold, and translated 
 fifty-eight of the psalms distinguished by the initials of his name. — 
 Warton, vol. iii. 
 
 The entire version of the Psalter was published by J«hn Day in 1562, 
 attached, for the first time, to the Common Prayer, and entitled “ The 
 Whole Booke of Psalmes, collected into English metre, by T. Sternhold, 
 J. Hopkins, and others, conferred with the Ebrue, with apt notes to sing 
 withall.” They are believed to contain some of the original melodies 
 composed by French and German musicians. Not a few were probably 
 imported by the Protestant manufacturers of cloth, of Flanders and the 
 Low Countries, who fled from the persecutions of the Duke of Alva, 
 and settled in those counties in England, where their art now chiefly 
 flourishes.— Jfiirf, p. 151. 
 
 George Withers printed, in 1632, in the Netherlands, a version of the 
 Psalms. This version is entirely different from his Hymns and Songs 
 of the Church. Versifying the Psalms and other parts of the Bible, at 
 the beginning of the Reformation, was almost as epidemic as psalm- 
 singing. Humnys, a gentleman of the Chapel, under Edward VI., 
 published, 1550, “ Certayne Psalmes;” also, “ Seven Sobs of a Sorrow- 
 ful Soul for Sin,” “A Handful of Honeysuckles,” “Blessings out of 
 Deuteronemie,” &c. His last will and testament was as follows : — 
 
 To God my soule I do bequeathe, because it his owen ; 
 
 My body to be laid in grave, where to my friends best known ; 
 
 Executors I will none make, thereby great stryffe may growe, 
 
 Because the goodes that I shall leave will not pay all I owe. 
 
 W. Humnys, Park. 
 
 Archbishop Parker versified the Psalms. 
 
 A considerable contributor to the metrical theology was Robert 
 Crowley; in the reign of Edward VI., he commenced printer dnd 
 preacher in London. He lived in Ely Rents, in Holborn, “where,” 
 says Wood. “ he sold books, and at leisure times exercised the gift o^f 
 preaching in the great city and elsewhere.” 
 
 During the reign of Frederick the Great, the' Encyclopedists and 
 Illuminati destroyed more than eighty thousand hymns, some of them 
 poems of considerable length, whereas in England our entire collec- 
 tions will not exceed twelve thousand, and these will include many that 
 were called psalms, written during the reigns of Elizabeth, James, 
 and Charles the I. The more remarkable authors were:— Sir Edward 
 Sandys, John Donne, Giles Fletcher, Henry Ainsworth, Sir John Beau- 
 mont, Francis Quarles, Dr, Edmund Dee (the Astrologer), Ben Jonson, 
 Thomas Peyton, John Davis, George Wither, Nathaniel Baxter, Sir 
 Henry Wotton, Henry Peachum, Earl of Cumberland, Earl of Stirling, 
 Sands Penuin, Pope, Dryden, Nicholas Breton, Sir John Stradling, 
 Father Southwell, H. B. Watts, Collier, Heber, &c. 
 
 On March 15, 1550, M. Veron, a Frenchman by birth, but a learned 
 Protestant, and parson of St. Martin’s, Ludgate, preached at St. Paul's 
 Cross, before the Mayor and Aldermen, and after the sermon was done, 
 they all sung, in common, a Psalm in metre, as it seems now was fre- 
 quently done, the custom being brought to us from abroad, by the 
 exiles.— ilfasow, vol. iii., p. 366. 
 
 ' The tunes, or, as they were called, melodies, were borrowed by 
 Sternhold from the old German and French masters, particularly Gou- 
 dimel and Claude de Jeune, who had composed them originally for 
 Marot. — Ibid. 
 
 There were twenty editions of Sternhold’s Psalms published. 
 
 Was Sacred Poetry in existence in the beginning ? Christians must 
 answer in thejatfirmative, for they know that God created man perfect 
 in body and soul, and with a perfect unity of both. Sin, however, 
 destroyed this unity, and two opposing motions arose in man ; the one, 
 a natural descending motion, always increasing in rapidity, the other, 
 an endeavour to rise, to reach to the unbounded freedom of the love of 
 God. Now, if poetry is a product of the remembrance, or stimulation 
 of freedom, the nearer to the beginning, the mere vivid and truthful, 
 the further from it, the more distorted and material it is. We believe 
 that epic and lyric poetry were, at first, one and the same thing ; for in 
 the perfection of unity, in which he was created, man formed nature in 
 himself, and himself in nature, inwardly understood the outward pro- 
 cesses of life, and found in these the copy of his own inward existence 
 Sin, however, which divided soul from body, the human mind from the. 
 outer world, separated also the two kinds of poetry ; but only partially ; 
 epic poetry must still be lyric, since it must be the child of thought. 
 Lyric poetry must still be epic, for it must describe an event, although, 
 only a mental one. As the breach between the two becomes widened, 
 the field of lyric poetry becomes in its form less epic, it naturally de- 
 creases, and epic poetry gains ; but they are never totally distinct. The 
 drama, being the expression of the sentiments of strangers, is a degene- 
 rate lyric, or more properly speaking, epic in the writer of the thoughts, 
 and lyric in the actor, who assumes them for his own. Sacred Poetry 
 is as old as man, as poetry itself. In its first stages it is difficult to say 
 whether it be epic or lyric. Both subject and object are infinitely more 
 diversified in it than in any epic poem, and yet, the object must be 
 taken as a necessary part of the human soul, more than any lyric. The 
 further the knowledge of God wanders from the first revelations, the 
 more divided becomes the original unity of sacred poetry. Religious 
 people t.ake two false roads ; some seek God in themselves, and do not 
 receive him ; their piety, as their poetry, becomes the knowledge, not 
 of what is, but of what should be, philosophy. The others, who no 
 longer have God in themselves, apply the traditions of his interior 
 demon.strations to outward things. Either nature is their God, who 
 thus discovers himself everywhere, or he takes now one form, now 
 another to reveal himself in' Their piety is always an adoration of 
 some wonderful appearance in nature or history ; their poetry is always 
 epic. A general history of sacred songs must collect every form of it, 
 even those of the double Pantheism, the lyric and the epic. We have 
 no . old heathen hymns, nor Christian of the very first period. Before 
 the Reformation no German songs were sung in the churches. The 
 history of Sacred Poetry before the Reformation must be divided into 
 three parts, viz., those written by laymen, those noted hy the monks, 
 and those sung by the people on pilgrimages and such like uncanonical 
 occasions. 
 
EVANS’S 
 
 MUSIC AND SUPPER ROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN. 
 
 17 
 
 Time of St. Ambrose. 
 
 3rd Century. 
 
 iEterne rerum conditor, (earliest 
 known.) 
 
 Aurora lucis retulat. 
 
 Quern redemptor gentium. 
 
 Te Deum laudamus. 
 
 Prudentius Clemens. 
 
 4th Century. 
 
 Jam mcesta quiesce querela. 
 CoELius Sedulius. 
 
 About 4th Century. 
 
 A soils ortus cardine. 
 
 Venantius Fortunatus. 
 Crux tidelis, inter omnes. 
 
 Gregory I.— About 600. 
 
 Rex Christe factor omnium. 
 
 Te lucis ante terminum. 
 iEterne lucis conditor. 
 
 Theodulph. — 812. 
 
 Gloria, laus, honor tibi sit, etc. 
 
 Notker. — 912. 
 
 Orate nunc omnes. 
 
 Ave maris stella. 
 
 Victimae paschales. 
 
 Robert, King of the French. 
 1031. 
 
 Veni sancte spiritus. 
 
 Salve regina mater misericordiae. 
 
 Peter Abelard. — 1142. 
 Mittit ad Virginem. 
 
 Bernard of Claervaux. 
 Jesu Dulcis memoria. 
 
 Jam lucis orto Sidere. 
 
 Lucis creator optime. 
 
 St. Thomas Aouinas. 
 Pange lingua gloriosi. 
 
 Lauda Sion Salvatorem. 
 
 Thomas Celano. 
 
 Dies irae, dies ilia. 
 
 Jacoponaus. — 1306. 
 
 Stabat Mater. 
 
 Spiritus sancti gratia. 
 
 John Huss. 
 
 Jesus Christus Nostra Salus. 
 
 Phil Melanchthon. 
 
 JOACH CoMERAVIUS. 
 
 U ndelermined dates. 
 Carolus Magnus. 
 
 Veni Creator Spiritus. 
 
 Paulus Diaconus. 
 
 (The name note hymn of St. John 
 the Baptist.) 
 
 “ Ut queant laxis resonare fibris, 
 Mira gestorum Famuli tuorum, 
 Solve polluti labii reatum, 
 
 Sancte Johannes.” 
 
 SCOTTISH HYMNS AND RELIGIOUS SONGS IMMEDIATELY 
 SUBSEQUENT TO THE REFORMATION. 
 
 My prophites call, my preachers cry, 
 John, cum kis me now, 
 
 John, cum kis me now. 
 
 And make no more adow. 
 
 Ane spirit I am incorporat, 
 
 No mortal eye can see; 
 
 Yet my word does intimate, 
 
 John, how thou must kis mee. 
 
 "With huntis up, with huntis up, 
 
 It is now perfite day; 
 
 J s our king is gane hunting. 
 
 Who like to speed they may. 
 
 The hunter is C 1; that hunts in haiste 
 
 The hunds are Peter and Paul ; &c. 
 
 The wind blawis cald, furious and bald 
 This long and mony a day ; 
 
 But C t’s mercy we mon all die. 
 
 Or keep the cald wind away. 
 
 For our gudeman in heaven does reigne. 
 In glore and blisse without ending. 
 Where angels singe ever Osan 
 in laude and praise of our gudeman. 
 Our gudeman desires three thinges ; 
 
 One heart where fra contrition springes. 
 Syne love him best our souls that wan, 
 When we were lost from our gudeman. 
 
 Say-well is throughly a worthy gudething ; 
 
 Of say-well great wertew forth does spring ; ^ 
 
 Say- well from do-well differs in letter ; 
 
 Say-well is gude, bot do-well is better. 
 
 Songs.— “Ane compendious buik of godly and spiritual sanges, 
 collectit out of sundrye partes of the Scripture, with sundrye other 
 ballates, changeit out of prophaine sanges for avoyding of sin and 
 harlotry.” — Edinburgh (1597), 16mo. 
 
 Attributed to Wedderburn. — With augumentation of sundrye gude 
 and godly ballates not contenet in the first edition, Edinburgh, by Robert 
 Smith, 1600, small 8vo., Roxburgh, 3341, morocco, £21. Newlie cor- 
 rected and amended by the first originall copie, Edinburgh, by Andro 
 Hart, 1621, 12mo., black letter. 
 
 A specimen of “ Ane compendious Booke,” &c., (published by Sir 
 David Dalryraple, Lord Hailes), Edinburgh, 1765, 8vo., pp. 46. 
 
 Sir M. M. Sykes, pt. 1. 1303, 3s., Edinburgh, 1801. This valuable 
 republication of the whole work was edited by J. G. Da,]yell.— Lowndes 
 Manuel. 
 
 The original edition of this rare book is priceless. We never saw a 
 copy, and probably never shall; however, the modern work will doubt- 
 less suffice. Much of it is most interesting and curious, but to ears polite 
 impossible to read. Although the Catholics receive their large share 
 of abuse, the parson, vicar, and curate are not spared. In the volume 
 are many good things, and considering the terrible times in which 
 they were written, we may safely wonder at obtaining so large an 
 amount of excellence. The following religious parodies are selected 
 as the most curious : — 
 
 Who is at my window— who ? who ? 
 
 Goe from my window ; goe, goe. 
 
 Who calles there, so like ane stranger ? 
 
 Goe from my window, goe. 
 
 Lord, I am here, ane wratched mortall — 
 
 That for thy mercy doth crie and call. 
 
 Unto thee, my Lord celestiall. 
 
 See who is at my window, who. 
 
 Untill ane mirthful May morning. 
 
 When Phebus up did spring, 
 
 Making, I lay in ane garding gay, 
 
 Thinking on C 1 sa free. La, la, la. 
 
 All my hart this is my sang. 
 
 With doubil mirth and joy among ; 
 
 Sa blyth a bird my God to fang, (embrace), 
 
 C 1 has ray hart ay. 
 
 Hee is fair, sober, and benign. 
 
 Sweet, meek, and gentle in all thing, &c. 
 Nixt him, to love his mother fair, 
 
 With stedfast hart for evarmair, &c. 
 
 John, cum kis me now 
 John, cum kis me now ; 
 John, cum kis me by and b;; 
 And make no more adow. 
 
 The Lord thy God I am 
 That John does thee call; 
 John represents man. 
 
 By grace celestiall. 
 
 Oh ! my love, leave me not — 
 Leave me nut, leave me not, 
 
 Oh ! my love, leave me not — 
 Thou mine alone. 
 
 With ane burding on my backe, 
 I may not beir it, I am so weak. 
 Love this burding from me take. 
 Or else I am gone. 
 
 With sins I am laden sair. 
 
 Leave me not, leave me not. 
 
 Faith, Hope, and Charitie, 
 
 Leave me not, leave me not. 
 Faith, Hope, and Charitie, 
 
 Leave me not alone, &c. 
 
 BEAR GARDENS AT THE END OF THE 17th. CENTURY. 
 
 Paris Garden was anciently part of the possessions of Bermondsey 
 Abbey, and contains the present parish of Christchurch, Surrey. It 
 came to the Crown on the Dissolution, and remained part of the royal 
 domains until nearly the middle of the reign of Queen Elizabeth, when 
 it was exchanged away by that princess to her cousin Lord Hunsden, 
 and was afterwards granted, at his request, to Robert Newdegate and 
 Arthur Fountague. It contained a famous place in its day, named 
 “ Holland’s Leaguer,” the Manor House of Paris Garden. In a scarce 
 tract, called Hollands Leaguer, 1632, the author, after describing the 
 procuress, Donna Hollandia, as having been routed from a former resi- 
 dence, and just escaped from Newgate, makes her seek for a more 
 convenient place where she might carry on her profession, which she 
 ultimately finds in the then untenanted and deserted Manor House of 
 Paris Garden. 
 
 “ At length she is informed of a place fit for her purpose, being won- 
 derous commodiously planted for all accommodations. It was out of 
 the citie, only divided by a delicate river. There were many handsome 
 buildings, and many hearty neighbours ; yet, at the first foundation it 
 was renowned for nothing so much as for the memory of that Amazon, 
 Longa Margarita (LongMeg, probably a noted stew holder), who had for 
 many yeres kept a famous house of open hospitality. Shee no sooner 
 heard this report, but presently turning her sailes, she made for that 
 coast, where shee found such aboundance of natural! and artifici al! 
 entrenchments, that even the house seemed to be in itself a little citie. 
 
 “ Heere she enquires what strongeholde or fort was to be let for 
 yeerely reuenue ; and presently shee was brought to a fort, citadel, or 
 mansion-house, so fortified, that ere any foe could approach it, hee must 
 march more than a musket shot on a narrow banke (where three could 
 not goe on brest), betwixt two dangerous ditches. Then a world of 
 other bulwarkes, rivers, ditches, trenches, and outworkes, which 
 hein’d in the orchards, gardens, basecourts, and inferior offices, making 
 every one capable of a severall fight, and every fight able for many 
 hours to play with an army. 
 
 “ When shee had taken a full survey of this forcelet, and seene how 
 commodious and fit it was for her purpose, shee then enquires what 
 other benefits were appertaining unto it, as neighbourhood, pleasant 
 walks, concourse of strangers, and things of like nature, in all which 
 shee received full satisfaction ; especially, and above ail the rest, shee 
 was taken with the report of three famous Amphytheatres, which stood 
 
EVANS’S MUSIC AND SUPPER ROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN. 
 
 18 
 
 SO nere scituated, tliat her eye could take a look at them from her lowest 
 turret. One was the continent of the world, (the Globe) because h;dfe 
 the yeere a w’orld of beauties and brave spirits resorted unto it. The 
 other was a buildinpr of excellent hope (the Hope and Beav-garden), 
 and though wild beasts and gladiators did most possese it, yet the 
 gallants that came to behold these combats, though they were of amixt 
 society, yet were many nobles amongst them. The last, which stood, 
 and as it were, shak’dhandes with the fortress, being, in times past,_ as 
 famous as any of the others now falling into decay, and, like a dying 
 swanne hanging down her head, seemed to sing her own dirge (the 
 Swan Theatre is meant here).” 
 
 “ On the 13th of January, 1583, being Sunday, a’'outfourof theclocke 
 in the afternoon, the olde and underpropped scatfolds round about the 
 Beare-garden, commonly called Paris-garden, on the south side of the 
 liver, over against the cittie of London, overcharged with people, fell 
 suddenly dovvne, whereby, to the number of eight persons, men and 
 ■women, were slaine, and many others sore bruised and hurt, to the 
 shortening of their lives. A friendly warning to such as more delight 
 themselves in the crueltie of beastes than in the workes of mercy, the 
 fruits of a true professed faith, which ought to be the Sabboth daies 
 exercise.”— Sioic. 
 
 “There were two Bear-gardens, the old and the new, places wherein 
 were kept beares, bulls, and other beastes to be bayted ; as also mastives 
 in several kennels, nouri.shed to bait them. The exhibitions were on a 
 Sunday, and the price of admission was then one half-penny.”— 5(ori’. 
 
 “At Paris-garden, each Sunday, a man shall not fail. 
 
 To find two or three hundred for the bearward’s vale, 
 
 One ha’penny apiece they use for to give. 
 
 When some have no in their purses, I believe ; 
 
 Wei, at the las day, their conscience will declare, 
 
 That the poore ought to have al that theen ay spare 
 If you, therefore, give to see a bear fight. 
 
 Bee sure God his curse upon you will light.” 
 
 “ Well, syr, (says he), the hearz were brought foorth intoocoourt, the 
 dogs set ’too them, too argu the points eeven face to face ; they had 
 learnd coouncell allso a both parts. iVhat may they be coounted par- 
 ciall that are retained but tow a side, I ween. If the dog, in pleadyng, 
 woould pluk the bear by the throte, the bear, with traners, would claw 
 him again by the skaip, confess, and a list ; but a loyd a coould not that 
 was bound too the bar ; and biz coouncell tolld him that it coold bee to 
 him no poliecy in pleading. Thearfore, thus withe fending and proov- 
 ing. withe plucking and tugging, skratting and byting, by plainetoothe 
 and nayll, a to side and toother, such erespes of blood and leather was 
 thear between them, az a month’s licking, I ween, wye not recoover, 
 and yet remaine az far oout az ever they wear. It waz a sport very 
 pleazaunt of theese beastz, to see the bear with hiz pink hyez, leering 
 after hiz enmiez approch, the nimbleuess and wyt of ye dog too take hys 
 aduantage. and the fors and experiens of the bear agayn to auoyd'the 
 assaults ; if he were bitten in one place bee woold pynch in another too 
 get free; that if he ■wear taken onez, then what shift with byting, with 
 clawyng, with roling, torsing, and tumbling, he woold -work to wynde 
 hymself from them ; and when he was lose, to shak his earz twyse or 
 thryse wyth the blud and slaver aboout his fiznamy, was a matter of a 
 goodly relief.” — Princely Pleasures of Kenilworth, p. 22. 
 
 “We went to see the Bergaindin by Sodoark (Bear-garden by South- 
 wark), which is a great amphitheatre, where combats are fought betw'een 
 all sorts of animals, and sometimes men, as we once saw. Commonly, 
 when fencing masters are desirous of showing their great courage and 
 great skill, they issue mutual challenges, and before they engage, parade 
 the town with drums and trumpets sounding, to inform the public there 
 is a challenge between two brave masters of the science of defence, and 
 the battle will be fought on such a day. We went to see this combat, 
 which was performed on a stage in the middle of this amphitheatre, 
 where, on the flourishes.' of trumpets and the beat of drum, the com- 
 batants entered, stripped to their shirts. On a signal from the drum, 
 they drew their swords, and immediately began the fight, skirmishing 
 a long time without any wounds. They were both very skilful and cou- 
 rageous. The tallest had the advantage over the least; for, according 
 to the English fashion of fencing, they endeavoured rather to cut than 
 push in the French manner, so that by his height he had the advantage 
 of being able to strike his antagonist on the head, against which the 
 little one was on his guard. He had, in his turn, an advantage over the 
 great one, in being able to give him the jarnac stroke, by cutting 
 him on bis right ham, which he left in a manner quite unguarded; so 
 that, all things considered, they were equally matched ; nevertheless, 
 the tall one struck his antagonist on the wrist, which he almost cut off; 
 but this did not prevent him continuing the fight, after he had been 
 dressed and taken a glass cr two of wine to give him courage, when he 
 took ample revenge for his wound ; for a little afterwards, making a 
 feint at the ham of the tall man, the tall man stooping in order to parry 
 it, laid his whole head open, when the little one gave him a stroke whicli 
 to’ok oflf a slice of his head and almost all his ear. For my part, I think 
 there is an inhumanity, a barbarity, and cruelty, in permitting men to 
 kill each other for diversion. The surgeons immediately dressed them, 
 and bound up their wounds; which being done, they resumed the com- 
 bat, and being both sensible of their respective disadvantages, they 
 therefore were a long time without giving or receiving a wound, which 
 was the cause of the little one failing to parry so exactly; being tired with 
 this long battle, he received a stroke on his wounded wrist Avhich divided 
 the sinews. He remained vanquished, and the tall one received the 
 applause of the spectators. For my part, I should have had more plea- 
 sure in seeing the battle of the bears and dogs, which was fought the 
 following day, on the same ihentxc’’— Antiquarian Repertory, 180G, 
 V. iv.. p. 549. 
 
 AMUSEMENTS. 
 
 DETAILS OF THEIR PRINCIPAL VARIETIES SINCE 1700. 
 
 Concerts of vocal and instrumental music were given as at present, at 
 the commencement of the century, and patronised by ladies of distinc- 
 tion. “ The great room” in York Buildings was used for this purpose, 
 and benefits were appointed for Mrs. Hudson and Mr. Williams, March 
 20th, 1700. A concerto was held at the theatre, in Dorset Gardens, 
 April 24, 1700, with a most curious accompriniment, in order to amuse 
 the auditors optically as well as auricularly. 
 
 Joseph Thomas, master of the noble science of defence, had challenged 
 or had b-en challenged by a Mr. Jones, who came from North Wales, 
 in order to decide whose skill was superior. After a trial before many 
 of the nobility and gentry, the palm was assigned to Mr. Jones. 
 
 April 27, 1700. — '* In Brookfield Market-place, at the east corner of 
 Hyde Park, is a fair to be kept for the space of sixteen days, beginning 
 the first of May. The first three days for live cattle and leather, with 
 the same entertainments, as at Bartholomew Fair.” 
 
 The present Tunbridge Wells, or Islington Spa,* -w^as in full favour 
 with the public, and opened for the summer on the 5th of May. The 
 proprietors admitted dances, during the whole of the day. on Mondays 
 and Thursdays (provided'they did not appear in masks), for which, music 
 was provided. With respect to such dances it may be worthy of remark, 
 we have no parallel at the present daj% and happily none for the Bear- 
 garden at Hockley-in-the-Hole, where the infamous part of the com- 
 munity were entertained with battles, &c. Thus “at his Majesty’s 
 Bear-garden, in Hockley-in-the-Hole; a trial of skill will be performed 
 to-morrow, being the 10th instant (July, 1700), at three in the afternoon, 
 between John Bowler, of the city of Norwich and champion of Norfolk, 
 master of the noble science of defence, and Will of the^West, from the 
 city of Salisbury, master of the said science of defence.” 
 
 Certain persons felt great displeasure at the public amusements of 
 the day, and, at length, that displeasure found vent in the presentment 
 of the grand jury of Middlesex : — “ We, the grand jury of the county 
 of Middlesex, do present, that the plays, which are frequently acted in 
 the play-housHS in Drurj'-lane and Lincoln’s-inn-fields, in this county, 
 are full of profane, irreverent, lewd, indecent, and immoral expressions, 
 and tend to the great displeasure of Almighty God, and to the corrup- 
 tion of the auditory both in their principles and their practices. We 
 also present, that the common acting of plays in the said play-houses 
 very much tend to the debauching and ruining the youth resorting 
 thereto, and to the breach of the peace, and are the occasions of many 
 riots, routs, and disorderly assemblies, whereby many murders and other 
 misdemeanours have been frequently done, and particularly the barba- 
 rous murder of Sir Andre-v Slanning, which was very lately committed, 
 as he came out of one of the said play-houses; and further, that the 
 common acting of plays, at the said play-houses, is a public nuisance. 
 As also the Bear-garden in Hockley-in-the-Hole, t in the parish of St. 
 Joh'i’s, Clerkenwell, in the said county, is of the like nuisance.” 
 
 At Bartholomew Fair the ridiculous tricks, mentioned in the “famous 
 Dutchwoman’s” bill of fare were permitted without reprehension. 
 'These will serve to show how stationary the entertainments of this place 
 were. “You will see a wonderful girl of ten years of age who walks 
 backw'ards up the sloping rope, driving a wheelbarrow behind her; also 
 you will see the great Italian master, who not only passes all that has 
 }’et been seen upon the low rope, but he dances without a pole upon the 
 head of a mast, as high as the booth will permit, and after wards stands 
 upon his head on the same. You will be also entertained with the 
 merry conceits of an Italian scaramouch, who dances on the rope with 
 two children and a dog in a wheelbarrow, and a duck on his he;id.” 
 
 “At the Royal Cockpit, on the south side of St. James’s Park, on 
 Tuesday, the 11th of this instant February, will begin a very great cock 
 match, and will continue all the w^eek, w'herein most of the considera- 
 blest cockers of England are concerned. There w'ill be a battle down 
 upon the pit every day precisely, at three o’clock, in order to have done 
 by day-light. Monday, the 9th instant March will begin a great match 
 oi cockfighting, betwixt the gentlemen of the City of Westminster and 
 the gentlemen of the City of London, for six guineas a battle, and one 
 hundred guineas the odd battle, and the match continues all the week, 
 in Red-Lion fields.”! 
 
 In the following April, another match commenced, to continue for a 
 week, at four guineas a battle, and forty guineas the odd battle, bettveen 
 the gentlemen of London and those of Warwickshire, at the new Cock- 
 pit, behind Gray’s-Inn-walks. 
 
 'The presentments were, however, of some service, as the proprietors 
 of the Bear-garden advertised subsequently “without beat of drum.” 
 Wrestling was exhibited by them, and the prizes were gloves, at two 
 shillings and sixpence per pair. 
 
 Lambeth Wells opened on Easter Mondays, and had public days on 
 Mondays, Thursdays, and Saturdays, with music, from seven in the 
 morning till sun-set; on other days till two. The price of admission 
 was threepence; the water one penny per quart to the affluent, and 
 gratis to the poor. 
 
 The good people at Bartholomew Fair, were entertained, in 1701, by a 
 tiger, who had been taught to pick a fowl's feathers from the body. 
 This feat seems to have roused the proprietors of the theatre in Lin- 
 coln’s-inn-fields ; and they immediately, “ at the desire of several per- 
 sons of quality,” exhibited “ that delightful exercise of vaulting, on the 
 managed horse, according to the Italian manner,” after the play of the 
 Country Wife. 
 
 * Popular Spas '. — Sadler’s Wells, Bagnigge’s Wells, St. Chadd’s Wells, 
 and Islington Spa, some remains of which may still be seen in the 
 Lower-road, Islington. 
 
 t Mrs. Peachum, addressing Filch, in the Beggar's Opera, says, “you 
 should go to Hockley-in-the-Hole, and to Marylebone, child, to learn 
 valour.” 
 
 I Red Lion-square, built upon 1698; so called from an inn, famous 
 as the “ Red Lion Inn.” 
 
19 
 
 EVANS’S MUSIC AND SUPPER ROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN. 
 
 May Fair opened in 1702, with the usual splendid entertainments, 
 and, if tlie manafjers of tliese elegant diversions were to be credited, 
 ■with more than common eclnt. There was Mr. Miller’s booth over a^minst 
 Mr. Barnes tlie rope-dancer’s, where was presented an e.xcellent droll, 
 called Crispin and Crispinnus, or a Shoemaker a Prince, with the 
 best singing and dancing ever yet in the fair. This and other ex- 
 cellent performances attracted the lasses and lads of London, whose 
 spirits, exhilarated by the season from which the fair was named, met 
 in vast numbers. At this fair, when the civil magistrate came to keep 
 the peace, one constable, Mr. John Cooper, was killed, and three others 
 wounded. The man who committed the murder escaped, and a butcher 
 of Gloucester was hanged for the crime; but the real culprit finally 
 suffered. And thus tragically ended the fair of May, 1702. 
 
 Mr. Pawlet had a great dancing-room near Dowgate, Thames-street. 
 Hither the gay were invited to a “ concert," produced by violins, haut- 
 boys, flutes, and a trumpet, with singing. The admission Is.Gd. 
 
 From several circumstances it appears that, notwithstanding the pro- 
 clamation and feeble exertions of the Corporation of Loudon, Drolls or 
 Interludes w'ere openly performed in Smithfield, and that the Governors 
 of St, Bartholomew’s Hospital actually permitted [)rostitutes to walk 
 the cloisters. One number of the Secret Mercury has this expression : 
 " Well. I shall catch you in the cloisters;” but the Observator of Aug. 
 21, 1703, sets the matter beyond doubt; — “Does this market of lewd- 
 ness tend to anything else but the ruin of the bodies, souls, jand estates 
 of the young men and women of the City of London, who here meet 
 with all the temptations to destruction? The lotteries to ruin their 
 estates ; the drolls, comedies, interludes, and farces, to poison their minds 
 with motions of lust ; and in the cloisters (those coirscious scenes of 
 polluted amours) in the evening they strike the bargain to finish their 
 ruin. What strange medley of lewdness has that place not long since 
 afforded ? Lords and ladies, aldermen and their wives, squires and Ad- 
 lers, citizens and rope-dancers, jack-puddings and lawyers, mistresses 
 and maids, masters and ’prentices ! This is not an ark like Noah’s, 
 which received the clean and unclean; only the unclean beasts enter 
 this ark, and such as have the Devil’s livery on their backs.” And in 
 another paper he says, “they’ll raffle with the punks in the cloisters.’’ 
 The reader will pardon the introduction of the substance of an adver- 
 tisement inserted in the Postman, Aug. 19, 1703, by Barnes and Finley, 
 who, after the usual exordium of their superior excellence, mention 
 that the spectator will “see my Lady Mary perform such curious steps 
 on the dancing rope, &c. &c.” Chetwood, in his History of the Staye, 
 mentions a Lady Isabella, which name, writing from memory, he has 
 evidently mistaken for Mary, who was the daughter of noble parents, in- 
 habitants of Florence, where they immured her in a nunnery ; but, most 
 fruitlessly careful of their beautiful off.spring, she accidently saw a 
 Merry Andrew, who unfortunately saw her, in consequence of which a 
 clandestine intercourse took place; an elopement followed, and finally 
 this villain taught her his infamous tricks, which she exhibited for his 
 profit till vice had made her his own. The catastrophe of the Lady Mary 
 was dreadful. Her husband, impatient of delays or impediments to 
 profit, either permitted or commanded her to exhibit on the rope when 
 eight months had elapsed in her pregnancy. Encumbered by her weight 
 she fell, never more to rise; her infant was born on the stage, and died 
 a victim with its mother. 
 
 Mr. Abel advertised a concert and dancing at Covent Garden Theatre 
 for Tuesday, December 29, 1702; the performers, were himself. Monsieur 
 TAbbe, Mr. Isaac’s scholar, and others. The galleries were let for the 
 ' benefit of the proprietors of the plavhouse. 
 
 “At the White Horse at Bristol Causeway (now denominated Brixton 
 in Surrey, three miles from London, in the road to Croydon), will be a 
 hat played for at cudgels, on the 23rd of April, 1703 ; the country against 
 the Londoners. He that breaks most h^ads to have the hat; he that 
 plays puts in sixpence.” Smock-races were run at this elegant place of 
 resort, “ by young women and maids.” 
 
 Aug. 23, 1697.— The Lord Mayor hath this day published an order for 
 the suppressing of vicious practices in Bartholomew Fair, as obscene, 
 lascivious, and scandalous plays, comedies, and farces, unlawful games 
 and interludes, drunkenness, &c., strictly charging all constables and 
 .other officers to use their utmost diligence in prosecuting the same. — 
 Postman, Aug. 24, 1697. 
 
 Satire against the Authorities. — The Pigs’ Petition against Bartholo- 
 1 mew Fair; with their humble thanks to those unworthy preservers of 
 80 much innocent blood. Humbly inscribed to the illustrious Common 
 Council. A Poem in Verse. 2 pages folio. 
 
 ' “ Tiddy Doll,” the pieman, in Hogarth’s March to Finchley, was a 
 
 conspicuous personage at this and other fairs ; his name was Ford. 
 
 There were two “ Tiddy Dolls,” there is an engraving of the last. 
 Firing at marks formed part of the 'amusement of a certain class of 
 people in 1709, and prizes were offered of various descriptions, particu- 
 larly one at Islington of a pair of doe-skin breeches worth £3. The 
 terms for the privilege of firing were a subscription of one shilling each 
 by sixty men. 
 
 A most tragical occurrence happened in September, 1709, at that 
 polite place of resort, the Bear-garden, at Hockley-in-the-Ho!e. Chris- 
 topher Preston, keeper of the garden, had taught his bears everything 
 but forgiveness of injuries ; and this he experienced, at an unguarded 
 moment, by an attack from one, which not only killed but almost de- 
 voured him, before his friends were aware of the fact. 
 
 Matches at cricket were played for many years on Tuesdays. Thurs- 
 days, and Saturdays, at the Duke of Ormond’s Head, near Lamb’s Con- 
 duit-fields. 
 
 The Tatter, of April 25, 1710, advertises a pastoral mask to be per- 
 formed at York-buildings on the 27th, composed by Mr. Clayton, and 
 for his benefit, who is there said to have introduced the Italian Opera 
 into England. 
 
 Mr. Winstanley had a Water Theatre, distinguished by a windmill on 
 the summit in Piccadilly near Hyde Park, “wherein was shown the 
 greatest curiosities in water-works, the like being never performed by 
 any.” The hours of exhibition were from five to six o’clock every 
 evening in June and July, 1710, for his widow’s benefit. This gentleman 
 had a house at Littlebury, Essex, where some experiments in hydraulics 
 were exhibited for money. 
 
 The following notice was issued in August “ That a gold ring is to 
 be danced for on the 31st instant, and a hat to be played for at skittles, 
 the next day following, at the Greengate in Gray’s-walks, near Lambeth 
 Wells,”* 
 
 A new cockpit and bowling-green were opened in March 1711, behind 
 Gray’s-inn-gardens ; the gentlemen of Essex played against all Britain 
 at ten guineas a battle, and 500 the odd battle. ’ 
 
 “ Mr. Penkethinan’s (we suppose the actor of that time, 1711) won- 
 derful invention, called the Pantheon, or the Temple of the Heathen 
 Gods, the work of several years and great expense, is now perfected. 
 To be seen from ten in the morning till ten at night, in the Little 
 Piazza, Covent-garden, in the same house where Punch’s Opera is. 
 Price Is. 6d., Is., and the lowest Od.” 
 
 “ At Punch’s Theatre, in the Little Piazza, Covent-garden, this pre- 
 sent Friday, being the 2nd, and to-morrow being the 3d of May, will be 
 presented an opera, called The State of Innocence or the Fall of Man, 
 with variety of scenes and machines, particularly the scene of Paradise 
 in its primitive state, with birds, beasts, and all its ancient inhabitants, 
 in Paradise uniforms. The subtilty of the serpent in betraying Adam 
 and Eve, &c., with a variety of diverting interludes, too many to be 
 inserted here. No persons to be admitted vnth masks or riding hoods, 
 nor no money to be returned after the curtain is up. Boxes 2s., pit Is- 
 Beginning exactly at 7 o’clock.” 
 
 St. George’s Fields abounded with gardens where the lower classes 
 met to drink and smoke tobacco; but those were not their only amuse- 
 ments. Mr. Shanks, near Lambeth Marsh, contrived to assemble his 
 customers in 1711 with a grinning match. The prize was a gold-laced 
 bat, and the competitors were exhilarated by music and dancing; the 
 hour of exhibition was 12 at noon, and the admission 6d. At six o’clock 
 the same. And every evening another portion of the same class was de- 
 lighted witli contortions of a different description, which had, however, 
 the sanction of antiquity. Posture-masters gre represented in the illu- 
 minations of very ancient MSS., and in attitudes described in the fol- 
 lowing advertisement ; — 
 
 “At the Duke of iMarlborough’s Head, in Fleet-street, in the great- 
 room, is to be seen the famous Posture-master of Europe, who far 
 exceeds the deceased posture-masters, Clarke and Higgins. He extends 
 his body into all deformed shapes, makes his hi;> and shoulder-bones 
 meet together, lays his head upon the ground, and turns his body round 
 twice or thrice without stirring his face from the place ; stands upon 
 one leg, and extends the other in a perpendicular line half a yard above 
 his head, and extends his body from a table with his head a foot below 
 his heels, having nothing to balance his body but his feet, with several 
 other postures too tedious to mention.” 
 
 There was an established cockpit in Present-street, Goodman’s-fields, 
 1712; there the gentlemen of the east entertained themselves, while the 
 nobles and others of the west were entertained by the edifying exhibi- 
 tion of the agility of their running footmen. His Grace of Grafton 
 declared his man was unrivalled in speed; and the Lord Cholmondeley 
 betted him 500 guineas, that his excelled even the unrivalled. Accord- 
 ingly, the ground was prepared for a two-mile heat in Hyde Park, The 
 race was, run, and one of the parties was victor, but which, our informant 
 does not say. 
 
 In the same month a curious brass gun was advertised to be shot for 
 at Hoxton. It was in the shape of a walking-cane, and might be used 
 as gun or pistol ; it contained a telescope, a dial on the head, and a per- 
 petual almanack. 
 
 The Spectator, No. 436, enables us to form a correct idea of the brutal 
 sports of the Be<ar-garden, the theatre for the double exhibition of 
 natural brutes and the degeneracy of human nature. The ridiculous 
 movements of the bear appear to have been too innocent an amusement 
 for the populace ; they, therefore, gave place to pugilism and fighting 
 with swords. 
 
 “ I James Miller, serjeant, lately come from the frontiers of Portugal, 
 master of the noble science of defence, hearing in most places where I 
 have been of the great fame of Timothy Buck, of London, master of the 
 said science, do invite him to meet me, and exercise at the several 
 weapons following; back-sword, sword and daggers, sword and buckiei, 
 single falchon, case of falchons, quarter-staff.” 
 
 The author of the above paper declares that he witnessed the combat 
 which the challenge occasioned, £ind we shall endeavour to show it to 
 our readers in its true colours, divested of that romantic and chivalric 
 air with which it is glossed in the paper alluded to. Two drummers, 
 whose bodies were disfigured by the wounds they had received in battle, 
 preceded the challenger, a stout, athletic, man with a blue ribbon tied 
 round his right arm. accompanied by a fell demon, a second or friend, 
 one who is described as bearing in his breast ihat malice w'hicli darted 
 amongst the crowd through his organs of sight — the crowd whose eager- 
 ness had arisen to frenzy ; keen expectation marked their features and 
 convulsed their limbs, motion impelled motion, the stout overwhelmed 
 tlie weak, the tallest the short, impatienceand anger prompted removals, 
 and instantly a grand transfer of places ensued. The spectators rushed 
 from the gallery into the area, and from the area into the gallery, and 
 confusion reigned triumphant till Buck appeared, when all was hushed, 
 Now observe the picture. The combatants, stripped to their shirts, 
 shake hands to show that they kill each other in good will, and prepare 
 to injure and defend. Miller receives a dreadful cut in the forehead, 
 and his eyes stream with blood. Who leaps upon the stage to staunch 
 it, or part the fiends? No one ! What then succeeds? A yell of satis- 
 faction — a huzza from the crowd ! But, not to dwell on this horrible 
 scene, a gash on Miller’s left leg terminated the combat. “ The wound, 
 was exposed to the view of all who could delight in it, and sewed up on 
 the stage.” One solitary female shed tears fur Miller, but our authority 
 seems to hint that her humanity was selfish. 
 
 A far more innocent amusement was announced directly after the 
 battle, in No, 533. Mr. Clinch, of Barnet, entertained the public at the 
 
 * “ Cuper’s Gardens,” Lambeth. The Royal Infirmary for Children 
 is built upon its site. “Finch’s Grotto Gardens,” was on the western 
 side of St. George’s-street, Southwark, on the south by Dirty-lane, and 
 the west by Vinegar-yard, in Lombard-street, St. Saviour’s parislu 
 
20 EVANS’S MUSIC AND SUPPER ROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN. 
 
 Queen’s Arms Tavern, Ludgate-hill, for one shilling each, hy imitations, 
 vfith his voice, of the flute, double curtel, the organ with three voices, 
 the horn, huntsman, and pack of hounds, the bells, &c. 
 
 Dawks’s News-letter, of April 2, 1713, has the following article : — 
 
 “ Yesterday a trial of skill was fought at the Bear-garden, between 
 Henry Clements and Parks of Coventry, where there was good sport, 
 hacking and hewing. It is thought they got £50 a-piece, the French 
 Ambassador being there, and giving them money very liberally.” Soon 
 after, three bouts at “threshing flail” were announced, and a flourish of 
 “ no cut, no bout.” 
 
 In the Humorous Lovers, 1617, a famous bear, named Tom of Lincoln, 
 was preceded by a minstrel or two, with a monkey on his back. One of 
 the characters, personating a bear keeper, is made to s >y “ I’ll set up 
 my bills, that the gamesters of London, Horsleydown, Southwark, and 
 Newmarket, may come in and bait him before the ladies ; but first, boy, 
 go fetch me a bagpipe. We will walk the streets in triumph, and give 
 the people notice of our sport.” 
 
 In two advertisements, 1720 ; — 
 
 “At the Bear-garden, in Hockley-in-the-Hole, nearClerkenwell-green, 
 this present Monday, there is a great match to be fought, by two dogs, 
 of Sraithfield Bars, against two dogs of Hampstead, at the Reading Bull, 
 for one guinea to be spent; five let-goes out of hand ; which goes fairest 
 and farthest wins all. The famous bull of fire--works, pleased 
 
 the gentry to admiration. Likewise there are two bear-dogs, to jump 
 three jumps a-piece at the bear, which jumps highest, for ten shillings 
 to be spent. Also a variety of bull baiting, and bear baiting, it being a 
 day of general sport by all the old gamesters; and a bull dog to be 
 drawn up with the fireworks. Beginning at three o’clock. ” 
 
 “At William Well’s Bear-garden, in Tuttle-fields, Westminster, this 
 present Monday, there will be a green bull baited, and twenty dogs to 
 fight for a collar, and the dog that runs farthest and fairest, wins the 
 collar; with other diversions of bull and bear baiting, beginning at two 
 of the clock.” 
 
 There were bull baitings in Westminster within a very few years. 
 The ground was on the north side of Rochester-row. A man named 
 Caleb Baldwin was the bull owner. Y outhful prize fightings and degrad- 
 ing scenes followed. 
 
 George I. seems to have been partial to aquatic excursions. On the 
 22d of August, 1715, the King, Prince, and Princess of Wales, and a 
 numerous party of nobility, went with music on board their barges 
 from Whitehall to Limehouse. When they returned in the evening, 
 the captains of the shipping suspended lanterns in their rigging, and 
 the houses on both sides of the river were illuminated ; an incredible 
 number of boats, filled with spectators, attended the royal party, and 
 cannon were continually fired during the day and evening. This amuse- 
 ment is repeatedly noticed in the papers. 
 
 Several years elapsed without the least notice of Bartholomew fair ; 
 hut Dawks’s News Letter 'of August 27, 1715, mentions:— “ On Wednes- 
 day Bartholomew fair began, to which we hear the greatest number of 
 black cattle was brought that ever was known. It seems there is not a 
 public licence for booths and plays as formerly ; but there is one great 
 play-house erected in the middle of Smithfield for the King’s players (as 
 they are called). The booth is the largest that ever was built, and 
 abundance of puppet-shows, and other show’s, are set out in the houses 
 round Smithfield, and public raffling and gaming in the Cloisters (of 
 St. Bartholomew’s Hospital), so that the fair is almost as much resorted 
 to as formerly.” 
 
 We have hitherto described the amusements of the Londoners on 
 terra firma : the frost of 1715-16 enables us to show how they gamboled 
 on the Thames when frozen. The following advertisement leads the 
 vray This is to give notice to gentlemen and others that pass upon 
 the Thames during the frost, that over against Whitehall-stairs they 
 may have their names printed, fit to paste in any book, to hand down 
 the memory of the season to posterity. 
 
 You that walk there, and do design to tell 
 
 Your children’s children what this year befel. 
 
 Go print your name and take a dram within, 
 
 For such a year as this has seldom been.” 
 
 Dawks’s News-letter of Jan. 14 says:— “The Thames seems now a 
 solid rock of ice, and booths for the sale of brandy, wnne, ale, and other 
 exhilarating liquors, have been fixed there for some time. But now it 
 is, in a manner, like a town ; thousands of people cross it, and with 
 wonder view the mountainous heaps of water that now lie congealed 
 into ice. On Thursday a great cook’s shop was erected there, and gen- 
 tlemen went as frequently to dine as at an ordinary. Over against 
 Westminster, Whitehall, and Whitefriars, printing-presses are kept upon 
 the ice, where many persons have their names printed, to transmit the 
 wonders of the season to their posterity.” 
 
 Coaches, waggons, carts, &c., are said to have been driven over it ; 
 and an enthusiast preached to a motley congregation on the mighty 
 waters, with a zeal fiery enough to have thawed himself through the 
 ice, had it been susceptible of religious warmth. This and other diver- 
 sions attracted the attention of many of the nobility, and even tempted 
 the Prince of Wales to visit Frost Fair. 
 
 On that day there was an uncommonly high spring tide, which over- 
 flowed the cellars on the borders of the river, and raised the ice full 14 
 feet, without interrupting the people from their pursuits. 
 
 A Bear-garden, the back of Soho-square, where the proprietors had an 
 amphitheatre of three gradations, the lowest of which let at 2s. 6d. for 
 each seat, the next 5s., and the third 10s. 6d. There, at the desire of 
 several persons of quality, a leopard, twelve feet in length, was adver- 
 tised to be baited to death on the 24th of March, and gentlemen, who 
 chose to risk their dogs, were permitted to assist in the destruction of 
 this monstrous animal, which appears to have been the first soused 
 within the century. The leopard was shown, with other beasts, in a 
 room at the boarded house, Mary-le-bone-fields. We will leave the 
 quality in full enjoyment of their classical entertainment, and follow 
 another description of citizens to Wanstead, where a female had long 
 resided, who annually attracted notice by the following advertisement, 
 in which she then mentioned her age for the fust time: — “This is to 
 
 give notice to all my honoured masters and ladies, and the rest of my 
 loving friends, that my lady Butterfield gives a challenge to ride ahorse, 
 to leap a horse, or run on foot, or halloo, with any woman in England, 
 seven years younger, but not a day older, because I won’t undervalue 
 myself, being now 74 years of age. My feast will be the last Wednesday 
 of this month, April, where there will be good entertainment for that 
 day, and all the year after, in Wanstead, Essex.” 
 
 From a paragraph in a newspaper, we subsequently find the Boarded 
 House at Mary-le-bone to have beeti used as a Theatre for pugilism. 
 
 The next occurrence under this head seems perfectly in unison with 
 the preceding articles. The proprietors of the Boariied House, Soho, 
 advertised a savage entertainment for the 21st of May, 1717. They 
 had, during the period between the baiting. of the leopard and May 21, 
 refined upon cruelty to the very acme, and ^ere ready to exhibit an 
 African tiger on a stage, four feet high, worried by six bull and bear 
 dogs, for £100; a mad bull and a bear, both covered with fireworks; 
 and, lest those pleasant spectacles should fail to amuse, six young men 
 were to play at blunts ; in other words, he that broke most heads ob- 
 tained a hat. The miscreants had even the audacity to conclude their 
 detestable advertisement with “ Vivat Rex.” 
 
 On Friday evening. Sept. 13, several constables visited Southwark, 
 and particularly Penkethraan’s booth, whom they apprehended, with 
 others of his company, just as they had concluded a play, and in the 
 presence of near 150 noblemen and gentlemen seated on the stage. 
 They were soon liberated, on making it appear that they were the King’s 
 servants. The Prince visited the booth. 
 
 The following parapaph occurs in the Weekly Jotcrnal of March 15, 
 1718. from which an idea maybe formed of the audiences at Sadler’s 
 Wells about that period: — “Sadler’s Wells being lately opened, there 
 is likely to be a great resort of strolling damsels, half pay officers, peri- 
 patetic tradesmen, tars, butchers, and others that are musically 
 inclined.” 
 
 Wells, who had left the old Bear-garden at Hockley-in-the-Hole, and 
 established that at Marylebone, died in 1721. Dan Singleton composed 
 the following ludicrous epitaph on the occasion : — 
 
 “ Shed, O ye combatant.s, a flood of tears; 
 
 Howl, all ye dogs; roar, all ye bulls and bears ! 
 
 Ye butchers, weep ! for ye, no doubt, are grievers. 
 
 And sound his loss with marrowy-bones and cleavers. 
 
 Wells is no more ! Yet death has been so kind 
 That he hath left the bulls and bears behind.” 
 
 One of the newspapers of the day says :— “ By the decease of Mr. 
 Wells, the original Bear-garden, at Hockley-in-the-Hole, is now likely to 
 be thronged, especially since all the old gamesters are resolved to bait 
 every Monday and Thursday, and the gladiators have promised fre- 
 quently to try their skill there, the brutes to box, the furmity and 
 hasty-pudding eaters to cobble down their hctguttage at Madame Pres- 
 ton’s, and at no other place.” 
 
 The prognostic relating to the Bear-garden, in June, 1722, by the fol- 
 lowing extract from the London Journal: — “Boxing in public at the 
 Bear-garden, is w'hat has lately obtained very much among the men ; 
 but till last week we have never heard of women being engaged that 
 way, when two of the feminine gender appeared for the first time on the 
 Theatre of war, at Hockley-in-the-Hole, and maintained the battle with 
 great valour for a long time, to the no small satisfaction of the specta- 
 tors.” The challenge and answer of these females being originals, we 
 give them to our readers : — 
 
 “I, Elizabeth Wilkinson, of Clerkenwell, having had some words 
 with Hannah Hyfield, and requiring satisfaction, do invite her to meet 
 me on the stage, and box with me for three guineas, each woman hold- 
 ing half-a-crown in each hand, and the first woman that drops her money 
 to lose the battle.” 
 
 “ I, Hannah Hyfield, of Newgate-market, hearing of the resoluteness 
 
 of Elizabeth Wilkinson, will not fail, willing, to give her more 
 
 blow's than words, desiring home blows, and from her no favour.” 
 
 Their habits on this occasion were close jackets, short petticoats, Hol- 
 land drawers, white stockings, and pumps. 
 
 The police were at length convinced how very improper the exhibi- 
 tions of bear-baiting and prize-fighting were in the city of London, and 
 sent the proper officers to Spitalfields, in June, 1724, where a stage had 
 been erected for the first time lor those purposes, which was imme- 
 diately pulled down by their orders, and in August they were vainly 
 employed in concerting measures for the total suppression of the long 
 established place of resort at Hockley-in-the-Hole. 
 
 August, 1 725, produced a conflict for the entertainment of the visitors 
 of Mr. Figg’s amphitheatre. Oxford-road, which is characteristic of 
 savage ferocity indeed. Sutton, the champion of Kent, and a courage- 
 ous female heroine of that county, fought Stokes and his niuch admired 
 consort, of London ; £40 was to be given to the male or female who 
 gave most cuts with the sword, and £20 for most blows at quarter-staff, 
 besides the collection in the box. 
 
 “At Mr. Figg’s great room, at his house, the sign of the City of Ox- 
 ford, in Oxford-road, to morrow, Wednesday, the 11th of November, the 
 nobility and gentry will be entertained (for the last time this season), in 
 a most extraordinary manner, with a select trial of skill in the science 
 of defence, by the four following masters, viz.: — We, William Holmes 
 and Felix M'Guirc, the two first and most profound swordsmen 
 iu the kingdom of Ireland, whom, in combat, the universe never yet 
 could parallel, being requested to return to our native country, are 
 determined to make our departure ever memorable to Great Britain, by 
 taking our solemn public leave of the renowned Mr. Figg and Mr. Sut- 
 ton, at the time and places a]>pointed, to which we hereby invite them, 
 in order to prove we can maintain our titles, and claim a preference in the 
 list of worthies. ’Tis not the accidental blow which Mr. Holmes received 
 on his metacorpus, the last time he fought Mr. Figg, that has shocked his 
 courage, or given room for Mr. M’Guire to decline his interest. No ! it 
 has been the fate of the best generals to retreat, and yet to conquer, and 
 the loss of a leg or an arm has augmented the glory of a commander, 
 because blind fortune, and not the want of conduct, forfeited a limb, 
 which force or envy ne’er e’er could take away.” 
 
EVANS’S MUSIC AND SUPPER ROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN. 21 
 
 “We, James Figp, from Thame, in Oxfordshire, and Edward Sutton, 
 of renowned Kent, by tlie lofty language and pointed similes of the 
 above bravos, gue.ss at their aspiring minds, and sincerely promise, 
 since they covet to be great men, that if, at the time and place 
 appointed, they obtain a victory by the sword, we will present them 
 with our truncheons, being four foot longer than that Alexander was 
 honoured at the head of liis army, and far more serviceable in case of a 
 rupture ; on the other hand, if it be our fortune to deprive them of their 
 intended glory, in one sense, we will endeavour to be grateful in’ ano- 
 ther, by sending them home admirals, like Benbo or Carter, whose 
 names the loss of a leg and an arm made ever memorable, and may serve 
 for the copy of their departure, if blind fortune, (as they call it), act 
 according to custom.” 
 
 Note. — Mr. Holmes and Mr. Figg are to fight the first bout, Mr. 
 M'Guire and Mr. Sutton in like manner, and so successively during the 
 battle; and if one be disabled, his associate to go through the weapons 
 with his two antagonists. A full house being expected, gentlemen are 
 desired to meet sooner than usual, the masters being commanded to 
 mount at three precisely, by reason of the shortness of the days and the 
 length of a double battle, &c. 
 
 Figg was an important personage in 17.31. He kept a school of 
 instruction in Oxford-street. — See a Poem in Dodsley — Combat 
 with Sutton. 
 
 Hogarth engraved his card, and introduced him in the second plate of 
 the Rake’s Progress. 
 
 Capt. John Godfrey, in his Useful Science of Defence, 1747, says: — 
 “ Figg was the atlas of the sword, and may he remain the gladiating 
 statue. In him, strength, resolution, and unparalleled judgment con- 
 spired to make a perfect master. There was a majesty shone in his 
 countenance, and blazed in all his actions, beyond all I ever saw. His 
 right leg bold and firm, and his l^fr, which was hardly ever to be dis- 
 turbed, gave him the surprising advantage already proved, and sti'uck 
 his adversary with despair and panic.” 
 
 “Mr. Figg,” says Chetwood, “ informed me once that he had not 
 bought a shirt for more than twenty years, but had sold some dozens. 
 It was his method, when he fought in his Amphitheatre, (his stage 
 bearing that superb title), to send round to a select number of his 
 scholars, to borrow a shirt for the ensuing comhat, and seldom failed of 
 half-a-dozen of superfine Holland from his prime pupils. Most of the 
 young nobility and gentry made it a part of their education to march 
 under his warlike banner. This champion was generally a conqueror, 
 though his shirt seldom failed of gaining a cut from his enemy, and 
 sometimes his flesh, though I think he never received any dangerous 
 wound. Most of his scholars were at every battle, and were sure to 
 exult at their great master’s victory, every person supposing he saw the 
 wounds his shirt received. Mr. Figg took the opportunity to inform 
 his lenders of linen of the chasms their shirts received, with a promise 
 to send them home — ‘ But,’ said the courageous, ingenious Figg, ‘ I 
 seldom received any other answer than D — n you, keep it.’” 
 
 After these notices of the polite portion of the community, the follow- 
 ing advertisement, copied literally from the original, issued by the pro- 
 prietors of the Amphitheatre, will appear less wonderful and disgust- 
 ing:— 
 
 “In Islington-road, on Monday, being the 17th of July, 1727, will be 
 performed a trial of skill by the following combatants. We, Robert 
 Barker and Mary Welsh, from Ireland, having often contaminated our 
 swords in the abdominous corporations of such antagonists as have had 
 the insolence to dispute our skill, do find ourselves once more necessi- 
 tated to challenge, defy, and invite Mr. Stokes and his bold Amazonian 
 virago to meet us on the stage, where we hope to give a satisfaction to 
 the honourable lord of our nation, who has laid a wager of twenty gui- 
 neas on our heads. They that give the most cuts to have the whole 
 money, and the benefit of the house ; and if swords, daggers, quarter- 
 staff, fury, rage, and resolution, will prevail, our friends shall not meet 
 with a disappointment.” 
 
 “ We, James and Elizabeth Stokes, of the City of London, having 
 already gained an universal approbation by our agility of body, dextrous 
 hands, and courageous hearts, need not perambulate on this occasion, 
 but rather choose to exercise the sword to their sorrow, and corroborate 
 the general opinion of the town, than to follow the custom of our repar- 
 tee antagonists. This will be the last time of Mrs. Stokes’ performing 
 on the stage.” 
 
 There will be a door on purpose for the reception of the gentlemen, 
 where coaches may drive up to it, and the company come in without 
 being crowded. Attendance will be given at three, and the combatants 
 mount at six precisely. They all fight in the same dresses as before. 
 
 The Village Opera was acted in March, 1729, at the theatre, 
 Drury-lane. The absurd custom of placing seats upon the stage had 
 been much condemned previous to that period, but the mana“-ers ven- 
 tured to introduce one for the Duchess of Queensbury, on the first repre- 
 sentation of the piece; and thus incurring the resentment of the 
 audience, who hissed incessantly till it was removed, and the wits wrote 
 epigrams upon the subject. 
 
 In December, 1731, Figg and Sparks contended with the broadsword, 
 at the French or Little Theatre in the Haymarket, before the Duke of 
 Lorrain, Count Kinski, and many persons of distinction. One of the 
 papers of the day observes, V The beauty and judgment of the sword 
 was delineated m a very extraordinary manner by those two champions 
 and with very little bloodshed. His Serene Highness was extremely 
 
 pleased, and expre.ssed his entire satisfaction, and ordered them a 
 handsome gratuity ” 
 
 Prince Frederick of Wales gave a grand entertainment to the nobility, 
 at the Opera House in 1732. The same royal personage formed a com- 
 pany of soldiers, consisting of courtiers’ sons, to which he declared 
 himself corporal, and, as such, relieved guard between the acts of the 
 Indian Emperor, performed before their Majesties and the Court in the 
 grand ball-room at St. James’s, by noble youths of both sexes. 
 
 The first notice of Vauxhall Gardens that we can find in the news- 
 papers was in June, 1732, when a Ridolto al fresco is mentioned. The 
 company were estimated at 400 persons, and in the proportion of ten 
 men to one woman, who generally wore dominos, lawyers’ gowns, and 
 masks, but many were without either. The company retired between 
 three and four in the morning, and order was preserved by 100 soldiers 
 stationed at the entrance. 
 
 “ At Lee and Woodward’s great theatrical tiled booth, near the turn- 
 pike, during the time of Tottenham-court Fair, which begins on Tuesday 
 the 4th, and ends on Monday the 17th, will be presented The Generous 
 Freemason, with the comical humours of Squire Noodle, and his man 
 Doodle. Squire Noodle, Mr. Woodward; Clerimont, Mr. Cross; 
 Doodle, Mr. Yanghan ; the rest of the characters from both the theatres. 
 To which will be added a new pantomime, called Harlequin Sorcerer. 
 Harlequin, Mr. Woodward; Columbine, Miss Robinson, her first appear- 
 ance on any stage. We shall begin at ten in the morning and at nine at 
 night.” — Daily Advertiser, August 10, 1741. (Masonic advertisement.) 
 
 The oratorio of Judas Maccabceus was performed on the 18th of Jan,, 
 1763, at the music-room in Dean-street, Soho, which was the first nighf 
 of subscription. The pit seats were 10s. 6d., and the gallery 5s. The 
 performers were Signora Passerini, Miss Frederick, Mr. Hudson, and 
 Mr. Champness,* and the chorus contained the best singers of the 
 Chapel Royal and St. Paul’s. The room was afterwards an auction- 
 room — Christie’s. 
 
 Fawkeshall — ’Vauxhali. — Copped Hall. — This famous place of 
 entertainment has been known by each of these titles. During the 
 year 1675, Sir Samuel Morland, an ingenious and eccentric mechanic, 
 obtained a lease of the premises, made ’Vauxliall his residence, and 
 added many considerable improvements. Every apartment, however, 
 exhibited proofs of his fanciful imagination. The side table in the 
 dining-room was supplied with a large fountain, and tlie glasses stood 
 under little streams of water. His coach had a moveable kitchen, with 
 clock machinery, with which he could make soup, broil steaks, or roast 
 a joint of meat; so that when he travelled he was his own cook. 
 
 Vauxhall, or Spring Gardens, is noticed in the Spectator, Ma.y 20, 
 1712. Jonathan Tyers obtained a lease, 1730. In 1812, vocalists’ salaries 
 were, Charles Taylor, £290 for the season; Mrs. Bland, £250; Mrs. 
 Sterling £10 10s., and Mrs, Martyr £4 4s, per week. — Wilkinson’s 
 Londini Illustrata, vol. i. 
 
 Ranelagh. — The Mansion of Richard Earl, of Ranelagh. — 
 The Earl is described by Macky, as “ fat, black, and witty ; boundless in 
 his extravagance.” He managed the finances of Ireland with consum- 
 mate skill for 30 years. Swift called him “ the vainest old man he ever 
 saw.” It was opened April 5, 1742. Festing was the manager, and led 
 the band. Garnerin ascended in a balloon from the gardens, in June, 
 1028. — Faulkner’s Chelsea. 
 
 * WAKES. 
 
 Wakes were religious institutions, even earlier than the Love Feasts 
 of the first Christians. “ The people assembled on the vigil or eve, 
 come to church with candellys burnynge, and would wake, and come 
 toward night to the church in their devocian, whereby those who came 
 to the wake were ordered to pray, and not betake themselves to 
 glotony and sinne, and turn holyness to cursydness.” Riot and 
 debaucheries took place at these nocturnal meetings, and regular fairs 
 were established. In some parts of the north wakes are still called 
 fairs. 
 
 FAIRS. 
 
 “ I found a ring of cudgel players, who were breaking one another’s 
 heads, in order to make some impression on their mistress's hearts. 
 Then came a foot-ball match, and afterwards a ring of wrestlers. The 
 squire of the parish treats the company every year with a hogshead of 
 ale, and proposes a beaver hat as a recompeuce to him who gives the 
 most falls.” — Spectator, No. 161. 
 
 “ A prize, one guinea, to be conferred upon the ablest whistler, that 
 is, he that can whistle clearest, and go through his tune without laugh- 
 ing ; at the same time he was provoked by the antic postures of a 
 merry-andrew, who was to stand upon the stage and play his tricks in 
 the eye of the performer.” — Ibid, 197. 
 
 Jingling Matches. — A circle enclosed with ropes, which is occu- 
 pied by as many as are permitted to play. All of these, except one of 
 the most active, who is the jingler, have their eyes blinded with hand- 
 kerchiefs. The eyes of the jingler are not covered, but he holds a 
 small bell in each hand. In some places the jingler has also small bells 
 affixed to his knees and elbows. His business is to elude the pursuit 
 of his blinded companions. 
 
 * Champness was a tinman, and kept a shop in Tootle-street, West 
 minster. He attended the Handel Festival rehearsal in his white apron. 
 
GLEEMEN, MINSTRELS, BARDS, &c, 
 
 S \xoN— The minstrels -.vere an order of men 
 in the middle ages, who subsisted by the arts ol 
 poetry and music, and sang, to the harp, verses 
 «omposed by themselves or others— Percy 
 The minstrels seem tohavebeen the genuine 
 successors of the ancient bards, who, under 
 ditferent names, were admired and revered, 
 from the earliest ages, among the people ot 
 Gaul, Britain, Ireland, and the north of Europe. 
 
 Danish.— Scalds were Danish bards signify- 
 ing smoothers and polishers of language. 
 
 Norman.— The Normans were early dis- 
 guished for their minstrel talent. An eminent 
 French wri'er makes no scruple to refer to 
 them the origin of all modern poetry, and 
 shows that they were celebrated for their songs 
 nearly a century before the Troubadours ol 
 Provence. In the conqueror’s army was a 
 ■valiant warrior, named Taillefer, who was no 
 less distinguished for the udnstrel art than 
 for his courage and intrepidity. This man 
 asked leave of his commander to begin the 
 onset, and obtained it. He accordingly ad- 
 vanced before the army, and with a loud voice 
 animated his countrymen with songs in praise 
 of Charlemagne and Roland, and other heroes 
 of France ; then rushing among the thickest 
 of the English, and lighting valiantly, lost his 
 life. 
 
 It is well known that on the Continent, 
 whence our Norman nobles came, the bard 
 who composed, the harper who played and 
 sang, and even the dancer and miniic 
 were all considered as of one community, and 
 included under the common nameof minstrels. 
 
 Anglo-Saxon Gleem i n.— Upon the estab- 
 lishment of the Saxons in Britain, poeti- 
 cal musicians were their chief favorites; the 
 courts of kings, and the residences of the 
 opulent afforded them a constant asylum. 
 They were called gleemen or merry-makers, 
 and were known as early as the thirteenth ceu- 
 iTiry. Their art consisted of rhyming, singing, 
 story telling, juggling, relating of heroic ac- 
 tions, buffoonery, and poetry. They also 
 assisted in the musical services of the church, 
 chaunting psalms and hymns. After the con- 
 quest they were called minstrels. 
 
 Glee jiai dens. —These were women, rvho 
 practised the minstrel’s art, or at least some 
 branches of it. We read of the glee-maidens, 
 or female minstrels, in the Saxon records, and 
 1 believe that their province, generally, was to 
 dance and to tumble, whence they acquired, 
 in the time of Chaucer, the name of tomble- 
 steres, from the Saxon, to tumble and dance, 
 and saylours, from Salio, to leap or dance.— 
 Strutt's Sports, p. 188. 
 
 In May, i290, was celebrated the marriage 
 of Queen Eleanor’s daughter, Joan, surnamed 
 of Acre, to the Earl of Gloucester, and in the 
 following July, that of Margaret, her fifth 
 daughter, to John, son of the Duke of Brabant. 
 Both ceremonials were conducted wi:li much 
 splendour, and a multitude of miusirels 
 flocked from all parts to Westminster. To the 
 first came King Grey of Eng'and, King Cau- 
 penny from Scotland, and Poveret, theminstrel 
 of the Mareschal of Ctiampagne. The nuptials 
 of Margaret, however, seem to have eclipsed 
 those of her sister. Walter de Storton, the 
 king’s harper, distributed a hundred pounds, 
 the°gift of the bridegroom, among J26 min- 
 strels, as w'ell English as oUicrs. In 1291, in 
 the accounts of the executors of Queen Elea- 
 nor, there is an entry of a pa>inent of o9s. for 
 a cup purchased to be given to one of the 
 king’s minstrels.— H'm. Chappell’s Popular 
 Music of the Olden Time, part i., p. 28. 
 
 The priory and hospital of St. Bartholomew, 
 in Smithfield, was founded by Royel or 
 Raherus, the King’s minstrel, in the tliird 
 year of Henry I., 1102. He was the first prior 
 of his own establishment, and presided over it 
 to the time of his death. 
 
 Minstrels, gleemen, jestours, (relaters of 
 jests), joculaior.s, dancers, towards the end 
 of the sixteenth century, lost all credit, and 
 were sunk so low in public opinion, that in 
 the 39th of Elizabeth, a statute was passed, 
 by which “Minstrels, wandering abroad, were 
 
 included among rogues, vagabonds, and sturdy 
 beagars .” — Percy * 
 
 Lastly, by an ordnance of the Common- 
 wealth, in 1C56, it was enacted: — “That if 
 any person, or persons, commonly called 
 fidlers, or minstrels, shall, at any time, be 
 taken playing, fiddling, and making music, in 
 any inn, alehouse, or tavern, or entreating any 
 person, or persons, to hear them play, or make 
 music, &c., tbeyshall he adjudged and declared 
 to be rogues, vagabonds, and sturdy beggars.’’ 
 After tliis the word minstrel was scarcely ever 
 mentioned, except in vagrant acts. — Poison's 
 Ancient Songs, p. 16. 
 
 Bards. — In the tenth year of the last Belgic 
 monarch, a colony, called by the Irish Tuatha- 
 de-Danan, of the posterity of Nemesius, in- 
 vaded, and soon after settled themselves, 
 in Ireland. 'This name, Tuatha-de-Danan, 
 according to some antiquarians, they owed 
 to their being divided into three tribes, 
 viz., the nobility, who were so called 
 from Tuatha, a lord ; the priests from 
 Dee, God, as being devoted to the service of 
 God ; and the Danans, poets, from Dan, 
 a poem, who composed hymns, and sung 
 the praise of the supreme. Here mention of 
 the bardic profession occurs, for the first time, 
 in the history of Ireland. — Walkers, Irish 
 Bards, p. 4. 
 
 Welsh Barbs. — Consult Jones's Musical 
 and Poetical Belicks. The massacre of the 
 bards, by Edward I,, is treated as fabulous by 
 Sharon 'Turner. 
 
 1— Summer is a coming in. 
 
 From a MS. in the British Museum, probably 
 
 of the 13//?, or at the latest the 14/A Century. 
 
 Summer is a coming in, 
 
 Loudly sing. Cuckoo ; 
 
 Groweth seed, and bloweth mead, 
 
 And springeth the wood newx 
 Ewe bleateth after lamb— 
 
 Loweth after calf, cow, 
 
 Bullock sterteth.t buck verteth,J 
 Merry sing, Cuckoo. 
 
 Well sing’st thou. Cuckoo, 
 
 Nor cease thou ever now. 
 
 Summer is a coming in, &c. &c.H 
 
 This little poem, which has been quoted by 
 every one, has singular claims to attention, as 
 being one of the earliest in the English lan- 
 guage, nossibly the earliest. Ritson in bis 
 1790, says— “This curious piece, 
 which is thought to be the most ancient song 
 with (or without) the musical notes any where 
 extant, is preserved in a manuscript of the 
 Harlean Library inthe Museum,” (No. 978, )§ 
 
 “ Sir John Hawkins and Dr. Burney, both of 
 whom have inserted it in their respective 
 works, referred it to about the middle of the 
 fifteenth century. But the reasoning of 
 these two learned and ingenious gentlemen 
 on the subject is as inconclusive, as their 
 judgment is erroneous. There cannot be a 
 doubt that the MS. is two hundred years 
 
 older, i. e. of the latter ’part of the reign of 
 Henry III.” — Uist. Essay on National Song, 
 
 3 vols. 1783. 
 
 Warton in his Hist, of English Poetry 
 vol. i., page .39, Edit. 1840, observes:— 
 
 “ Ritson justly exclaims against the ignorance 
 of those who refer the song to the fifteenth 
 century, when the MS. itself is certainly 
 of the middle of the thirteenth.” 
 
 The language of the Church was Latin; that 
 of the king and nobles, Norman ; that of the 
 people, Anglo-Saxon ; the Anglo-Norman 
 jargon was only emploj’ed in commercial in- 
 tercourse between the conquerors and the 
 conquered— E//7s’* specimens of Early English 
 Poets, vol. I. p. 17. 
 
 The first specimen, that may be deemed 
 English, and which bears apreci'^e date, is a 
 proclamation of Henry III, addressed to the 
 people of Huntingdonshire, in 1258. A 
 triumphant song, probably composed in 
 London, on the victory obtained at Lewes ^ 
 the confederate barons in 1264, is rather 
 less obsolete in its style than this proclama- 
 tion. Hullam's Hist, of the. Literature of Europe 
 in the middle ages, vol. 1. p. 47.* 
 
 The following song, in English, is directed 
 against the King’s brother, Richard Earl, of 
 Cornwall, who had t ecome very unpopular by 
 his foreign schemes of ambition. He took 
 shelter at a windmill, after he saw the king's 
 party defeated. — Thomas Wright’s Political 
 So7igs — Henry, 3, p. 68. 
 
 RICHARD OF ALMAIGNE. 
 
 SrxTETH alle stille, ant herkneth to me ; 
 
 The Kyng of Alemaigne, hi mi leaute, 
 
 Thritti ihousent pound askede he 
 For te make the pees in the couutre, 
 
 Ant so he dude more. 
 
 Richard, thah thou be ever trichard, 
 Tricthen shalt thou never more. 
 
 Richard of Alemaigne, whil that he was Lying, 
 He spende al is tresour opon swyvyng, 
 
 Haveth he nout of Walingford oferlyng, 
 
 Let him habl e, ase he brew, bale to dryng, 
 Maugre Wyndesore. 
 
 Richard, thali thou be ever, &c. 
 
 The Kyng of Alemaigne wende do ful wel, 
 
 He saisede the mulne for a castel, 
 
 With hare sharpe swerdeshe grounde the stel, 
 He wende that the sayles were mangonel 
 To helpe Wyndesore, 
 
 Richard, thah thou be ever, &c. 
 
 The King of Alemaigne gederede ys host, 
 Makede him a castel of a mulne ])ost, 
 
 Wende with is prude, and is miuhele host, , 
 Brohtegfrom Alemayne mony sori gost 
 To store Wyndesore. 
 
 Richard, thah thou be ever, A'c. 
 
 By God, that is aboven ous, he dude much 
 synne, 
 
 That leite passen over see the Erl of Warynne: 
 
 * Before Dr. Percy published the Ancient 
 Ballads, and dedicated them to the Duchess ol 
 Northumberland, his name was spelt “ Fiercy.” 
 He then, at the hint given him by a friend 
 (Mr. Nott) spelt it “ Percy,” and claimed rela- 
 tionship. He is entered at Oxford, Thomas 
 Piercy,” and by that name took his master’s 
 ! degree, July .'5th, 1753.— See Oxford List of 
 I Graduates, p. 365, “ Percy, Thomas,” p. 358. 
 
 + Leaps. 
 
 I I Frequents the green fern. 
 
 I 11 Harditnan’s Irish .Minstrelsy, p. 353, \o\. I, 
 
 \ says, “ Burney has been at much pains to ascer- 
 j tam the first .song that was set in score, had he 
 I no means of knowing to what country the 
 j song really belonged. Dr. Young, the Bishop 
 of Clonfert, proved it to be our Samhre Teacht, 
 or ‘Summer is Coming.’ This sweet hymn 
 1 was atribute of grateful melody to the opening 
 year, and is at this day perfectly familii.r.” 
 
 § This occurs in Sir John Hawkins' Hist., 
 of music, vol. 11. p. 93, with the addition also 
 of Latin words, which seem to have been part 
 of some hymn in the Church S»rvice. All our 
 
 early melodies, Scotch, Irish, and Welsh, were, 
 no doubt, derived from the same source, 
 The minstrehs will be found, on examination, 
 to have sprung from the minstrel practice of 
 descanting or singing extempore the plain 
 Chant, or song of the Church, as exhibited in 
 the formula, according to the use of Salisbury, 
 asestablished, 1077, tiyOsmond, Bishop of Salis- 
 bury. These chants are so evidently the basis of 
 dance tunes, still remaining, that there can be 
 little doubt that the melody, or^upper | art was 
 formed upon them. “ Cold and Raw,” “ The 
 Virgin Queen,” ‘-Three Sheep Skins,” “Pud- 
 dings anu Pies,” “ Our Polly is a Sad Slut,” in 
 the "Beggar's Opera, " which existed before, 
 under the title of the “ Friar and Nun,” and 
 “ Over the Hills and Far Away,” are of this 
 lumber, and thepassagesin the“ Processionale 
 ad usus Eccle^ia; Sarum, 1554,” could, if 
 necessary, be pointed out. — Preface to Stafford 
 Smith’s, Musica Antigua, p, 3. 
 
 * The decisive battle of Lewes, in 1264, was 
 the subject of great exultation amongst the 
 adherents of Simon de Montford. 
 
EVANS’S MUSIC AND SUPPER ROOMS, COVENT-OARDEN. 
 
 He hath robbed Engelond, the mores, ant th 
 fenne, 
 
 The gold, ant tlie selver, and y-boren heniie, 
 For love of Wyndesore. 
 
 Richard, thah thou be ever, &c. 
 
 Sire Simond de Montfort hath suore bi ys 
 chyn, 
 
 Hevede he nou here the Erl of Waryn, 
 
 Shuld he never more come to is yn, 
 
 Ne w'ith sheld, ne with spere, ne with other 
 
 gyii. 
 
 To help of Wyndesore. 
 
 Richard, thah thou be ever, &c. 
 
 Sire Simond de Montfort hath snore bi ys cop, 
 Hevede he nou here Sire Hue de Bigot : 
 
 A1 he shulde grante here twelfmor.eth scot 
 Shoulde he i>ever more with his sot pot 
 To helpe W3mdesore. 
 
 Richard, thah thou be ever, &c. 
 
 Be the luef, be the loht. Sire Edward, 
 
 Thou shalt ride sporteles o thy lyard 
 A1 the ryhte way to Dovere-ward, 
 
 Shalt thou never more breake foreward : 
 
 Ant that reweth sore 
 Edward, thou dudest ase a shreward, 
 Forsoke thyn ernes lore 
 Richard, &c. 
 
 The translation is in Mr. Wright's Political 
 Songs, Camden Soc. 
 
 The song most probably alluded too, may be 
 found in “Ritson” in “Wright’s Political songs 
 of England,” in the reign of Henry, III. p. 69, 
 and also, in “ Uber Die Lais Ferdinand Wolf, ” 
 Heidelberg, 1841. The earliest historical or 
 epic narrative is due to John Barbour, arch- 
 deacon of Aberdeen ; whose long poem in the 
 Scots dialect, “ The Bruce,” commemorating 
 the deliverance of his country, seems to have 
 been completed in Hallam, vol.l. p. 48. 
 
 The French language was spoken by the 
 superior classes of Society inEngland, from the 
 Conquest to the reign of Edward III ; though 
 it seems probable that they were generally 
 acquainted with English, at least in the latter- 
 part of that period. But all letters, even of a 
 priestly nature, were written in Latin, till the 
 beginning of the reign of Edward I, soon 
 after 1270, when a sudden change brought 
 in the use of French. In grammar schools, 
 boys were made to construe their Latin into 
 French ; and in the statutes of Oriel College, 
 Oxford, we find a regulation, so late as 1328, 
 that the students shall converse together, if 
 not in Latin, at least in French. The minutes 
 of the corporation of London, recorded in the 
 Town Clerk’s offices, were in French, as well 
 as the proceedings in Parliament, and in the 
 Courts of Justice; and oral discussions were 
 perhaps carried on in the same language, 
 though this is not a necessary consequence. 
 Hence, the English was seldom written, and 
 hardly employed in prose till after the middle 
 of the fourteenth century. Sir John Man- 
 deville’s travels were written in 1357 ; this is 
 our earliest English book, Hallam, Ibid. p. 49. 
 
 This is only true as to printed books, for there 
 are several copies of a translation of the Psalter 
 and Church Hymns, by Rolle, commonly called 
 the Hermit of Hampole. Rolle is said, by Mr. 
 Sharon Turner, to have died in 1349. A few pub- 
 lic instruments were drawn up in English, under 
 Richard II. and about the same time, probably, 
 it began to be employed in epistolary corres- 
 pondence of a private nature. Treirsa informs 
 us that, when he wrote, (1385), even gentle- 
 men had much left off to have their children 
 taught French, and names the School Master, 
 (.John Cornwall) who, soon after 1350, brought 
 in so great an innovation as the making his 
 boys read Latin into English. By a statute of 
 1362, (36. E. 3. c, 15), all pleas in Courts of 
 Justice, are directed to be pleaded and judged 
 in English, on account of French being too 
 much unknown. But the laws, and, generally 
 speaking, the records of Parliament, continued 
 to be in the latter language for many years ; 
 and we learn from Sir John Fortescue, a 
 hundred years afterwards, that this statute 
 was not fully enforced. The French language, 
 
 I if we take bis words literally, even in the 
 reign of Edward II., was spoken in affiiirs, 
 of mercantile account and in many games. 
 Hallam, Ibid, 49. 
 
 ORIGIN OF CERTAIN WORDS. 
 
 , All the words of dignity, state, honour, and 
 pre-eminence with one remarkable exception (to 
 be adduced presently), descend to us from the 
 Normans: for instance— sovereign, sceptre. 
 
 throne realm, royalty, homage, prince, duke, 
 count (“the earl,” indeed is Scandinavian, 
 though he must borrow his “countess” from 
 the Norman), chancellor, treasure, palace, 
 hall, dome, castle, and a multitude more. The 
 one remarkable exception of “king,” would 
 make us, even did we know nothing of the 
 actual facts, suspect that the chieftain of this 
 ruling race came in, not upon a new title, not 
 as overthrowing a former dynasty, but as claim- 
 ing to be in the rightful line of its succession ; 
 and, that the true continuity of the nation had 
 not in fact, any more than in word, been entirely 
 broken, but survived in due time to assert it- 
 self anew. And yet, while the statelier super- 
 structure of the language is Norman, so also are 
 the names of all articles of luxury, . of all that 
 has to do with the chase, with chivalry, and 
 with personal adornment, Norman. The great 
 features of nature, the sun, the moon, the stars, 
 the earth, the water, the fire, all the prime social 
 relations, father, mother, husband, wife, son, 
 daughter, are Saxon. The palace and the castle 
 may have come to us from the Norman, but to 
 the Saxon we owe far dearer names, the home, 
 the hearth, the house, the roof. His “ board,” 
 and often probably it was no more, has a more 
 hospitable sound than the other’s “table.” 
 His sturdy arms turn the soil ; he is the boor, 
 the hind, the churl ; or if his Norman master 
 has a name for him, it is one which on his lips 
 becomes more and more a title of opprobrium 
 and contempt — the villain. The instrument 
 used in cultivating the earth, the flail, plough, 
 sickle, spade, are expressed in his language ; 
 so, too, the main products of the earth, as 
 wheat, rye, oats, bere, i. e., barley, and also 
 the names of domestic animals. Concern- 
 ing these last it is not a little charac teristic 
 to observe, and Walter Scott has put the obser- 
 vatipn into the mouth of the Saxon swine- 
 herd in Ivanhoe, that the names of almost all 
 animals, so long as they are alive, are Saxon, 
 but when dressed andprepared for food become 
 Norman — a fact, indeed, which we might have 
 expected beforehand ; for the Saxon hind had 
 the charge and labour of tending and feeding 
 them, but only that they might lie on tlie 
 table of his Norman lord. Thus ox, steer, 
 cow, are Saxon, but beef is Norman; calf is 
 Saxon, but veal is N orman; sheep is Saxon, but 
 mutton Norman; the same remark stands good 
 with swineand pork, deer and venison, fowl and 
 pullet. Bacon, the only flesh which may ever 
 have come within the Saxon’s reach, is the soli- 
 tary exception. Putting all these remarks toge- 
 ther, with many others of the same kind, which 
 might be produced, we gather, that, whilethere 
 are manifest tokens, as preserved in our lan- 
 guage, of tlie Saxon having been for a season an 
 inferior and even an oppressed race, the staple 
 elements of Saxon life, however overlaid for 
 a while, have still made good their claim to be 
 the solid groundwork of the after nation as of 
 the after language; and to the justice of this 
 conclusion ail other historic records, and the 
 present social condition of England, consent 
 in bearing testimony. — Trench's Siudg of Man. 
 
 2. — T’other Morning very early. 
 
 (A four-part Song), 
 
 The melody composed by Thlhaut, King of 
 Nararre, A. D. 1250. — Adapted io English 
 words by Thomas OUphant, Esq. 
 
 T’other morning very early. 
 
 As thro’ grove and mead I stray’d. 
 
 Cross my path right clearly. 
 
 Came a merry village maid. 
 
 Light of heart she trip’d Mong, , 
 
 Love the burden of her song. 
 
 Her sweet lay, with magic art. 
 
 So beguil’d my glowing heart. 
 
 That, forthwith approaching nigh, 
 
 “ Maiden fair, good day,” said I. 
 
 My respectful salutation 
 She return’d with modest grace. 
 
 While the lily and carnation. 
 
 Mingled in her blushing face, 
 
 “ If,” quoth I, “ thou wilt he mine. 
 
 Gold and jewels shall be thine.” 
 
 She replied, “ I fear a snare ; 
 
 Lordly vows are light as air. 
 
 Shepherd, Pierre, is my delight. 
 
 More than rich, deceitful, Knight.”, 
 
 “ The lyre of poetry -w-as attuned to a holy 
 theme ; the noise of merriment ceased in the hos- 
 pitable halls of the barons. The Troubadours 
 sung, in lofty cantos, the duties of chivalry. 
 He, who once had conducted three kings to 
 
 23 
 
 Bethlehem, had mercifully prepared a road by 
 which even the most flagrant sinners might 
 reach happiness. Mad, foolish man, grovelling 
 in avarice and sensuality, neglects to take the 
 Cross, and, by such neglect, loses at once his 
 honour and his God. To fall in the holy land 
 and in behalf of the sacred cause, is preferable 
 to existence or common glory. March then, 
 to the deliverance of the holy Sepulchre, — arms 
 honour, and chivalry command ! What more 
 can kings and barons desire? A 11 that the world 
 calls grand, and moving will procure for yon 
 heavenly glory and happiness.” Such was th 
 language used by sacred and secular, pries<> 
 and minstrel. Most of the English nobility, 
 inflamed by love of warlike praise, took the 
 Cross, when news arrived, that the Red Cross 
 Templars had sustained a defeat Irom the 
 Sultan of Aleppo, in 1236 ; even their rivals, the 
 Hospitallers resolved to avenge them; every 
 comraandery in Europe sent succours; three 
 hundred Knights went from London, with a 
 considerable body of Stipendiaries. Preceded 
 by their prior, they left their residence in 
 Clerkenwell, in military procession. On their 
 way to the City’s bridge, they received and 
 repaid the salutations of crowds of spectators ; 
 and with caps in their hands, they commended 
 themselves and their cause, to the prayers of 
 the people, 1237. The spirit of crusading 
 burnt in France, particularly in the middle 
 and, Southern provinces. Thibaut,* Count of 
 Champagne and King of Navarre, Hugh, Duke 
 of Burgundy, Henry, Count of Bar, Peter, 
 Count of Brittany, and many other barons 
 assembled at Lyons, in order to concert the 
 means of giving effect to their common desire; 
 estates were sold, or mortgaged, to purchase 
 provisions and arms. Advancing to Marseilles, 
 they hoisted sail for the holy land, 1238. 
 
 News of the warlike preparations of Europe, 
 had been communicated to the Sultan of 
 Egypt; he drove the Latins out of Jerusalem. 
 Thibaut advanced from Acre to Ascalon, the 
 war began with a successful irruption of the 
 Count of Brittany, into the Damacene terri- 
 tori-js ; but, in the vicinity of Gaza, three 
 hundred Frenchmen were defeated by a 
 smaller number of Turks. The Count of 
 Mountford was slain, the Count of Bar, taken 
 prisoner ; and this defeat struck such terror 
 into the mind of Thibaut, that he returned to 
 Acre, and thence to France, doubtless dis- 
 gusted by the civil dissensions among the,lords 
 of Palestine, attributing the failure before 
 Damascus, and the Mussulman success, tothq 
 divisions of the Latin princes. As aTrouveres, 
 he has not many admirers, although, quoted 
 largely in Labords-Essni Sur La Musique, vol. 
 11. p.227, and in I' Abbe Millot's Hist. Litteraire 
 Des Troubadours, vol. 11. p. 3.56. His songs 
 have received more attention, than their merits 
 can be said to have deserved, from the learned 
 and industrious M. Kavalliere, their Editor. 
 Dante thought highly of him, and calls him 
 the ‘ buon re Tebaldo.’ Bossuet dismisses 
 Him, as one who made verses, which he was 
 foolish enough to publish.” In the “ Musica 
 Aniiqua,” of Stafford Smith, may be seen 
 some songs of his. He was born in 1201, and 
 died 1253. The^following seems written on the 
 eve of the Crusades, to which he went in 
 1238. 
 
 Dame, ensi est quil m’en convient aler, 
 
 Et departu de la voce contree, 
 
 Ou'tant ai manz soffers et endurez ; 
 
 Quant je vos lais, droiz est, que je m’en tre^. 
 Dex, porquoi fu la terre d'outiemer, 
 
 Qui tant amans aura fait desevrer, 
 
 Dont puis ne fu I’amour reconforte, 
 
 Ne ne porent lor joie remembrer ? 
 
 Lady, the fates command and I must go. 
 Leaving the pleasant land so dear to me ; 
 
 Here my heart suffer’d many a heavy woe. 
 
 But what is left, love, thus leaving thee? 
 
 Alas, that cruel land beyond the sea; 
 
 Why thus deriding many a faithful heart. 
 Never again from pain and sorrow free. 
 
 Never again to meet, when thus they part? 
 
 — Lays of the Minnesingers and Troubadors, 
 by Mr. Taylor, of Norwich, Longman, 1825. 
 — Mills, Crusades. 
 
 Of the millions of fanatics, -who had vowed 
 to rescue the Sepulchre from the hands of the 
 infidels, forty thousand only encamped before 
 Jerusalem ; and of these remains of the cham- 
 pions of the Cross, twenty-one thousand five 
 hundred were foot soldiers and fifteen hundred 
 
 * He introduced the Rose into Europe. 
 
24 EVANS’S MUSIC AND SUPPER ROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN. 
 
 cavalry. The destruction of more than eight 
 hundred and fifty thousand Europeans had 
 purchased the possession of Nice, Antioch, 
 and Edessa. — Mills, vol. 1. 
 
 Benevolence to Turks, Jews, infidels, and 
 heretics, was no part of the piety of the day ; 
 and, as the Mussulmans, in their consciences, 
 believed that it was the will of Heaven, that the 
 religion of Mahomet should be propagated by 
 the sword, so the Christians were under the 
 mental delusion, that they were the ministers 
 of God’s wrath on disobedient men. Women 
 with children at their breasts, girls, boys, all were 
 slaughtered; the squares and streets were strew- 
 ed with the dead bodies of men and women, and 
 with them mangled remains of children. The 
 Christians made no prisoners, and, in one in- 
 stance, the massacre lasted seven days, and 
 seventy thousand persons were killed. Another 
 authority states, that one hundred thousand 
 perished inthe mosques of Sakra and Akra, 
 and one hundred thousand w'ere made pri- 
 soners ; the aged and infirm were killed, and 
 the women made captives. — The account of 
 the Siege of Jerusalem. — Mills, vo\. 1. p, 261. 
 
 in the siege of Antioch, in a single night, 
 more than six thousand of the inhabitants per- 
 ished. Many of those who had fled into the 
 neighbouring fields, were pursued and brought 
 back into the city, w'here they found either 
 slavery or death. When the Christians were 
 tired of slaughter, they prepared to attack the 
 Citadel ; but, as it was built upon a mountain, 
 inaccessible on all sides, their efforts were 
 useless. They contented themselves with sur- 
 rounding it with soldiers and machines of war, 
 in order to confine the garrison, and then 
 spread themselves throughout the city, giv- 
 ing way to all the intoxication, which their 
 victory inspired. The pillage of Antioch had 
 yielded them immense riches, and, although 
 they had found but a small stock of provisions, 
 they abandoned themselves to the most extra- 
 vagant excesses of intemperance and debau- 
 chery. After this victory, three days passed 
 quickly away in the midst of rejoicings, but 
 the fourth was a day of fear and mourning. 
 A formidable army of Saracens was drawing 
 near to Antioch, animated by a thirst for ven- 
 geance, and who swore to the utter extermi- 
 nation of the Christians. The latter were 
 made acquainted with its presence, by a de- 
 tachment of three hundred horsemen, who 
 came to reconnoitre the place, and advanced 
 even under the walls. At the very moment of 
 their arrival, the infidels attacked the advanced 
 posts of the Crusaders ; and, even in these 
 early contests, the Christian army had to 
 lament the loss of several of its bravest war- 
 riors. Bohemond was wounded in a sortie. In 
 vain Tancred and Godfrey performed pro- 
 digies of valour. The Mussulmans forced the 
 Christians to shut themselves up in a place, 
 of which the latter had but just made them- 
 selves the masters, and in which they were 
 soon closely beseiged in their turn. Placed 
 between the garrison of the Citadel, and a 
 besieging army, the Crusaders foun d themselves 
 in a critical position. To prevent their being 
 relieved by any supplies by sea, two thousand 
 Mussulmans were sent to take possession of 
 the fort of St. Simeon, and of all vessels which 
 brought provisions to the Christian army. 
 Famine was not long in making its appearance, 
 and soon exercised cruel ravages among the 
 besieged. From the earliest period, the Cru- 
 saders could scarcely procure the common 
 necessaries of life, at their weight in gold. 
 A loaf of moderate size, sold at a bezant, an 
 egg was worth six deniers, while a pound of 
 silver was given for the head of an ox, a horse, 
 or an ass. Godfrey bought, for fifteen silver 
 marks, a half starved camel, and gave three 
 marks for a goat, which, at other times, would 
 have been rejected by the poorest soldiers of 
 his army. Surrounded by the vast riches con- 
 quered from the Saracens, the Christians were 
 thus condemned to all the horrors and mise- 
 ries of famine. After having killed most of 
 their horses, they were compelled to make 
 war upon unclean animals. The soldiers ami 
 the poor, who followed the army, supported 
 themselves on roots and leaves : some went so 
 far, as lo devour tlie leather of their bucklers 
 and shoes, whilst the most wretched exhumed 
 the bodies of the Saracens, and, to support 
 their miserable existence, disputed with death 
 for his prey. In this frightful distress, dis- 
 consolate mothers could no longer nourish 
 their babes, and died with famine and despair. 
 Princes and Knights, whose pride and haugh- 
 tiness had been the most conspicuous, were 
 
 brought to the necessity of asking alms. The 
 Count of Flanders went begging to the houses, 
 and in the streets of Antioch for the common- 
 est and coarsest food, and often obtained none. 
 More than one leader sold his arms and all 
 his appointments for a single day’s support. 
 As long as the Duke of Lorraine had any pro- 
 visions, he shared them with his companions ; 
 but at length, he made the sacrifice of his last 
 warhorse, and found himself, as were the other 
 Crusaders, reduced to the most cruel necessi- 
 ties. Many of the Crusaders endeavoured to 
 fly from a city which presented nothing but 
 the image and prospect of death ; some fled 
 by sea, through a thousand dangers, whilst 
 others cast themselves amongst the Mussul- 
 mans, where they purchased a little bread, by 
 the abandonment of Christ and his religion. 
 The soldiers necessarily lost courage, when 
 they saw that Count de Melan, w'ho so often 
 defied death in the field, a second time fly 
 from famine and misery. His desertion was 
 preceded by that of the Count de Blois, who 
 bore the standard of the Crusaders, and pre- 
 sided at their councils. Deserters made their 
 escape during the darkness of night — some- 
 times they precipitated themselves into the 
 ditches of the city, at the risk of their lives — 
 sometimes they descended from the ramparts 
 by means of a cord. Every day the Christians 
 found themselves abandoned by an increasing 
 number of their companions, and these deser- 
 tions added to their despair. Horrible blas- 
 phemies succeeded. They, groaning, asked 
 why the true God had permitted the destruc- 
 tion of his people ? Guy, the brother of Bohe- 
 mond, exceeded all in his despair. “ O God,” 
 cried he, ” what has become of thy power? If 
 thou art still an all powerful God, what is be- 
 come of thy justice ? Are we not thy children ? 
 Are we not thy soldiers ? If you abandon those 
 who fight for you, who will dare, hencefor- 
 ward, to range themselves under your sacred 
 banner?” Such was the frenzy of despair 
 in which sorrow had plunged them, thsit, ac- 
 cording to historians, all ceremonies of reli- 
 gion were suspended, and no priest or layman, 
 during many days, pronounced the name of 
 Jesus Christ. — Michaud’s History of the Cru- 
 saders, vol. i., p. 159. 
 
 Of the many crimes laid to the charge of the 
 Hospitallers and Templars, none have been 
 satisfactorily proved. True, in the agonies of 
 torture, confessions were made, but denied, 
 with tears of sorrow, in the flame and upon 
 the scaffold. At the condemnation of the 
 Grand Master, James de Molai, he cried aloud, 
 that he had been guilty of the greatest crime, 
 in charging the Templars with vice. “I ut- 
 tered,” he continued, ” all that the Inquisi- 
 tors wished, only to escape the torments of the 
 rack, but I abhor the weakness which I then 
 showed. Great as are the torments which are 
 prepared for me, I will endure them rather 
 than purchase a few years of life by persisting 
 in falsehood.” James de Molai was burnt 
 alive, before a slow fire, on the very spot, in 
 Paris, which has been adorned, in modern 
 times, with a statue of Henry IV. With his 
 dying lips he bore testimony to the virtue of 
 the order, and his mental sufferings, on ac- 
 count ofhis former want of firmness, appeared 
 to be greater than his mere corporeal pain. 
 The Templars were not accused, by outraged 
 public decency, by the complaints of an in- 
 jured and insulted world, but by the monster 
 ofhis age, Philip the Fair, of France, whose 
 own life was one continued scene of profligacy. 
 The Hospitallers possessed nineteen thousand 
 manors, and property in ten kingdoms, and 
 the Templars eight thousand manors, beside, 
 property. — Mills, vol. ii. 
 
 Fuller, in his History of the Holy War, book 
 V., says— ‘‘The chief cause of their ruin was 
 their wealth. They were feared of many, 
 envied of more, loved of none. As Naboth’s 
 vineyard w'as the chiefest ground of this blas- 
 phemy, and as, in England, Sir John Cornwall, 
 Lord Fanhope, said merrily, that not he, but 
 his stately house at Ampthill, in Bedfordshire, 
 was guilty of high treason, so, certainly, their 
 wealth was the principal evidence against 
 them, and cause of their overthrow. It is 
 quarrel and cause enough to bring a sheep 
 that is fat to the shambles. W'e may believe 
 King Philip would never have taken away 
 their lives, if he might have taken their lands 
 without putting them to death ; but the mis- 
 chief was, he could not get the honey unless 
 he burnt the bees.” 
 
 1 he Hosjiitallers came into England in the 
 reign of Henry 1. Their first priory was estab- 
 
 lished in Clerkenw^ell, and destroyed by fire, 
 by the rebels, in the year 1381. The new 
 building was completed in 1504. The Tem- 
 plars, in their first beginnings, were fed and 
 clothed by the former. The design and inten- 
 tion of these orders was to keep the communi- 
 cation between Europe and the Holy Land 
 open, to relieve the poor pilgrim when neces- 
 sary, and to protect them from the predatory 
 Turks. 
 
 The Knights Templars came into England 
 in the beginning of Stephen’s reign. Their 
 principal station was in Holborn, on the south 
 side, near Southampton Buildings. In the 
 time of Henry II., they built and removed 
 into their house in Fleet-street. — Mills, vol. i. 
 
 The following is worth mentioning : — Bald- 
 win I. made a rapid march into Palestine ; 
 presuming on his prowess, and not waiting 
 for all the military strength of the nation, the 
 king headed some few hundred horsemen. 
 The small phalanx was overwhelmed by the 
 Egyptians. Stephen, Earl of Chartres, was 
 taken prisoner and murdered by the enemy; 
 and the Earl of Burgundy, and most of the 
 Christians, were slain in the field, Baldwin 
 took refuge in a castle, near Ramula, which 
 Was soon menaced by the Saracens. When, 
 apparently, nothing short of a miracle could 
 avert his fate, he was saved by a noble act of 
 gratitude. In a former moment of victory, he 
 had overtaken a Mussulm.an woman, in the 
 pangs of labour. He gave her his cloak to 
 wrap herself in, and his friends carried the 
 water and fruit. When the child was born, 
 he sent the objects of his humane attention to 
 their nearest relative, who was a Saracen of 
 rank. The Turk, as full of gratitude as of joy, 
 vowed that he would never forget the genero- 
 sity of Baldwin. In the course oi the night, 
 the grateful Mussulman approached the walls, 
 and told the sentinels that he had something 
 important to communicate to the king. They 
 allowed him to pass, and to enter the royal 
 chambers. He declared his name and charac- 
 ter to the astonished monarch, and revealed 
 his purpose of rescuing the friend of his wife 
 and child. — Mills, vol, i., p. 285. 
 
 Among other signs of the times, recorded in 
 the history of Philip Augustus, is the Crusade 
 of the Children, The spirit of an age may be 
 indicated by the turn of the infantine mind. 
 In a country engaged in a popular war, the 
 children will always 'oe found playing at sol- 
 diers. But the religious duty of the crusades 
 had taken such universal hold of men’s minds, 
 that it produced a movement, even among 
 the children of Europe, of a kind unparalleled 
 in the history of the world. In the year 1212, 
 many thousands of boys and girls abandoned 
 their homes, not only in France, but in Ger- 
 many and Italy, giving out that they were 
 bent upon delivering the Holy Land. The 
 eldest were not more than eighteen years of 
 age. It was in vain that their parents at- 
 tempted to restrain them. They watched op- 
 portunities of escape, and got away by making 
 holes in the walls, and sallied forth from the 
 paternal mansion with as much joy as if they 
 had been going to a festival. The fate of 
 these unhappy children, as may be supposed, 
 was most unfortunate. They were entrapped, 
 in numbers, by merchants of Venice, Genoa, 
 and Marseilles, who w ere at that time engaged 
 in the infamous traffic of supplying the serag- 
 lios of the East with children, A great many 
 were shipped in the Mediterranean ports. 
 Seven vessels were lost, and all perished. Of 
 those sold, only one returned, after eighteen 
 years captivity. Numbers were tortured to 
 death for refusing to embrace the Moslem 
 faith. The originator was a peasant boy, 
 named Stephan, from a village on the Loire. 
 Philip Augustus issued a royal edict, com- 
 manding the boys to return home. The clergy 
 condemned the folly of such proceeding. The 
 children formed processions, carrying banners, 
 singing hymns, and crying “ We seek the 
 Cross,” — Histoire de Philippe Auguste, par M. 
 Capefigue. Paris, 1830. Foreign Quarterly, 
 NO. xiii. 
 
 The Mussulman and Christian warriors pro- 
 voked each other to single combats, and were 
 as lavish of abuse as the heroes of Homer. 
 Heroines olten appeared in the melee, and dis- 
 puted the prize of strength with the bravest of 
 the Saracens. Children came from the city, 
 to light with the children of the Christians, in 
 the presence of the two armies; old women 
 animated them with their cries. — Michaud, 
 vol. i., p. 482. 
 
 Saladin was an eminently superior man. 
 
EVANS’S MUSIC 
 
 He displayed the virtues of peace amidst the 
 horrors of war. “ From the bosom of camps,” 
 says an Oriental poet, “he covered the nations 
 with the wings of his justice, and poured upon 
 his cities the plenteous showers of his liber- 
 ality.” The Mussulmans, always governed by 
 fear, were astonished that a sovereign could 
 inspire them with so much love, and followed 
 him with joy to battle. His generosity, his 
 clemency, and particularly his respect for an 
 oatl), were often the subject of admiration to 
 the Christians, whom he rendered so miserable 
 by his victories. After the truce made with 
 Richard, Saladin returned to Damascus, 
 where he enjoyed his glory but one year. The 
 Orientals celebrate the edifying manner in 
 which he died, distributing his alms to Mus- 
 sulmans and Christians alike. Before he ex- 
 pired, he ordered one of his captains to carry 
 his shroud through the streets of his capital, 
 and to cry, with a loud voice, "Behold all that 
 Saladin, who overcame the East, bears away of 
 his conquest." 
 
 To know the character and virtues of Sala- 
 din, it is sufficient to quote the discourse he 
 addressed to his son, El-Daher, to whom he 
 had confided the government of a province: — 
 “My son,” said he, “you are about to reign 
 over states that I have bestowed upon you. 
 My infirmities give me reason to fear that I 
 may never again see you. I recommend you, 
 then, my son, as my last command, to love and 
 honour God, w'ho is the source of all good, and 
 to observe the precepts of his law, for your 
 welfare depends upon it. Spare human blood, 
 for fear it should fall again upon your own 
 head; for blood, once shed, never sleeps. 
 Endeavour to gain the hearts of your subjects ; 
 administer justice, and be as careful of their 
 interests as your own. You will have to ren- 
 der an account to God of this trust which I 
 confide to you in his name. It is only by 
 mildness and clemency that I have attained 
 the elevated position in which you behold me. 
 We are all mortal, O, my son ! entertain then 
 no malice, no hatred, against any one. Be 
 careful, above all things, to offend nobody. 
 Men only forget injuries when they have re- 
 venged them, whilst God grants us pardon for 
 our errors for a simple repentance, for he is 
 beneffcent and merciful.” This speech of Sa- 
 ladin, to his son, has been transmitted to us 
 by Bohaeddin, who heard it delivered. See 
 the Life of Saladin, by Marin, book xiii. 
 Michaud, vol. i., p. 505. 
 
 Troubadours. — Lamort de cette maitresse, 
 et le desespoir qu’ il en eut, lui dict^rent un 
 chanson mon moins emphatique. 
 
 “ Mes ennemis eux-memes ne peurvent se 
 rejouir de la perteque je“ deplore : ils doivent 
 s’en affiiger 5, se tuer de douleur. Et tout le 
 monde en devroit faire autant, pour la mort 
 decelle, qui faisoit tant d’ honneur au merite 
 et ^ la vertu. Malheureux que je suis ! si je 
 savois un genre de mort pire que la vie qui me 
 reste, je me le donnerois sur la champ. Mais 
 ne pouvantle trouver, je continue une vie 
 pleine d’amerturae. Qu’ elle me rend haissa- 
 ble tout ce qui me charmoit auparavant! Tout 
 autre en mourroit. Si je n’en meurs point, 
 c’est que je suis vraiment accoutume asoutfrir 
 que je vis de ce qui feroit mourir les autres. 
 Ah ! ffeur de courtoisse comme de beaute, ma 
 belle et douce amie, si la mort en vous prenant 
 k satisfaire scs desirs,elle me plonge dans une 
 telle affliction, que rien ne pent me rejouir ni 
 me consoler.” — Histoire Litteraire Des Trou- 
 boars, par I’Abbe I. Millet. A Paris, 1784. 
 
 The above touching lament is worth insert- 
 ing, from its style and exquisite pathos. 
 
 3— “Alla Amore.’’ 
 
 From the "Laudi Spirituall ” supposed time of 
 Composition, A.D. 1545. 
 
 Alla Amore beata 
 Da noi sempre adorata 
 Amore gloriosa 
 Tu sei manna saparosa 
 E tutta desiderata. 
 
 Those who returned from Jerusalem and the 
 Holy Land, from St. James of Compostella, St. 
 Baume of Provence, St. Reime, Mount St. 
 Michael, Notre Dame du Puy, and from other 
 places of piety, composed songs on their travels, 
 mixing them with arecital of the life and death of 
 the Son of God and of the last judgment, after a 
 gross manner, but which the singing and sim- 
 plicity of the times seem to render pathetic. 
 They sung the Miracles of Saints, their Martyr- 
 dom and certain other fables, to which the ere- 
 
 AND SUPPER ROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN. 
 
 dulify of the people gave the names of visions 
 and apparitions. Those pilgrims who went in 
 companies, and whotook theirslands in streets, 
 and public places, where they sung Avitli their 
 staves in their hands, and their hats and man- 
 tles covered with shells, and painted divers 
 colours, formed a kind of spectacle, which 
 pleased and excited the piety of some citizens 
 of Paris, to raise a fund, for purchasing a pro- 
 per place to erect a theatre, on which to repre- 
 sent these mysteries on holy days, as well lor 
 the instruction of the people, as their diver- 
 sion. These pious spectacles appeared so 
 fine in those ignorant ages, that they made 
 them the principal ornament of the reception 
 of princes when they made their entry into 
 cities ; and as they sung a Christmas carol 
 instead of the cries of “ Long live the King,” 
 they represented in the streets, “ The Good 
 Samaritan,” “The wicked Rich Man,” “The 
 Passion of Jesus Christ,’" and several otlier 
 mysteries, at the reception of our kings. The 
 psalms and prose devotions of the Church, 
 were the opera of those days. They walked 
 in procession before those princes with the 
 banners of the Churches, and sung to their 
 praise, hymns composed of several passages of 
 Scripture, tacked together to make allusions to 
 the principal actors of their reign. — Bayle, 
 Die. Art. Choequet 
 
 Father Menestrier, the learned Jesuit, as- 
 serts, that the pilgrimages first introduced the 
 devout representations of the early mysteries. 
 — Bayle Die. 
 
 4 Madrigal. Costanza Festa, 1541. 
 
 Full Choir. 
 
 Down in a fiow’ry vale, all on a summer 
 morning, 
 
 Philis I spied, fair Nature’s self adorning. 
 Swiftly, on wings of love, I flew to meet her. 
 Coldly she welcom’d me when I did greet her ; 
 I warbled thus my ditty, 
 
 “ O, Shepherdess! have pity. 
 
 And hear a faithful lover 
 His passion true discover. 
 
 Ah! why art thou to me so cruel?” 
 
 Then straight replied my jewel, 
 
 “If gold thou hast, fond youth,’ tvtill speed 
 thy suing. 
 
 But, if thy purse be empty, come not to me a 
 wooing.” 
 
 Costanza Festa was predecessor of Palles- 
 trina,in the Roman school. In 1517, he entered 
 the Pope’s Chapelas singer,and he d ied in Rome , 
 April 10. 1554. He was buried in the church of 
 Santa Maria, in Transpontina. The most con- 
 siderable part of his works are in M.S., and, 
 therefore, less known than they deserve. Pietro 
 Aron, in his “ Lucidario di Musica,” praises 
 him. The archives of the Vatican Church 
 contain his best compositions. Some were 
 printed by Tossombrone, in the Raccolta della 
 Corona, 1519, and in the Raccolta del fiore, 
 1539 ; by Girol. Scoto, 1543, in a work printed 
 at Venice, and bearing the title Motteta, 
 trium vocum a pluribus auctoribus composita, 
 quorum nomina sunt Sachettus, Morales, Con- 
 tantius Festa, et Adrianus Willaert; and again 
 by Scotto, 1554, by Gardano, Venice, 1557, and 
 by Doni the elder, in his “ Libraria,” where he 
 cites among his books — “ Linerzie duo de 
 Costanza Festa.” Baini writes favourably of 
 Festa’s“Te Deum, ’’which is still sung at the 
 election of the Popes and Cardinals, and also 
 upon the great festivals of the year, such as 
 “Corpus Christi,” &c. The “Te Deum” was 
 published in Rome, by Nicola Muzii, 1596. 
 The above well known Madrigal, translated by 
 — Oliphant, Esq., is a sufficient evidence of the 
 excellence of this delightful composer's works. 
 
 5 — Now Spring in all her Glory. 
 
 Madrigal. Jacques Arkadelt. A.D. 1545. 
 Now Spring, in all her glory. 
 
 With blessings from on high. 
 
 Descends to comfort ev’ry heart, 
 
 And gladden ev’ry eye. 
 
 Stern winter, dark and frowning, 
 
 Has left us for awhile. 
 
 And spring, with life and vig’rous youth. 
 Does make creation smile. 
 
 The streams, no longer frozen. 
 
 Their peaceful course pursue. 
 
 And buds and opening blossoms now 
 Receive the morning dew. 
 
 Jacques Arkadelt, (Flemish), was singing- 
 master of St. Peter’s, January, 1539. On the 
 
 30th of December, 1540, he became member of 
 the College of Papal Singers, and, in 1544, was 
 chosen abbot, or chief of the choir. In the 
 diary of the Papal Chapel, his name appears 
 up to 1549; the folio books of the years 1550-1-2 
 being lost, it cannot be determined in what 
 year he left. Thence he went into the service 
 of the Cardinal, Charles of Lorraine. He was 
 called “The Royal Musician.” Pitoni, in his 
 M.S. notices of the Contrapointists, says of 
 him “ He was Chapel Master to the Cardi- 
 nal Lorraine, and, while thus employed, he 
 published, 1557, three vols. cf Masses for three, 
 four, and live voices, by Adrian le Roy, Paris, 
 a composer for the church of the highest 
 naerit, and the most learned Madrigal writer of 
 his time. The publishers of the period tried 
 to obtain his M.SS., but failing, frequently 
 put his name to works of other writers. I 
 have seen three vols. of his Madrigals, which 
 were printed in 1559. The liladngals of the 
 first vol., which begin with ‘II bianco e dolce 
 cigno,’ are still sung on account of their pleas- 
 ing and natural style. In iTlO, Martello edited 
 them. Vine. Bianchi, printer. Doni, in his 
 ‘ Libraria,’ voi. 64, speaks of five vols, of Mad - 
 rigals by this master, and, in Vincenti’s cata- 
 logue, are mentioned Madrigals for three and 
 four voices, by Arkadelt. Much of his sacred 
 music, mottetts, &c., remain in the Pope’s 
 Cliapel. 
 
 Baioe’s Chronological Statement is as fol- 
 lows : — 
 
 SINGING MASTERS. 
 
 1539. Arkadelt. 1547, Ferrabosco. 
 
 1539. Rubino. 1548. Rosselli, 
 
 1545. Gio.Batt. Basso. 1550. Rubino. 
 
 CHAPEL MASTERS. 
 
 1551. Palestrina. 1694. Lorenzani. 
 
 1555. Animuccia. 1713. Bai. 
 
 1571. Palestrina. 1715. Scarlatti. 
 
 1594. Velletri. 1719. Pittoni, 
 
 1599. Aeltere. 1743. Bencini. 
 
 1602. Pacelli. 1749, D’Aversa. 
 
 1603. Suriano. 1754. Costanza. 
 
 1620. Ugolini. 1778. Buroni, 
 
 1626. Agostini. 1793, Gulielmi. 
 
 1629. Mazzochi. 1804. Zingarelli. 
 
 1646. Benevoli. 1811. Jannaconi. 
 
 1672. Barnabei. 1816. Fioravanti. 
 
 1674. Maseni. Baini. 
 
 1678, Barred. 
 
 R. G. Kiesewettcr’s die Werke. da Palestrina. 
 Leipzig, 1834. 
 
 6 — Defyled is my name. 
 
 Madrigal. R. Johnson, Temp. Hen. Sth. 
 
 Supposed to be written by A nne Boleyne. 
 
 Defyled is my name full sore. 
 
 Through cruel spyte and false report. 
 
 That I may say for evermore. 
 
 Farewell, my joye! adewe, comfort! 
 
 Full wrongfully yee judge of mee. 
 
 Unto my fame a mortal wounde; 
 
 Say what ye list, it will not be. 
 
 Ye seeke for that can not be founde. 
 
 The above and another song “ O death, 
 rocke me on slepe,” are taken from “ Evans’s 
 Old Ballads,” vol. iii., p. 209, entitled “Dole- 
 ful Complaints of Anne Boleyne they are 
 accompanied with the following comments: — 
 “The two short poems appear, by the MS. 
 from which they are taken, to. have been 
 composed about the time of Henry VIII. 
 They were communicated by a very judicious 
 antiquary, lately deceased, whose opinion 
 of them was, that they were written either 
 by or in the person of Anne Boleyne — 
 a conjecture which her unfortunate history 
 renders very probable. The following pa- 
 geantrjs exhibiting the magnificent corona- 
 tion of Queen Anne Boleyne, in the year 1533, 
 bears a different complexion. The procession 
 to Westminster Abbey began from the 'Tower; 
 and the Queen, in passing through Grace- 
 church-street, was entertained with a repre- 
 sentation of Mount Parnassus. The fountain 
 of Helicon, by a bold fiction unknown to the 
 bards of antiquity, ran in four streams of 
 Rhenish wine from a basin of white marble. 
 On the summit of the mountain sate Apollo, 
 and at his feet Calliope. On either side of the 
 declivity, were arranged four of the Muses, 
 playing on their respective musical instru- 
 ments, Under them were written epigrams 
 and poesies in golden letters, in which every 
 
26 EVANS’S MUSIC AND SUPPER ROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN. 
 
 Muse praised the Queen, according to her 
 character and office. At the Conduit, in Corn- 
 hill, appeared the Three Graces, before whom, 
 with no great propriety, was the Spring of 
 Grace perpetually running wine. But, when 
 a conduit came in the way, a religious allusion 
 was too tempting and obvious to he omitted. 
 Before the spring, however, sate a poet, de- 
 scribing in metre the properties or functions 
 of every Grace ; and these four Graces allotted 
 in a short speech to the Queen, the virtue or 
 accomplishment over which they severally pre- 
 sided. At the Conduit in Cheapside, as my 
 chronicler says, she was saluted with a rich 
 “ pageant, full of melodie and song.” In this 
 pageant were Pallas, Juno, and Venus; before 
 them stood Mercury, who presented to her 
 Majesty, in the name of the three goddesses, a 
 golden ball or globe divided into three parts, 
 signifying wisdom, riches, and felicity. At 
 entering St. Paul’s-gate, an ancient portal 
 leading into the Churchyard on the east, and 
 long since destroyed, three ladies, richly at- 
 tired, showered on her head wafers, in wliich 
 were contained Latin distichs. At the eastern 
 side of St. Paul’s Churchyard, two hundred 
 scholars of St. Paul’s School addressed her in 
 chosen and apnosite passages from the Roman 
 poets, translated into English rhymes. On 
 the leads of St. Martin’s Church stood a choir 
 of boys and men, who sung, not spiritual 
 hymns, but new' ballads, in praise of her Ma- 
 jesty. On the Conduit without Ludgate, where 
 the arms and angels had been refreshed, was 
 erected a tower with four turrets, within each of 
 which was placed a cardinal virtue, .symboli- 
 cally h.ibited. Each of these personages in turn 
 uttered an oration, promising to protect and 
 accompany the Queen on all occasions.” — 
 Hall’s Chron., fob ccxii., and Wharion. vol. i., 
 p. 137. In Dr. Rimbault’s “Little Book of 
 Songs and Ballads,” p. 65, may be seen a note 
 upon the subject of the latter poem, not in 
 serted here. 
 
 “ A Love-letter (wnthout date) from Kenry the 
 
 Eighth to Ann Boleyn, from the “ Karleian 
 
 Collection.” 
 
 “ Myne owne Sweetheart, this shall be to 
 advertise you of the great ellingness that I 
 find here since your departing ; for I assure 
 you, methinketh the tyme longer since your 
 departing now last, then I was wont to do a 
 whole fortnight; I think your kindness and 
 my fervence of love causeth it, for otherwise 
 I would not thought it possible, that for so 
 little a while it should have grieved me; 
 but now that I am coming towards you, me- 
 thinketh my pains have been half released, and 
 also I am right well comforted, insomuch that 
 my bookmaketh substantially for my matter, 
 in writing whereof I have spent above Hi I. 
 hours this day, which caused me now to write 
 the shorter letter to you at this ttme, because 
 of some payne in my head, wishing myselt 
 (specially an evening) in my sweetheart’s 
 armes, whose pritty duckys I trust shortly to 
 kysse. Writen with the hand of him that was, 
 is, and shall be yours, by his will, H. Pw” 
 
 Queen Anne Boleyn’s Last Letter to King 
 Henry, also without date. 
 
 i< S ir, —Y our grace’s displeasure, and my 
 imprisonment, are things so strange unto me, 
 as what to write, or what to excuse, I am alto- 
 gether ignorant. Whereas you send untome 
 (willing me to confess a truth, and so obtain 
 your favour) by such an one, whom you know 
 to be mine antient professed enemy. 1 no 
 sooner received this message by him. than I 
 rightly conceived your meaning; and if, as 
 you say, confessing truth indeed may procure 
 my safety, I shall with all willingness and 
 duty obey. But let not your grace' ever 
 imagine, that your poor wife will ever be 
 brought to acknowledge a fault, where not 
 so much as a thought thereof preceded. And 
 to speak a truth, never prince had wife more 
 loyal in all duty, and in all true affection, 
 than you have ever found in Anne Boleyn, 
 with which name and place I could willingly 
 have contented myself, if God and your grace’s 
 pleasure had been so pleased. Neither did I 
 at any time so far forget mysell, iii my ex- 
 altation, or received queenship, but that I 
 always looked for an alteration as I now 
 find ; for the ground of my preferment being 
 on no surer foundation than your grace’s 
 fancy, the least alteration, I knew, was fit 
 and sufficient to draw that fancy to some 
 other object. You h.ave chosen me, from low 
 estate, to be your queen and companion, far 
 
 beyond my deserts or desire. If then you 
 found me worthy of such honour, good your 
 grace, let not any fancy, or bad counsel of 
 mine enemies, withdraw your princely favour 
 from me; neither let that stain, that un- 
 worthy stain of a disloyal heart towards 
 your grace, ever cast so foul a blot on your 
 daughter. Try me, good King, let me have a 
 trial, a lawful trial, and let not my sworn 
 enemies sit as my accusers and judges; yea, 
 let me receive an open trial, for my truth 
 shall fear no open shame; then shall you 
 see, either my innocency cleared, your sus- 
 picion and conscience satisfied, the ignominy 
 and slander of the world stopped, or my 
 guilt ojienly declared. So that, whatsoever 
 God or you may determine of me, your grace 
 may be freed from open censure; and mine 
 offence being so lawfully proved, your grace 
 is at liberty, both before God and man, not 
 only to execute worthy punishment on me as 
 n unlawful wife, but to follow your affec- 
 tions already settled on that party, for whose 
 sake I am now as I am, whose name I could 
 some good while since have pointed unto ; 
 your grace being not ignorant of my suspi- 
 cion therein. But, if you have already de- 
 termined of me, and that not only on my 
 death, but an infamous slander must bring you 
 the enjoying of your desired happiness; then 
 I desire of God that he will pardon your great 
 sin th in, and likewise mine enemies, the 
 instrc..iients thereof ; and that he will not call 
 you to an account of your unprincely and 
 cruel usage of me, at his general judgment- 
 seat, where both you and myself must shortly 
 appear, and in whose judgment, I doubt not, 
 (whatsoever the world may think of me) mine 
 innocence shall be openly known, and suffi- 
 ciently cleared. My last and only request 
 shall be, that myself may only bear the bur- 
 den of your grace’s displeasure, and that it 
 may not touch the innocent souls of those poor 
 gentlemen, who (as I understand) are likewise 
 in strait imprisonment for my sake. If I 
 have ever found favour in thy sight, if ever 
 the name, Anne Boleyn, hath been pleasing in 
 your ears, then let me obtain this request ; 
 and I will so leave to trouble your grace any 
 further. With mine earnest prayers to the 
 Trinity, to have your grace in his good keep- 
 ing, and to direct you in all your actions. 
 From my doleful prison in the Tower, this 
 sixth day of May. Your most lo}'al and ever 
 faithful wife, Anne Boleyn.” 
 
 “ To have expressed a doubt of her guilt, 
 during the reign of Henry, or of her innocence, 
 during that of Elizabeth, would have been 
 deemed a proof of disaffection. The King 
 must have been impelled by some most power- 
 ful motive, to exercise against her such extra- 
 ordinary, and, in one supposition, such super- 
 fluous rigour. Had his object been (we are 
 sometimes told it was) to place Jane Seymour 
 by his side on the throne, the divorce of Anne 
 without her execution, or the execution with- 
 out the divorce, would have efl’ected his pur- 
 pose. But he seems to have pursued her 
 with insatiable hatred. Not coiitent with 
 taking her life, he made her feel in every way, 
 in which a wife and a mother can be made to 
 feel. He stamped on her character the in- 
 famy of adultery and incest ; he deprived her 
 of the right and name of queen ; and he 
 even bastardized her daughter, though he 
 acknowledged that daughter to be his own. 
 If, then, he were not assured of her guilt, 
 he must have discovered in her conduct 
 some most heinous cause of provocation, 
 which he never disclosed. He had wept at 
 the death of Catharine : but, as if he sought 
 to display his contempt for the memory of 
 Anne, he dressed himself in white on the 
 day of her execution, and was married to 
 Jane Seymour next morning. May 20, 1536.” 
 See Lingard’s His., vol. vi., p. 251. 
 
 7 — Lady, aviien I Behold. 
 
 Madrigal. Wilhije. 1598. 
 
 Lady, when I behold the roses sprouting. 
 Which, clad; in rosy mantles, deck the 
 arbors. 
 
 And then behold your lips, where sweet love 
 harbours, 
 
 Mine eyes present me witha lo uble doubting; 
 
 For viewing both alike, hardly my mind 
 supposes, 
 
 Whether the roses bo yourlL j s, or your lips 
 the roses. 
 
 8 — Flora gave me Fairest 
 Flowers. 
 
 Madrigal. Wilbye. 1598. 
 
 Flora gave me fairest flowers. 
 
 None as fair in Flora’s treasure: 
 
 These I placed in Phillis’ bowers ; 
 
 She was pleas’d, and she’s my pleasure. 
 Smiling meadows seem to say, 
 
 “ Come, ye wantons, here to play.' ’ 
 
 9— Down in a Valley. 
 
 Madrigal. Wilbye. 1598. 
 
 Down in a valley, as Alexis trips. 
 
 Daphne sat sweetly sleeping ; 
 
 Soon as the wanton touch’d her ruddy lips 
 She nicely fell a weeping. t 
 
 The youth then gently greets her, 
 
 And, sighing, olt intreats her ; 
 
 But when nor sighs nor kisses moved her pity. 
 With plaints, he warbles forth this mournful 
 ditty : 
 
 “ Hard destinies ! are love and beauty parted ? 
 
 Fair Daphne so disdainful ! 
 
 Cupid, thy shafts are too unjustly darted ! 
 
 Fond love, thy wounds be painful ! 
 
 But since my lovely jewel 
 
 Is proved so coy and cruel, ^ 
 
 I’ll live and frolic in her beauty’s treasure. 
 
 But languish, faint, and die inher displeasure.” 
 
 Sir John Haw'kins and Dr. Burney have 
 dismissed this accomplished musician with a 
 few words; the illustrious Henry Purcell with 
 a page — it were idle to say how unjustly. 
 John Wilbye stands pre-eminently first in ex- 
 cellence as an English madrigal writer. Bur- 
 ney was evidently tired of his labour : perhaps 
 discouraged by opinions, fearing the eternal 
 dwelling upon the same subject, he has re- 
 course to mirthful anecdotes, tolerably well 
 told, but unsuited to his object. To relieve 
 the prosiness of his work he doubtless con- 
 sidered something amusing was desirable, and 
 thus neglected the works of men of high 
 ability. Dr. Burney published his “History 
 of Music,” in four volumes, in 1776 ; the 
 others, at irregular periods ; the last, in 1789. 
 There is a second edition, as regards the two 
 first volumes. Sir John Hawkins, after six- 
 teen years’ laborious research, published his 
 “ History of Music,” in five volumes, in 1776. 
 Few books have been more unjustly treated, 
 or provoked such unmerited invective or hos- 
 tility ; without them much invaluable literary 
 and musicalinformation woul d in all probability 
 have been lost. Laborde published his “ Essai 
 sur la Mubique,” in 1780. Burney w'as under 
 obligations to him in his last volumes. La- 
 borde had the misfortune to be a gentleman in 
 the time of the French revolution, and suf- 
 fered by the guillotine, 1794. 
 
 10 — HEN ALL Alone. 
 
 Madrigal. Girolamo Converso. 1580. 
 When all alone my pretty love was playing. 
 And I saw Phoebus, stand at agaze, staying; 
 Alas ! I feared there would be some betraying. 
 
 Converso, or Conversi, born at Corregio, 
 composed two books of madrigals, published 
 at Venice, 1575 and 1581. — Mus. Die. 
 
 11 — Lo WHERE WITH FlOWERY 
 
 Head. 
 
 Madrigal. T. Morley. 1595. 
 
 Lo, where with flowery head, and hair all 
 brightsome, 
 
 Pi.osy-cheek’d, crystal -eyed, e’en weeping 
 lightsome. 
 
 The fair Aurora springeth 
 And wanton Flora flingeth 
 Amorous odours unto the winds delightsome. 
 Ah ! for pity and anguish. 
 
 Only my heart doth languish. 
 
 12— M-ADRIGAL. Morley. 1595. 
 
 My bonny lass she smileth, 
 
 When she my heart beguileth, 
 
 Fa, la, la. 
 
 Smile less, dear love, therefore. 
 
 And you shall love me more. 
 
 Fa, la, la. 
 
 When she her sweet eye turneth, 
 
 O, how my heart it burneth. 
 
 Fa,.i la. 
 
 Dear love, call in their light. 
 
 Or else vou burn me quite. 
 
 Fa, la la. 
 
EVANS’S MUSIC AND SUPPER ROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN. 
 
 13 — Apeilis:nmy Mistre.ss' Face. 
 
 Madrigal. Morlaj. 1588. 
 
 April is in my mistress’ face, 
 
 Within her bosom is September ; 
 
 July in her eyes hath place, 
 
 But in her heart a cold December. 
 
 14 — Dainty fine sweet Nymph. 
 
 Madrigal. Morley. 1595. 
 
 Dainty fine sweet nymph, delightful, 
 While the sun aloft is mounting, 
 
 Sit we here our loves recounting ; 
 
 With sugred gloses,*' 
 
 Among these roses. 
 
 Fa, la, la. 
 
 Why, alas ! are you so spiteful ? 
 
 Dainty nymph, but, oh, too cruel. 
 
 Wilt thou kill, my dearest jewel ? 
 
 Kill, then, and bless me. 
 
 But first, come kiss me. 
 
 Fa, la, la. 
 
 * After the introduction of sugar into this 
 country, the epithet “ sugred” was much used 
 in poetry. “ Gloses,” flattering speeches. 
 
 15— Sing we and Chant it. 
 
 Madrigal. Morley. 1595. 
 
 Sing we and chant it. 
 
 While love doth grant i' ; 
 
 Not long youth lasteth, 
 
 And old age liasteth ; 
 
 Now is blest leisure 
 To take our pleasure. 
 
 Fa, la, la. 
 
 All things invite us 
 Now to delight us; 
 
 Hence, care, be packing. 
 
 No mirth be lacking : 
 
 Let's spare no treasure 
 To live in pleasure. 
 
 Fa, la, la. 
 
 16 — Lady, those Eyes of y'oupvS. 
 
 Madrigal. Morley. 1588. 
 
 Lady, those eyes of yours. 
 
 Those fine eyes that shine so clearly, 
 
 Why do you hide from me. 
 
 That bought their beams so dearly ? 
 
 Think not, when thou exil’st me. 
 
 Less heat in me sojourneth ; 
 
 O no ! then thou beguil’st thee ; 
 
 Love doth but shine in thee. 
 
 But, oh ! in me he burneth. 
 
 Thomas^ Morley was the pupil of the cele- 
 brated William Byrd, and, according to An- 
 thony Wood, took his degree, as Bachelor of 
 Music in 1588. As a tlieorist, he certainly was 
 excelled by none of his day ; but, as a com- 
 poser, I consider him decidedly inferior to 
 Wibye or Weekes. His “ Introduction to 
 Music,” proves him to have been a man of 
 very^ considerable acquirements. I am con- 
 strained to say that Morley has been guilty of 
 several barefaced plagiarisms. — Oliphajit’s 
 valuable work. ‘•'•La Musa Aladrigalesca.” 
 
 It appears to have been the custom with many 
 madrigalists not only to compose the music, 
 but the words also; the general tendency of 
 which Morley sharply reproves, as savouring 
 of indecency, and not unfrequently of inn^ 
 piety. He, too, was his own poet. Many 
 reasons might be adduced, in support of the 
 conjecture, that he pursued poetry only in sub- 
 serviency to his favourite science, and that he 
 adapted his words to the music he composed. 
 Now this unnatural accommodation will ac- 
 count for his having now and then, unavoid- 
 ably perhaps, occasioned a distortion of mea- 
 sure and rhyme, and an obscurity of construc- 
 tion. —Canzouets and Madrigals, by Thomas 
 Morley. Edit. W. H. Holland, A.M., and W 
 Cooke, A.B., Oxon. 
 
 It isevident from the following, that Morley. 
 suffered from bad health 
 
 Master. And you also, good master Philo- 
 mathes, 1 am glad to see you. .Seeing it is so 
 long agoe since I saw you, that I thought you 
 either beene dead, or then liad vowed per- 
 petually to keepe your chamber and booke to 
 which you were so much addicted. ’ 
 
 Phi. Indeede I haue beene well affected to 
 my booke,. But how have you done since I 
 saw you? 
 
 Ma. My health, since you saw me, hath 
 beene so bad, as if it had been the pleasure of 
 him who mayde all things, to have taken me 
 
 out of the world. I should have beene very 
 well contented ; and have wished it mort tnan 
 once. But what businesse hath driven you to 
 this end of the towne? 
 
 — Motley's Iniroduetio7i to Musicke, lOOO. 
 
 L.UL.L.ABY SONGS. 
 
 17 A LuLL.VBY. William Byrd, 1588. 
 Lullaby, 
 
 My sweet little baby. 
 
 What meanest thou to cry 
 Lullaby, 
 
 My sweet little baby. 
 
 William Byrd is supposed to have been the 
 son of Thomas Byrd, oneof the gentlemen of the 
 Royal Chapel, during the reigns of Edward the 
 Sixth and Mary. He appears to have been a 
 singing-boy under Tallis, of whom he was a 
 worthy pupil. His comiiositions are chiefly in 
 Latin. In 15C3, he became organist of Lincoln 
 Cathedral, where he continued until 15d9. 
 Byrd is considered to have been the finest 
 player on the virginal of his time. There are 
 seventy of his compositions, in the magnificent 
 folio MS., known as “ Queen Elizabeth’s Vir- 
 ginal Book.” In the expenses of the musical 
 and dramatic establishment of Queen Maty, 
 1557 — 8, are cited 
 
 THE revellers. 
 
 Master, Sir Thomas Carrarden, fee £10 0 
 Musitions and Players. 
 
 Players of Enterlude.s, in iiomhre 8, ) 
 everie of them at 6 3s. by the yere 
 the chapel. 
 
 Thomas Byrd, Thomas Tallis, Geo. 
 Edwards, William Hymnus, Tho. I ... o 
 Palfreman, Rich. Farrant, John \ ^ 
 
 Singer, and thirty others ^ 
 
 0 
 
 0 
 
 4 
 
 The 20 dny of January’, at Grenwyche, the 
 Quen grace pensyners dyd muster, and ther 
 cam a tumbeler and played mony prate fettes 
 afor the Quen and my Lord Cardenall, that her 
 grace dyd lyke and so her grace dyd thanke 
 them. — Collier, vol. i., p. 65. 
 
 I would couns-ell you diligently to pursue 
 those wayes, which my louing Maister (neuer 
 without leuerence to be named of the mu- 
 sicians) Mr. Byrd and Mr. Alphonso, in a ver- 
 tuous contention, in loue betwixt themselues, 
 made vpon the plaine song of Miserere; but 
 a contention, as I saide, in loue : which caused 
 them to striue eury one to surmount another, 
 without malice, eriuie, or back biting ; but by 
 great labour, studie, and paines, each making 
 other censor of that which they had done. 
 Which contention of theirs (specially without 
 enuie) causeth them both to become excellent 
 in that kinde, and winne such a name, and 
 gaine such credit, as will neuer perish so long 
 as musick endureth.— ilfor/e^’s Easie Intro- 
 duction to Musicke, 160D. (?) 
 
 I thinke, that whoso canne, vpon any plaine 
 song whatsoever, make such another way as 
 that of Mr. Byrd, which I shewed ymu before, 
 may, with great reason, bee tearmed a great 
 maister in musick. — Ibid. 
 
 In ‘‘Sandy’s Christmas Carols, Ancient and 
 Modern,” may be seen the following and other 
 verses : — 
 
 I.ulla, la, lulla, lulla, lullaby. 
 
 My sweet little habie, what meanest thou to 
 cry ? 
 
 Bee still, my blessed babe, though thou hast 
 cause to mourne. 
 
 Whose bloud, most innocent, the cruell King 
 hath sworne ; 
 
 And lo, alas! behold, what slaughter he doth 
 make. 
 
 Shedding the bloud of infants all, sweet 
 Saviour, for thy sake. 
 
 A Kinu is born, they say, which King this king 
 would ki.l ; 
 
 Oh, woe and woeful heavy day, when wretches 
 have their fill ! Lulla, la, &c. 
 
 Percy, Ritson, Warton, Douce, Rimbault, 
 contain many Lullabys. 
 
 The Festi\ul of the Holy Innocents, always 
 falling within the Octave of the Nativity— 
 tliat is, within eight days of Christmas — 
 would lead to the impression that the “ Lul- 
 laby Songs” were Christmas carols. They 
 appear to have an affinity only with the fes- 
 tival. 
 
 It was customary to perform this species of 
 play on holy festivals, in oi about the churches, 
 in several there were directions that the scenes 
 should be represented cum cantu et organis— 
 that is, should be performed in a church where a 
 choir assisted. Acting plays in churches and on 
 
 Sundays became at last an enormity. In the 
 reign of Henry VIII. Bonner, Bishop of Lon- 
 don, issued a proclamation, dated 15)2, pro- 
 hibiting all manner of plays within churches. 
 Archbishop Grindal, 1563, remonstrated against 
 tlie Ganger ol interludes- 
 
 J he term Interlude is derived from the fact 
 of being played in the intervals of banquets 
 and entertainments. 
 
 Plays were acted so late as the reign of 
 Charles I., on Sundays, by the singing boys of 
 St. Paul’s Cathedral and the Chapel Royal. 
 
 From the Coventry Plav, belonging to the 
 Taylors’ and Shearemen’s Pageant, the follow- 
 ing songs are extracted. ‘‘The first and the 
 histe the Siiejih.e.irdes .singe; and the second 
 and middlemost tlie v/omen singe: — 
 
 Song I. 
 
 As I out rode this enderes night. 
 
 Of the ioli Shephardes I saw a sight. 
 
 And all a bowte there fold a star shone bright. 
 They sange terli terlou. 
 
 So mereli the Sheppards ther pipes can blow. 
 
 Song II. 
 
 Lulla, lulla, thu littell tine child. 
 
 By, by, lulla, lullay, thu littell tyne child, 
 Ky, by, lulla, lullay. 
 
 O sisters too, liow may we do. 
 
 For to preserve this day? 
 
 His men of might in his owne sight 
 All yonge children to slay. 
 
 That woe is me pore child for thee, 
 
 And ever morne and say. 
 
 For thi parting netlier say nor singe. 
 
 By, by, lulla, lullay. 
 
 Song III. 
 
 Down from he.aven, from 1 eaven so hie, 
 
 0_t angels there came a great companie, 
 
 M t inirtli and ioy and great solemnitye 
 They sange ter y terlow. 
 
 So mereli the sheppards ther pipes can blow.” 
 
 Lullaby, &c. 
 
 18— Cynthia, thy Song. 
 
 Madrigal. Giov. Croce. 1590. 
 Cynthia, thy song and chaunting. 
 
 So strange a flame in gentle hearts awt keth, 
 That every cold desire wanton lovemaketh 
 Sounds to thy praise, and vaunting ' 
 
 Of syrens most commended. 
 
 That with delighted tunes for praise con 
 tended. 
 
 For when thou sweetly soundest 
 Thou neiiher kill’st nor woundest; 
 
 But dost revive a number 
 Of bodies buried in perpetual slumber. 
 Giovanni Croce was Chapel Master of St. 
 Mark’s, Venice, 1603 (Dr. Burney says 1605) 
 He composed the Penitential Psalms, printedin 
 London with English wmrds ; also the Oriana 
 Madrigals, and the above. 
 
 A. Maestri della Ducal Cappella 
 S. Marco. 
 
 1. D. P. Ca Fossis eletto I’anno 1491 
 
 2. D. Adriano (Willaert) Fiammiugo 1527 
 
 3. D. Cipriano Rore J5g3 
 
 4. Iseppo Zarlino 1565 
 
 5. P. Baldissera Donati !".!!!!!!"." 1520 
 
 6. P. Zuane Croce (Giovanni Croce) 1603 
 
 : C. Von WinterfieJd’s, Gabrielli, 'Berlin 1834 
 Morley certainly had no affection for his 
 want of grammatical correc.iiess. 
 
 :: Yea, Croce himselfe hath let fine fiftes to 
 gether slip in one of his songes, and, in many 
 ol them, you shall find two (which with him is 
 no fault, as it shouid seem by his use of them) 
 alttiough the east wind liaue not yet blown 
 that custome on this side of the Alpes.— /«- 
 troduction to Musicke. 
 
 19— So Saith My Fair. 
 
 Madrigal. Luca Marenx. 1599 
 So saith my fair and beauliful Lycoris, 
 When, now and then, she talketh 
 With me of love. 
 
 Love is a spirit that walketh. 
 
 That soars and flies. 
 
 And none alive can hold him. 
 
 Nor touch him, nor behold him- 
 Yet when her eyes she turneth,’ 
 
 1 spy where he sojourneth. 
 
 In her eyes. 
 
 There he flies ; 
 
 But none can touch him. 
 
 Till from her lips he fetch him. 
 
28 EVAXS'S MUSIC 
 
 Luca Marenzio was born at the commence - 
 meat of the sixteenth century, at Coccagli, in 
 Brescia. In that prolific age of great mu- 
 sicians, Luca Marenzio far outshone his con- 
 temporaries in design, fertility of invention, 
 elegance, and skiliul treatment of the subjects 
 of his various compositions— graceful melodies 
 pervading them throughout; he maybe pro- 
 nounced the master of his age. Marenzio was 
 Master of the Chapel to Cardinal Luigi D’Este. 
 He was highly esteemed by the King of 
 Poland and many eminent Princes. He after- 
 wards was admitted into the Pope’s Chapel, 
 and died in Rome, 1599, the date of the pub- 
 lishing of the above madrigal. 
 
 20— In Going to my Lonely Bed. 
 
 Madrigal. Richard Edwards. 1560. 
 
 In going to my lonely bed, 
 
 As one that would have slept, 
 
 I heard a wife sing to her child. 
 
 That long had moan’d and wept. 
 
 She sighed sore, and sang full sweet, 
 
 To lull the babe to rest. 
 
 That would not cease, hut cried still 
 Upon its mother’s breast. 
 
 She was full weary of her watch, 
 
 And grieved with her child ; 
 
 She rocked it, and rated it. 
 
 Till that on her it smiled. 
 
 Then did she say. Now have I found 
 This proverb true doth prove : 
 
 The falling out of faithful friends 
 Renewing is of love. 
 
 21 — Fine Knacks for Ladies. 
 
 Madrigal. John Dowland. 1600. 
 
 Fine knacks for ladies— cheap, choice, brave, 
 and new' — 
 
 Good pennyworths, but money cannot move ; 
 
 I keep a fair, but for the fair to view — 
 
 A beggar may be liberal of love. 
 
 Tho’ all my wares be trash, the heart is true. 
 Great gifts are guiles, and look for gifts again ; 
 My trifles come like treasures from my mind — 
 It is a precious jewel to be plain ; 
 
 In rudest shell the rarest pearl we find. 
 
 Tho’ all my wares, &c., &c. 
 
 Shakespear’s Sonnets were addressed to W. 
 H., and supposed by Collier to apply to William 
 Herbert, afterwards Earl of Pembroke. The 
 two sonnets .— 
 
 “ If musique and sweet poetry agree. 
 
 As they must needes (the sister and the 
 brother). 
 
 Then must the love be great ’twixt thee and 
 me. 
 
 Because thou lov’st the one, and I the 
 other,” &c. 
 
 And “ As it fell upon a day,” though attributed 
 to Shakespear, are by Barnefield. — Warton — 
 Note by Park, vol. iii., p. 32S— Ellis's Early 
 Enylish Poets. 
 
 Richard Barnefield was the author of “ The 
 Aff'ectionate Shepherd,” which was printed in 
 1595. Through the course of twenty sonnets, not 
 inelegant, andw'hich were exceedingly popular, 
 Barnefield bewails his unsuccessful love for a 
 beautiful youth, by the name of Ganymede, in a 
 strain of the most tender passion, yet with the 
 professions of the chastest affection. In the 
 same strain, and to a similar object, the greater 
 part of Shakespear's sonnets appear to be 
 addressed. Mr. Chalmers, indeed, in his 
 “Apology” has persuaded himself that the bard 
 of Avon intended his for Queen Elizabeth ; but 
 as far as I can gather, he has failed to persuade 
 any other reader of the same. — Ibid. Better 
 they were never written, says an eminent man. 
 — Hallam. 
 
 22 — creatures now are merry 
 
 Madrigal. John Bennett. 1599. 
 
 All creatures now are merry-minded. 
 
 The shepherd’s daughters playing. 
 
 The nymphs are fa la laying ; 
 
 Yon bugle w'as well winded. 
 
 At Oriana’s presence each thing smileth ; 
 
 The Sowers themselves discover, 
 
 Birds over her do hover. 
 
 Music the time beguileth. 
 
 See where she comes with flow’ry garlands 
 crown’d. 
 
 Queen of all queens renown’d ; 
 
 Then sang the shepherds and nymps of Diana, 
 “ Long live fair Oriana.” * 
 
 * Queen Elizabeth. 
 
 AND SUPPER ROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN. 
 
 23 — Thirsts, Sleepest Thou.? I 
 
 Madrigal. John Bennett. 1599. 
 
 Thirsis, sleepest thou? Holla! let not sorrow 
 slay us. 
 
 Hold up thy head, man, said the gentle Meli- 
 bceus : 
 
 See, summer comes again, the country’s pride 
 adorning; 
 
 Hark ! how the cuckoo singeth this fair morn- 
 ing. 
 
 Oh ! said the shepherd, and sigh’d as one all 
 undone. 
 
 Let me alone, alas ! and drive him back to 
 London. 
 
 24— My Mistress is as Fair as Fine 
 
 Madrigal. John Bennett. 1614. 
 
 Full Choir. 
 
 My mistress is as fair as fine. 
 
 With milk-white hands and golden hair; 
 
 Her eyes the radiant stars outshine. 
 
 Lighting all things far and near. 
 
 Fair as Cynthia, not so fickle; 
 
 Smooth as glass tho’ not so brittle. 
 
 My heart is like a ball of snow'. 
 
 Fast melting at her glances blight ; 
 
 Her ruby lips like night-worms glosv, 
 Sparkling thro’ the pale tw'ilight. 
 
 Neat she is, no feather lighter; 
 
 Bright she is, no daisy whiter. 
 
 Little is known of John Bennett, excepting 
 his charming compositions. Morley published 
 “All creatures now” (1661), and “The Tri- 
 umphs of Oriana; ” and Ravenscroft five mad- 
 rigals, 1614. 
 
 25 — Welcome, sweet Pleasure. 
 
 Madrigal. T. Weelkes. 
 
 Welcome, sw'eet pleasure. 
 
 My wealth and treasure; 
 
 To haste our playing. 
 
 There’s no delaying — No, no, no. 
 
 This mirth delights me. 
 
 When sorrow frights me. 
 
 Then sing we all— Fa la la. 
 
 Sorrow, content thee. 
 
 Mirth must prevent thee; 
 
 Though much thou grievest, 
 
 Thou none relievest — No, no, no. 
 
 Joy ! come, delight me, 
 
 Though sorrow spite me. 
 
 Then sing w'e all— Fa la la. 
 
 Grief is disdainful. 
 
 Sottish and painful. 
 
 Then wait on pleasure. 
 
 And lose no leisure — No, no, no. 
 
 Heart’s ease it lendeth. 
 
 And comfort sendeth. 
 
 Then sing we all — Fa la la. 
 
 T. Weelkes was Organist of Winchester 
 Cathedral in 1600, and of Chichester Cathe- 
 dral in 1608. 
 
 “ ‘ His Ayres or Phantastic Spirites ’ were 
 printed by W. Barley, and sold by him at his 
 shoppe in Gracious (Gracechurch-street). De- 
 dicated to the Right Honourable and Most 
 Worthie, Edward, Lord Denny, to whom T. 
 Weelkes wisheth the happiness of both 
 worlds.” 
 
 26— — There m^ere Three Ravens. 
 
 Madrigal. 1611. 
 
 There were three ravens sat on a tree. 
 
 They were as black as they might be; 
 
 The one of them said to his mate. 
 
 Where shall w'e our breakfast take ? 
 
 Down in yonder greeny field. 
 
 There lies a knight slain under his shield; 
 His hounds they lie down at his feet. 
 
 So well they can their master keep : 
 
 His hawks they fly so eagerly, 
 
 There is no fowl dare him come nigh. 
 
 Down there came a fallow doe. 
 
 As great with young as she might go; 
 
 She lifted up his bloody head. 
 
 And kiss’d his wounds that were so red ; 
 
 She got him up upon her back. 
 
 And carried him down by yon lake; 
 
 She buried him before the prime — 
 
 She was dead herself ere ev’u-song time, 
 
 God send every gentleman 
 
 Such hawks, such hounds, such a leman.* 
 
 * Mistress. 
 
 In “ Ritson’s Ancient Songs, ”p. 155, may be 
 seen a dirge, entitled “ The Three Ravens,” 
 printed with music. It is also published, in 
 W. Chappell’s “Old English Songs,” 11 vols., 
 modernized. Mr. Oliphant thus w'rites of this 
 exquisite little poem: — “I scarcely know a 
 ballad, wherein the story is told in such artless 
 and affecting language. It is a perfect pic- 
 ture. The stillness of the scene, broken, in 
 imagination only, by the croaking voices ofthe 
 ravens; the hounds faithfully lying at the 
 feet of him dead, whose steps they had oft 
 followed in the chase when alive; the very 
 hawks, that used to perch upon his fist, await- 
 ing the signal to soar on high, now of their 
 OAvn accord defending their master from the 
 other birds of prey, are all exquisite. The 
 remainder of the description I will not ven- 
 ture to enlarge upon. The apparent calmness 
 with which a woman’s devoted affection en- 
 ables her to go through scenes of horror, and 
 the after desolation of a widowed and broken 
 heart, are here pourlraycd with a fidelity that 
 Shakespear himself could not have surpassed. 
 — Madrigalesca, p. 254. 
 
 27— A Garden is my Lady’s Face. 
 
 Madrigal. Richard Allison. 1605." 
 
 A garden is my lady’s face, 
 
 Where roses and white lilies blow; 
 
 A heav nly paiadise is that place. 
 
 Wherein the fairest fruits do grow. 
 
 There cherries be that none may buy, 
 
 ’Till “cherry ripe” themselves do cry. 
 
 {The first verse only sung.) 
 
 Those cherries fairly do disclose. 
 
 Of orient pearls a double row ; 
 
 Which, when her lovely laughter shows. 
 
 They look like rosebuds fill’d with snow. 
 
 Yet them no peer nor prince may buy. 
 
 ’Till “ cherry ripe” themselves do crj'. 
 
 Her eyes, like angels, watch them still ; 
 
 Her brows like bended botvs do stand, 
 
 Threat’ning with piercing frowns to kill 
 All that approach with eye or hand. 
 
 Those sacred cherries to come nigh, 
 
 ’Till “ cherry ripe” themselves do cry. 
 
 Richard Allison. In 1606, was published 
 his “ Home’s Recreation in Musick, apt for 
 Instruments and Voices. Framed for the de- 
 light of gentlemen and others, which are well 
 affected to that qualitie : all for the most part 
 with two trebles, necessarie for such as teach 
 in private families, with a prayer for the long 
 preservation of the King and his posteritie, 
 and a thanksgiving for the deliverance of the 
 whole estate from the late conspiracy (the 
 Gunpowder Plot), by Richard Allison, gentle- 
 man, and practitioner in this arte. London: 
 Printed by John Windet, the assigne of William 
 Barley, and are to be sold at the Golden 
 Anchore, in Paternoster Row, 1606. Dedi- 
 cated to “The right worthily honoured and 
 most free respecter of all virtue, my esteemed 
 and singular good Patron, Sir George Scuda- 
 mour, Knight.’” Allison was one of the ten 
 composers, who adapted the Psalms to music. 
 They were first published by Thomas Este, 
 1594. 
 
 The words of the above madrigal have an 
 affinity with the well-known song, in the play 
 of “Paul Pry.” “Cherry Ripe” was doubt- 
 less a common cry, as it is met with, in many 
 instances, in early poetry. The “song” was 
 taken from Herrick’s “ Hesperides, or Poems 
 Human and Divine,” published 1648. 
 
 Richard Herrick was a clergyman, ejected 
 from his living, in Devonshire, by the Long 
 Parliament. 
 
 28 — There is a Lady. 
 
 Madrigal. Thomas Ford. 1607. 
 
 There is a lady sweet and kind 
 Was never face so pleased my mind; 
 
 I did but see her passing by. 
 
 And yet I love her till 1 die. 
 
 Her gestures, motions, and her smile, 
 
 Her wit, her voice, my heart beguile; 
 Beguile my heart, I know not why. 
 
 And yet 1 love her till I die. 
 
 Cupid is winged, and doth range 
 Her country, so my love doth change ; 
 
 But change the earth, or change the sky, 
 Yet still I love her till I die. 
 
 The compositions of this writer are exceed- 
 ingly limited, two books only being known— 
 
29 
 
 EVANS’S MUSIC AND SUPPER ROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN. 
 
 1 the hirst dedicated to “ the •worthy and vertuous 
 1 Knight, Sir Richard Weston the second, to 
 ' “ the worthy and vertuous Knight, Sir Richard 
 Tichborne.” The above madrigal, “Since 
 first I saw your face,” arranged by Sir H. 
 
 : Bishop, and “Come o’er the brook, Bessy, to 
 me,” are all that are popularly known 
 ; “Mnsicke of Sundrie Kindes, set forth in 
 i two Books — the first whereof are Aries for 4 
 Voices to the Lute, Orpharion, or Basse-Viol. 
 
 ‘ "VVith a dialogue for two Voices, and two Basse- 
 Viols in parts, tunde the Lute way. The 
 second are Pavens, Galiards, Thumps, and 
 such like, for two Basse-Viols, the Liera way, 
 so made as the greatest number may serve to 
 play alone, very easie to be performde. Com- 
 posed by Thomas Ford. Imprinted at Lon- 
 don, by John Windet, at the assignes of Wil- 
 liam Barley, and are to be sold by John Brown, 
 in St. Dunstan’s Churchyard, in Fleet Street, 
 
 ; 1607.” 
 
 29 — FaYFvE Oriana in the Morne. 
 
 Madrial. John Milton {Father of the Poet). 
 Fayre Oriana in the morne 
 Before the day has borne. 
 
 With velvet step on ground. 
 
 Which made not print nor sound, 
 
 Would see her nymphes a-bed; 
 
 What lives those ladies led : 
 
 The roses blushing sayd, 
 
 O stay, thou shepherd’s mayde ! 
 
 And on a sudden all, 
 
 They rose and heard his call ; 
 
 Then sang those shepherds and nymphs of 
 Diana, 
 
 Long live faire Oriana ! 
 
 The above composer, father of the illus- 
 trious poet, was born at Milton, near Thame, 
 in Oxfordshire. Early in life he was sent to 
 Christ Church, Oxford. In consequence of 
 changing his religion, he was disinherited by 
 his father. Although a scholar, he practised as 
 a Scrivener, and resided in Bread-street, Lon- 
 don. Warton says, that the poet, in writing 
 to his father in Latin, addresses him in a 
 language he understands, and, subsequently in 
 a Latin poem celebrates his father’s musical 
 talent. The elder Milton died 1647, >nd was 
 interred in St. Giles’s Church, Cripplegate, 
 where the great poet was afterwards buried 
 near his father, 1674. 
 
 Ravenscroft published a collection of psalms 
 in 1633, many of the tunes of which were by 
 Milton. The York tune by him is well known. 
 
 30 — Madrigal, jor wuson. 1600, 
 
 O, by rivers, by whose falls 
 Melodious birds sing madrigals, 
 
 The shepherd swains shall dance and play, 
 For thy delight on each May-day, 
 
 With a fa, la, la. 
 
 Where silver sands and pebbles sing 
 Eternal ditties to the spring, 
 
 There shall you pass the welcome night. 
 
 In sylvan pleasure and delight. 
 
 With a fa, la la. 
 
 {Words from Shakespeai’s Poems.) 
 
 The above madrigal is a masterly compound 
 of Wilson’s, “From the fair Lavinian shore,” 
 and a “ Fa la, la,” by Saville, popularly known 
 as the “'Waits.” 
 
 31 — Madrigal. 
 
 Words from Shakespear. 
 
 Who is Sylvia ? what is she. 
 
 That all our swains commend her. 
 
 Holy, fair, and wise is she, 
 
 The heavens such grace did lend her, 
 
 That she might admired be 
 
 Is she kind as she is fair ? 
 
 For beauty lives with kindness. 
 
 Love doth to her eyes repair; 
 
 To help him of his blindness. 
 
 And, being help’d inhabits there: 
 
 Then to Sylvia let us sing. 
 
 That Sylvia is excelling ; 
 
 ! She excels each mortal thing 
 Upon the dull earth dwelling. 
 
 The first part is by R.-ivenscroft, 1614. The 
 .last part is from Morley’s Madrigal, “ Now is 
 the Month of Maying.” The latter also forms 
 the Finale to Sheridan’s comic opera of The 
 Duenna : — 
 
 The same airs were adapted by Sir H. Bishop, 
 to Shakespear’s Play of “ Twelfth Night.” 
 
 32 — Ye Little Birds that sit and 
 Sing. 
 
 From Thomas Heywood’s, “ Faire Maide of the 
 
 Exchange,” pub. 1607.— Rior;. Dram. 1782. 
 Madrigal. Composed by Brinley Richards. 
 Ye little birds, that sit and sing 
 Amidst the shady vallies. 
 
 And see how Phillis sweetly walks. 
 
 Within her garden alleys ; 
 
 Go, pretty birds about her bowers. 
 
 Sing pretty birds she may not lowre. 
 
 Thomas Heywood, published Marlowe's 
 
 Jew of Malta, ” in 1633; he also wrote the 
 prologue spoken at the cockpit, in which Mar- 
 low is highly eulogized, both as an actor and 
 poet. It was in this play, that Alleyn, the foun- 
 der of Dulwich College, acted the Jew with so 
 much applause.— IFariow vol. iii. 
 
 Thomas Heywood , an actor and an author, un- 
 der Henslow, 1594, claimed, at a subsequent 
 date, to have been concerned in no less, than two 
 hundred and twenty plays. In his address to 
 the reader, before his Rape of Lucrece, which 
 between 160S and 1638, went through five 
 impressions, he alludes to the practice of 
 unfairly selling two copies, one to the theatre, 
 and one to the Stationer. “ Though some 
 (he observes) have used a double sale of their 
 labours, first to the stage, and after to the press, 
 for my own part, I here proclaim myself ever 
 faithful in the first, and never guilty in the 
 last ; and some (he continues) have got into the 
 printer’s hand so corrupt, and mangled, copied 
 only out by the ear, that I have been asunable to 
 know them, as ashamed to challenge them.” In 
 the prefatory matter to his English traveller, 
 1633,hefurtherexplainsthe cause why so fewof 
 the two hundred and twenty plays, in which he 
 had an “ entire hand or at least a main finger,” 
 had been published. “True it is,” he says, “ that 
 my plays are not exposed unto the world, in 
 volumes to bear the titles of works as oihers ; 
 one reason is, that many of them, by shifting 
 and change of companies, have been negligently 
 lost, others of them are still retained in the 
 hands of the actors, who think it against their 
 peculiar profit to have them come into print; 
 and a third, that it was never any great ambi- 
 tion in me to hein this kind voluminously read.” 
 Heywood appears to have been a native of 
 Lincolnshire. Of all his plays, twenty-four only 
 are known to exist. “ It is said,” relates Kirk- 
 man, “that he not only acted himself every day, 
 but also wrote every day a sheet, and that he 
 might lose no time, many of his plays were 
 composed in the tavern, on the backside of 
 tavern bills, which may be the occasion that so 
 many of them are lost.” 
 
 “ A Woman Killed with Kindness,” 1600, 
 may be read with interest and approbation at 
 this day. The subject resembles Kotzebue’s 
 drama, the “ Stranger,” but is managed, with 
 a nobler tone of morality. — Hallam, vol, ii., n 
 175. 
 
 There'were four dramatic poets named Hey- 
 wood. 
 
 Jasper Heywood, D, D. provincial of the 
 Society of Jesus, born 1535. He was translator of 
 three tragedies attributed to Seneca— Thyestes, 
 1561— Hercules Furens, 1561— Troas, 1581. 
 
 John Heywood, was father of the above. 
 His first play was published 1533. 
 
 Mathew Heyw^ood. was the author of a 
 comedy called the “ Changeling.” 
 
 Thomas Heywood,— Drama. 
 
 Mathew Heywood and Thomas Heywood 
 were not, I think, relatives, nor were they 
 related to John or Jasper Heywood. Elizseus 
 Heywood was the eldest son of John Heywood 
 the epigramatist. Hejoined the Society of Jesus 
 with his brother. Elizeeus published his 
 “ II Moro,” 1556, which was dedicated to Car- 
 dinal Pole. Jasper became a priest at Rome, 
 May 21, 1562, one year after the publication 
 of his second play. I am of opinion that the 
 Tragedy of “ Troas,” must have been written, 
 if not published, earlier than 1581, as it is 
 scarcely possible, that the Society would 
 have permitted his attention to be distracted 
 from subjects of the greatest importance, con- 
 sidering that he, with Father Holt, in 1518, 
 succeeded “ Parsons.” The latter escaped to 
 the Continent in these times of danger. Hey- 
 wood was treated, with severity, in the Tower 
 but ultimately banished, 1585. ' 
 
 33 — Fair is the Rose. 
 
 Madrigal. Orlando Gibbons. 1602. 
 
 Fair is the rose, yet fades with heat or cold. 
 Sweet are the violets, yet none grow old; 
 
 The lily’s white, yet in one day ’tis done. 
 White is the snow, yet melts against the sun ; 
 
 So, white, so sweet, was my fair mistress’ face. 
 Yet alter’d quite in one short hour’s space; 
 
 So short-liv’d beauty a vain gloss doth borrow, 
 Breathing delight to-day, but none to-morrow. 
 
 Dr. Orlando Gibbons, one of the most cele- 
 brated English composers, was born at Cam- 
 bridge, in 1583 ; at the age of twenty-one, he 
 was appointed organist of the Chapel royal, and 
 in 1622, obtained the degree of Doctor of Music 
 in the University of Oxford. Three years after 
 this, being ordered to Canterbury, for the pur- 
 pose of attending the marriage of Charles I 
 with Henrietta of France, he died of the 
 Small-pox, and was buried in the Cathedral 
 Church of that City, 1 628. “This madrigal,” Mr. 
 Oliphant says, “ought to be con.stantly upon 
 the toilet-table of every young lady, w'ho is too 
 fond of her glass (mirror, I beg pardon), as an 
 illustration of the advice given by the Latin 
 poet, nimium ne crede colori. Poets make a 
 terrible fuss about beauty. She has the greatest 
 chance of happiness, who can sav, with Audrey, 
 in “ As You Like It," “ Thank the Gods I am 
 foul” (ugly). — Madrigalesca, p. 280. 
 
 Either Burney or Hawkins mentions 
 taking his degree along with Dr. Heather, in 
 Biog. Brit, Camden. It is stated, “nearly 
 about the reign of James I. Dr. William Hea- 
 ther, the intimate friend of the famous Cam- 
 flen, founded and endowed a musical lecture, 
 in the same university. Camden, having been a 
 chorister of Magdalene College, it is imagined, 
 ])ersuaded Dr. Heather to this act of benefi- 
 cence.” In the year 1622, Camden, by a deed 
 executed to the Vice-Chancellor, founded a 
 history lecture; he appointed Dr. Heather 
 executor of his Will, and, by a deed made some 
 time before, he gave to the said Dr. Heather, 
 his heirs and executors, for ninety-nine years’ 
 the Manor of Bexley in Kent, estimated at 
 L400 a year, he and they paying to the History 
 Professor £140 per annum ; at the expiration 
 of which time the estate was to go to the 
 University. 
 
 The first degree of Doctor of Music, at 
 Oxford, according to the best information, was 
 conferred, in 1451, on John Hamboys, whom 
 Bale calls, a man of great erudition. 
 
 The professorship at Cambridge was insti- 
 tuted, in the year 1 684. The first professor, was 
 Nicholas Staggins, M. D. The University 
 conferred degrees in very early times, al- 
 though the oldest registers go no further back 
 than 1454. It is, however, known that some 
 of the heads of the old hotels were Doctors in 
 Music. The first graduate, of whom we have 
 any registered account, is Thomas Saintwix, 
 who, in 1463, was created Doctor of Music 
 and appointed Master of King’s Hall, now a 
 part of Trinity College, It is probable he took 
 Ins degree about the year 1440. Inl463, Henry 
 Habington was admitted Bachelor in Music. 
 
 In Lambeth parish church, Surrey, was the 
 following inscription “ Of your charity, pray 
 for the soul of Sir Ambrose Payne, parson, of 
 Lambeth, and Bachelor of Music, and Chap- 
 leyn to Lords Cardynals Boufer and Morton, 
 whodeparted,'May 28, a.d. 1528.” This grave- 
 stone, and others, were removed at the repairs 
 of the church, at the end of the last century. 
 —Atiberry’s Antiquities of Surry, vol. v. p. 
 
 In the merrie moneth of Maye, 
 
 In a morn by break of daye, 
 
 With a troope of damselles playing 
 Forthe I gode forsoothe a maying; 
 
 When anon by a wood side, 
 
 Where as Maye was in his pride, 
 
 I espied all alone 
 Phillida and Corydon. 
 
 Much adoe there was, god wot ! 
 
 He would love, and she would not. 
 
 She sayde, never man was trewe : 
 
 He sayes none was false to you. 
 
 He sayde, bee had lovde her longe ; 
 
 She sayes love should have no wron°-e, 
 Corydon wold kiss her then ; ° 
 
 She says, maydes mustkisse no men, 
 
 Tyll they doe for good and all. 
 
 When she mayde the shepherde call 
 All the heavens to -w'ytness truthe, 
 
 Never loved a truer youth. 
 
30 
 
 EVANS’S MUSIC AND SUPPER ROOMS. COVENT- GARDEN. 
 
 Then with manie a prettie othe, 
 
 Yea and nay, faith andtrorhe, 
 
 Suche as seelie shepherdes use, 
 
 When they will not love abuse ; 
 
 Love, which had bene long deluded, 
 
 Was, with kisses sweete, concluded ; 
 
 And Phillida with garlands gaye 
 Was mayde the lady of Maye. 
 
 The above little pastoral, of “Phillida and 
 Corydon,” is one of the songs in “ the honour- 
 able Entertainments given to the Queene’s 
 Majesty at Elvethani, in Hampshire, by th.e 
 Right Hon., the Earl of Hertford, 1591.” On 
 Wednesday morning about nine o’clock, as her 
 Majesty opened a casement of her gallerie win- 
 dow, there were three excellent musicians, 
 who, being disguised in ancient country attire, 
 did greet her with a pleasant song of “ Corydon 
 and Phillida,” made in three part.s, for that 
 purpose. “ The song, as well for the worth of 
 the dittie, as the aptnesse of the note thereto 
 applied, it pleased her Highness, after it had 
 been once sung, to command it againe, and 
 highly to grace it with her cheerful acceptance 
 and commendation.” — Percy. 
 
 Nicholas Breton was a popular pamphleteer, 
 as regards both prose and verse. In his “ Pas- 
 quil’s Madcap,” 1600, he advi.ses “prose 
 writers” to change their occupation, in con- 
 sequence of the great success of the authors of 
 “penny ballads.” 
 
 “ Tell prose writers, stories are so stale, 
 
 That penny ballads make a better sale.” 
 
 And in the “Duel and the Scold,” the singer 
 tells his auditors : — 
 
 “Nor would I have a scold, 
 
 One penny here bestow, 
 
 But honest men and wives. 
 
 Buy these before you goe.” 
 
 The ballad, “ The Praise of Nothing,” also 
 has some reference to the above. It was writ- 
 ten, probably during the plague, vritli the im- 
 print of “li. Gosson, dwelling upon London 
 Bridge, near the gate.” 
 
 “.The praise of wisdom some doe write, 
 And some the praise of money ; 
 
 And every one, like bees to th’hive 
 From something gather honey. 
 
 But if my genius doe not faile, 
 
 To prompt me, ere I end my tale ; 
 
 You’ll find that nothing will prevaile. 
 
 For all must turne to nothing. 
 
 And thus you now have heard th 3 praise, 
 Of nothing w'orth a penny : 
 
 Which as I stand to sing here now, 
 
 I hope will yield me many.” 
 
 Rochester’s subsequent imitation of this 
 ballad is well known. The original may be 
 seen, in the very interesting Collection of 
 “ Roxburghe Ballads,” edited by Collier. 
 
 There is one in the “ Percy Reliques, ” vol. 
 ii., called “ Corydon’s Doleful Knell.” — 
 
 “ A garland shall be framed, 
 
 By art and nature skill. 
 
 Of sundry colour’d flow’ers. 
 
 In token of good will.” 
 
 It is the custom in many parts of England, 
 to carry garlands of flowers, before the bodies 
 of young women who die unmarried. 
 
 The oldest printed ballad known to be extant, 
 is that on the downfall of Thomas, Lord Crom- 
 well, in July 28, 1540. — Percy — Ritson'sDisser. 
 
 We have doubtless lost many of Skeltori’s 
 ballads, (died 1529) the Laureate of Henry 
 VIII. and from a passage in Barclay’s “ Ship 
 of Fools,” it appears the practice of serenading 
 was common in London, during that reign. 
 
 “ These vagabondes in their minds, so. 
 
 That by no meanc, can they abide ne dwell 
 Within their houses, but out they nede must 
 go; 
 
 More wildly wandring then eitherbucke or doe. 
 Some with their harps, another with their lute. 
 Another with his bag-pipe, or a foolishe flute; 
 Then measure they their songs of melody. 
 Before the doores of their lemmnn deare ; 
 Howling with their foolish songe and cry. 
 
 So that their women lemman, may their great 
 folly heare.” 
 
 34: — Non Sdugnare O Bella 
 Veneue. 
 
 Chorus and Solo. From the Opera Elena 
 Paride." Coniposidby Gluck. 
 
 Non sdegnare O bella venere 
 Qneste rose e qu isti fior ; 
 
 El tuo guidice, altuo Paride, 
 
 Non negare il tuo favor. 
 
 Solo. 
 
 Come consuma I’avida fiamma 
 Ch’ arde sul tripoda I’arabo odor; 
 
 Cosi per Elena tutto s’inflamuia. 
 
 Si sente struggere in mezzo al tor, 
 
 Non negargli O bella Venere, 
 
 11 tuo luirie el tuo favor. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Non negargli, O bella Venere 
 11 tuo lume il tuo favor. 
 
 Solo. 
 
 Su queste sponde stavilli untremedo, 
 Soave roggio del tuo splendor, 
 
 Ela vi vi seherzino, tecole grazie, 
 
 Ele sue faccioie vaceenda Amor, 
 
 Non negargli, O bella Venere, 
 
 11 tuo lume il tuo favor. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Non negargli, O bella Venere, 
 
 II tuo lume il tuo favor. 
 
 Christopher Gluck was born 17H, at Wciden- 
 manger, and died at the age of seventy-tive, 
 leaving a fortune, acquired by his talent, of 
 thiity thousand pounds. Nature had gifted 
 Gluck, with more than mere musical genius, 
 and he was called the Michael Angelo of the art. 
 He commenced with little or no instruction, and 
 wandered from town to town, as an itinerant 
 musician. At Vienna, he obtainedsomeinstruc- 
 tion, and gave such proofs of his genius, that 
 he was selected to compose a grand opera for 
 Milan. This was produced, 1741. The great- 
 est success attended each performance and 
 his fame was established. Gluck depeitded 
 entirely upon his own resources, asking the 
 advice of no one; avoiding the usual routine, 
 he may be regarded as the model of the 
 modernists. The great Mczart is not free from 
 plagiarising from Gluck. The celebrated opera 
 " Alceste,” was printed in 17 69. In the dedica- 
 tion, he says, “ When I determined to compose 
 music for this poem, I proposed to myself to 
 shun various abuses in composition, that the 
 vanity of singers, or complacency of composers, 
 had introduced, and which had rendered the 
 Italian Opera, a most fatiguing and ridiculous, 
 instead of a splendid and beautiful spectacle. 
 I endeavoured to reduce music to its legiti- 
 mate purpose, which is that of seconding 
 poetry, in order to strengthen the expression 
 of the sentiments, and the interest of the 
 fable, without interrupting theaction, or weak- 
 ening it, by superfluous embellishments. It 
 struck me, that music ought to aid poetry, as 
 vivacity of colouring, and a happy agreement 
 of light and shade, strengthen the effect of a 
 correct and well designed picture. I have, 
 therefore, never in this opera interrupted a 
 singer in the warmth of a dialogue, nor have I 
 stopped him in the midst of a discourse, to 
 display his agility of voice in a long cadence. 
 I have never deemed it requisite to hurry over 
 the second part of an air, when it consisted of 
 the most iinjiassioned and important jiart of 
 the subject, in order to repeat the words of 
 the first part four times over; or to finish 
 where the sense does not conclude, in order 
 to give the singer an opportunity of showing, 
 that he can vary a passage in several wavs, 
 and disguise it in his own peculiar manner. 
 In short, I have attempted to rejorm those 
 abuses, against which good sense and good taste 
 have so long declaimed in vain. Lastly, 1 have 
 thought that I sliould use every effort at 
 aiming at simplicity, and have accordingly 
 avoided making any show of difliculties at the 
 expense of clearness. 1 have set no v.Uue on 
 novelty, unless it naturally sprung from the 
 expression of the subject. Success has proved 
 to me, that simplicity and truth are the first 
 principles of the beautiful, in the productions 
 of the fine arts.” — .Mas. Die. 
 
 “A Life of Gluck and his Times,” have 
 been recently published. 
 
 Glee. Earl of Momington {Father of 
 the Great Duke of Wellington). 
 
 Plere in cool grot and mossy cell. 
 
 We rural fays and fairies divell; 
 
 Tho’ rarely seen by mortal eye. 
 
 When the pale moon, ascending high, 
 
 Darts thro’ yon limes her quiv’ring beams. 
 
 We frisk it near these crystal streams ; 
 
 Her beams, reflected from the wave ; 
 
 Afford the light our revels crave. 
 
 The turf witli daisies ’broider'd o’er. 
 
 Exceeds we w'ot, the Parian floor ; 
 
 Nor yet for artful strains we call. 
 
 But listen to the waterfall. 
 
 36 — 0 Bird of Eve! 
 
 Earl of Momington. 
 
 O, bird of eve, wdiose love sick notes 
 I hear across the dale. 
 
 Who nightly to the moon and me 
 Dost tell thy hapless tale. 
 
 O, hear a brother mourner’s plaint, 
 
 To Chloe’s window fly, 
 
 Tell her I bleed for love of her. 
 
 For love of her I die. 
 
 Garret, Earo op Mor.sixgton, was born 
 in Ireland, about the j^ear 1720. The Cowly 
 family, afterwards called Colley, whence he 
 descended, emigrated from Rutlandshire into 
 Ireland, in the reign of Henry VIII. A 
 younger branch took the name and arms of 
 Wesley, or Wellesley, in the early part of the 
 last century, pursuant to the will of a kins- 
 man. Richard Cokey Wellesley, who then 
 changed his name, was created Baron Morn- 
 ington in 1746 ; and dying in 1758, wassucceed- 
 ed by his son, the subject of the present 
 memoir, who, in August 1 760, w^as advanced 
 to the dignities of Viscount Wellesley and 
 Earl of Momington. 
 
 The life of this nobleman was passed in the 
 cultivation of a favourite art, and in superin- 
 tending the education of a large family; it 
 therefore, was marked by little of that variety 
 and few ofthose incidents|whicligenerally serve 
 to swell out the page of biography. All that we 
 know of the talented Earl, beyond his compo- 
 sitions, or can learn, after a preat deal of re- 
 search, is from a volume of Miscellanies, pub- 
 lished in 1781, by the Honourable Daines 
 Barrington. A paper in this work makes us 
 acquainted with the following curious and 
 interesting particulars, which we give in the 
 homely language of the writer. 
 
 “ The Earl of IMornington,”’ says iVIr Bar- 
 rington, “furnishes an instance of early 
 attention to musical instruments. His father 
 [ilayed well, for a gentleman, on the violin, 
 which always delighted the child, while in his 
 nurse’s arms, and long before he could speak. 
 Nor did this proceed from a love, common to 
 other children, of a sprightly noise; as may 
 appear by the following proof. Dubourg, who 
 was thirty years ago a distinguished perfor- 
 mer on that instrument,* happened to be at 
 the family seat t ; but the child would not 
 permit him to take the violin irom his father 
 till his little hands were held. After having 
 heard Dubourg, however, the case was altered, 
 and there was much more difficulty to pur- 
 suade him to let Dubourg give the instru- 
 ment back to his father. Nor would the infant 
 ever afterwards permit the father to play, 
 whilst Dubourg was in the house. 
 
 “ At the same period, he be.it time to all 
 measures of music, however diflicult; nor was 
 it possible to force him to do otherwise (than 
 heat correctly), the most rapid changes pro- 
 ducing as rapid an alteration in the child’s 
 hands. 
 
 “Though passionately fond of music, from 
 indolence be never attempted to play on any in- 
 strument till he was nineyears old. At thattime 
 an old portrait-painter came to the family seat, 
 who was a very indifferent performer on the 
 violin, but pursuaded the child that, if he tried 
 to play on that instrument, he would soon be 
 able to bear a part in the concert. 
 
 * “ He was also a distinguised musician 
 when very young, and played a so: o (seated) on 
 a joint-stool, at the fatuous concert of Tom 
 Briton, the small-coal man.’’ — Hawkins, vol. 
 V. p. 76. 
 
 t Dangan, in the County of Meath. 
 
31 
 
 EVANS'S MUSIC AND SUPPER ROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN. 
 
 “ He stuck to the violiu till he was fourteen ; 
 but had ahvays a strong inclination to the 
 harpsichord; from which his sisters drove him 
 continually, saying that he spoiled the instru- 
 ment : notwithstanding which he sometimes 
 stole intervals of practice. 
 
 “About this time, the late (i. e. the first 
 baron) Lord Mornington declared his intention 
 of having an organ for his chapel, telling his 
 son that he should have been organist, had he 
 been able to play on the instrument. On this 
 the son undertook to be ready, as soon as the 
 instrument could be finished ; which being 
 accomplished in less than a year and a half, 
 he sat down at the maker’s, and played an 
 extemporary fugue, to the astonishment of the 
 father, as well as others, who did not conceive 
 that he could have executed a single bar of 
 any tune. 
 
 _ “ In process of time his lordship was so dis- 
 tinguished for his musical abilities, that the 
 University of Dublin conferred upon him the 
 degree of Doctor and Professor of Music.” 
 
 This account, we liMve very strong grounds 
 for believing, was collected from Lord Morn- 
 ington’s own lips by Mr. Barrington; a fact, 
 if true, as we have every reason to believe it 
 to be, that stamps a value on the relation which 
 U WO lid not have required, had it been founded 
 only on hearsay information. 
 
 The Earl married, in 1“59, Anne, eldest 
 daughter of Arthur Hill, first Viscount Dun- 
 gannon, by whom he had 
 
 1. Richard, the late Marquis Wellesley. 
 
 2. Arthur Gerald, who died young. 
 
 S. William Lord Maryborough*. 
 
 4. Francis Seymour; died young. 
 
 5. Arthur, Duke of Wellington, born Mav 
 1st, 1769. 
 
 6. Gerald Valerian, D.D., a Prebendary of 
 Dublin, E.ector of Chelsea, &c. 
 
 7. Henry, Lord Cowley. (Ambassador at 
 Vienna, 1829.) 
 
 8. Anne, married first to the Honourable 
 Henry Fitzroy ; on whose death she married 
 secondly. Culling Smith, Esq. 
 
 9. Mary-Elizabeth who died unmarried. 
 
 His Lordship died at Kensington, on the 
 
 22nd of May, 1781, and was succeeded by 
 Richard, the late Marquis Wellesley. 
 
 Lord Mornington’s compositions are cbiefiy 
 of the vocal kind ; some he wrote for the 
 church, and copies of them are, we are told, 
 in the choir books of St. Patrick’s, Dublin. 
 But he most excelled in the glee style. Who - 
 ever has heal d — andw'hohas not? — his “ Here 
 in cool grot,” must acknowledge it to be a 
 work of real genius. 
 
 I “In the programme the Earl of Mornington’s 
 name appears to the glee, ‘Here in cool Grot.’ 
 iThe ‘ Duke’ on seeing the name, said to Sir 
 Henry, ‘ Ah, my worthy father ! Could he 
 bompose?’ ‘Yes,’ replied the conductor, ‘ he 
 |iias composed music which any professor would 
 jae proud to claim.’ ‘Ah, indeed’ rejoined 
 ;;he Duke, ‘ 1 am glad to hear it !’ ” — The Duke 
 !»/■ Wellington’s conversation with Sir H. Bishop. 
 i See the “ Illustrated New's,” Nawday, Oct. 
 i.Oth, 1852. 
 
 i History of the City of Dublin. By J. T. Gil- 
 bert, Hon. Sec. Irish Archmological and 
 Celtic Society. Vol. i. Dublin, M’Glashan ; 
 London, Orr and Co. 
 
 ^ In giving the liierary traditions of Fishambie 
 IStreet, Mr. Gilbert thus describes a musical 
 |lub, founded by the late Duke of Wellington’s 
 ather. — 
 
 “At the Music Hall were held the meetings 
 nd concerts of the ‘Musical Academy,’ founded 
 y Lord Mornington in 1757, and which in four 
 ears, by loans of small sums of about four 
 lounds each, relieved nearly thirteen hundred 
 istressed families. This Academy comprised 
 persons moving in the highest spheres of 
 ociety ;’ all professors or mercenary teachers 
 f the art being strictly excluded. Their meet- 
 ngs were held at the Music Hall in Fishamble- 
 treet, and theirproceedings were regulated by 
 body of statutes. The members were divided 
 ito three classes. Academics, Probationers, 
 nd Associates. They met once in each week for 
 
 * Lord Maryborough’s fourth daughter, 
 ’riscilla- Anne, married the Right Hon. Lord 
 Vestmoreland, the Britannic Minister at Ber- 
 in, whohas particularly distinguished himself, 
 8 a dilettante of the very highest talent. Lady 
 Vestmoreland is one of the best musicians, 
 hat the large circle of amateurs of the present 
 ay can boast. 
 
 private practice ; once in each month they held 
 a more public meeting, to which a select num- 
 ber of auditors were admitted by tickets; and 
 once in each year they made a public display 
 of their talents for the benefit of some charity, 
 to which all persons who paid w^ere admitted. 
 On these occasions crowuls were naturally 
 attracted, as well by the talents as by tlie 
 influence of the performers. They saw on the 
 stage all rank obliterated, profession disre- 
 garded, and female timidity overcome in the 
 cause of charity; while noblemen, statesmen, 
 lawyers, divines, and ladies, exerted their best 
 abilities, like mercenary performers, to amuse 
 tlie public.” 
 
 37— GtLEE. By Sir H. R. Bishop. 
 
 Sleep gentle Lady, the flowers are closing. 
 The very waves and winds reposing; 
 
 Oh ! may our soft and soothing numbers. 
 
 Wrap thee in sweeter, softer slumbers! 
 
 Peace be around thee. Lady bright; 
 
 Sleep while we sing “ Good night — good 
 night.” 
 
 38 — Merry Boys Away. 
 
 Glek. Sir II. R. Bishop. 
 
 Merry boys away', away. 
 
 Market shall our toil repay ; 
 
 None so happy then as we. 
 
 Who draw our treasures from the sea. 
 
 Tho’ oft when stillness calms the sullen deep. 
 When winds are hushed and murmuring billows 
 sleep. 
 
 We ■) 
 
 Ye forlorn upon the silent shore, 
 
 Or ply, in dull despair, the oar — 
 
 But when the breeze springs up. 
 
 Each takes a cheering cup. — 
 
 Then hoist the sail, to meet the gale, 
 
 And all in hurry, bustle, noise. 
 
 We skim upon the deep, like merry boys. 
 
 Solo. 
 
 Sometimes the porpoise rolls his clumsy form, | 
 Hound our light smacks, and prophesies the 
 storm. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Then haste we home whilst distant thunders 
 rise. 
 
 And soon the tempest rolls, and rolls along 
 the skies. 
 
 Thus we all live so happy together, ! 
 
 In spite of the chances of weather ; | 
 
 With our messmates, our children. 
 
 Our sweethearts and wives. 
 
 That no lives are so happy. 
 
 As fishermens’ lives. 
 
 39— Now BY Day’s Retiring Lamp. 
 
 Glee. Sir H. R. Bishop. 
 
 Now by day’s retiring lamp, 
 
 Lo I the vapour, dense and damp. 
 
 Through the misty ether spreads. 
 
 Every harm the trav’ler dreads. 
 
 Hark ! I hear the wanderers song. 
 
 As he winds the hills among. 
 
 Hark ! I hear the cry of fear; 
 
 Wolves howl around him. 
 
 Storm is near — 
 
 When from the deep and distant dell, 
 
 He hears the convent’s matin bell, 
 
 Bim, borne, bell. 
 
 And soon the morn’s inspiring rays, 
 
 His w'ell-known cot, his home displays ; 
 When from the deep and di.stant dell, 
 
 He hears the convent’s matin bell. 
 
 Bim, borne, bell. 
 
 40 — Live Henri Quatre. 
 
 Chorus, &c. Sir H. R. Bishop. 
 
 Live Henri Quatre ! long live our valiant King 
 His triple art right loyally we’ll sing; 
 
 He’ll never shrink. 
 
 Who has the rare talent to fight and drink. 
 
 And be a gay gallant. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Allegiance we swear to his high commands, 
 Bold are their hearts, and steady their hands. 
 Solo — Soprano. 
 
 Henri, adieu, my King farewell. 
 
 Do not forget your Gabrille. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Allegiance we swear, &c. 
 
 Solo, Soprano, and Chorus, 
 Remember the signal, you join the throng. 
 When Notre Dame tolls out ding dong. 
 
 41 — Blow Gentle Gales. 
 
 Glee. Sir H. R. Bishop. 
 
 Blow, gentle gales, and on your wing. 
 
 Our long-expected succours bring. 
 
 Look, look again 
 ’Tis all in vain. 
 
 Lo ! behold a pennant waving — 
 
 ’Tis the sea-bird's pinions laving. 
 
 Hark ! a signal fills the air — 
 
 ’Tis the beetling rock resounding, 
 
 ’Tis the hollow' wave rebounding, 
 Wild as our hope, and deep as our despair. 
 
 42 -Let the Lively Banja Play. 
 
 Sir H. R, Bishop. 
 
 Solo, Soprano. 
 
 Let tile lively banja play — 
 
 Let the voice of mirth resound, 
 
 While to measures light and gay 
 Nimble footsteps beat the ground. 
 
 Let the voice of mirth resound ; 
 
 [Repeat for Chorus. 
 Tenor, Solo. 
 
 Zuna! dear Zuna! you must stay. 
 
 Soprano Solo. 
 
 My duty calls me now away. 
 
 [Repeal Chorus. 
 
 Let the lively banja, &c. 
 
 Tenor, Recitative. 
 
 If e’er your infant’s life was dear, 
 
 A more imperious duty calls you here. 
 
 Duet and Chorus, 
 
 My duty calls me now away, 
 
 Dear Zuna, you must stay. 
 
 Trio, Tenor, and Sopranos. 
 Rapture, without alloy, 
 
 While mirth without alloy. 
 
 Here in every breast shall burn. 
 
 While we hail, with purest joy. 
 
 You must quit this scene of joy, 
 
 Our lady’s health— our lord’s return. 
 And with your Mirvan now return. 
 
 Duet, Tenor and Sopranos, 
 
 With Chorus. 
 
 Tho’ the lively banja play— 
 
 Tho’ the voice of mirth resound; 
 
 ■\Yg I must to other scenes away, 
 
 Where perils dire our child surround. 
 Chorus. 
 
 Let the lively banja, &c. 
 
 43— The Chough and Crow. 
 
 Glee. Sir H. R. Bishop. 
 
 Solo. 
 
 The Chough and Crow to roost are gone 
 
 The owl sits on the tree — 
 
 The hu.sh’d winds wail with feeble moan, 
 Like infant charity. 
 
 The wild fire dances o’er the fen — 
 
 The red star sheds its ray ; 
 
 Uprouse ye then, my merry men. 
 
 It is our op'niug day. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Uprouse ye then, &c. 
 
 Solo. 
 
 Both child and nur.-e are fast asleep, 
 
 And clos’d is ev’ry flower ; 
 
 And winking tapers faintly peep, 
 
 High from my lady’s bower. 
 
 Bewilder’d hind with shorten’d ken, 
 
 Shrink on their murky way : 
 
 Uprouse ye then, &c. 
 
 Bass Solo. 
 
 Nor board, nor garner own we now, 
 
 Nor roof, nor latched door. 
 
 Nor kind mate bound by holy vow 
 To bless a good man’s store. 
 
 Noon lulls us in a gloomy den. 
 
 And night is grown our day ; 
 
 Uprouse ye then, my merry men, 
 
 And use it as we may. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Uprouse ye then, my merry men, 
 
 It is our op’ning day. 
 
AND SUPPER ROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN. 
 
 32 EVANS’S MUSIC 
 
 44 — AVhatho! Clansman ho. Glee. 
 
 Words hy by 
 
 Sir "Walter Scott. Sir H. R. Bishop. 
 
 What ho ! clansman ho ! 
 
 The time’s awry to whine and sigh; 
 
 Pray looks it like a soldier bold. 
 
 In dalliance soft his arms to fold ? 
 
 No, comrade, no ! 
 
 Solo, Second Tenor. 
 
 Why oh ! clansman oh! 
 
 No times amiss to snatch a kiss : 
 
 Pray looks it like a soldier’s friend, 
 
 To mar the sport he cannot mend I 
 No, comrade, no. 
 
 Solo, Soprano, and Chorus. 
 
 Now troop it away, o’er mountain or brae. 
 Delay by your chieftain’s forbid. 
 
 Solo, Tenor, and Chorus. 
 
 His favour "we bind if the Douglas we find. 
 And perchance in that cave he lies hid ; 
 
 We’ll enter there. 
 
 Solo, Soprano. 
 
 Fell spirits abound. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Let them appear. 
 
 Solo, Soprano. 
 
 ’Tis haunted ground. 
 
 Mortals forbear! 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 We will in mercy spare, 
 
 And rather face King James’s train 
 Than hear tliose awful sounds again ; 
 
 And rather toil and danger brave, 
 
 Than venture near the goblin’s cave. 
 
 Solo and Chorus. 
 
 ’Tisdone! she’s safe! farewell. 
 
 Away from fiend and spell. 
 
 45 — Glee foe, four voices. Bishop. 
 
 Words bjj Shakspeare. 
 
 Under the green-wood tree, 
 
 "Who loves to be with me, 
 
 And tune his merry note 
 Unto the sweet bird’s throat ? 
 
 Come hither, come ! here shall -we see no 
 enemy 
 
 But winter and rough weather. 
 
 46 — ViLLANELLE. {Marie Stuart.) 
 
 L. Neidermeyer. 
 Duet. — Marie and Both well. 
 
 Pour les attraits de noble dame 
 Au viel epoux, triste et jaloux ; 
 
 Brule en secret, d’ardente flamme, 
 
 Pauvre Isolier simple ecuyer. 
 
 L’honneur lui dit, pars au plus vite ; 
 
 L’honneur lui dit, fuis imprudent. 
 
 Mais quand vient I’heure, il tremble, il hesite, 
 Et semble dire en soupirant. 
 
 Solo. — Marie. 
 
 S’il n’est que dans I'absence, 
 
 Remede a ma souffrance ; 
 
 La nuit, le jour, j’ar beau soufirir, 
 
 J’n’en veux jamais guerir. 
 
 Quartett. — Georges, Kennedy, Bo'hwell, 
 and Rizzio. 
 
 S’il n’est que dans I'absence. 
 
 Remede a ma souffrance ; 
 
 La nuit, le jour, j’ai beau souffrir, 
 
 J’n’en veux jamais guerir. 
 
 Duet. — Marie and Rothwell. 
 
 Sans de plaisir, la noble dame 
 
 Voit tant d’amour. Puis un beau joir 
 S’interrogant, trouve en son ame. 
 
 Non sans terreur pareille ardeur. 
 
 L’honneur lui dit, faut au jdus vite 
 Chassez I’araant, cruel tourraent; 
 
 Mais elle aussi balanze hesite, 
 
 Et semble dire en soupirant. 
 
 Solo. — Bolhwell. 
 
 S’il n’est que dans I’absence, 
 
 Remede a ma souffrance ; 
 
 La unit, le jour, j’ai beau souffrir, 
 
 J’n’en veux jamais guerir. 
 
 Quintett. — Marie, Georges, Kennedy, 
 Boihwell, and Rizzio. 
 
 S’il n’est que dans I’absence, 
 
 Remede a ma souffrance ; 
 
 La nuit, le jour, j’ai beau souffrir, 
 
 J’n’en veux jamais guerir. 
 
 47 — Glee for four voices. 
 
 Written by Music by 
 
 Mrs. Hemans. Sir H. Bishop. 
 
 O, skylark, for thy wing. 
 
 Thou bird of joyous light 
 That 1 might soar and sing 
 At Heaven’s empyreal height! 
 
 With the heathery hills beneath me. 
 
 Whence the strains in glory spring. 
 
 And the pearly clouds to wreathe me, 
 
 O, skylark, on thy w'ing. 
 
 O, skylark, &c. 
 
 Free from earth-born fear. 
 
 Free would I range the blessed skies, 
 Tiirough the blue, divinely clear. 
 
 Where the low' mists cannot rise. 
 
 And a thousand joyous measures. 
 
 From my chainless heart would spring. 
 Like the bright rain’s vernal treasures. 
 
 As 1 wandered on thy wing. 
 
 O, skylark, &c. 
 
 But oh ! the silver chords. 
 
 That round the heart are spun. 
 
 From gentle tones and words, 
 
 And kind eyes that make our sun. 
 
 To some low s'weet nest returning. 
 
 How soon my love would bring 
 There, there the dew s of morning, 
 
 O, skylark, on thy w ing. 
 
 O, skylark, &c. 
 
 48— Spirits ADVANCE. Sir TI. Bishop. 
 
 Spirits advance : your nightly pastim.e leave. 
 For false 'I’itania doth her lord deceive. 
 
 Spirits advance : through air and ocean move, 
 ’’Fis Oberon calls you to assert his love. 
 
 Come, follow, follow me, ye fairy elves that be. 
 O’er tops of dewy grass, so nim’oly do we pass. 
 
 The young and tender stork. 
 
 Ne’er bends where we do walk. 
 
 Come, follow, follow me, ye fairy elves that be. 
 O’er tops of dewy grass, so nimbly do we pass. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Now aw-ay, no longer stay, meet w'e all by 
 break of day. 
 
 Come, follow me, &c. 
 
 49 — The Savoyard. Glee. 
 
 Wordshy Music by 
 
 Sheridan Knowles. Sir H. R. Bishop. 
 
 The Savoyard, from clime to clime. 
 
 Tunes his strain and sings his rhyme ; 
 
 And still whatever clime he sees. 
 
 His eye is bright, his heart at ease ; 
 
 For gentle, simple, all regard 
 The labour of the Savoyard. 
 
 The rich forget their pride, the great 
 Forget the splendour of their state. 
 Where’er the Savoyard they meet. 
 
 And list his song, and say ’tis sweet ; 
 
 For titled, wealthy, all regard 
 The fortunes of the Savoyard. 
 
 But never looks his eye so bright. 
 
 And never feels his heart so light. 
 
 As when in beauty’s eye he sees. 
 
 His strain is sw'eet, his eye doth please; 
 
 Oh ! that’s the praise doth best reward 
 The labour of the Savoyard. 
 
 50 — Glee. Sir Henry B. Bishop. 
 
 The Miller and His Men. 
 
 When the Wind blows. 
 
 When the Mill goes. 
 
 Our hearts are all light and merry. 
 
 When the wind drops. 
 
 Then the Mill stops. 
 
 We drink and sing hey down deny. 
 
 51 — Home! there’s A STORM. Glee. 
 
 Sir H. Bishop. 
 
 Home ! there’s a storm in the whistling blast. 
 Home ! the sun is sinki:tg fast; 
 
 The wild bird is rocking in his nest; 
 
 Sinks on the moss the deer to rest. 
 
 Now for the tire-side’s cheerful blaze. 
 
 Songs of mirth, and tales of fays. 
 
 Home, home ! 
 
 52 — Chorus. Sir Henry R. Bishop, 
 
 Words by Sir Walter Scott. 
 
 Hail to the chief who in triumph advances. 
 Honour’d and blest be the ever-green pine; 
 Long may the tree, in his banner that glances, 
 Flourish, the shelter and grace of our line. 
 Heaven send it happy dew. 
 
 Earth lend it sap anew'. 
 
 Gaily to bourgeon and broadly to grow; 
 
 While every highland glen. 
 
 Sends our shout back again, 
 
 Rhoderic Vich Alpine, Dhu ho iero! 
 
 Row, brothers row', for the pride of the high- 
 lands. 
 
 Stretch to your oars for the ever green pine ; 
 Oh, that the rose-bud that graces your islands. 
 Were w'reathed in a garland arouud him to 
 twine; 
 
 Oh ! that some seedling gem. 
 
 Worthy such noble stem. 
 
 Honour’d and blest in their shadow might 
 grow ! 
 
 Loud should Clan Alpine then 
 Ring from her deepest glen, 
 
 Rhoderic Vich Alpine, Dhu ho iero! 
 
 53— Qkintet, with Chorus. - 
 
 Sir H. Bishop. 
 
 Fill, boys, and drink ! 
 
 Wine will banish sorrow; 
 
 Come and drink the goblet out, 
 
 We’Jl have more to-morrow'. 
 
 We live free from fear. 
 
 In harmony we’re combin’d. 
 
 Just like brother and brother ; 
 
 And this be our toast. 
 
 The freebooter’s boast. 
 
 Success and good-will to each other. 
 
 Fill, boys. See. 
 
 54 — The Halt of the Caravan. 
 
 Glee. Sir H. R. Bishop. 
 
 Halt, halt, halt. 
 
 Now' the sun is at its height. 
 
 Where the waving palm trees fan 
 From our head the burning gale. 
 
 Halt the caravan. 
 
 Solo, Trio, and Chorus. 
 
 Some may sleep — and some may weep. 
 This, his tale of travel tells. 
 
 Some may smoke, and some may joke, 
 Some may quaff, and some may laugh, 
 
 Ha, ha. 
 
 While jing, jang, clang the camel bells. 
 Hair, halt, halt. 
 
 Solo, Trio, and Chorus. 
 
 Many hearts in silent dreams. 
 
 Distant o’er the desert roam 
 Oh ! the pang, to wake and feel 
 All are absent, friends and home. 
 
 Yes! ’tis sweet e’en then to greet. 
 
 Where no rested mortal dwells, 
 
 Features known, and like our own, 
 
 While they quaff, and while they laugh, 
 Ha, ha. 
 
 And jing, jang, clang the camel bells. 
 Halt the caravan. 
 
 55— Stay Pr’ythee Stay. 
 
 Sestet. Sir H. R. Bishop. 
 
 Duet. 
 
 Stay', pr’ythee stay, the night is dark — 
 
 The cold wind whistles— hark ! hark ! hark! 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Pray come away — we must away. 
 
 Bass Solo. 
 
 The ford is deep, the boat is gone. 
 
 The mountain torrents swell the flood. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 And robbers lurk within the wood; 
 
 Stay pr’ythee stay — the way is lone, 
 you 
 
 Here must stay till morning bright 
 we 
 
 Breaks thro’ the dark and dismal night, 
 
 And merrily sings the rising lark ; 
 
 And hark, the night bird — hark ! hark ! hark 
 you 
 
 Here must stay, &c., &c. 
 we 
 
EVANS’S MUSIC 
 
 S6 —Tramp Chorus, sir H. R. Bishop. 1 
 
 Now tramp o’er moss and fell, 
 
 The batter’d ground, returns the sound ; 
 
 While breathing chanters proudly swell. 
 
 Clan Alpine’s cry is win or die, 
 
 Souo. 
 
 Guardian spirits of the brave. 
 
 Victory o’er my Norman vave. {Hero.) 
 
 Chorus. Now tramp, &c. 
 
 57— Tiger Chorus, sir h. r. Bishop 
 
 The Tiger couches in the wood. 
 
 And waits to shed the trav’Iers’ blood, 
 
 And so couch we. 
 
 We spring upon him to supply, 
 
 What men to our wants deny. 
 
 And so springs he. 
 
 SIR H. R. BISHOP. 
 
 Whether the quantity or the quality of the 
 compositions of Sir Henry Bishop be taken in- 
 to consideration, he must be pronounced to be 
 one of the most remarkable musicians of his 
 age, in this or any other country. And, in the 
 biographical details of his career which we are 
 about to submit to our readers — ample proof 
 will be found of his popularity for upwards of 
 40 years. 
 
 Sir Henry Rowly Bishop wasbornin London 
 and having, at a very early age, evinced a re- 
 markable talent for music, was placed under 
 the tuition ofthe celebrated Francesco Bianchi. 
 His general education, in the meantime, w'as 
 not neglected, and he passed through the usual 
 course of study at one of the public schools, 
 acquiring a polished taste in literature and con- 
 siderable proficiency in languages. He began 
 his career as a musical author, when only 
 fifteen, and from that time, for many years, 
 wrote almost only for the theatres. The early 
 works which brought his name into note, were 
 the music for two ballads for the Italian Opera- 
 house; but it was the production of his first 
 opera, on the 23rd of February, 1809, at Drury- 
 lane Theatre, called the “ Circassian Bride,” 
 that developed the extent of his capabilities. 
 Unfortunately, the theatre was burnt to the 
 ground on the following night, and the score of 
 his new opera was destroyed. The proprietors 
 of the Covent-garden Theatre engaged him, 
 after this calamity, as composer and musical 
 director— a post which he held from the season 
 .1810-1 1 to the close of 1824. No composer in any 
 country— not even the prolific Rossini, or the 
 fertile Donizetti — has contributed more to the 
 lyric stage than Sir Henry Bishop. We supply 
 the list of his operatic productions and adap- 
 tations, with the names of the localities where 
 they were brought out, and the dates of the 
 representations, in order not only that a correct 
 notion may be entertained of his wondrous faci- 
 |lity and rapidity of composition, but also that 
 [amateurs, in glancing at this list, may remem- 
 ber how much the musical public have been in- 
 liebted to him for such delightful entertain- 
 ments, over so large a period 
 
 King’s 1 HE ATRE. — ‘ Tamerlan et Bajazet,’ 
 Iballet; and ‘Narcisse et les Graces,’ ballet, in 
 1806 ; and ‘Mora’s Love,’ ballet, in June, 
 1809. 
 
 ‘ Maniac,’ opera, in March, 
 
 Covent-Garden Theatre. — ‘Knight of 
 Snowdon,’ February, 1811; ‘Virgin of the 
 Sun, in January ; the ‘ Ethiop,’ in October; 
 me Lord of the Manor,’ (additional music), 
 October ; and the ' Renegade,’ in December, 
 1812. In 1813, ‘Haroun Alraschid,’ in Jan- 
 uary ; the ‘ Brazen Bust,’ May; ‘Harry le Roy, 
 July ; the ‘ Miller and his Men,’ October ; and 
 ‘For England Ho,’ in December. In 1814 
 the ‘Farmer’s Wife,’ and ‘ Wandering Boys ’ 
 m February; ‘Sadakand Kalasrade,’ in April’; 
 the ‘Grand Alliance,’ in June; ‘Doctor San- 
 grado,’ and ‘ Forest of Bondy,’ in September; 
 Che ‘ Maid of the Mill,’ in October ; and ‘ John 
 of Pans,’ in November. In 1815, ‘Brother 
 md Sister,’ in February; the ‘Noble Outlaw,’ 
 in April; ‘ Telemachus,’ in June; ‘Magpie, ’or 
 the ‘Maid,’ in September; ‘John du Bart,’ 
 in October; ‘Cymon and Comus,’ in Novem- 
 ber. In 1816, ‘ Midsummer Night’s Dream,’ 
 m January ; ‘ Guy Man nering,’ in March ; ‘ Who 
 Wants a Wife,’ April; ‘ Royal Nuptials,’ and 
 The ‘ Slave,’ November. In 1817, ‘Humorous 
 
 AND SUPPER ROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN- 
 
 Lieutenant’ and the ‘Libertine,’ in January; 
 the ‘ Heir of Veroni,’ in February ; the ‘ Duke 
 of Savoy,’ in September; and the ‘ Father and 
 his Children,’ in October. In 1818, ‘ Burgo- 
 masterof Saardam ’ ‘Zuma,’and the‘ Illustrious 
 Traveller,’ in February, ‘ December and May;’ 
 operatic piece, in May; and ‘ Barberof Seville,’ 
 in October. 1 n 1819, the ‘ Marriage of Figaro,’ 
 March; ‘ Fortunatus,’ the ‘Heart of Mid 
 Lothian,’ add ‘A Rowland for an Oliver,’ in 
 April ; ‘ Swedish Patriotism,’ in May ; the 
 ‘ Gnome King,’ in October; and the ‘ Comedy 
 of Errors,’ in Dec. In 1820, the ‘ Antiquary ;’ & 
 
 ‘ Battle of Bothwell Brig,’ in January; ‘ Henri 
 Quatre’ and ‘ Twelfth Night,’ in April. In 1821, 
 
 ‘ Don John’ and ‘ Two Gentlemen of Verona,’ 
 in April. 1822, ‘Montrose,’ in February ; the 
 ‘ Law of Java,’ in May; and ‘Maid Marian,’ 
 in December. In 1823, ‘Clari,’ in May; the 
 ‘ Beacon of Liberty,’ in October; and ‘ Cortez,’ 
 in November. In 1824, ‘Native Land,’ in 
 February; and ‘ Charles II.’ and ‘ As'YouLike 
 It,’ in December. In 1829, ‘Yelva; or, the 
 Orphan of Russia,* in February ; ‘ Home, sweet 
 Home,’ in March; and the ‘Night before the 
 Wedding,’ in November. In 1830, ‘ Ninetta,’ 
 in February. In 1831, the ‘Romance of a Day,’ 
 in February. In 1834, ‘ Manfred’ : and in 
 February, 1840, the ‘ Fortunate Isles.’ 
 
 Drury-Lane Theatre. — ‘ Caractacus,’ 
 ballet, March, 1806; and ‘Love in a Tub,’ 
 ballet, in November. In June, 1808, the 
 ‘ Mysterious Bride,’ (composed and selected). 
 In February, 1809, the ‘Circassian Bride’ 
 (first opera). In 1825, the ‘Fall of Algiers,’ 
 
 ‘ Faustus,’ ‘ William Tell,’‘ Masaniello,’ and 
 ‘ Coronation of Charles X.’ In 1826, ‘Aladdin,’ 
 in April, and the ‘ Knights of the Cross.’ In 
 
 1827, the ‘Englishmen in India,’ Januar 3 ^ In 
 
 1828, ‘Edward the Black Prince’ and ‘Don 
 Pedro.’ In May, 1830, ‘ Hofer.’ In March, 
 1832, the ‘ Alchymist,’ and the ‘Demon,’ 
 adapted from Sphor and Meyerbeer; in May, 
 the ‘Tyrolese Peasant;’ the ‘ Doom Ship,’ in 
 October, and ‘ Don Giovanni,’ from Mozart. 
 In 1833, the ‘ Sonnambula,’ adapted from 
 Bellini, and the ‘ Maid of Cashmere,’ from 
 Auber. In 1838, the ‘ Maid of Pfaiseau,’ and 
 ‘ Guillaume Tell,’ adapted from Rossini. 
 
 The Haymarket. — The ‘Vintagers,’ in 
 August, 1809. In July. 1827, the ‘ Rencontre.’ 
 In June, 1834, ‘Rural Felicity.’ 
 
 Vauxhall. — In June, 1830, ‘ Under the 
 Oak;’ and in July, ‘William and Adelaide.’ 
 In June, 1832, the ‘Magic Fan,’ the ‘Sedan’ 
 Chair,’ and the ‘ Bottle of Champagne.’ 
 
 In addition to the above formidable list of 
 compositions, the majority of which were 
 original and unassisted productions, he suppli- 
 ed the musicof threetragedies, the “Apostate,” 
 “Retribution,” and “ Mirandola.” In 1820, 
 during a visit which he paid to Dublin, he 
 received the freedom of that city, which was 
 unanimously voted to him ; and it was about 
 this time he combined with Moore, the poet, 
 to continue the series of “ Irish Melodies,” 
 the object of which was to rescue from obli- 
 vion many of those national airs whose in- 
 trinsic merit entitled them to a better fate. 
 Upon a similar but more important task, in 
 relation to the old English airs. Sir Henry 
 Bishop is now engaged. He has published a 
 multiplicity of single songs, duets, glees 
 (several volumes), arrangements of oratorios, 
 sacred cantatas, &c. For several seasons, he 
 superintended the oratorios, at both Covent 
 Garden and Drury Lane. On the institution 
 of the Philharmonic Society, he became one of 
 its members, and was frequently elected a 
 director and conductor. He long took a warm 
 interest in the welfare of that society, and 
 not less in the foundation and management of 
 the Royal Academy of Music, of which, shortly 
 after its establishment, he was appointed one 
 of the Professors of Harmony and Composi- 
 tion. In 1839, he took his degree of Bachelor 
 inMiisic at Oxford, and inDecember, 1848, Avas 
 appointed the Professor of Music at that Uni- 
 vepity. In 1839, a gratifying compliment was 
 paid to him, “ as a tribute of respect from the 
 musical societies of Manchester.” A concert, 
 the programme of which was selected entirely 
 from his works, and at which two hundred 
 persons assisted gratuitously, was performed 
 in the theatre there to an audience of upwards 
 of two thousand persons. During several 
 years, and until their final close in 1848, he 
 held the appointment of conductor of her 
 Majesty’s Concerts of Ancient Music, the 
 Directors of which were the King of Hanover, 
 his Royal Highness Prince Albert, his Royal 
 Highness the Duke of Cambridge, his Grace , 
 
 33 
 
 the Archbishop of York, his Grace the Duke of 
 Wellington, Earl Howe, the Earl of Cawdor 
 and the present Earl of Westmorland. During 
 this period, he had the honour to receive from 
 his Royal Highness Prince Albert, a splendid 
 piece of plate, “ as a mark of his Royal High- 
 ness’s approbation.” 
 
 In 1842, her Majesty was pleased to confer on 
 Mr. Bishop the honour of knighthood. This 
 was the only instance of that distinction hav- 
 ing being conferred, ty the British Sovereign, 
 on one ofthe musical profession. 
 
 Sir H. Bishop officiated as director of many 
 great provincial festivals. In 1843, he con- 
 ducted the performances at the great musical 
 gathering in Edinburgh, at the opening ofthe 
 new Music Hall. At that period, he w'as pro- 
 fessor ofinusictothe University under General 
 Reid’s will ; an appointment wffiich Sir B. 
 Bishop resigned, finding his sphere of utility 
 impeded by the other professors. On the 
 establishment of the Great Exhibition, Sir 
 H. Bishop was appointed chairman of the 
 Local Committee, for the class comprising 
 musical instruments, and subsequently under- 
 took the onerous duty of chairman and repor- 
 ter of the jury for awarding prizes. He greatly 
 distinguished himself as a public lecturer on 
 music. 
 
 Sir Henry Bishop’s operatic career was not 
 passed during the palmy days of musical taste 
 and knowledge on thepart of the general public. 
 He had to contend also with the ignorance and 
 bigotry of managers, wedded exclusively to the 
 drama. The race of stage poets, in Bishop’s 
 days, would not be now tolerated. There was 
 no uniformity of design in the libretto, and the 
 coinposer had to battle with the irregularity of 
 the English mode of connecting the diction 
 of the melodrama with the music. The transi- 
 tion from speaking tosingingin English opera, 
 imparts a shock not experienced at the Italiau 
 Opera; singing being accepted as the represen- 
 tative of speech, the passage from single to 
 accompanied recitative, and again to air, is felt 
 to be natural. In our English opera days 
 nothing could be more absurd than the sudden 
 changes from simple speech to song. In esti- 
 mating, therefore, the attributes of Bishop as 
 an operatic composer, we must take into con- 
 sideration the skeleton or bones of the figure, 
 upon which he had to lay the outward and 
 more visible part, constituting, indeed, the 
 prominent features. The alterations of speak- 
 ing and singing, in plays for which Sir Henry 
 Bishop composed the music, were marked with 
 monstrous violations of good sense and taste. 
 He lived in the infant days of opera, and wa& 
 the pioneer who has prepared the way for a 
 better state of things in art. 
 
 The individuality of Sir Henry Bishop’s style 
 was strongly developed in the music which he 
 composed forvarious plays of Shakspeare. The 
 words being selected from the works of the 
 immortal bard, the musician’s genius rose with 
 the dignity of his subject : he essayed to blend 
 the purity and character of music of an earlier 
 time, with the beauty of the modern school, in 
 order to produce compositions according with 
 the antique greatness of the poetry. The com- 
 poser w^as sign ally successful in these charming 
 productions. The grace, elegance, and fertility 
 of ideas in the music to the ‘ Comedy of Errora ’ 
 ‘Twelfth Night,’ ‘ Two Gentlemen of Verona/ 
 &c., are everywhere conspicuous. The lovely 
 air, ‘ By the simplicity of Venus doves,’ is a 
 perfect gem. ‘ Bid me discourse,’ and its twin 
 sister duo,’ ‘ Should he upbraid,’ the duos, 
 
 ‘ As it fell UDon a day,’ ‘Orpheus,’ and ‘ On a 
 day,’ abound in elegant and expressive pas- 
 sages. 
 
 From the period of Sir Henry Bishop’s music 
 for the Shaksperian plays the forms of the 
 composer assumed more palpable signs of ori- 
 ginality. He appears to us to have based his 
 school on the ancient madrigalists, and our 
 earliest dramatic Avriters. He seemed to ad- 
 vance Avith the intellectual requirements «f 
 his time ; and it is to be deeply deplored, that 
 the modern Purcell has as yet found no ade- 
 quate successor for the actual epoch. The 
 enormous quantity of opera music given to 
 the Avorld by Sir Henry Bishop, proves, that in 
 fertile fancy he has never been surpassed. He 
 composed too rapidly, there can be no doubt, 
 for strength and brilliancy, to move the masses 
 by profound and overwhelming emotions'* 
 labour and constraint inevitably produce ex- 
 hausted enthusiam; butAvhat a glowing imagi- 
 nation must Sir Henry Bishop have been 
 endowed AvIth, to compose in such overfloAvin"' 
 abundance! “ 
 
-34 
 
 EVANS’S MUSIC AND SUPPER ROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN, 
 
 The habit of continuous adaptation, so im- 
 periously exacted by the operatic rulers of the 
 day, caused inevitable similitudes in many of 
 Bishop’s melodies. Of the refined models he 
 has been accused of imitating, the names of 
 Mozart, Haydn, Rossini, and Weber are the 
 most reiterated, so that there can be no im- 
 putation on his taste at all events. Weber 
 thought highly of him ; and in ‘ Aladdin,’ with 
 its wretched libretto. Bishop was pitted against 
 the ‘ DerFreyschutz’ composer. When Rossini 
 was introduced to Bishop, the Italian musician 
 met the English composer by humming aloud 
 the theme of the famed round, ‘ When the 
 wind blows’ — a most graceful compliment. 
 
 Sir Henry Bishop was generally very success- 
 ful in his choruses — those in the ‘ Maniac,’ 
 the ‘ Miller and his Men,’ the ‘Virgin of the 
 Sun,’ and many other operas, might be cited. 
 As for his glee writing, who can tire of ‘ When 
 the wind blows,’ ‘The winds whistle cold,’ 
 
 ‘ The Chough and Crow,’ or ‘ Blow, gentle 
 gales ; ’ or who would not wish again to drink 
 deep with the thirsty Dutchman, Van Dunk? 
 If we have one regret, it is that Sir Henry 
 Bishop has not lately furnished us with more 
 of those glees, which could not have failed to 
 heap a Pelion upon the Ossa of his fame, and 
 to give renewed pleasure to the musical public. 
 
 Sir Henry Bishop died, April 30th, 1855, 
 aged 69. — Gruneisen's Memoir. 
 
 59 —Glee for 4 voices. Bishop. 
 
 From “ Maid Marian." 
 
 Solo. 
 
 Hart and hind are in their lair. 
 
 Couch’d beneath the fern they lie; 
 
 And the moon, our mistress fair. 
 
 Is riding through the cloudless sky. 
 
 SOLO. 
 
 O'er the lake the night wind steals. 
 
 About the oak the blind bat wheels. 
 
 Come, sit we round our trysting tree, 
 Daring outlaws as we be, 
 
 SOLO. 
 
 Now in dark and narrow cell, 
 
 Now in chamber rich and rare. 
 
 Lowly monk his beads doth tell. 
 
 Lordly abbot patters prayer. 
 
 ’Neath our leafy covering 
 Let us now our vespers sing. 
 
 Come, troll we catch, and chaunt we glee, 
 Daring outlaws as we be. 
 
 Now in stately castle hall, 
 
 Baron proud and gallant knight. 
 
 For the courtly harpers call. 
 
 And pace a measure with lady bright. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Blither sports in greenwood bow’r. 
 
 Know we at this moonlight hour. 
 
 Come, (irink we deep, and feast we free. 
 Daring outlaws as we be. 
 
 60 — Sestet. S>ir H. R. Bishop. 
 
 Oh ! bold Robin Hood is a forester good. 
 
 As ever drew bow in the merry green wood; 
 
 At his bugle’s shrill singing. 
 
 The echoes are ringing. 
 
 The wild deer is springing from many a road ; 
 Its summons we follow 
 Through brake, over hollow. 
 
 The shrilly-blow’n summons of bold Robin 
 Hood. 
 
 And what eye^iath e’er seen 
 Such a sweet maiden queen. 
 
 As Marian, the pride of the forester’s green? 
 A sweet garden flower 
 She blooms in the bower. 
 
 Where alone to this hour the wild rose hath 
 been. 
 
 We hail her in duty. 
 
 The queen of all beauty ! 
 
 We will live, we will die by our sweet maiden 
 queen. 
 
 And we’ve a grey friar. 
 
 Good as heart may desire, 
 
 To absolve all our sins, as the case may 
 require ; 
 
 Who with courage so stout. 
 
 Lays his oak plant about. 
 
 And puts to the rout all the foes of his quire ; 
 For we are his choristers. 
 
 We merry foresters, 
 
 Chorusing still with our militant friar. 
 
 Robin and Mari m ! Robin and Marian ! 
 
 Drink to them one by one, drink as you 
 sing; 
 
 Robin and JIarian ! Robin and Marian ! 
 
 Long with their glory old Sherwood 
 shallrin '. 
 
 ARCHEOLOGICAL MEETING. 
 
 Duke of Newcastle in the Chair. 
 
 Mr. Gutch then proceeded to read an ela- 
 borate and interesting paper on Robin Hood 
 and the ballads, which he had prepared in 
 consequence of the vicinity of the place of 
 their present meeting to Sherwood Forest, 
 which had been hitherto regarded as the habi- 
 tation of the celebrated English yeoman Robin 
 Hood. The recent singular discovery, made 
 by the Rev. J. Hunter, in his researches 
 among the ancient records of the Exchequer, 
 justified him, (Mr. Gutch), in asserting the 
 veritable existence of Robin Hood, and the 
 county of his residence. Mr. Gutch referred 
 at great length to the statements of Dr. 
 Stukeley, Mr. Thoresby, Mr. T. Wright, M. 
 Thierry, a writer in the Westminster Review, 
 under the signature of “ G. F.,” and others, 
 with regard to the existence and character of 
 the renowned outlaw, and quoted many in- 
 teresting passages from ancient ballads, detail- 
 ing the exploits of Robin and his comrade, 
 
 “ Littlejohn.” From the information derived 
 from these sources, combined with the dis- 
 covery recently made by Mr. Hunter, that, at 
 the time of the presumed existence of the out- 
 law, it appeared from the account of the ex- 
 penses of the King’s household, that one Robin 
 Hood was a porter of the chamber, Mr. Gutch 
 expressed his firm opinion that Robin Hood 
 was not a mythical personage, but had a 
 veritable existence about the year 1323. 
 
 A paper on the era and character of Robin 
 Hood, prepared by Mr. J. O. Halliwell, was 
 read, in the absence of that gentleman, by 
 Mr. T. J. Pettigrew. The writer stated that 
 the recent publication by Mr. Hunter, in 
 which he attempted to prove from recordsthat 
 Robin Hood was a veritable historical person- 
 age, had drawn much attention to this inter- 
 esting question. Without pretending to the 
 discovery of any fresh evidence, Mr. Halliwell 
 thought that an intelligible resume oi the argu- 
 ments on E Din Hood’s true character might 
 not be unacceptable to those whom he was 
 addressing, who would then draw their own 
 conclusions on the subject. Robin Hood was 
 not mentioned by any writer, previous to the 
 latter part of the 14th century. The only 
 authentic notice of him, as an historical charac- 
 ter, is met with in the pages of Fordun, who 
 travelled and wrote in the latter part of that 
 century, and who introduced a notice of the 
 hero after relating the final defeat, towards 
 the close of Henry Ill’s reign, of the great 
 national party of England under Simon de 
 Montford. Mr. Halliwell then read the narra- 
 tive, which stated that “from among the dis- 
 possessed and banished arose that most famous 
 cut-throat Robin Hood, and Little John, with 
 their accomplices,” and proceeded to record 
 some of the acts of the daring outlaw. This 
 account appeared only in a late MS., of Fordun, 
 which Mr. Halliwell regarded as of little, 
 authority; and asked whether it was probable, 
 if Robin Hood had been a real person of so 
 much notoriety, that no notice of him what- 
 ever would occur in contemporary history. 
 There was no want of historians who treated 
 of the period, and, had such a person as Robin 
 Hood existed in the latter part of the 13th 
 century, he must unquestionably have been 
 noticed by Matthew Paris, Benedictus Abbas, 
 or other writers. Instead of this, however, 
 they merely found him mentioned, as a subject 
 : of popular ballads, in a work composed a cen- 
 I tury after the alleged time of his death. The 
 j early ballads on the subject were most numer- 
 ous, but it seemed scarcely creditable, that 
 those romantic compositions should be treated 
 as evidence. Mr. Halliwell proceeded to quote 
 some curious and interesting extracts from 
 the Robin Hood ballad poems, and came to 
 the conclusion, that it was most unsafe to 
 rely on the very insufficient evidences of the 
 existence of such a person, as were derived 
 from this source. In all probability he was 
 a mythic personage, and the conjecture, that 
 his name was merely acorru])tion of “ Robin 
 of the Wood,” was by no means an impossible 
 one. 
 
 61 — Glee for five voices. 
 
 From “Ossian." — Jt. J. S. Stevens. 
 
 “ Some of my heroes are low.” I hear the 
 sound i f 'ieath on the harp. Bid the sorrow 
 rise: that tluir spirits may lly with joy to 
 Moreen’s woody hills. “Bend forward imm 
 I the clouds,” gho.'-ts of my lath-, rs bend, bend. 
 
 Lay by the red terror of your course, receive 
 the falling chief. Whether he comes from a 
 distant land, or rises from the rolling sea. 
 And, oh ! let his countenance be lovely, that 
 his friends may delight in his presence : Bend 
 forward from your clouds, “ Ghosts of my 
 fathers,” bend. 
 
 62 — Cloud Cap’t Towers. Glee. 
 
 R. J. Stevens. — Words from Shakspeare. 
 
 The cloud-cap’t towers, 
 
 The gorgeous palaces. 
 
 The solemn temples. 
 
 The great globe itself. 
 
 Yea, all which it inherit. 
 
 Shall dissolve — 
 
 And, like the baseless fabric of a vision, 
 Leave not a wreck^ behind. 
 
 “ Rack,” the vestige of an embodied cloud 
 broken and dissipated by the winds ; air 
 visions, which appear only in the evening, 
 when the setting sun reflects its light upon the 
 opposite clouds ; and, as it gives a vast force j 
 to the similitude, w'hich insinuates that hu- 
 man glory is as certainly succeeded by misery, 
 as these gaudy appearances by a dark cloudy 
 night. It is to be observed that the time at 
 which Prospero uses this similitude is the 
 evening. — Pope — Warburton, vol. i. 
 
 R. J. S. Stevens, late Gresham Professor of 
 Music, organist of the Temple and the Charter 
 House , is celebrated as a Glee writer. Among 
 the most admired are the following : — “Some 
 of my Heroes are low,” “ Ye Spotted Snakes,” 
 
 “ Sigh no more. Ladies.” He also published 
 three volumes of Sacred Music. 
 
 63— Eura'antiie. C . 3 I . Von Weber . 
 
 Hail ! ye heroes, home returning, 
 
 Joy succeeds to thoughts of mourning; 
 
 Greatful hearts, with rapture burning, 
 Welcome thus your gallant band. 
 
 Chorus of Soldiers. 
 
 Toils are over, foes retreating. 
 
 Friend and lover, joyful meeting. 
 
 All our country sends us greeting. 
 
 Brave defenders of our land. 
 
 Fame shall sound her trump before ye. 
 
 Ye shall live renown’d in story; 
 
 Ye whose arms in fields of glory. 
 
 Saved your homes and native land. 
 
 Brave, &c. 
 
 64— Glee. C. M. Weber j 
 
 Selection from Euryanthe. 1 
 
 Solo — Euryanthe. 
 
 Songs sweetly sounding. 
 
 Throngs gaily bounding. 
 
 Welcome the heroes whom our duty and grati- 
 tude crown. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Songs sweetly sounding, &c. I 
 
 Friends blithely meeting, ■ 
 
 All kindly greeting, ‘ 
 
 Here twine the garlands of love and renown. = 
 
 Quartet. 
 
 Trusting, yet fearing. 
 
 How all endearing. 
 
 Now comes to aid me, the hope of my soul : 
 Shall behold him, 
 
 Proudly enfold him. 
 
 Blessings, 
 
 ... my heart its welfare 
 Hov shall all c,. 
 
 Uiis guilty seeming 
 (Past all redeeming) 
 
 Hurls on to win the hope of her soul. 
 
 Captive I’ll hold him. 
 
 Spell-bound enfold him. 
 
 How shall my heart all its triumph control. 
 Through chances veering. 
 
 Now dark, now cheering. 
 
 Long have I Jed thee, sweet hope of my soul. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Songs sweetly sounding, &c. , 
 
 Solo — Euryanthe, and Chorus. i 
 
 Hope come to aid thee, iny lab’ring soul. 
 
 Oh ! gran! me power this joy to control. t 
 
 Sotigs sweetly sounding. See. Sec. , 
 
 » “ Rack ” is the original word. r 
 
EVAXS'S music and supper rooms, covent-garden. 
 
 Weber was born at Eutin, in Holstein, on 
 the I8th of December, 1786. His father was 
 an accomplished musician, and, at an early 
 period, devoted himself to the education of 
 his son. At eleven years of age, he published 
 six fugues, which he had composed under the 
 tuition of Michael Haydn, Music alone shared 
 almost his incessant occupations, painting, 
 drawing, etching, and the recent discovery of 
 lithographic printing, by turns held posses- 
 sion of his active mind. At the termination of 
 the year 1798, his father sent him to Munich, 
 where he received instructions in singing from 
 Valesi, and in harmony from Kalcher, the 
 Court organist. Weber received great advan- 
 tages from this professor, under whose watch- 
 ful care he produced his first dramatic music 
 viz. an opera, “ The Power of Love and Wine.” 
 To this, a Mass, some sonatas for the piano- 
 forte, and violia trios, were added, all of which 
 were subsequently consigned to the fiaraes. 
 At fourteen years of age, he composed “The 
 Maidj^of the Woods ” (Das Waldmadchen), 
 which, although a premature production, was 
 received with approbation at St. Petersburg 
 and Berlin. In 1801, he produced an anti- 
 quarian trifle, in which old and forgotten 
 instruments were introduced ; no great success 
 attended this effort. In 1802, he proceeded to 
 Vienna, and placed himself under the advice of 
 the celebrated Abbe Vogler, who directed him 
 to apply himself to the study of the great mas- 
 ters, a course which he rigidly followed out, 
 silently and indefatigably for two years, under 
 the Abbe’s personal superintendence. In 1806, 
 he undertook the direction of the Theatre at 
 Carlsruhe; war put an end to his employment. 
 In those days the only music profitable and popu- 
 lar was the march, and the only instruments, 
 were the trumpet and drum. In 1817, his 
 works were heard with success in Frankfort, 
 Munich, Berlin and Vienna. 
 
 The opera of “ Abon Hassan,” was com- 
 posed about this period, Weber receiving 
 all the advantages, that the profound know- 
 ledge, fine taste and experience of Vogler 
 could communicate to him. “In ow,” says he, 
 March 26, 1818, “ set out on my pilgrimage 
 through the world, calmly waiting for the 
 sphere of operation, which fate might assign 
 to me. Numerous and tempting offers reached 
 me on all sides; but an invitation to assist in 
 the formation of a German Opera, in Dresden, 
 was the only one sufficiently attractive to de- 
 cide me. And here I am, labouring, with 
 might and main, at the duties assigned to me, 
 and when they shall lay a stone upon my 
 grave, I trust they will be able to write on it — 
 ‘ Here lies one who meant honestly towards 
 music and towards men.' ” 
 
 He was married, on the 4th of November, at 
 Prague, His touching and exquisite letters, 
 which will appear hereafter, show that his 
 marriage was a happy one. His wife was the 
 celebrated actress, Caroline Brand. In his 
 extreme love for simplicity, he had forbidden 
 all music on the occasion, but, to his surprise 
 and emotion, no sooner had the priest con- 
 cluded the ceremony, than a bur.st of music 
 from the organ, and the voices of his scholars, 
 greeted the newly married pair. 
 
 Sonre passages in a farewell letter, addressed 
 by him to one of his pupils, who was about 
 commencing his worldly career, indicate a 
 remarkable union of tenderness and good 
 sense : — “ Persevering diligence is the true 
 spell, by which mischievous influences on the 
 heart are to be counteracted. How absurd to 
 suppose that the mind is cramped by the 
 serious study of means ! Free creative power 
 is the result of habits of self-control alone. 
 The mind must be content to move along 
 beaten paths, if it would finally reach the re- 
 gion of novelty. With your talent you sin 
 against Heaven, your parents, your art, and 
 your instructor, if you abandon yourself any 
 longer to idle dreams and excesses. If you do 
 not study with firm perseverance, and with 
 that order and method that alone can teach a 
 man how to live in, and for, the world, disre- 
 gard of promises and appointments become 
 bye words among our friends. It is the proud 
 distinction of a man to be the slave of his 
 word. Do not flatter yourself that you may 
 be careless in these matters, and not in things 
 of greater importance. They are little matters 
 that make up the mass of life, and the fearful 
 power of custom will soon prevent the best 
 intentions from being reduced to action. I 
 trust, however, in Him who directs all things 
 
 for good. Let it be your care to enter on the 
 right path.” 
 
 Bad health induced him to retire for a time 
 to the country, and, during these moments of 
 repose, he commenced Preciosa, performed at 
 Berlin 1820, and in 1821. The Royal Opera 
 there opened with “ Der Freyschutz,” The 
 effect produced must be regarded, as one of the 
 proudest achievements of genius. It was per- 
 formed throughout Germany. On every stage 
 he was greeted with a public reception, and 
 the loudest acclamations. But, while increas- 
 ing in celebrity, his health was rapidly waning. 
 “Would to God,” says he, “that 1 were a 
 tailor, for then I should have a Sunday’s holi- 
 day.” Meantime a cough, the herald of con- 
 sumption, tormented him. At this period, 
 1823, his success and fame induced the mana- 
 gers of Covent-garden Theatre to offer him 
 liberal terms for an Opera, on the subject of 
 “ Oberon.” He received tlie first act of 
 Planche’s MSS. in December, 1824, and forth- 
 with began his labours. The work having 
 been completed, Weber determined to be pre- 
 sent himself at the representation of this, his 
 last production. He hoped, by his visit to 
 London, to realise something for his wife and 
 family; for hitherto, on the whole, poverty 
 had been his companion. Want had, indeed, 
 by unceasing exertion, been kept aloof, but, 
 still hovering near him, the decline of his 
 health, made its nearer approach. He left 
 Dresden in 1826, in company with his friend, 
 Furstenau, the eminent performer on the 
 flute, travelling in a comfortable carriage, 
 which his health rendered indispensable. He 
 reached Paris, on the 2.5th of February, where 
 he was received in the most flattering manner 
 by all the musicians and composers of cele- 
 brity, amongst others by Rossini. “ How 
 splendid a spectacle is the Opera here ; the 
 noble building, the masses upon the stage, 
 and in the orchestra, are imposing, almost 
 awful. I cannot venture to describe t® you,” 
 he writes to his wife, “how I am received 
 here It would be the excess of vanity, the 
 very paper w'ould blush forme. If I do not 
 die of pride now, I am ensured against that 
 fate for ever.” He arrived in London on the 
 4th of March. Officers from the passport- 
 office Avaited upon him with the necessary 
 papers, requesting him to think of nothing 
 but his health, as everything Avould be man- 
 aged for him. 
 
 The following heart letters of this great and 
 good man, are holy things, untouched. Let 
 them tell their own tale. On the 6th, he writes 
 to his wife from London : — ■ 
 
 “ God be thanked 1 here I sit, well and 
 hearty, already quite at home, and perfectly 
 happy in the receipt of your dear letter, which 
 assures me that you and the children are well ; 
 what more or what better could I wish for? 
 After sleeping well and paying well at Dover, 
 we set out yesterday morning in the express 
 coach, a noble carriage drawn by four English 
 horses, such as no prince need be ashamed of. 
 With four persons within, four in front, and 
 four behind, we dashedjon with the rapidity 
 of lightning through this inexpressibly beauti- 
 ful country; meadows of the loveliest green, 
 gardens blooming with flowers, and every 
 building displaying a neatness and elegance, 
 which form a striking contrast to the dirt of 
 France. The majestic river, covered with ships 
 of all sizes (among others the largest ship of 
 the line, of 148 jguns), the graceful country 
 houses, altogether made the journey perfectly 
 unique.” 
 
 He took up his residence with Sir George 
 Smart, where every thing that could add to his 
 comfort, or soothe his illness had been provid- 
 ed by anticipation. He found his table covered 
 with cards from visitors who had called before 
 his arrival, and a splendid pianoforte in his 
 room, from one of the first makers, with a 
 request that he would make use of it during 
 his stay. 
 
 “ The whole day,” he writes to his Avife, “ is 
 mine till five, then dinner, the theatre, or 
 society. My solitude in England is not pain- 
 ful to me. The English way of living suits 
 mine exactly, and my little stock of Englisli, 
 in Avhich I make tolerable progress, is of in- 
 calculable use to me. 
 
 “ Give yourself no uneasiness about the 
 opera (Oberon), I shall have leisure and repose 
 here, for they respect my time. Besides, the 
 Oberon is not fixed for Easter Monday, but 
 some time later ; I shall tell you afterwards 
 when. The peop e are really too kind to me. 
 
 No king ever had more done for him out of 
 love ; I may almost say they carry me in their 
 arms. I take great care of myself, and you 
 may be quite at ease on my account. My cough 
 is really a very odd one. For eight days it 
 disappeared entirely; then, upon the third (of 
 March), a vile spasmodic attack returned 
 before I reached Calais. Since that time it is 
 quiet again. I cannot, Avith all the considera- 
 tion I have given it, understand it at all. I 
 sometimes deny myself every indulgence, and 
 yet it comes. I eat and drink every thing, and 
 it does not come. But be it as God will. 
 
 “ At seven o’clock in the evening, Ave went 
 to Covent Garden, where Rob Roy, an opera 
 after Sir Walter Scott’s novel, was played. The 
 house is handsomely decorated, and not too 
 large. When I came forward to the front of 
 the stage-box, that I might have a better look 
 of it, some one called out, Weber ! Weber 
 is here! and, although I drew back imme- 
 diately, there folloAved a clamour of applause 
 which I thought Avould never have e,;ded. 
 Then the overture to the Freyschutz was 
 called for, and every time I showed myself the 
 storm broke loose again. Fortunately, soon 
 after the overture, Rob Roy began, and 
 gradually things became quiet. Could a man 
 Avish for more enthuffasm, or more love? I 
 must confess that I was completelyoverpowered 
 by it, though I am of a calm nature, and some- 
 Avhat accustomed to such scenes. I know not 
 Avhat I Avould have given to have had you by 
 my side, that you might have seen me in my 
 foreign garb of honour. And now, my dear 
 love, I can assure you that you may be quite 
 at ease, both as to the singers and the orches- 
 tra. Miss Paton is a singer of the first rank, 
 and will play Reiza divinely. Braham not less 
 so, though in a totally different style. There 
 are also several good tenors, and I really can- 
 not see Avhy the English singing should be so 
 much abused. The singers have a perfectly 
 good Italian education, fine voices, and expres- 
 sion. The orchestra is not remarkable, but 
 still very good, and the choruses particularly 
 so. In short, I feel quite at ease as to the fate 
 of Oberon.” 
 
 The final production of the drama, hoAvever, 
 was attended Avith more difficulty than he had 
 anticipated. He had the usual prejudices to 
 overcome, particular singers to conciliate, 
 alterations to make, and repeated rehearsals 
 to superintend, before he C('uld inspire the 
 performers Avith the proper spirit of the piece, 
 
 “Braham,” says he, in another of his con- 
 fidential letters to his Avife (29th March, 1826), 
 “ begs for a grand scena instead of his first 
 air, Avhich, in fact, Avas not written for him, 
 and is rather high. The thought of it was at first 
 quite horrible ; I could not hear of it. At last 
 I promised, Avhen the opera Avas completed, 
 if I had time enough, it should be done; and 
 now this grand scena, a confounded battle 
 piece and Avhat not, is lying before me, and I 
 am about to set to work, yet Avith the greatest 
 reluctance. What can I do ? Braham knoAvs 
 his public, and is idolized by them. But for 
 Germany, I shall keep the opera as', it is. I 
 hate the air I am going to compose (to day I 
 hope) by anticipation. Adieu, and now for the 
 battle. * -X * battle 
 
 is over, that is to say, half the scene. To- 
 morrow shall the Turks roar, the French shout 
 for joy, the warriors cry out victory!” 
 
 The battle Avas indeed nearly over with 
 Weber. The tired forces of life, though they 
 bore up gallantly against the enemy, had 
 long been Avavering at their post, and noAV 
 in fact, only one brilliant movement remained 
 to be executed, before they finally retreated 
 from the field of existence. This was the 
 representation of Olteron, Avhich, for a time, 
 rewarded him for all his toils and vexations. 
 He records his triumph Avith a mixture of 
 humility, gratitude, affection, and piety. 
 
 “ 12i/i April, 1826. 
 
 “ Mv best beloved Caroline ! Through 
 God’s grace and asistance, I have this evening 
 met Avith the most complete success. The 
 brilliancy and affecting nature of the triumph 
 is iiulescribable. God alone be thanked for it ! 
 When I entered the orchestra, the whole of 
 ihe house, which was filled to ov.rrflo\ving, 
 rose up, and I was saluted by huzzas, waving 
 of hats and handkerchiefs, which I thought 
 would never have done. They insisted on 
 encoring the overture. Every air Avas inter- 
 rupted twice or thrice by bursts ofapplause. * 
 * * So much for this night, dear life ; from 
 
EVANS’S MUSIC AND SUPPER ROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN. 
 
 36 
 
 your heartily tired husband, who, however, 
 could not sleep in peace, until he had commu- 
 nicated to you this new blessing of heaven. 
 Good night.” 
 
 But his joy was interrupted by the gradual 
 decline of his health. The climate of London 
 brought back all those symptoms, which his 
 travelling had for a time, alleviated or dissi- 
 pated, After directing twelve performances 
 of his Oberon, in crowded houses, he felt him- 
 self completely exhausted and dispirited. His 
 melancholy was not abated by the ill success 
 of his concert, which, from causes we cannot 
 pretend to explain, was no benefit to the poor 
 invalid. His next letters are in a desponding 
 tone. 
 
 nth April, 1826. 
 
 “ To-day is enough to be the death of any 
 one. A thick, dark, yellow fog overhangs the 
 sky, so that one can hardly see in the house 
 without candles. The sun stands powerless, 
 like a ruddy point, in the clouds. No: there 
 is no living in this climate. The longing I 
 feel for Hosterwitz, and the clear air, is in- 
 describable. But patience, — patience — one day 
 rolls on after another; two months are already 
 over. I have formed an acquaintance with 
 Dr. Kind, a nephew of our own Kind. He 
 is determined to make me well. God help me, 
 that will never happen to me in this life. I 
 have lost all hope in physicians and their art. 
 Repose is my best doctor, and henceforth it 
 shall be my sole object to obtain it. * 
 
 “ To-morrow is the first representation of 
 my (so called) rival’s opera, ‘ Aladdin.’ I am 
 very curious to see it. Bishop is a man of 
 talent, though of no peculiar invention. I wish 
 him every success. There is room enough for 
 all of us in the world.’ 
 
 “30fA May. 
 
 “ Dearest Lina, excuse the shortness 
 and hurry of this. I have so many things on 
 hand, writing is painful to me — my hands 
 tremble so. Already, too, impatience begins to 
 awaken in me. You will not receive many 
 more letters from me. Address your answer 
 not to London, but to Frankfort — paste restante. 
 You are surprised ? Yes, I don’t go by Paris. 
 What shall I do there — 1 cannot move— I can- 
 not speak — all business I must give up for 
 years. Then better, better, the straight way 
 to my home — by Calais, Brussels, Cologne, and 
 Coblentz, up the Rhine to Frankfort — a delight- 
 ful journey. Though I must travel slowly, 
 rest sometimes half a day, I think in a fort- 
 night, by the end of June, I shall be in your 
 aims. 
 
 “ If God will, we shall leave this on 12th 
 June, if heaven will only vouchsafe me a little 
 strength. Well, all will go better if we are 
 once on the way— once out of this wretched 
 climate. I embrace you from my heart, my 
 dear ones— ever your loving father Charles.” 
 
 This letter, the last but one he ever wrote, 
 shows the rapid decline of his strength, though 
 he endeavours to keep up the spirits of his 
 family by a gleam of cheerfulness. His longing 
 for home now began to increase till it became 
 apang. On theGthof June,hewastobepresent 
 at the Freyschutz, which was to be performed 
 for his benefit, and then to leave London for 
 ever. His last letter, the thirty-third he had 
 written from England, was dated the 2nd of 
 June. Even here, though he could scarcely 
 guide the pen, anxious to keep up the droop- 
 ing spirits of his wife, he endeavours to speak 
 cheerfully, and to inspire a hope of his return. 
 
 “ As this letter will need no answ'er, it will 
 be short enough. Need no answer! Think of 
 that! Furstenau has given up the idea of his 
 concert, so perhaps we shall be with you in 
 two days sooner — huzza! God bless you all, 
 and keep you well ! O, were I only among you. 
 I kiss you in thought, dear mother. Love me 
 also, and think always of your Charles, who 
 loves you above all.” 
 
 On Friday, the 3rd of June, he felt so ill that 
 the idea of his attending at the representation 
 of “ Der Freyschutz” whs abandoned, and he 
 was obliged to keep 1/is room. On Sunday 
 evening, the 5th, he wiis left at 11 o’clock in 
 good spirits, and at 7 o’clock next morning was 
 found dead upon his ])illow, his head resting 
 upon his hand, as though he had passed from 
 life without a struggle. The peaceful slumber 
 of the preceding evening, seemed to have 
 gradually deepened into the sleej) of death. 
 j^He was interred on the 21st, with the accus- 
 tomed solemnities of the Catholic Church, in 
 
 the chapel at Moorfields, the Requiem of 
 Mozart being introduced into the service. In 
 person, Weber is described as having been of 
 the middle height, extremely thin, and of dark 
 complexion. His countenance was strikingly 
 intelligent, his face long and pale, his forehead 
 remarkably high, his features prominent, his 
 eyes dark and full. Posthumous work of Carl 
 Maria Von Weber — Theodore Hell, Dresden ; 
 and Leipsig, 1828, 3 vols. — Life of Weber, 
 Gotha, 1829. — “ Foreign Quarterly,” 1831. 
 
 Weber’s body was removed (I think) in 1S40, 
 to Germany. J. G. 
 
 MENDELSSOHN. 
 
 65 — The First Walpurgis Night. 
 
 Translated from the Poem o/Goethe, by W. 
 Bartholomew. 
 
 Music by Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy, 
 
 The German Legend, that the witches and evil 
 spirits assembled on the night of the first of May 
 (Walpurgis nacht), on the summit of the Harz Moun- 
 tains, is said to have originated in the heathen time, 
 when the Christians tried by force to prevent the 
 Druids from observing theiraccustomed rites of sacri- 
 ficing in the open air and on the hills. The Druids 
 are said to have placed watches round their moun- 
 tains, who, with their dreadful appearance, hovering 
 round the fires, and clashing their weapons, fright- 
 ened the enemy, and the ceremonies were proceeded 
 with. On this tradition Goethe founded the above 
 Poem. 
 
 No. 1. 
 
 Druid Solo, and Chorus of Druids and 
 People, 
 
 Now May again 
 Break Winter’s chain. 
 
 The bud and bloom are springing; 
 
 No snow is seen. 
 
 The vales are green. 
 
 The woodland choirs are singing 1 
 Yon mountain height. 
 
 Is wint’ry white ; 
 
 Upon it we will gather, — 
 
 Begin the ancient holy rite, — 
 
 Praise our Almighty Father. 
 
 In sacrifice. 
 
 The fiame shall rise ; 
 
 Thus blend our hearts together ! 
 
 Aw'ay, away ! 
 
 No. 2. 
 
 Solo: — An aged Woman of the People. 
 Know ye not, a deed so daring 
 Dooms us all to die despairing ? 
 
 Know ye not, it is forbidden 
 
 By the edicts of our foemen? 
 
 Know ye, spies and snares are hidden. 
 
 For the sinners called “the Heathen ?” 
 
 On their ramparts they will slaughter, 
 
 Mother, Father, Son, and Daughter ! 
 
 If detected. 
 
 Naught but death can be expected. 
 
 Chorus of Women. 
 
 On their ramparts they will slaughter. 
 
 Mother, Father, Son, and Daughter! 
 
 They oppress us. 
 
 They distress us ! 
 
 If detected. 
 
 Naught but death can be expected. 
 
 No. 3. 
 
 Druid Priest, and Chorus of Druids. 
 The man who flies 
 Our sacrifice, 
 
 Deserves the tyrant’s tether. 
 
 The woods are free ! 
 
 Disbranch the tree. 
 
 And pile the stems together. 
 
 In yonder shades, 
 
 'Till daylight fades. 
 
 We shall not be detected : 
 
 Our trusty guards shall tarry here. 
 
 And ye will be protected. 
 
 With courage conquer slavish fear, — 
 
 Show duty’s claim respected. 
 
 No. 4. 
 
 With Druid Guards. 
 
 Disperse, disperse, ye gallant men. 
 
 Secure the passes round the glen ! 
 
 In silence there protect them. 
 
 Whose duties here direct them. 
 
 No. 5.. 
 
 Druid Guard, Solo. 
 
 Should our Christian foes assail us. 
 
 Laid a scheme that may avail us! 
 
 Feigning Demons, whom they fable. 
 
 We will scare the bigot rabble! 
 
 No. 6. 
 
 W iTH Chorus of Guards and the People. 
 Come with torches brightly flashing ; 
 Rush along with billets clashing ; 
 Through the nightgloom, lead and follow, 
 
 In and out each rocky hollow. 
 
 Owls and ravens, 
 
 Howl with us, and scare the crav'ens! 
 
 No. 7. 
 
 Druid Priest, and Chorus op the People. 
 Restrained by Might, 
 
 We now by night. 
 
 In secret, here adore Thee ! 
 
 Still it is day. 
 
 Whene’er we pray. 
 
 And humbly bow before thee ! 
 
 Thou canst assuage 
 Our foemen’s rage. 
 
 And shield us from their terrors — 
 
 The fiame aspires I 
 The smoke retires ! 
 
 Thus, clear our faith from errors? 
 
 Our customs quell’d. 
 
 Our rights withheld. 
 
 Thy light shall shine for ever. 
 
 No. 8. 
 
 A Christian Guard, Solo. 
 
 Help, my comrades ! see, a legion. 
 
 Yonder comes from Satan’s region? 
 
 See yon group of witches gliding 
 To and fro, in flames advancing ; 
 
 Some on wolves and dragons riding. 
 
 See, ah, see them hither prancing? 
 
 What a clattering troop of evil ! 
 
 Let us, let us quickly fly them ! 
 
 Imp and devil. 
 
 Lead the revel, 
 
 See them caper, 
 
 W'rapt in clouds of lurid vapour ! 
 
 Chorus of Guards. 
 
 See the horrid haggards gliding. 
 
 Some on wolves and dragons riding, 
 
 See, ah, see them hither prancing, 
 
 With the Fiend in flames advancing? 
 
 See them caper, \ 
 
 Wrapt in clouds of lurid vapour ! 
 
 Let us fly them, let us fly ! 
 
 No. 9. 
 
 Chorus op Druids. 
 
 Unclouded now, the flame is bright! 
 
 Thus Faith from error sever 1 
 Though foes may cloud or quell our light. 
 
 Yet thine, thy light shall shine for ever 
 
 First Performance of the Music to “A 
 Midsummer NioHT’s Dream.”— Never was 
 music so exquisitely written, and perhaps 
 never so well executed. Band, vocalists, and 
 chorus, all deserve especial praise. But who 
 could be insensible to such loveable, such 
 beautiful imaginings? The spirit of Shaks- 
 peare has been caught by Mendelssohn ; our 
 immortal bard would love such a man as a 
 kindred genius— would delight in trusting his 
 poetry to such a writer. The revellirigs of 
 these “tiny legged” indefinable things, their 
 fantastic sporting, alternately mad, wild, 
 whimsically busy, quaint, unearthly— their 
 riotings and their repose— are given to the 
 mind’s eye through the body’s ear; the grace- 
 ful and elegant musical phrases depicting all 
 these elfin doings — the little fairies buzzing, 
 bouncing, jostling, laughing — being most en- 
 chantingly descriptive. The affair is wonder- 
 ful. The sentiment, tlie poetry, the idea, and 
 the effect are never lost sight of. Mind and ear 
 are satisfied. We are transported to the regions 
 of fairy land in a moment. The most mali- 
 cious of hobgoblins, and the most spiteful of 
 spirits, are our particular friends, and we love 
 them, and long to be with them. Dr. Men- 
 delssohn was loudly cheered by the audience, 
 and received acknowledgments from the illus- 
 trious visitors. The “ Wedding March,” and 
 Scherzo, as well as final chorus, is a master- 
 piece of charming ideality. The chorus, under 
 the able superintendence of Mr. Green, re- 
 ceived great praise, and greatly indeed was it 
 deserved. 
 
 (It was my especial happiness to superintend 
 the choral arrangements, under the God-gifted 
 Mendelssohn, of the “Walpurgis Night,’’ 
 “ Midsummer Night’s Dream,” &c., of which 
 I am not a little proud.— J. G.) 
 
 Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy was born at 
 Hamburg, Feb. 3rd, 1809. Died at Leipzig 
 Nov. 4th, 1847. 
 
EVANS’S MDSIC AND SUPPER ROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN. 
 
 66 — The winds are hush’d. 
 
 Words by Music by 
 
 Miss A. B. Edwards. J. F. Duggan. 
 
 Sung by Mr. Fourness Holfe. 
 
 The winds are all hush’d, and the moon is 
 high, 
 
 I stand at thy gate alone : 
 
 Tranquil and dusk the woodlands lie, 
 
 Scarcely a cloud sails over the sky, 
 
 None are awake save the stars and I, 
 
 Sleepest thou still, mine own ? 
 
 For thy sweet sake 
 
 I’ve forded the rapids and cross’d the lake. 
 
 The song of the nightingale stirs the air. 
 
 The breath of the briar is blown. 
 
 Come forth in thy beauty beyond compare. 
 
 I’ll clasp thee close, I’ll call thee fair. 
 
 And kiss off the dew from thy golden hair; 
 
 Sleepest thou still, mine own ? 
 
 For thy sweet sake 
 
 I’ve traversed the forest and cross’d the lake. 
 
 67 — The ‘‘Good-Bye ’’ at the Door. 
 
 Music by S. Glover. 
 
 Sung by Mr. Fourness Rolfe. 
 
 Of all the memories of the past 
 That come like summer dreams. 
 
 Whose rainbow hues still round me cast 
 Their bright but fleeting beams. 
 
 The dearest, sweetest that can be. 
 
 Of days gone long before. 
 
 Are those that oft recal to me. 
 
 The “ Good-bye” at the door, 
 f But time and place have quite estranged "Z 
 Each early friend we knew. 
 
 How few remain, how many changed. 
 
 Of those we deem’d so true. 
 
 Those happy hours, again to me. 
 
 But memory can restore; 
 
 The lingering thought will ever be — 
 
 The ” Good-bye ” at the door. 
 
 68 —The Happiest Land. Hatton. 
 
 There sat one day in quiet, 
 
 By an alehouse on the Rhine, 
 
 Four hale and hearty fellows, 
 
 And drank the precious wine. 
 
 The landlord’s daughter filled their cup. 
 Around the rustic board ; 
 
 Then sat they all so calm and still. 
 
 And spake not one rude word, 
 
 But when the maid departed, 
 
 A Swabian raised his hand. 
 
 And cried, all hot and flushed with wine, 
 
 “ Long live the Swabian land ! 
 
 The greatest kingdom upon earth 
 Cannot with that compare, 
 
 With all the stout and hardy men, 
 
 And the nut-brown maidens there. ’ 
 
 “ Ha !” cried a Saxon, laughing. 
 
 And dashed his beard with wine, 
 
 “ I had rather live in Lapland, 
 
 Than that Swabian land o^thine : 
 
 The goodliest land on all tms earth, 
 
 It is the Saxon land; 
 
 There have I as many maidens, 
 
 As fingers on this hand!” 
 
 ‘‘Hold your tongues both Swabian and 
 Saxon,” 
 
 A bold Bohemian cries ; 
 
 “If there’s a heaven upon the earth. 
 
 In Bohemia it lies. 
 
 There the tailor blows his flute. 
 
 And the cobbler blows his horn. 
 
 And the miner blows the bugle, 
 
 Over mountain, gorge, and bourn.” 
 
 And then the landlord’s daughter 
 Up to heav’n rais’d her hand. 
 
 And said, “ Ye may no more contend, 
 
 There lies the happiest land.” 
 
 69 — The Miller’s Daughter. Glee 
 
 It is the Miller’s Daughter, 
 
 And she is grown so dear. 
 
 That I would be the jewel 
 That trembles in her ear. 
 
 For hid in ringlets day and night, 
 
 I’d touch her neck so warm and white. 
 And I would be the girdle. 
 
 About her dainty, dainty waist, 
 
 And her heart would beat against me 
 In sorrow and in rest. ’ 
 
 And I should know if it beat right, 
 
 I’d clasp it round so close and tight. 
 
 And 1 would be the necklace. 
 
 And all day long to fall and rise 
 Upon her balmy bosom. 
 
 With her laughter or her sighs. 
 
 And I would lie so light, so light, 
 
 I scarce should be unclasp’d at night. 
 
 70 — The Tar’s Song. 
 
 Music by J. L. Hatton. 
 
 Our ship now goes with a pleasant gale, 
 
 Give to her, boys, now give it her; 
 
 For she’s the ciaft to carry sail. 
 
 Give to her, boys, now give it her. 
 
 See the wind is on our quarter. 
 
 Make all taut and snug, boys; 
 
 Swiftly she’ll go through the water. 
 
 Then we’ll serve the grog, boys. 
 
 Hark ! the breeze begins to blow. 
 
 So clear your pipes and join in our heave ho ! 
 Heave ho! Yo ho! Heave ho! 
 
 Our ship now goes, &c. 
 
 Our ship now goes with a pleasant gale. 
 
 Give it to her, boys, now give it her; 
 
 For she’s the craft to carry sail. 
 
 Give it to her, boys, now give it her. 
 
 Through the night how fast she sped now. 
 Keep her course nor’-west, boys ; 
 
 Merry England’s right a-head now. 
 
 Soon we’ll make the land, boys. 
 
 Hark ! the breeze begins to blow, &c. 
 
 71 — The Letter. {Comic.) 
 
 Music by J. L. Hatton. 
 
 Three weary days have pass’d away. 
 
 And still I sing a mournful lay. 
 
 Because my love is far away. 
 
 And I have had no letter. 
 
 I study hard at ancient lore. 
 
 And when a knock comes at the door, 
 
 I close my book and hope once more. 
 
 That I may get a letter. 
 
 Rat-a-tat, rat-a-tat ! 
 
 Some one is coming to the door: 
 
 ’Tis the butcher or baker, that’s flat ; 
 
 I know by their ugly rat-tat. 
 
 With all his good beef the butcher’s a thief. 
 And the baker’s both saucy and fat. 
 Rat-a-tat, rat-a-tat ! 
 
 Three weary days my heart is sore. 
 
 A live-long week has pass’d away. 
 
 And yet I sing my mournful lay. 
 
 Because my love is far away. 
 
 And I have had no letter. 
 
 I study hard at ancient lore. 
 
 And really think it is a bore; 
 
 But, hark ! there’s footsteps at the door. 
 
 By jingo ! here’s a letter. 
 
 Rat-a tat, rat-a-tat ! 
 
 Some one is coming to the door: 
 
 ’Tis the postman, I know his rat-tat. 
 
 And the gilt band he wears round his hat. 
 He’sbrought me a letter from her I love better 
 Than Hebrew and Greek, and all that. 
 
 Fa, la, la! Fa, la, la! 
 
 Now welcome joy. I’ll sigh no more. 
 
 72 — Love thee,dearest, love thee 
 
 Words by T. Moore, subject from “Fiotti." 
 Sung by Mr. Fourness Rolfe. 
 
 Love thee, dearest, love thee ? 
 
 Yes, by yonder star I swear! 
 
 Which, thro’ tears above thee. 
 
 Shines so sadly fair. 
 
 Tho’ often dim with tears like him. 
 
 Like him my truth will shine ; 
 
 And love thee, dearest, love thee? 
 
 Yes! till death I’m thine. 
 
 Leave thee, dearest, leave thee? 
 
 No ! that star is not more true ; 
 
 When my vows deceive thee. 
 
 He will wander too. 
 
 A cloud of night may veil his light. 
 
 And death shall darken mine ; 
 
 But leave thee, dearest, leave thee ? 
 
 No ! till death I’m thine. 
 
 73 — Beware! John L. Hatton. 
 
 Four-part Song. 
 
 I know a maiden fair to see : Take care ! 
 
 She can both false and friendly be. Beware ! 
 Trust her not, she is fooling thee. 
 
 She has two eyes so soft and brown : Take 
 care ! 
 
 She gives a side-glance and looks down. 
 Beware ! 
 
 Trust her not, she is fooling thee. 
 
 And she has hair of golden hue. Take care ! 
 And what she says it is not true. Beware! 
 Trust her not, she is fooling thee. 
 
 She gives thee a garland, woven fair : Take 
 care! 
 
 It is a foolscap for thee to wear, Beware ! 
 
 Trust her not, she is fooling thee. 
 
 37 
 
 74 — The Village Blacksmith. 
 
 Words by Longfellow. Music by Hatton. 
 
 Under a spreading chesnut-tree, the village 
 smithy stands. 
 
 The smith, a mighty man is he, with large and 
 sinewy hands. 
 
 And the muscles of his brawny arms are 
 strong as iron bands. 
 
 His hair is crisp, and black and long — his face 
 is like the tan — 
 
 His brow is wet with honest sweat, he earns 
 whate’er he can, 
 
 And looks the whole world in the face, for he 
 owes not any man. 
 
 Week in, week out, from morn till night, you 
 can hear his bellows blow. 
 
 You can hear him swing his heavy sledge, with 
 measured beat and slow. 
 
 Like a sexton ringing the village bell, when 
 ev’ning sun is low ; 
 
 And children coming home from school, look 
 in at the open door, 
 
 They love to see the flaming forge, and hear 
 the bellows roar. 
 
 And catch the sparks that fly like chaff from a 
 thrashing floor. 
 
 He goes on Sunday to the church, and sits 
 amongst his boys ; 
 
 He hears the parson pray and preach : he 
 hears his daughter’s voice 
 
 Singing in the village choir, and it makes his 
 heart rejoice ; 
 
 It sounds to him like her mother’s voice, sing- 
 ing in Paradise ; 
 
 He needs must think of her once more, how 
 in the grave she lies. 
 
 And with his hard rough hand he wipes a tear 
 from out his eyes. 
 
 Toiling, rejoicing, sorrowing, onward through 
 life he goes, 
 
 Each morning sees some task began, each 
 evening sees its close ; 
 
 Something attempted, something done, has 
 earn’d a night's repose. 
 
 Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend, for 
 the lesson thou hast taught ; 
 
 Thus, at the flaming forge of life, our fortunes 
 must be wrought; 
 
 Thus, on its sounding anvil, shap'd each burn- 
 ing deed, each thought. 
 
 75 — All among the Barley. 
 
 Part Song. Elizabeth Stirling 
 
 Come out, ’tis now September, 
 
 The hunter’s moon’s begun. 
 
 And through the wheateu stubble 
 Is heard the frequent gun : 
 
 The leaves are paling yellow. 
 
 Or kindling into red. 
 
 And the ripe and golden barley 
 Is hanging down its head. 
 
 All among the barley. 
 
 Who would not be blythe. 
 
 When the free and happy barley 
 Is smiling on the scythe ? 
 
 The Spring, she is a young maid. 
 
 That does not know her mind; 
 
 The summer is a tyrant. 
 
 Of most unrighteous kind ; 
 
 The Autumn is an old friend, 
 
 That loves one all he can. 
 
 And that brings the happy barley 
 To glad the heart of man. 
 
 All among the barley, &c. 
 The wheat is like a rich man. 
 
 That’s sleek and well to do. 
 
 The oats are like a pack of girls. 
 Laughing and dancing too; 
 
 The rye is like a raiser, 
 
 That’s sulky, lean, and small. 
 
 But the free and bearded barley 
 Is the monarch of them all. 
 
 All among the barley, &c. 
 
 76 — The Voyage. 
 
 Four-part Song. Music by Mendelssohn. 
 
 In distance, like a vision that floats on the 
 shades of night. 
 
 The town with all its turrets thro’ twilight 
 gleams on the sight ; 
 
 A humid breeze is creeping across the sullen 
 tide ; 
 
 The watermen row so slowly, the boat scarce ly 
 seems to glide ; 
 
 The sun, unclouding his radiance, once more 
 up-gleams from the west ; 
 
 His glance with mine is greeting the home of 
 her I love best. 
 
EVANS’S MUSIC AND SUPPER ROOMS, COVENT-OARDEN 
 
 38 
 
 77 — Harvest Song. 
 
 Words by Mrs. Newton Crossland. 
 Music by Walter C. Macparren. 
 
 Our wealth is not of dismal mines, 
 
 Or from the newly vaunted west, 
 
 Eut golden grain, which burnished shines 
 With bearded pride and nodding crest; 
 And as we count this w'ealth in store. 
 
 We spread the news from shore to shore. 
 When wagons creak and golden grain 
 Rustles along tbe shady lane. 
 
 Heigh ! heigh ! for the harvest heme. 
 
 The reapers reap with earnest will, 
 
 And all the golden spears are lower'd, 
 
 As if the sun, the worshipped still. 
 
 And mutely thus in death adored. 
 
 For Nature, often times we see. 
 
 Mimic such blind idolatry. 
 
 The wagons creak, &c. 
 
 The sheaves are bound, and gleaners come, 
 
 A motley group of old and young — 
 
 The trembling crones who creep from home. 
 And children with a prattling tongue. 
 
 Oh, let us drop, and freely spare. 
 
 For poverty is the gleaners share. 
 
 When wagons creak, &c. 
 But sinks at last the glowing suii. 
 
 From west to east the shadows come, 
 
 Our joyful task at last is done, 
 
 And loud the ery of “ Harvest Home ! ” 
 Our graneries to day shall brim. 
 
 Our song become a grateful hymn. 
 
 For wagons creak,’&c. 
 
 78 — Friendship, Love, and Truth. 
 
 Words by Music by 
 
 Montgomery. Elizabeth Stirling. 
 
 When friendship, love, and truth abound. 
 Among a band of brothers. 
 
 The cup of joy goes gaily round. 
 
 Each shares the bliss of others. 
 
 Sweet roses grace the thorny way. 
 
 Along this vale of sorrow, 
 
 The flowers that shed their leaves to-day. 
 Shall bloom again to-morrow. 
 
 How grand in age, how fair in youth. 
 
 Are holy friendship, love, and truth. 
 
 On halcyon wings our moments pass. 
 
 Life’s cruel cares beguiling, 
 
 Old Time lays down his scythe and glass. 
 
 In gay good humour smiling. 
 
 With ermine beard, and forelock grey. 
 
 His rev’rend front adorning. 
 
 He looks like Winter turn’d to May, 
 
 Night soft’ning into morning. 
 
 How grand in age, &c. 
 From these delightful fountains flow, 
 Ambrosial rills of pleasure ; 
 
 Can man desire, can Heaven bestow, 
 
 A more resplendent treasure. 
 
 Adorned with gems so richly bright. 
 
 Will form a constellation. 
 
 Where every star, with modest light. 
 
 Shall gild his proper station. 
 
 How grand in age, &c. 
 
 79— Come May with all thy 
 
 FLOWERS. 
 
 Composed by the Hon. Seymour Egerton. 
 
 Come May with all thy flowers, thy sw'eetly 
 scented thorn, 
 
 Thy cooling showers, thy fragrant breath of 
 morn ; 
 
 When may-flies haunt the willow, and may- 
 buds tempt the bee. 
 
 Then o’er the shining billow my love will 
 come me. 
 
 Then o’er the shining billow, &c. 
 From eastern isles she’s winging, thro’ wat’ry 
 wilds her wav. 
 
 And on her cheek she brings the bright sun’s 
 orient ray ; 
 
 Oh, come and court her hither, ye breezes 
 mild and warm. 
 
 One winter’s gale would wither so soft, so 
 pure a form. One winter’s gale, &c. 
 The fields where she was straying, are blest 
 with endless light. 
 
 With zephyrs always playing thro’ gardens 
 always bright: 
 
 Then now sweet May, be sweeter than e’er 
 thou’stbeen before. 
 
 Let sighs from roses meet her, when she 
 comes near our shore. Let sighs, &c. 
 
 80 — Jeannie Morrison. 
 
 Words by Motherwell. — Music by G, Ltnley 
 Sung by Mr. Fournkss Rolfe. 
 
 I’ve wandered east. I’ve wandered west. 
 Thro’ many a weary way. 
 
 But never, never can forget. 
 
 The love of life's yountr day. . 
 
 My dear, dear .Teannie Morrison, 
 
 The thoughts of bygone years 
 Still flimr their shadows o’er my path. 
 
 And dim my eyes with tears. 
 
 O morning life, 6 morning love, 
 
 O lightsome days and lang. 
 
 When honeyed hopes around our hearts 
 Like summer blossoms sprang. 
 
 Dear Jeannie Morrison. 
 
 The fount that first burst from my heart. 
 Still travels on its way. 
 
 And channels deeper as it flows. 
 
 The love of life’s young day. 
 
 0 dear, dear Jeannie Morrison, 
 
 Since we were sundered young, 
 
 I’ve never .seen your face, nor heard 
 The music of your tongue. 
 
 But I could bear my wretched fate. 
 
 And still could happy be, 
 
 Did I but knoAv your heart still dream’d 
 Of bygone days and me. 
 
 Dear Jeannie Morrison. 
 
 81 — Far away, where angels 
 
 DWELL. Romance. 
 
 Words by Music by 
 
 George Linley. Jacques Blumenthal. 
 
 Sung by Mr. Fourness Rolfe. 
 
 At the door of a sad abode, for her mother a 
 child w’as wailing, 
 
 “ Begone,” said a voice, stern and rude, “ thy 
 pray’rs are unavailing.” 
 
 “ I crave to see my mother dear.” replies the 
 child with heart nigh breaking; 
 
 When one who saw' her, pity taking, thus 
 spake, her drooping soul to cheer : 
 
 “ Calm thy sorrow ! comfort borrow ! she is 
 gone, who lov’d thee v/ell, 
 
 . Far away where angels dwell. 
 Orphan lone ! thy mother’s gone, far away 
 where angels dw'ell.” 
 
 She asks all who round her throng, for the 
 way that she must journey; 
 
 They say, that “the voyage is long, that the 
 road is rough and thorn}'.” 
 
 But hope ev’ry step attends ; a holy zeal and 
 passion fires her 
 
 With strength and courage, faith inspires her, 
 and charity assistance lends. 
 
 As she wanders, oft she ponders on her mother 
 lov’d so well. 
 
 Far aw'ay where angels dwell. 
 Scarce she grieves, for she believes soon she’ll 
 be where angels dwell. 
 
 One night, faint from hunger and fear, she 
 sunk on a plain, cold and arid, 
 
 A kind shepherd, wandering near, the child to 
 a convent carried ; 
 
 The Sisters haste, fly to aid her, too late ! she 
 sleeps to w'aken never; 
 
 And death, that two fond hearts could sever, 
 reuniteth them on high. 
 
 Heav’n hath call’d her near her mother, near 
 that mother lov’d so well. 
 
 Far away where angels dwell. 
 Orphan blest! Oh calm thou’lt rest ! faraway 
 where angels dwell. 
 
 82 — The Spell is Broken — We 
 
 MUST Part. 
 
 Words and Music by Juliet Bellchamber. 
 Sung by J. W. Williams. 
 
 My heart is like the faded flower. 
 
 Whose beauty lost, and sweetness flown. 
 Forgot, neglected in the bow’r. 
 
 Is left by all to die alone. 
 
 And thus am 1 — all hope is o’er. 
 
 That hope— so cherished in ray heart; 
 
 1 dare not wish to see her more. 
 
 The spell is broken — we must part. 
 
 I thought she lov’d, I was deceiv’d, 
 
 Oh, would that we had never met ; 
 
 For tlio’ she is no more believed. 
 
 My heart refu.ses to forget. 
 
 And yet, alas, I must not tell 
 The grief that rends my aching heart ; 
 Adieu, for ever fare thee well. 
 
 The spell is broken— we must part. 
 
 83 — War Song. 
 
 Words by Music by 
 
 Mrs. HEMANs.f Elizabeth Stirling. 
 Valient sons of freedom’s land, 
 
 Ardent, firm, devoted band, 
 
 Rise at honour’s thrilling call. 
 
 Warriors! shall Britain fail? 
 
 Rush, battle steed, bleed, soldiers, hleed> 
 For Britain’s throne, for glory’s mead. 
 Heroes, to the combat fly. 
 
 Proud to struggle, blest to die ; 
 
 Go, should death your efforts crown. 
 
 Mount the pinions of renown. 
 
 Go tell our sires, their daring fires, 
 
 Glow in our souls till life expires : 
 
 Tell them ne’er shall Britain yield,. 
 
 Whilst a sword a hand can weild; 
 
 Tell them we the strife maintain, 
 
 Tell them we defy the chain. 
 
 In heart the same, in patriot flame 
 We emulate their brightest fame. 
 
 84 —Dublin Bay, or the Wreck 
 OF the Emigrant Ship. 
 
 Words by Music by 
 
 Mrs. Crawford. J. Baker. 
 
 Sung by J. W. Williams. 
 
 He sail’d away in a gallant bark, 
 
 Roy Neill and his fair young bride, 
 
 He had ventur’d all in that bounding ark. 
 
 That danc’d o’er the silver tide. 
 
 But his heart was young and Ms spirit light. 
 And he dash’d the tear away, 
 
 As he watch’d the shore recede from sight, 
 
 Of his own sweet Dublin Bay. 
 
 Three days they sail’d, and a storm arose,’ 
 
 And the lightning swept the deep, 
 
 And the thunder-crash broke the short repose. 
 Of the weary sea boy’s sleep. 
 
 Roy Neill, he clasp’d his weeping bride. 
 
 And he kiss’d her tears away, 
 
 “ Oh. love, ’twas a fatal hour,” she cried, 
 
 “ When we left sweet Dublin Bay. 
 
 On the crowded deck of the doom’d ship, 
 
 Some stood in their mute despair. 
 
 And some more calm, with a holy lip. 
 
 Sought the God of the storm in prayer. 
 
 “She has struck on the rock!” the seamen 
 cried, 
 
 In the breath of their wild dismay, 
 
 And the ship went down, and the fair young 
 bride, 
 
 That sail’d from Dublin Bay. , 
 
 85 — Fed Leaves. 
 
 Words by Music by 
 
 F. G. Lee. Elizabeth Stirling. 
 
 Red leaves are falling on the ground, tbe 
 wind no more is still, 
 
 The wheat is gather’d to the store that wav’d 
 on yonder hill ; 
 
 The summer birds have flown away, the sky is 
 grey and palS^ 
 
 Thick mists are hanging round the moon, 
 most chilly is the vale. 
 
 Red leaves, &c. 
 
 The fall of leaves a sadness flings o’er hearts, 
 however gay. 
 
 They like the friendship often nurs’d, on earth 
 soon fade away; 
 
 But as the sun that sinks at eve, appears to 
 gild the dew. 
 
 So shall we all, tho’ faded once, live after- 
 wards enew. Red leaves, &c. 
 
 86 — The Old House at Home. . ^ 
 
 Composedby Arranged by 
 
 E. Loder. T. Pehring. 
 
 Oh ! the old house at home, where my fore- 
 fathers dwelt. 
 
 Where a child at the feet of my mother I 
 dwelt 
 
 Where she taught me the prayer, where she read 
 me the page, 
 
 ■Which if infancy lisps is the solace of age. 
 
 My heart 'mid all changes where ever I roam. 
 Never loses its love for the old house at home. 
 ’Twas not for its splendour that dwelling was 
 dear, 
 
 ’Twas not that the gay or the noble were near. 
 O’er the poarch the wild-rose and woodbine 
 entwined— 
 
 And the sweet scented jessamine waved in the 
 wind. 
 
 Yet dearer tome, than the proud turret or dome. 
 Were the halls of my fathers, the old house at 
 home. 
 
EVANS’S MUSIC 
 87 —Behold blest Peace. I 
 
 Arranged from “Rossiki,” by J. Green. 
 Behold blest Peace, tho’ banish’d long, 
 
 It reigns with us once more ; 
 
 Thunders no more the cannon strong, 
 
 The storm at length is o’er. 
 
 Thrice happy land, O lovely Peace, 
 
 Now hails thy blest domain. 
 
 Solo. 
 
 Fair commerce now in bounteous share. 
 
 Again its blessings pours ; 
 
 Contentment lightens ev’ry care. 
 
 And bliss complete is ours. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Thrice happy land, O, lovely Peace 
 Now hails thy blest domain. 
 
 And sees with joy, that long shall last. 
 
 The clouds disperse again. 
 
 Behold blest Peace, &c. 
 
 gg—FAiR AS A Bride. ! Rossini. 
 Words by Planch e. 
 
 Fair as a bride the morn is waking. 
 
 Sheeted with gold the glacier glows 
 Deep in the vale sweet music making. 
 Rejoicing the bright river flows. 
 
 Sorrow forgetting, labour forsaking. 
 
 Snatch we to-day joy and repose. 
 
 Fair as a bride the morn is waking. 
 
 Sheeted with gold the glacier glows. 
 
 Sorrow forgetting, labour forsaking. 
 
 Snatch we to-day joy and repose. 
 
 89 — La Carita (Charity). 
 
 Glee. Rossini. 
 
 Thou that impartest peace to the soul. 
 
 Calming the waters of strife’s angry sea; 
 
 Thou that shouldst guide us. 
 
 When storms have tried us ; 
 
 Blest be thy sweet voice, soft Charity. 
 
 Though friends may fail us, and fortune may 
 flee. 
 
 Safe treads the footstep that’s guided by thee 
 Solo, Soprano. 
 
 Heav’n in thy presence hallows this earth ; 
 From thy pure essence Hope has her birth; 
 
 He in whose bosom thou hast a home. 
 
 Teems, like the blossom, with fulness to come. 
 Chorus. 
 
 O thou that sheddest peace o’er the soul, Src. 
 Solo, Soprano. 
 
 When o’er the earth thy voice shall prevail. 
 Wars shall be ended, and faction shall fail, 
 
 And hatred and pride, in that blest day. 
 
 All shall be banished by thy gentle sway. 
 Chorus. 
 
 Come, thou that breathest calm o’er the soul. 
 Stilling the waters of strife’s angry sea; 
 
 Thou that shouldst guide us. 
 
 When storms have tripd i:s ; 
 
 Come, with thy sweet voice, soft Charity. 
 Though friends may fail us, and fortune may 
 flee. 
 
 Safe treads the footstep that’s guided by thee ; 
 Heav’n in thy presence hallows this earth. 
 
 Thou canst beguile sorrows to smile. 
 
 Weeping thy gentle self the while ; 
 
 From thy pure essence Hope has her birth. 
 Thou canst beguile, &e. 
 
 90 — The Gipsy’s Tent. 
 
 Glee. T. Cooke. 
 
 Far over hill and plain freely we roam, 
 i Where Nature’s beauties reigu make we our 
 home, 
 
 Unfurl the gipsy’s tent ! who shall gainsay ? 
 j None dare our path prevent — roam where we 
 may ! 
 
 ! Still over hill and plain gaily we roam, 
 
 No thought of care or pain reaches our home ! 
 
 ! Hark ! the proud eagle’s scream — such is our 
 j song. 
 
 Free as the mountain-stream rude rocks among, 
 Far over hill and plain, &c. 
 
 Now by the green hill-side basking we lie. 
 
 Or by the rippling tide care we defy ; 
 
 Wild as the dashing wave far o’er the sea. 
 What tho’ the tempest rave, reckless are we. 
 
 Far over hill and plain, &c. 
 
 Yet to our fealty still we are true, 
 
 Chaunting of liberty woods and wilds thro’ 
 Who would the shackles bear home doth en- 
 twine ? 
 
 Tribe of the gipsy, ne’er thraldom be thine' 
 
 Far over hill and plain, &c. 
 
 AND SUPPER ROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN. 39 
 
 91 — The Hardy Norseman’s 
 House of Yore. 
 
 A Norse National Song.* 
 Arranged by R. L. Pearsall, Esa. 
 
 { Willsbridge.) 
 
 The hardy Norseman’s house of yore 
 Was by the foaming wave ! 
 
 And there he gather’d bright renown. 
 
 The bravest of the brave. 
 
 Oh ! ne’er should we forget our sires. 
 Whatever we may be ; 
 
 They bravely won a gallant name. 
 
 And rul’d the stormy sea. 
 
 Too narrow was their native land. 
 
 For hearts so bold and free ; 
 
 From bay and creek they sailed forth. 
 
 And conquer’d Normandy. 
 
 Then let their glory oft be sung. 
 
 In thrilling harmony ; 
 
 And let it aye be borne in mind. 
 
 They rul’d the stormy sea. 
 
 A thousand years are nearly past. 
 
 Since erst aNonnan band 
 At Hastings fought, and won the crown 
 Of Saxon Engie-land. 
 
 The sceptre of the main they left 
 'fo their prosperity, 
 
 Who, mindful of their ancient fame 
 Have rul’d the stormy sea. 
 
 The Norman and the Saxon foe. 
 
 Are, long since, dead and gone; 
 
 Their language and their races both 
 Are blended into one. 
 
 And we, their children, still maintain 
 Their old supremacy ; 
 
 Wherever vessel spreads a sail. 
 
 We rule the stormy sea. 
 
 ♦ The above melody was given to me by the late Joseph 
 Pinnay, of Vienna, who heard it at a family te-itival in the 
 interior of Norway, and noted it on the spot. It was there 
 described to him as a very ancient popular song, referable 
 to the times of the Kempions, or Sea Kings, and as being 
 always sung with the greatest enthusiasm. The words, 
 for want of better, are my own, founded on a rough guess 
 at what the original Norse might mean ; for being able to 
 make out but a word or two, here and there, I could not 
 pretend to translate it. 
 
 92 — Oh ! WHO WILL o’er the Downs 
 
 so free. 
 
 (Hickenstirn’s Song.) 
 
 R. L. Pearsall, Esq., {Willsbridge,) 
 
 O who will ride o’er the Downs so free, 
 
 O who will with me ride, 
 
 0 who will up and follow me, 
 
 To win a blooming bride ? 
 
 Her father he has lock’d the door. 
 
 Her mother keeps the key; 
 
 But neither door nor bolt shall part 
 My own true love from me. 
 
 1 saw her bow’r at twilight grey 
 ’Twas guarded safe and sure ; 
 
 I saw her bow’r at break of day, 
 
 ’Twas guarded then no more. 
 
 The vartels they were all asleep. 
 
 And none was near to see, 
 
 The greeting fair that passed there 
 Between my love and me. 
 
 I promised her to come at night, 
 
 With comrades brave and true, 
 
 A gallant band with sword in hand. 
 
 To break her prison through. 
 
 I promised her to come at night. 
 
 She’s waiting now for me; 
 
 And ere the dawn of morning light, 
 
 I’ll set my true love free. 
 
 N.B. — The words of this song are written in allusion to 
 an event snpposed to have taken place in the neighbour- 
 hood of Winterborne, in Gloucestershire. One Hicken- 
 stirn, (or Hickers Stirn, as he is called by the common 
 people), who lies buried in the church there, is said to have 
 been a knight who lived by pillage. He fell in love with 
 a neighbour’s daughter, won her aftections, was refused 
 by her parents, but, with the assistance of his friends, 
 carried her off from her father’s bouse. Such events 
 were not uncommon in the middle ages. 
 
 93 — Lo ! Morn is Breaking. 
 
 Cherubini, 
 
 Lo! morning is breaking. 
 
 Slowly awaking, 
 
 Night’s veil dividing. 
 
 O’er ocean gliding, 
 
 Steals the first light 
 Of the new coming day. 
 
 Lo ! morn is breaking, &c. 
 
 94 — Home Sweet Home. 
 
 Harmonised By Edward Land. 
 
 ’Mid pleasures and palaces though we may 
 roam. 
 
 Be it ever so humble there’s no place like 
 home ! 
 
 A charm from the skies seems to hallow us 
 here, 
 
 Which seek through the world, is ne’er met 
 with elsewhere. 
 
 Home ! home, sweet home ! 
 
 There’s no place like home ! 
 
 An exile from home, splendour dazzles in vain ! 
 Oh ! give me my lowly thatch’d cottage again ! 
 The birds singing gaily that come at my Ccill:— 
 Give me sweet peace of mind that’s dearest 
 than all ! 
 
 Home ! home, &c. 
 
 95 — Vengeance, Donizetti. 
 
 Cavatinafrom “ Lucrezia Borgia." 
 
 Sung bt Mr. Elton Williams. 
 Vengeance ! yes. yes, I’ve sworn it; 
 
 All is prepar’d now to right me. 
 
 Too long I’ve heedlessly borue it, 
 
 Now comes my victory. 
 
 Vengeance to thee appealing. 
 
 Nought but thee shall I treasure’; 
 
 Hence every kind-hearted feeling, 
 
 And help me with thy pow’r. 
 
 Air. 
 
 Whatever be the destiny 
 That fate may threaten o’er me, 
 
 I will pursue my enemy, 
 
 Till cold he lies before me. 
 
 Revenge was ne’er denied to man 
 When injury provokes it; 
 
 Then here, with all the truth it can, 
 
 My heart, my heart invokes it. 
 
 Oh, whatever be, &c. 
 
 96 — Nina. 
 
 Words by Music by 
 
 W. H. Bellamy. J. W. Hobbs. 
 
 Sung by Mr. Fourness rolfe. 
 
 Nina, O that a thousand tongues were mine, 
 To tell the teeming earth, the sea, the sky, 
 The hreezes’ echoes, the wide wandering air. 
 My joy, my exstacy, that thou art mine. 
 
 Like yon bright orb, that thro’ the vaulted 
 heaven. 
 
 In gentlest purity doth nightly move, 
 
 I saw thee, to the world’s rude gazes given, 
 
 A thing of loveliness, and light, and love. 
 
 In dread suspense, I saw around thee kneeling, 
 Won by thy charms, the young, the gay, 
 the vain, 
 
 Yet fear’d to breathe the deep impassion’d 
 feeling, 
 
 That grew to frenzy in my tortured brain. 
 
 I watched thy steps, with heart o’ercharged to 
 breaking, 
 
 I saw thee, still hold on thy way unmoved, 
 
 I met thy gaze, and from a dream awaking, 
 
 A wild hope whispered me, that I was loved. 
 
 As the poor bird, on instant pinions soaring. 
 Cleaves the glad air, when from the hand 
 set free, 
 
 In one full gush, his song of rapture pouring; 
 So sprung, Nina, my heart to thee. 
 
 97 — Day and Night I thought of 
 
 THEE. 
 
 By Fred. Shrivall. 
 
 Sung by Mr. Fourness Rolfe. 
 
 I thought of thee, I thought of thee, 
 
 On ocean many a weary night. 
 
 When heaved the long and sullen sea. 
 
 With only waves and stars in sight. 
 
 We stole along by isles of balm. 
 
 We furl’d before the coming gale, 
 
 We slept beneath the breathless calm. 
 
 We flew before the straining sail. 
 
 But thou wert lost for years to me. 
 
 And day and night I thought of thee. 
 
 I’ve thought of thee, I’ve thought of thee. 
 Thro’ change that teaches to forget ; 
 
 Thy face looks up from every sea. 
 
 In every star thine eyes are set. 
 
 Tho’ roving ’neath those eastern skies, 
 Whose golden beauty breathes of rest, 
 
 I envy every bird that flies 
 
 To my dear home, the sunny west. 
 
 I thought ®f thee, I thought of thee, 
 
 Yes day and night I thought of thee. 
 
40 EVANS’S MUSIC AND SUPPEE ROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN. 
 
 98 — Victoria! Victoria! 
 
 Finale to the first Act of “Fra Biavolo." 
 
 Victoria ! Victoria ! rejoice ! 
 
 Joy now reigns around; 
 
 Raise the grateful voice, 
 
 They come with victory crown’d. 
 Victoria! Victoria! Victoria! 
 
 Solo. 
 
 Again I hear my friend, 
 
 Our anxious torment end. 
 
 In deep silence proceeding. 
 
 The daring band we track’d ; 
 
 And their retreat impeding. 
 
 We their numbers attack’d 
 With fury — first, at hay. 
 
 Brave and dauntless they stood ; 
 
 But ere long twenty lay 
 Expiring in their blood. 
 
 Oh, revenge ! soon the rest from us fly, 
 In fear and wild defeat ; 
 
 While thus our joyous cry 
 Echoes around repeat. Victoria! 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Victoria! Victoria! Victoria! 
 
 Joy now reigns around ; 
 
 Raise the grateful voice. 
 
 They come with victory crown’d. 
 Victoria! Victoria! Victoria! 
 
 Solo. 
 
 Let’s on to the conquest, friends, again. 
 They depart — we safe remain. 
 
 Farewell! Farewell! 
 
 Hope in my heart once more is smiling. 
 Past ill’s Fortune will repay. 
 
 Solo. 
 
 Love, each care now beguiling. 
 
 Around us will play. 
 
 Ere the dawning of day, 
 
 Their precautions beguiling 
 Will make them our prey. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Let each heart rejoice, 
 
 Pleasure around ; 
 
 Raise the grateful voice, 
 
 Raise each grateful voice. 
 
 They’ll come with victory crown’d. 
 
 Victoria! 
 
 Still let that cry aloud resound. 
 
 99 — Pirate’s Solo and Chorus. 
 
 Balfe. 
 
 Hither we come to our chieftain’s will ; 
 And whether in crowded hall. 
 
 By lonely inn, or ruined wall, 
 
 We hear that chieftain’s voice. 
 
 Thither we go, his will to fulfil. 
 
 Recit. 
 
 My brave companions, who so soft have shared 
 In perils past, and death as oft have dared 
 For me, as for my father, for by you 
 Fulfilled is now the task we had in view ; 
 
 Dear as thou were to him, you ne’er could be 
 More loved by Telles than you are by me ; 
 Ever be happy and light as thou art, Pride of 
 the Pirate’s heart ! 
 
 Long be thy reign o’er land and main, by the 
 glave by the chart, 
 
 Queen of the Pirate’s heart ! 
 
 Solo. 
 
 My task is ended and again, 
 
 Return we to the boundless main ; 
 
 The safest place— the only home 
 Where exile hath the power to roam ; 
 Within whose unpolluted breast. 
 
 He takes unwatch’d his final rest. 
 
 Ever be happy and light as thou art 
 Pride of the Pirate’s heart. 
 
 100 — Prayer. {Ma&aniello.') 
 
 Hear, holy saint! o’er lowliest victims spread- 
 ing, 
 
 Boundless in mercy, thy protecting wing ; 
 Light o’er the darkling wand’rer timely shed- 
 ding; 
 
 Soothing the anguish of oppression’s sting. 
 Thee we implore, thee we adore. 
 
 Thy strength be with us now. 
 
 And we are slaves no more. 
 
 101 — Market Chorus. { Masaniello.) 
 
 Come hither, all who wish to buy. 
 
 For here you’ll find the best of fare ; 
 
 Sweet flowers and fruit, come taste and tr)'. 
 Rich purple grapes and melons rare. 
 
 Come buy my olives, none so fine; 
 
 Rosolio and sparkling wine ; 
 
 Here’s fish alive, and none can sell 
 You finer for your money. 
 
 If daintily you wish to dine. 
 
 Who’ll show you poultry fat as mine ? 
 
 Who’ll buy my pease? Who’ll buy my cheese ? 
 Who’ll buy my maccaroni? 
 
 Come hither all who wish to buy, 
 
 ’Tis I that sell the best, taste and try, 
 
 Come here and buy. 
 
 102 — A Lover’s Reverie. 
 
 Words and Music by Fourness Rolfe. 
 
 I gaze upon her face and feel. 
 
 That she alone should be my wife, — 
 Should be my hope, my guiding star. 
 
 The solace of my future life. 
 
 And think that I could find in her, 
 
 A loving, gentle counseller. 
 
 To me her every motion wears 
 A charm I can’t in others see, 
 
 And to mine ear, her accent bears 
 The tone of truth and constancy. 
 
 She makes with memory’s magic sway 
 My soul’s congenial holiday. 
 
 103 — Flow, gentle Deva. Duett. 
 
 J. Parry, Se?i. 
 
 Sung by Mr. Fourness Rolfe and Mr. 
 Elton Williams. 
 
 Flow, gentle Deva, on thy mossy banks 
 Thevaliant Tudor sleeps; sweet be his dreams. 
 And when he wakes, O may he wake to peace. 
 Ah, no, I hear the clashing sound of arms, 
 Rouse the gallant warrior. 
 
 Rise, Tudor, rise, and lead us on 
 To victory or death ! 
 
 Then shall the bards in sad n otes ring our kn ell. 
 Or chant in happy strains, the song of joy. 
 
 104 — Would I were with Thee. 
 
 Ballad. 
 
 Words by the Music by 
 
 Hon. Mrs. Norton. Edouard Schultz^ 
 
 Sung bt Mr. Fourness Rolfe. 
 Would I were with thee ev’ry day and hour, 
 Which now I spend so sadly far from thee : 
 Would that my form possess’d the magic pow’r 
 To follow where my heavy heart would be. 
 Whate’er thy lot, by land or sea, 
 
 Would I were with thee eternally. 
 
 Would I were with thee, when, no longer 
 feigning 
 
 The hurried laugh that stifles back a sigh. 
 Thy young lips pour forth its sweet complaining 
 And tears have quench’d the light within 
 thine eye ; 
 
 When all seems dark and sad below. 
 Would I were with thee in thy woe. 
 
 Would I were with thee, when, the world 
 forgetting. 
 
 Thy weary limhs upon the turf are thrown ; 
 When bright and red the ev’ning sun is setting, 
 And all thy thoughts belong to heaven alone; 
 When happy dreams thy heart employ. 
 Would I were with thee in thy joy. 
 
 105 — Patter, Patter. 
 
 Four-part Song. Music by J. L. Hatton. 
 
 Patter, patter, let it pour; 
 
 Patter, patter, let it roar. 
 
 Down the steep roof let it rush, 
 
 Down the hill side let it gush ; 
 
 ’Tis the welcome April show’r, 
 
 Bringing forth the sweet May flow’r. 
 
 Patter, patter, let it pour; 
 
 Patter, patter, let it roar. 
 
 Let the glancing light’ning flash. 
 
 Let the pealing thunder dash ; 
 
 ’Tis the welcome April show’r, &c. 
 
 Patter, patter, let it pour; 
 
 Patter, patter, let it roar. 
 
 Soon the clouds will burst away. 
 
 Soon will come a bright spring day; 
 
 Soon the welcome April show’rs 
 Will bring forth the sweet May flow’rs. 
 
 106— Music from MACBETH. 
 
 First Witch. Speak, sister, speak ! is the 
 deed done? 
 
 Second Witch. Long ago, long ago, above 
 twelve glasses since have run. 
 
 Ill deeds are seldom slow or single. 
 
 But following crimes on horrors wait: 
 
 The worst of creatures fastest propagate. 
 
 First Witch. Many more, many more mur- 
 ders must this one ensue ; 
 
 Dread horrors still abound 
 In every place around, 
 
 As if in death were found, propagation too. 
 He must, he will, he shall 
 Spill much more blood. 
 
 And become worse, to make his title good. 
 Chorus. He must, he will, &c. 
 
 First Witch. Now let’s dance. 
 
 Second Witch. Agreed! 
 
 Third Witch. Agreed ! 
 
 Chorus. Agreed ! 
 
 We should rejoice when good kings bleed. 
 Second Witch. When cattle die, about, about 
 we go : 
 
 When lightning and dread thunder 
 Rend stubborn rocks asunder. 
 
 And fill the world with wonder, 
 
 What should we do ? 
 
 Chorus. Rejoice! rejoice ! we should rejoice. 
 Third Witch. When winds and waves are 
 warring; 
 
 Earthquakes the mountains tearing; 
 
 And monarchs die despairing. 
 
 What should we do ? 
 
 Chorus. Rejoice! rejoice ! we should rejoice. 
 First Witch. Let’s have a dance upon the 
 heath. 
 
 We gain more life by Duncan’s death; 
 Sometimes like brindled cats we show, 
 
 Having no music but our mew. 
 
 To which we dance in some old mill. 
 
 Upon the hopper, stone, or wheel. 
 
 To some old saw or Bardish rhyme. 
 
 Where still the mill-clack does keep time. 
 
 Where still the mill, &c. 
 Second Witch. Sometimes about a hollow 
 tree. 
 
 Around, around, around dance we : 
 
 Thither the chirping crickets come. 
 
 And beetles sing in drowsy hum. 
 
 Sometimes we dance o’er ferns or furze. 
 
 To howls of wolves, or barks of curs : 
 
 Or, if none of these we meet. 
 
 We dance to the echoes of our feet. 
 
 Chorus. We dance, &c. 
 
 At the raven’s dismal voice. 
 
 When others tremble we rejoice ; 
 
 And nimbly, nimbly, dance we still. 
 
 To the echo of some hollow hill. 
 
 First Witch. Hecate! Hecate! Hecate! 
 come away ! 
 
 Hecate. Hark ! hark ! I’m called : 
 
 My little airy spirit, see, see. 
 
 Sits in a foggy cloud, and waits for me. 
 
 First Witch. Hecate! Hecate! 
 
 Hecate. Thy chirping voice I hear. 
 
 So pleasing to mine ear, 
 
 At which I haste away. 
 
 With all the speed I may. 
 
 Where’s Puckle? 
 
 Third Witch. Here ! 
 
 Hecate. Where’s Stradling? 
 
 Second Witch. Here ! 
 
 Hecate. And Hopper too? and Helway too ? 
 First Witch. We want but you ! we want but 
 you! 
 
 Chorus. Come away ! come away ! make up 
 the account. 
 
 Hecate. With new fallen dew, from church- 
 yard yew, 
 
 I will but ’noint, and then I’ll mount ; 
 
 Now I’m furnish’d, now I’m furnish’d for my 
 flight. 
 
 Now I go. Now, new I fly, 
 
 Malkin, my sweet spirit, and I. 
 
 Oh, what a dainty pleasure is this, 
 
 To sail in the air, when the moon shines 
 fair, 
 
 To sing, to dance, to toy, and kiss. 
 
 Over woods, high rocks, and mountains. 
 
 Over hills and misty fountains, 
 
 Over steeples, towers, and turrets. 
 
 We fly by night ’mongst troops of spirits. 
 Chorus. We fly by night, &c. 
 
EVANS'S MUSIC AND SUPPER ROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN. 41 
 
 [107 — Every Land my Home. 
 
 j Yordy by Lovkll. Music by N. J. Sporle. 
 ■ Sung by Mr. J. W. Williams. 
 j Life is not all a desert waste, 
 
 As those would have us think, 
 
 I Who sorrow’s cup too often taste, 
 
 [ Of joys too rarely drink, 
 
 I For we whose pulses warmly beat, 
 
 ! Tow’rds all whose hands we press. 
 
 Can make the waste a garden sweet, 
 
 By succouring distress. 
 
 No bound for me of earth or sea, 
 
 To bid me not to roam. 
 
 My nation shall be all mankind, 
 
 And every land my home. 
 
 The dearest place shall be the spot. 
 
 Where first I drew my breath, 
 
 Oh ! ne’er be the first home forgot, 
 
 Till I forget in death. 
 
 The sweetest music that I hear, 
 
 Still seems a village chime. 
 
 And where the warmest smiles appear, 
 
 Is still the warmest clime. 
 
 No bound for me, &c. 
 
 .08 — Willie, WE have miss’d you. 
 
 Written and Composed by S. Foster. 
 
 Sung by Mr. Godden. 
 
 Ohl Willie, is it you dear, 
 
 Safe, safe, at home ? 
 
 They did not tell me true, dear. 
 
 They said you would not come, 
 
 I heard you at the gate. 
 
 And it made my heart rejoice. 
 
 For I knew your welcome footstep. 
 
 And your dear familiar voice. 
 
 Making music on mine ear, 
 
 In the lonely midnight gloom. 
 
 Oh ! Willie we have missed you. 
 
 Welcome ! welcome ! home. 
 
 We’ve long’d to see you nightly. 
 
 But this night of all 
 ' The fire was blazing brightly. 
 
 And lights were in the hall ; 
 
 I The little ones were up, 
 
 [ Till ’twas ten o’clock and past, 
 
 But their eyes began to twinkle. 
 
 So they’ve gone to sleep at last, 
 
 I They listened for your voice, 
 
 I Till they thought you’d never come ; 
 
 I Oh ! Willie we have missed you, 
 
 ; Welcome ! welcome ! home. 
 
 The days were sad without you, 
 
 The nights long and drear. 
 
 My dreams have been about you. 
 
 So welcome, Willie, dear ! 
 
 Last night I sat and watched. 
 
 By the moonlight’s cheerless ray. 
 
 Till I thought I heard your footsteps. 
 
 Then I wiped my tears away; 
 
 But my heart grew sad again. 
 
 When I found you did not come; 
 
 Oh ! Willie we have missed you. 
 
 Welcome ! welcome ! home. 
 
 09 — The Charm.^ 
 
 Writtten and Composed byS. Lover, Esq. 
 
 Sung by mr. J. Hogan. 
 hey say there’s a secret charm that lies 
 In some wild flow’ret’s bell, 
 
 !hat grows in a vale where the west wind sighs. 
 And where secrets best might dwell ; 
 nd they who can find the fairy flower, 
 
 A treasure possess that might grace a throne, 
 i|or oh ! they can rule, with the softest power. 
 The heart they would make their own. 
 ihe Indian has toil’d in the dusky mine, 
 
 I For the gold that has made him a slave ; 
 r, plucking the pearl from the sea-god’s shrine. 
 Has tempted the wrath of the wave, 
 ut ne’er has he sought, with a love like mine. 
 The flower that holds the heart in thrall, 
 h! rather I’d win that charm divine. 
 
 Than their gold, and their pearl, and all. 
 ve sought it by day, from morn till eve, 
 
 I’ve won it in dreams at night, 
 nd then how 1 grieve my com h to leave. 
 
 And sigh at the morning light, 
 et sometimes I think, in a hopeful hour. 
 
 The blissful moment I yet may see, 
 
 0 win the flow’r from the fairy’s bow’r. 
 
 And give it, love, to thee ! 
 
 * They say that a flower may be found in a Talley open- 
 g to the west, which bestows on the finder the power of 
 inning the affection of the person to whom it is pre- 
 nted. Hence, it is supposed, has originated the cu.stom 
 presenting a bouquet. 
 
 no — Thou art so near and yet 
 so FAR. 
 
 Composed by Alexander Reichardt. 
 
 Sung by J. W. Williams. 
 
 I know an eye, so softly bright. 
 
 That glistens like a star of night. 
 
 My soul it draws, with glances kind 
 To heaven’s blue vault, and there I And 
 Another star, so pure and clear 
 As that which mildly sparkles here. 
 Beloved eye, beloved star. 
 
 Thou art so near, and yet so far. 
 
 That eye so soft, like violets blue, 
 
 A treasure bears of morning dew; 
 
 And when its light entranc’d I see. 
 
 What joy, what pain, possesses me; 
 
 A world, where I would gladly dwell 
 Is that bright orb, I love so well. 
 
 Beloved eye, beloved star, 
 
 Tho art so near and yet so far. 
 
 If clos’d at last that radiant eye should be. 
 No more the day will dawn for me; 
 
 If night should dim its laughing light, 
 
 Oh then for ever ’twill be night. 
 
 Those eyes that brightly, softly shine. 
 
 For me the sun and moon combine. 
 Beloved eye beloved star. 
 
 Thou art so near, and yet so far. 
 
 May be had here, price 2 s. 
 
 Ill — The Ploughshare of Old 
 England. 
 
 Sung by Mr. Elton Williams. 
 
 The Sailor boasts his stately ship. 
 
 The bulwark of our Isle, 
 
 The Soldier loves his sword, and sings 
 Of tented plains the while ; 
 
 But we will hang our ploughshare up. 
 Within our father’s halls. 
 
 And guard it as the deity 
 Of plenteous festivals! 
 
 We’ll pluck the brilliant poppies. 
 
 And the far-famed barleycorn. 
 
 To wreathe with bursting wheatears, 
 
 That outshine the saffron morn ; 
 
 We’ll crown it with a glowing heart, 
 
 And pledge our fertile land. 
 
 The Ploughshare of old England, 
 
 And the sturdy peasant band ! 
 
 The work it does is good and blest. 
 
 And may be proudly told. 
 
 We see it in the teeming barns. 
 
 And fields of waving gold. 
 
 Its metal is unsullied. 
 
 No blood-stain lingers there, 
 
 God speed it well ! and let it thrive 
 Unshackled everywhere. 
 
 The bark may rest upon the wave. 
 
 The spear may gather dust. 
 
 But never may the prow that cuts 
 The furrow lie and rust. 
 
 Fill up, fill up, with glowing heart. 
 
 And pledge our native land. 
 
 The Ploughshare of old England, 
 
 And the sturdy Peasant band ! 
 
 112 — Go where Glory waits thee. 
 
 Wordt by Arranged by 
 
 T.Moobe. Sir j. Sie venson. 
 
 Go where glory waits thee, 
 
 But while fame elates the. 
 
 Oh I still remember me. 
 
 When the praise thou meetest 
 To thine ear is sweetest. 
 
 Oh ! then remember me. 
 
 Other arms may press thee. 
 
 Dearer friends caress thee, 
 
 All the joys that bless thee, 
 
 Sweeter far may be; 
 
 But when friends are nearest. 
 
 And when joys jire dearest. 
 
 Oh ! then remember me. 
 
 When, at eve, thou rovest, 
 
 By the star thou lovest. 
 
 Oh ! then remember me. 
 
 Think, when home returning, 
 
 Bright we’ve seen it bm-uing. 
 
 Oh ! thus remembei' me. 
 
 Oft as summer closes. 
 
 When thine eye reposes 
 On its ling'ring rose.s. 
 
 Once so lov a by thee, 
 
 Think of her w ho wove them. 
 
 Her, who made thee love them. 
 
 Oh ! then remember me 
 
 113 —The Cable of Atla.s. 
 
 An Electric Song for the Sons of our Century. 
 Written and Composed by Hugo Vamp, Esq. 
 
 Sung by Mr. Fourness Rolfe. 
 
 A giant of old — lieth feeble and cold, 
 
 His fast closing eyes, they are dim as they’re 
 old. 
 
 For six thousand years has he lived deaf and 
 blind, 
 
 To crush each fair model by science designed ; 
 His creed hath been Mystery— Oppression his 
 right. 
 
 And the life-blood of progress ran cold at his 
 sight, 
 
 And science and art have lain palsied and still. 
 While the cold breath of ignorance palsied 
 their will. 
 
 But lol he dies, the grim old giant dies. 
 
 He dies ! he dies ! the old, old giant dies. 
 Yes, Ignorance dies— the old giant he dies. 
 
 Let the nations rejoice ; let Humanity rise. 
 And welcome the child that shall lighten the 
 pains 
 
 Of the rock-bound Prometheus, and sunder 
 his chairs. 
 
 Shall whisper wild liberty’s song in his ear. 
 And rouse up the vigour long vanquished by 
 fear. 
 
 Shall cage the dread eagle, send light thro’ the 
 glen. 
 
 Speak peace to all nations and goodwill to men. 
 He is born. He is born, and his motto is 
 “light to the world.” 
 
 He is born. He is born, let the standard of 
 mind be unfurled. 
 
 Young Mind is our champion— the foe he has 
 fought, 
 
 And he spans the Atlantic with one bound of 
 thought, 
 
 Thro’ land and thro’ ocean, through earth and 
 thro’ air. 
 
 He flashes his mandate. — ’Tis here. — It is 
 there. 
 
 Time, Space are no more, with electrical leap. 
 He piercesthe desert and conquers the deep. 
 The feat of the fairy must sink into shade, 
 
 For the globe is encircled, the girdle is made. 
 Rejoice ! earth, rejoice ! for the blessings 
 the past never knew. 
 
 Rejoice ! for the bond that shall bind the 
 old world to the new. 
 
 He fetters the lightning, and sends on her wing. 
 His message of love and its burthen will sing, 
 ’Tis Peace to the world, it is light to the blind ; 
 To commerce the Mainsail, to Science the 
 Wind ; 
 
 ’Tis the link that shall fasten the mass to 
 the few ; 
 
 ’Tis the bond that shall bind the old w'orld 
 and the new. 
 
 Prometheus ? no more let thy tears drown 
 the wind. 
 
 Thro’ Chaos is bursting the bright germ of 
 mind. 
 
 Rejoice, &c., &c. 
 
 114 — Phcebe Dearest. 
 
 Poetry by Music by 
 
 W. H. Bellamy. J. L. Hatton. 
 
 Sung by Mr. J, W. Williams. 
 
 Phoebe, dearest, tell, oh! tell me, 
 
 May 1 hope that you’ll be mine. 
 
 Oh ! let 110 cold frown repel me. 
 
 Leave me not with grief to pine. 
 
 Tho’ ’tis told in homely fashion, 
 
 Phoebe trust the tale I tell. 
 
 Ne’er was truer, purer passion. 
 
 Than within this heart does dwell. 
 
 Long I’ve watched each rare perfection, 
 Stealing o’er that gentle brow, • 
 
 Till respect became affection, 
 
 Such as that I offer now ; 
 
 If you love me and will have me, 
 
 True I’ll be in weal and woe. 
 
 If in proud disdain you leave me. 
 
 For a soldier I will go. 
 
 Little care the broken hearted, 
 
 Wha their fate by land or sea, 
 
 Phoebe, if we once are parted. 
 
 Once for ever it will be. 
 
 Say then yes, or blindly, madly, 
 
 I will rush upon the foe, 
 
 And will welcome, oh ! how gladly, 
 
 Shot or shell that lays me low. 
 
EVANS'S MUSIC AND SUPPER ROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN. 
 
 115 — The Dream. A Serenata. 
 
 Composed expressly for the occasion of the mar- 
 riage of the Princess Royal, hy Costa. 
 
 The words by William Bartholomew, Esq. 
 Introduction and Song.— TA e Lady. 
 
 O tell me, gentle orb of night, 
 
 Why are thy beams so cold ; 
 
 Although they shed a cheering light. 
 
 As bright and pure as gold ? 
 
 What art thou in yon starry maze ? 
 
 Art thou a world like ours ? 
 
 Hast thou thy shining nights, bright days, 
 Green fields, and fragrant flowers ? 
 
 Whate’er thou art, I know that He 
 Who made and gave thee light. 
 
 In mercy cares for thee and me; 
 
 So, gentle moon, good night. 
 
 Recitative.— OA erora. 
 
 She sleeps. Now Fays, on yonder green, 
 Prepare a car for Mab your queen ; 
 
 That in it she may hasten here. 
 
 And charm this lady’s eye and ear. 
 
 Chorus.— F a/ries. 
 
 Make the car of a golden king- cup, 
 
 Stud it o’er with dews of night ; 
 
 Let the moon’s unclouded radiance 
 Turn each drop to a gem of light. 
 
 Make the wheels of silver daisies. 
 
 Gathered from the fountain’s side : 
 
 Thus a chariot is provided 
 For Titaiiia’s evening ride. 
 
 Gnats shall be her winged horses ; 
 
 And the harness they shall wear, 
 
 Shall be webs of money spinners, 
 
 Caught while floating in the air. 
 
 Mab will need no goad to urge them. 
 
 Her sweet voice they will obey; 
 
 She will charm the lovely sleeper, 
 
 With her dream till dawn of day. 
 
 Recitative. — Mab. 
 
 Hither, hither, dream of pleasure, 
 
 Come, and o’er this fair one hover; 
 
 Let her hear a votive measure. 
 
 Sung by her beloved lover. 
 
 Let her, sleeping, see and hear him; — 
 
 Fancy she is seated near him. 
 
 Serenata.— r/ie Lover. 
 
 O the joy of truly loving ! 
 
 Like the odour shrined in roses. 
 
 True delight in love reposes. 
 
 Heaven imparts 
 Joy to hearts 
 Blest by pure affection. 
 
 O the joy of truly loving ! 
 
 Every vernal gale reveals it. 
 
 Every warbling songster feels it. 
 
 Heaven imparts 
 Joy to hearts 
 Blest by pure affection. 
 
 O the joy of truly loving ! 
 
 Hearts that never loved may doubt it. 
 
 Life would be a blank without it. 
 
 Heaven imparts 
 Joy to hearts 
 Blest by pure affection. 
 
 (Imitated from the German.) 
 
 Recitative and Chorus.— il/aA. 
 
 See, see the stars and Cynthia’s gleams. 
 Begin to fade in morning’s beams : 
 
 Ere they turn the night to day. 
 
 Fairies, we must speed away. 
 
 Fairies. 
 
 Mab commands, and we obey, 
 
 Mab. 
 
 Visions, round this fair one creep. 
 
 Soothe her while she lies asleep 
 Dreaming of her lover s lay. 
 
 Faries, we must speed away. 
 
 Faries. 
 
 Mab commands, and we obey. 
 
 Serenade.— Chorus.— TAe People. 
 Lady, arise ! look forth and see 
 The chaplet we have twined for thee. 
 Though Winter is not ended; 
 
 The sweetest flowers that owe their birth 
 To Art, ere Spring revisits earth. 
 
 In this fair wreath are blended. 
 
 These roses, wearing Nature’s blush, 
 
 Are like the lovely hues that flush 
 Thy cheek with fond emotion : 
 
 See lilies, pure and w'hite as snow, 
 
 Or thine, or Cytheraea’s brow. 
 
 When first she left the ocean. 
 
 These myrtle-blooms Idalia loves, 
 
 And jasmine stars from Flora’s groves. 
 
 For thee adorn’d the bower; 
 
 These orange-blossoms crowned the bride. 
 When Love and Psyche were allied 
 By Hymen’s nuptial power. 
 
 Need we this morning tell thee why 
 Symbolic flowers should bloom and sigh 
 Entw'ined in thy bright tresses ? 
 
 Then, lady, graciously receive 
 Our choral homage, and believe 
 The love each heart expresses. 
 
 116 — Upon the Meads of England. 
 
 Poetry by il. S. K. il/ws/c Ay W. Maynard. 
 Sung by Mr. ,T. Hogan. 
 
 Recit. 
 
 Upon the meads of England, 
 
 There roll’d a giant cry. 
 
 Which Freedom echoed, as it flew, 
 Resounding to the sky. 
 
 Air. 
 
 Yes, on the meads of England, 
 i There rose a mighty breeze, 
 
 It whisper’d far in foreign lands. 
 
 Across the bounding seas. 
 
 I speak a nation’s warning, 
 
 Hear all of ye the word, 
 
 Who’d touch the freedom of his land 
 Will feel the Saxon’s sword. 
 
 The Saxon, firm in friendship. 
 
 Is terrible in might. 
 
 And dares to give, tho’ despots frown. 
 
 To ev’ryman his right. 
 
 The meanest slave has but to tread 
 Old England to be free. 
 
 Then woe to him who’d touch him there, 
 How'ever great he be. 
 
 I Thus from the meads of England 
 Spoke out this mighty breeze, 
 
 I And as it whisper’d, nation’s shook 
 Across the bounding seas. 
 
 Then on our banner be it writ, 
 
 There ever be it seen, 
 
 To none will Saxon ever bow 
 But to his God and Queen. 
 
 1 117 — Love, Art Thou AVakixg or 
 j Dreaming of Me ? 
 
 J WriUfM and composed by G. Lixlet. 
 
 Sung by Mr. McDavitt. 
 
 ] Brightly the moon rests on the lake, 
 j From thy slumbers av,’ake ; 
 
 1 Softly the breeze sighs thro’ the grove, 
 
 I am awaiting thee, love. 
 
 Far I have wander’d o’er the wide sea. 
 Wearing this token faithful to thee. 
 
 Yes, I am near thee, dear one, again, 
 
 ’Tis thine own minstrel, list to his strain : 
 While the stars shine conssant I’ll be. 
 Ever true unto thee — 
 
 I Love, art thou waking or dreaming of me ? 
 
 Linger not, love, why this delay ? 
 
 Fast the night wears away ; 
 
 One tender word breath’d in mine ear 
 Would dispel every fear. 
 
 Still to thy lattice look I for thee, 
 
 Waves there no signal fondly to me? 
 
 Let me behold thee, dear one, again, 
 
 ’Tis thine own minstrel, list to his strain : 
 While the stars shine* constant I’ll be, 
 Ever true unto thee— 
 
 Love art thou waking or dreaming of me ? 
 
 118 — The Wolf. Shield. 
 
 At the peaceful midnight hour. 
 
 Every sense, and every power. 
 
 Fetter'd lies in downy sleep : 
 
 ^ Then cur careful watch we keep, 
 
 While the wolf in nightly prowl. 
 
 Bays the moon with hideous howl. 
 
 Gates are barr’d, a vain resistance ; 
 Females shriek, but no assistance : 
 
 Silence, silence, or you meet your fate: 
 Your keys, your jewels, cash and plate! 
 Locks, bolts, and bars soon fly asunder ; 
 Then to rifle, rob, and plunder. 
 
 119 —Mary Morrison. Scotch Sonff 
 
 ^.Worda by Burns. 
 
 Sung by Mr. McDavitt. 
 
 Oh, Mary, at thy window be, 
 
 It is the wish’d, the trysted hour; 
 
 Those smiles and glances let me see 
 That made the miser’s treasure poor. 
 
 How blythely wad I bide the stour, 
 
 A weary slave frae sun to sun. 
 
 Could I the rich reward secure. 
 
 The lovely Mary Morrison. 
 
 Yestreen, when to the stented string, 
 
 The dance gaed thro’ the lichtit ha’, 
 
 To thee my fancy took its wing : 
 
 I sat, but neither heard nor saw, 
 
 Tho’ this was fair and that was braw. 
 
 And you the toast o’ a’ the town, 
 
 I sighed, and said, amang them a’, 
 
 “Ye are na Mary Morrison.” 
 
 Oh, Mary, canstthou wreck his peace 
 Wha for thy sake wad gladly dee ? 
 
 Or canst thou break that heart oi his 
 Wbase only fault is loving thee? 
 
 If love for love thou wilt not gie, 
 
 A t least be pity on me shown ; ’ 
 
 A thocht ungentle canna be 
 The thocht of Mary Morrison. 
 
 Music by 
 Her Sister. 
 
 tfritten by 
 
 Mrs. Hemans. 
 
 What hid’st thou in thy treasure caves and celh 
 1 hou ever-sounding and mysterious main. 
 
 Pale glistening pearls, and rainbow-colour’d 
 shells.— Qq 
 
 Bright things vvhich gleam unreck’d of and 
 
 ^eep, keep thy riches, melancholy sea, 
 e ask not, we ask not such from thee. 
 
 1 et more, the billows and the depths have more 
 High hearts and brave are gathered to thy 
 breast i 
 
 Phey hear not now the booming water roar 
 The raging battle s thunders will not break 
 their rest! 
 
 Keep thy red gold and gems, thou stormy grave. 
 
 Give back, give back, give back the true and 
 brave. 
 
 Give back the lost and lovely-those for whom 
 The place was kept at board and hearth so 
 long: 
 
 The prayer went up, through midnight’s breath- 
 less gloom. 
 
 And the vain yearnings woke ’midst festive 
 song. 
 
 Hold fast thy buried isles-thy towers o’er- 
 throwm : 
 
 But all, but all, but all is not thine own ? 
 
 To thee the love of woman hath gone down 
 Dark flow thy tides o’er manhood’s noblehead. 
 
 O er youth’s bright locks, and beauty’s flowery 
 crown; ^ 
 
 Yet thou must hear a voice— Restore the dead. 
 
 Earth shall reclaim her precious tilings frouK 
 thee — \ 
 
 Restore, restore, restore the dead, thou sea » 
 
 121 — The British Anchor. 
 
 Fillup, fill up your mystic fires, a noble work 
 is thine. 
 
 Who forge the British Anchor— the dweller of 
 the brine ! 
 
 It seemeth round the lurid flames some magic 
 rite ye keep, 
 
 Creating-from that shapeless mass the divers of 
 the deep. 
 
 No sound is in the old dock-yard —all hearts are 
 in one spot. 
 
 Where now the living, liquid fire, is ragin'* 
 white and hot ; ® 
 
 The signal’s given, strike ! stalwart men, your 
 lion prowess keep ! 
 
 Hurrah ! they’ve forged the Anchor! the diver 
 of the deep. 
 
 Oh ! the Anchors of our navy are the emblems 
 of the free. 
 
 They guard our giant ships from WTeck on 
 many a stormy sea; 
 
 They tell the brave and gallant hearts that 
 dwell upon the main, 
 
 What joys shall greet them when they sleep ofl:* 
 British shores again. 
 
 Then honour to the Anchor ! though it never 
 shall abide. 
 
 In its home beneath the billow, while there’s 
 war upon the tide ; 
 
 For the ploughers of the ocean their name and 
 fame shall keep. 
 
 As strong— as firm, as faithful, as the diver of 
 the deep ! 
 
EVANS'S MUSIC AND SUPPER ROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN. 
 
 2 The Meeting of the Waters. 
 
 Words hu Music arranged btj 
 
 roM Moobe. Sib John Stevenson. 
 
 Sung by Mb. Hogan. 
 
 There is not in the wide world a valley so 
 
 Arthat vale, in whose bosom the bright 
 
 waters meet; 
 
 Oh ! the last rays of feeling and life must 
 
 Erefhe^bloom of that valley shall fade from 
 my heart. 
 
 Yet, it was not that nature had shed o er 
 the scene . . ^ 
 
 Her purest of crystal and brightest of 
 
 ’Twas not the soft magic of streamlet or 
 
 Oh !^o,— it was something more exquisite 
 
 still. 
 
 ’Twas that friends, the belov’d of my 
 hosom, were near, , ^ * 
 
 Who made everydear scene of enchantment 
 
 move dear, , „ 
 
 And who felt how the best charms of 
 nature improve, „ ^ ^ 
 
 When we see them reflected from looks 
 that we love. 
 
 Sweet vale of Avoca ! how calm could I 
 In thy bosom of shade, with the friends I 
 
 love best, 
 
 Where the storms that we feel in this cold 
 
 world should cease, ... 
 
 And our hearts, like thy waters, be mingled 
 in peace ! 
 
 1 9 ^ The Red Cross Banner. 
 
 Nelson. 
 
 Sung by Mr. Elton Williams. 
 
 Recit. 
 
 England, if still the patriot fires _ 
 
 That warm’d the bosoms of thy sires, 
 
 Dwell with their sons, what heart can fail. 
 Long as there floats upon the gale, 
 
 Thy Red Cross banner, proudly free. 
 
 Still to throb high for liberty. 
 
 Air. 
 
 When first on Albion’s sea-girt shore. 
 
 Her foot fair freedom press’d. 
 
 It’s hills and vales she wander’d o’er. 
 
 And thus the soil she bless’d. 
 
 ' ‘Land of the fair, the free, the brave, 
 
 Rule thou the rolling sea. 
 
 There let thy Red Cross Banner wave 
 The foremost of the free.” 
 
 Forth flew the word from pole to pole, 
 
 And conquer’d worlds can tell. 
 
 As yet where’er the billows roll. 
 
 We’ve kept our charter well. 
 
 There’s not a shore that ocean laves. 
 
 But Freedom there may see, 
 ThatEngland’s Red Cross Banner waves 
 The foremost of the free. 
 
 And while one single shred will fly. 
 
 Lit bv its glories past, 
 
 England must lift that banner high. 
 
 Must nail it to the mast. 
 
 For England’s sun will set in shame. 
 
 And dark her doom must.be, 
 
 If e’er her vaunting foes should claim 
 The Empire of the sea. 
 
 124 — Good bye, Sweetheart good 
 
 BYE. 
 
 Words hy 
 
 Folkestone Williams 
 
 125 -The 
 
 Reaper and the 
 Flowers. 
 
 Words ly M^icly 
 
 Longfellow. Mr. W. Balfe 
 
 Sung by J. Hogan. 
 
 There is a reaper whose name is Death, 
 
 And with his sickle keen. 
 
 He reaps the bearded grain at a breath. 
 
 And the flow’rs that grow between. 
 
 ‘‘ Sh»ll I have nought that is fair,” saith he, 
 “Have nought but the bearded grain, 
 Though thebreathofjthese flow’rsis sweet to me 
 I will give them all back again.” 
 
 He gazed at the flow’rs with tearful eyes, 
 
 He kissed their drooping leaves. 
 
 It was for the Lord of Paradise, 
 
 He bound them in his sheaves. 
 
 “The Lord hath need of these flow’rets gay,” 
 The reaper said, and smiled. 
 
 Dear tokens of the earth are they, 
 
 Where he was once a child. 
 
 “ They shall all bloom in fields of light. 
 Transplanted by my care. 
 
 And saints, upon their garments white. 
 
 Those sacred blossoms wear.” 
 
 And the mother gave in tears and pain. 
 
 The flow’rs she most did love. 
 
 She knew she could have them all again. 
 
 In the fields of light above. 
 
 Oh ! not in cruelty, not in wrath. 
 
 The reaper came that day, 
 
 Twas an angel, visited the green earth. 
 
 And took the flow’rs away. 
 
 Bellini. 
 
 Coviposd Ijj 
 J. L. Hatton. 
 
 Sung by Mr. Williams. 
 
 The. pale stars fade—the morn is breaking; 
 
 The dew'-drops pearl each bud and leaf, 
 And I from thee my leave am taking. 
 
 With bliss too \)rief — with bliss too brief. 
 How sinks my heart with fond alarms; 
 
 The tear is biding in mine eye ; 
 
 For time doth thrust me from thine arms ; 
 Goodbye, Sweetheart, goodbye ! 
 
 The sun is up,— the lark is soaring ; 
 
 Loud swells the song of chanticleer; 
 
 The lev’ret bounds o’er earth’s soft flooring. 
 Yet I am here, yet 1 am here. 
 
 For since night's gems from heav’n did fade, 
 And morn to floral lips doth hie, 
 
 I could not leave thee, though I said — 
 Good bye. Sweetheart, Good bye ! 
 
 126 — Sun of Freedom. 
 
 Froin the Opera of “ Nor ma. ” 
 
 Sung by Mr. Elton Williams. 
 
 Recitative. 
 
 Sun of Freedom, so long o’erclouded, _ 
 
 Shall we never more behold thee shining. 
 
 By your eagles dark pinions shrouded. 
 
 Must we ever for thy lovely light be pining. 
 \Vill our oppressors, awhile dissemble, 
 
 'Tis with rage, not fear, we tremble. 
 
 Still for vengeance fondly thirsting. 
 
 Soon shall we our strength essaying, 
 
 Like a torrent all bondage bursting. 
 
 Fall in thunder on the toe. 
 
 Caution! let no sound the waves betray. 
 Rising round their destined prey. 
 
 Air. 
 
 Hark ! ’tis liberty shouting to arms. 
 
 And swifter than echo replying, 
 
 Our bucklers, loud dashing, 
 
 Re.spond to the heart’s-stirring call. 
 
 If her voice e’er for Freemen hath charm, 
 ’Tis when nobly, as now, she is crying. 
 
 To battle, ye children of Gaul. 
 
 To the field, she exclaims, up, away. 
 
 Who tarries, to me is a foeman. 
 
 To Caesar’s fierce eagles 
 
 Giv'e chase, till in blood they shall fall. 
 
 Let the wolf wander scathless in day, 
 
 Less cruel is he than the foeman, 
 
 To battle, ye children of Gaul. 
 
 To battle, &c. 
 
 127— When the Kye come Hame. 
 
 Scotch Song. 
 
 Words by the Eilrick Shepherd. 
 
 Sung by Mr. McDavitt. 
 
 Come a’ ye jolly shepherds 
 That whistle thro’ the glen, 
 
 An’ I’ll tell ye o’ a secret 
 That courtiers dinna ken. 
 
 V/hat is the greatest bliss 
 
 That the tongue o’ man can name ? 
 
 ’Tis to woo a bonnie lassie 
 When the kye come hame, 
 
 ’Tw'een the gloamin and the mirk, 
 
 When tlie kye come hame. 
 
 ’Tis not beneath the burgonet 
 Nor yet beneath the crown ; 
 
 ’Tis not on coucti of velvet. 
 
 Nor yet on bed of dorvn ; 
 
 'Tis beneath the spreadin birk. 
 
 In the dell without a name, 
 
 Wi’ your bonnie smiling lassie 
 When the kye come hame. 
 
 See yonder pauky shepherd 
 That lingers on tlie hill ; 
 
 His lambs are in the fauld, 
 
 And his ewes are lying still ; 
 
 Yet he daurna gae to bed, 
 
 For his heart is in a flame 
 To meet his bonnie lassie 
 When the kye come hame. 
 
 ]^28— Who shall be Fairest? Mori. 
 
 Words by Dr. Mackay, LL.D. 
 
 Who shall be fairest?— who shall be rarest? 
 
 Who shall be first in the songs that we sing? 
 
 She who is kindest, when fortune is blindest. 
 Bearing thro’ winter the bloom of the spring. 
 Charm of our gladness, friend of our sadness, 
 Angel of life, when its pleasures take wing! 
 
 She shall be fairest, she shall be rarest. 
 
 She shall be first in the songs that we sing. 
 
 Who shall be nearest?— noblest and dearest? 
 
 Nam’d but with honour and pride evermore I 
 He, the undaunted, whose banner is planted. 
 
 On glory’s higVi ramparts & battlements hoar. 
 Fearless of danger, to falsehood a stranger, 
 Looking not back while there’s duty before : 
 
 He shall be neai'est, he shall be dearest, 
 
 He shall be first inour heart evermore. 
 
 129— When Time hath Bereft 
 Thee. Auber. 
 
 From the Opera of “ Gustavus the Third'." 
 Sung by Mr. Elton Williams. 
 
 When time hath bereft thee of charms now 
 divine ; 
 
 When youth shall have left thee, nor beauty 
 be thine ; 
 
 When the roses shall vanish that circle thee 
 
 And the thorn thou would’st banish shall press 
 on thy brow ; 
 
 In the hour of thy sadness then think upon me, 
 And that thought shall be madness, deceiver 
 to thee. 
 
 When he who could turn thee from virtue and 
 fame. 
 
 Shall leave thee, and spurn thee, to sorrow 
 and shame; . 
 
 When by him thus requited, thy brain shall 
 be stung. 
 
 Thy hope shall he blighted, thy hosom be 
 wrung ; 
 
 In the depth of thy sadness, then think 
 upon me. 
 
 And that thought shall be madness, deceiver 
 to thee. 
 
 230 -The Soldier’s Adieu. 
 
 Words and Music by Dibdin. 
 
 Sung by Mr. Elton Williams. 
 
 Adieu, adieu, my only life, 
 
 My honor call’s me from thee, 
 
 Remember thou’rt a Soldier’s wife — 
 
 Those tears but ill become thee. 
 
 What tho’ by duty I am call’d 
 Where thuiid’ring camions rattle, ^ 
 
 I Where valor’s self might stand apall d, 
 
 I When on the wings of thy dear love, 
 
 To heav’n above thy fervent orisons are flown, 
 The tender pray’r, thou put’st up there. 
 Shall call a guardian angel down 
 To watch me in the battle. 
 
 My safety, thy fair truth shall be 
 As sword and buckler serving, 
 
 My life shall be more dear to me 
 Because of thy preserving. 
 
 Let peril come, let horror threat, 
 
 Let thund’ring cannons rattle, 
 
 I’ll fearless seek the conflict’s heat, 
 
 Assured when on the wing of love 
 To heaven above thy fervent orisons are flown, 
 The tender prayer, &c. 
 
 232— The old Friends at Home. 
 
 ” Sung by Mr. Godden. 
 
 Far down beside the green savanna, 
 
 Far, far away ; 
 
 Where all day long the red bird warbles. 
 There do the kind hearts stay. 
 
 Ah! wheresoe’er my footstep wanders. 
 Where’er I roam, 
 
 I sigh for tliose from whom I’m parted. 
 Sigh for the old friends at home. 
 
 All the world grows sad and dreary, 
 Everywhere I roam ; 
 
 Oh ! how my heart grows sad and weary. 
 Far from the old friends at home, 
 
 There’s one down by the green savanna 
 One that I love ; 
 
 Ah ! how that dear form haunts me. 
 
 No matter where I rove. 
 
 They who have none to prize them fondly. 
 Know not the pain 
 
 That this poor heart must feel and suffer 
 Till I see home again. 
 
 All the world seems dark and dreary. 
 
 No matter where I roam ! 
 
 Oh ! how my heart grows sad weary 
 Far from the old friends at home. 
 
44 EVANS'S MUSIC AND SUPPER ROOMS, COVENT-GARDEN. 
 
 138— The Minstrel Boy. Moore. 
 
 Sung by Mr. McDavitt. 
 
 The minstrel boy to the ■war is gone, 
 
 In the ranks of death you’ll find him ; 
 
 His father’s swoid he has girded on, 
 
 And his wild harp slung behind him. 
 
 “ Land of song,” said the warrior hard, 
 
 “ Tho’all the world betrays thee. 
 
 One faithful sword thy rights shall guard, 
 One faithful harp shall praise thee.” 
 
 The minstrel fell, but the foeman’s chain 
 Could not bring his proud soul under ; 
 
 The harp he loved ne’er spoke again, 
 
 For he tore its chords asunder. 
 
 And said, “ No chain shall sully thee, 
 
 Thou soul of love and bravery ; 
 
 Thy songs were made for the pure and free. 
 They shall never sound in slavery.” 
 
 133 — The Maid of Kildare. 
 
 Music hy Wordsby 
 
 J. P. Knight. J. E. Carpenter. 
 
 Sung by Mr. Godden. 
 
 Oh! the maid of Kildare she’s young and she’s 
 fair. 
 
 And her lovers are raving about her ; 
 
 Yet not one willshe bless, tho’ so many profess 
 And vow there’s no living without her. 
 
 Her brow’s like the dawn, her step like the 
 fawn, 
 
 With her beauty there’s none can compare, 
 For the work that she makes, and the hearts 
 that she breaks, 
 
 This beautiful Maid of Kildare, 
 
 Oh ! the work that she makes, &c. 
 
 But time will run on, and her youth will be 
 gone. 
 
 And her lipauty be wither’d and blighted ; 
 And some of these days, ’mid so many delays, 
 She’ll find herself lonely and slighted. 
 
 Now, her lips are red rose, and wherever she 
 goes. 
 
 With her beauty there’s none can compare, 
 For her eyes are so bright, you’d be dreaming 
 each night. 
 
 Of this beautiful Maid of Kildare. 
 
 For her eyes are so bright, &c. 
 May be had here, price 2s. 
 
 134 — Is IT THE Tempest that we 
 Hear ? Sir H. R. Bishop. 
 
 Solo, Soprano. 
 
 Is it the tempest that we hear. 
 
 Or is it bold invaders near? 
 
 Say, sister, say. 
 
 ’Tis not the tempest that you hear. 
 
 It is bold invaders near ! 
 
 Hush ! hush ! I hear ! 
 
 Solo, Tenor. 
 
 Oh, vestals, hear ray fervent prayer. 
 
 From all surrounding danger. 
 
 From storm, from darkness, and despair. 
 
 Oh 1 save a wayworn stranger. 
 
 Soprani. 
 
 Sure ’tis some wayworn stranger; 
 
 No, no, some dreadful danger ! 
 
 Tenor. 
 
 Oh I save a wayworn stranger. 
 
 Oh ! save from all surrounding danger ! 
 Quartett. 
 
 Lightning flashing — thunder crashing ! 
 
 TeNORI and S0PR.4NI. 
 
 Oh, befriend us ! Ah, if we dare ! 
 
 Death must end us. Sister, forbear! 
 
 Quintett. 
 
 For aid, for aid, we pray. 
 
 Duet and Chorus. 
 
 We dare not stay. In pity stay ! 
 
 Quintett. 
 
 Save us, save us. in mercy save us, 
 
 From this angry glare of fire ! 
 
 Proclaiming awfully, 
 
 Our God’s avenging ire ! 
 
 Oh, give us hope, thoul’t mitigate thy rage. 
 This wild and elemental war assuage, 
 
 Quartett. 
 hears and bids it cease, 
 e storm is gently lull’d to peace. 
 
 Quintett. 
 
 k! again it louder raves, 
 
 Uread volcanospourforth burning waves. 
 
 135 — The Home Fairy. 
 
 Words hy Music by 
 
 Mrs. Newton Crossland. Peter Winter. 
 Fairies long their wings have folded, 
 
 And of earthly wands bereft. 
 
 Dwell they on a purer planet. 
 
 Wearied of the strife they left. 
 
 All save home’s benignant fairy. 
 
 Who with mild angelic mien, 
 
 And with voice of gentle pity. 
 
 Leaves a charm where she has been. 
 
 And with voice, &c. 
 True heart-love and generous temper; 
 
 Where they hive she comes with joy ; 
 And she draws a magic circle. 
 
 Keeking off the world’s annoy. 
 
 Humble hearth’s may thus have glory. 
 More than gilded palace domes ; 
 
 Bitter lot for mortal’s dwelling. 
 
 Where this fairy never comes. 
 
 Bitter lot, &c. 
 
 For the only stray revealings. 
 
 Which we have of fairy land. 
 
 Rise within the magic circle. 
 
 Woven by affection’s hand. 
 
 And the shape the gentle fairy. 
 
 Surely takes when resting there, 
 
 Is affection’s holy presence, 
 
 Blessing all within its sphei'e ! 
 
 Is affection’s, &c. 
 
 136 — The Harp that once thro’ 
 Tara’s Halls. 
 
 Words hy Ai-rangcd by 
 
 T. Moore. Sir. J. Stevenson. 
 
 Sung by Mr. J. Hogan. 
 
 The harp that once thro’ Tara’s halls. 
 
 The soul of music shed, 
 
 Now hangs as mute on Tara’s walls. 
 
 As if that soul were fled. — 
 
 So sleeps the pride of former days. 
 
 So glory’s thrill is o’er. 
 
 And hearts, that once beat high for praise. 
 Now feel that pulse no more ! 
 
 No more to chiefs and ladies bright 
 The harp of Tara swells ; 
 
 The chord, alone, that breaks at night. 
 
 Its tale of ruin tells. 
 
 Thus Freedom now so seldom wakes. 
 
 The only throb she gives. 
 
 Is when some heart indignant breaks. 
 
 To show that still she lives. 
 
 137— Oh ! THE Flow’ry Month of 
 June. 
 
 Composed by W. Jackson, Bradford. 
 
 Oh ! the flow’ry month of .Tune, 
 
 Again I hail as summer’s queen; 
 
 The hills and valleys sing in joy. 
 
 And all the woods are green. 
 
 The streamlets flow in gladsome song. 
 
 The sprightly birds are all in tune. 
 
 And Nature smiles in summer pride. 
 
 In the flow’ry month of June. 
 
 There’s music in the laughing sky. 
 
 And balm upon the air; 
 
 The earth is stamp’d with loveliness, 
 
 And all around is fair. 
 
 There’s glory on the mountain top. 
 
 And gladness on the plain; 
 
 The flowers wake from their wintry bed, 
 And blush and bloom again. 
 
 Hail! Hail! the flow’ry month of June. 
 
 Oh! the flow’ry month of June ; 
 
 My heart is bounding wild and free. 
 
 As with a fond and longing look, 
 
 I gaze once more on thee. 
 
 With all thy thousand sparkling gems, 
 
 A lovely, bright, and blessed boon, 
 
 That comes to cheer and welcome in 
 The flow’ry month of June. 
 
 The lark hath sought an upward home, 
 
 Far in the dewy air, # 
 
 While lowly by the rose’s cheek, 
 
 Tire blackbird’s singing there ; 
 
 Or in its leafy bowers unseen 
 The thrush bursts forth in song; 
 
 A low' and pleasing melody 
 The woods and dells among. 
 
 Hail! hail! the flow’ry month of June. 
 
 138 — When Music. 
 
 Wordsby L. Esq. Composed by L. Esq. MS. 
 When music’s soft melodious strain, 
 
 Floats gently through the balmy air. 
 
 It soothes the wounded spirits pain, 
 Smoothes o’er the wrinkled brow of care. 
 
 139 — Oft in the stilly Night. 
 
 Words by Arranged hy 
 
 T. Moore. Sir. J, Stevenson. 
 
 Sung by Mr. J. Hogan. 
 
 Oft in the stilly night. 
 
 Ere Slumber’s chain has bound me. 
 
 Fond memory brings the light 
 Of other days around me; — 
 
 The smiles and fears of boyhood’s years. 
 The words of love then spoken. 
 
 The eyes that shone, now dimm’d and gone, 
 The cheerful hearts now broken. 
 
 [IThus, in the stilly night, &c. 
 When I remember all 
 The friends so link’d together, 
 
 I’ve seen around me fall. 
 
 Like leaves in wintry weather. 
 
 I feel like one who treads alone 
 Some banquet hall deserted. 
 
 Whose lights are fled, vrhose garlands dead, 
 And all but he departed. 
 
 Thus, in the stilly night, &c. 
 
 140 — Hark! the Clarion soundinc 
 
 From the Opera of “ The Rose of Castille." 
 Sung by Mr. Elton Williams. 
 Recitative. 
 
 Comrades and friends, your services to-day; 
 
 As King. Don Pedro nobly shall repay. 
 
 The hour is at hand— not Fate can now oppose 
 Of Empire sure, I trample on my foes. 
 
 Air. 
 
 Hai’k ! hark! methinks I hear 
 The clarion sounding near% 
 
 With bold, defiant voice. 
 
 It bids my friends rejoice. 
 
 The hearts of foes shall fear 
 Their Monarch's sword and spear; 
 
 For Fortune, smiling now. 
 
 Doth diadem my brow. 
 
 141 —The Haymaker’s Song. 
 
 Words hy Music hy 
 
 Mrs. Newton. Crossland.’ R.P, Stewart 
 
 The long grass ripples in the breeze. 
 
 Which lightly stirs around. 
 
 And azure sky and em’rald green 
 The landscape seems to bound: 
 
 Up, up, the birds are carolling. 
 
 And insects on the wing. 
 
 And blithely sounds the mower’s scythe, 
 
 And blithe the echoes ring. [ 
 
 Let us sing to our work a gay roundelay. 
 
 For there’s no work so merry as making the hajJ 
 The noon-sun darts its rays of fire; f 
 
 The morn’s fresh breeze is dead. 
 
 Or faintly ruffles leaf and flow’r. 
 
 As if its strength w'ere sped : 
 
 Now', now, the em’rald green shall fade. 
 
 And tawny hues appear ; 
 
 So let us hasten to the field. 
 
 Our comrades there to cheer. 
 
 And sing to our work, ^c. 
 Tlie bright days pass and summer nights 
 But seem to veil the sky. 
 
 As friend might shad e tbe brow of one 
 Who lightly slumber’d nigh. 
 
 Come, come, nor waste another hour 
 W’e’ll load our hay to-day. 
 
 The perfume fills the pleasant air. 
 
 And round us seems to play. 
 
 As we sing to our work, &c. 
 
 142 — Patty Kavanagh. 
 
 Sung by Mr. Godden. 
 
 Shall we meet, ere ev’niiig’s grey, 
 
 Her, Patty, pretty Patty ? 
 
 Or when silver moonbeams play, 
 
 Pretty Patty, tell me ? 
 
 Shall I then my love impart? 
 
 Woo you to relieve my smart ? 
 
 Shall each give and take a heart? 
 
 Lovely Patty Kavanagh ! 
 
 I can boast no wealth nor birth. 
 
 Hey Patty, pretty Patty ? 
 
 Think you these alone have worth ? 
 
 Pretty Patty, tell me? 
 
 Surely health, a heart that’s true, 
 
 A hand that can protect you, too, 
 
 Are gems, and these 1 proffer you 
 Lovely Patty Kavanagh ! 
 
 What peeps o’er yon hilly spot, 
 
 Hey Patty, pretty Patty ? 
 
 The village steeple, is it not? 
 
 Pretty Patty, tell me? /< 
 
 There’s the church and here’s the ringT'' 
 Love makes life a constant spring, 
 
 Then haste, for time is on tile wing, 
 j Lovely Patty Kavanagh. 
 

 
 
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