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My orders wm to ivait at Lisboin ttH Bf r; 
Hii3sey wrote to 'me from Aranjne2, add ac^ 
cording to* the tenor of his report I was to use 
my discretion as to proceeding onwards, or re- 
turning home ; and thir b^ing a point dnemyt 
as to my credit or^ discredit in the. management 
of the business I was entrusted with^ I was 
most argent and precise with Mr. Hitssey m 
conjuring faim^ to be extremely carefiiUnd cor- 
laeot in his report, by which I was toi guide my- 
self, and this he solemiily pi-oonised tnetthat hef 
would observe. On th& l^th and SOtfa I pre- 
pared my dispatd}es, and on the 31st delivered 
them to the pacqisdt master^ Who tdok his de* 
partiuethat very day*' 



In the mean time I understood from M. 
Hussey, that in applying to the Spanish am- 
bassq^dor Count Fernari None:? for his passport, 
he had committed himself to a conversation, 
from which he drew very promising expecta- 
tions ; of this I informed my proper minister 
Lpi'd HiilsBoaough, as win af^e^r by the fql- 
lowing extract of my letter dated the 19th of 
May 1780, 

'' My Lord, 

" When Mr. Hussey waited on 
" Count Fernan Nunez .y^terday for his pkis- 
^^ port, lie would 'have made his commission fdt 
^' die exchange of prisonei^s the ^frretencd for 
*^his> journey into Spain, btitthe ambassiadoi! 
<* gave him plainly to understand he Witsicon^ 
"fidential with Count Florida ,Blanca i» tlie 
** business upon which we ace come. This Jbidng 
" the<!ase, Mr. Hussey tlioughtifc by no means. 
** nede^ary to decline a conversation with th^ 
" ambassador under proper reserve; Hewasisoon 
^- told that his arrival was anxiously ekpecled 
*^ at Aranjiiez. No expressidn of good will to 
'^ him, to me, and to the commission : I am 
^^ entrusted with was omitted. It was pro-. 
^* posed by the ambassador to pay me the ha-». 


** nour of a visit, if acceptable, in any way I 
** liked best ; but this Mr. Hussey without re- 
f * ferring to me very properly and readily pre- 
" vented. 

He entered into many pertinent enquiries 

as to the state of the ministry atd the man- 
^* ner, in which Lord North had been pressed 
'* in the House of Commons ; be would have 
'^ stirred the question of an accommodation 
** with France, but was plainly answered by 
** Mn Hussey that he had no tfkt word to say 
^' upon that subject ; the channel was open, 
** be observed, but ours was not that chan- 
" nel— ♦ * 

The conversation then ctosed with such 

asjsarances of a sincere pacific disposition oh 
'* the part of Spain, that if Count Feman 
" Nunez reports fairly and is not imposed on, 
^* our business seems to be in an- auspicious 
'' train—* * *** 

My gratitude to Sir William Burnaby and 
his officers induced me to address the follow- 
ing letter and request to Lord Hillsborough, 
which I made separate, and sent under cover 
«f the same dispatch. 


. *^ May the ^Oth 1780 
ff My Lor^, " Milfprd frigate off Belem^ 

" I cannot let this opportunity go 
" by Tifit)iout4y pressing tQ your Lor^lsbip, and 
!* thfough ypij t0 LoFf) SfwHwich, -my most 
^' ttiajj)cf>iJ*ickBflwl^g!n^nta for indulging my 
*/ \Ylsjbjef^ by putting m«e ^H board the Milford 
" under 'the c^FiC Aiid command of Sir William 
." Iiurna)[w,:.whp4e unremitted kindness ahdat^ 
V tepf i(^p to ^^ and my family, I can neither 
y fJuJy rfelatf, ftor rep?iy.. Throughout a ^ong 
.*.' and ^n ey^fttful .pa.3$ftge, Ivbiether we were 
''struggling with a gale, or clearing ship for 
y^ftptipfl, bp^i>/he,.Qfld hi^ officers uniformly 
*(^q9ftduptp4>thpm^lve$ with that harmony, 
i;:^«PP^frftn;*>P^ci^APl9, as! seemed to p^t them 
y in »^^^ff^; pps^eftuipn pf ^u^rcess ; the: men 
*- tja^j|j^p|vjfs bfrv^ b^ea $p loag attached to 
" their officers, and all of them to the ship:it- 
l"'i self, :,jliJnflt: the s^yfcre^tdutyis here directed 
"vTOthoyt; ^R pftth,; and obeyed without a mur^ 
M iflUT.H-Though we have beeti encumbered 
/' wiA ^^ch ^ croufd. pf pri§opei% inany of 
** whom seemed to posse^^ the spirit of mutiny 
'^ in full force, our discipline has kept all in 










•* perfect quiet, and suoh hiiiftstne- dttentloa 
" has Ijeen paid to theit health) that not 4 mu- 
" gle prisontr has sickeied of ^onipl^ihied, 
" I tike the liberty of iritrfuditi^ {\pbvi ^oiir 
lordship* ^ith theSe pArticalarsI to introduce 
a suit to you, ^ich I haV^ lYiost ailiiiously 
** aft lieart, and fn wliich t am joJwed \^\t\i equal 
** arixifcty by my fridnd JWr. Hu^st y t rt m, nVy 
^* XotA, W i)e^feeb you to protridfe t\it applica- 
" tioi ift4de by Sir William JEfurnaby to Lord 
" Sandwich in behalf of his fi^6 liiufetiant 
" Mr. William Grosvenor to be niadel maM:er 
'* and cdtAmaftder; aA offleet of<fc^n* years 
'^ srtanding, well knowri in the navy and dis- 
tfiri^fehetf f6i* activity, sobriety and pii^bfes- 
^ioiiaHkill and ability : \m a^Mt/rMtid thi 
" *r(^M^^hyVdrriif*al Byr6nv^ndis4ii^^hl;^ reS- 
" pected by hin¥; ht hais b^en \vt this idWpdtf^ 
" ring the Whd* war, to^ ^feis^ed iti tfie cap- 
** tuMJ 6f ni^ir fouf-^66¥e pitee^,: by which he 
^' ha^a ac'^fiii^d i^ery. liAl^ tn^re than the ia|^i*6>- 
'* bati^ bt his- ca^teAi^, and fhfe^tove €tod re^ 
*'Veiebc<^df tfeenien^* j .>.^^ ' 

** Had <^r priije beftfn .a king's - shi)) Mr. 
** Grosvfeiioi* ^6iA^)^tiv^ ^^i^M^G iA htir, 
*^ and hfe p#ortKit5o!^ Would inostf probably 

B 3 


" have followed in train ; however, as she is a 
" very fine new frigate and will I dare 'say be 
** reported fit for the king's use, the opportu* 
" nity is judged favourable for recommending 
"Mr. Grosvenor's pretensions, aijd as the 
" Milford may be said to acting under 
" your lordship's orders, I flatter myself you 
" will take her under your protection by 
*' granting your good offices with Lord Sat|d« 
" wich in Mr. Grosvenor*s behalf; an obliga* 
" tion, that I shall ever gratefully carry in re* 
" membrance. 

" I have the honoujr to be, &c. &c. 

This letter produced, no advantage to Mn 
Grosveuor, nor any other gratification to me 
except the recollection that I had done my 
best to servQ a meritorious officen 

At Buenos Ayres I was visited by pur minis* 
ter Mr. Walpole, Commodore Johnstone, Sir 
John Hort the consul, Captain Payne and se- 
veral gentlemen of the factory. On the a5tb 
instant the ceremony of the Corpus Christi 
took place in a day excessively sultiy, when 
the king and prince walked with the patriarch 
ef Lisbon; the religious orders^ knights of 


Christ and nobility of Portugal la processioa 
through the streets, of which even the ruins 
were decorated with rich tapestries, silks and 
velvets^ forming at once a splendid and a melan- 
choly sgene. I was with my daughters at a 
house, from which we had a.very good viev^r 
of what was pasaing,- and as they presented 
themselves at an open window in their English 
dresses, (and I -may add without vanity in all 
their native charms) they most evidently ar- 
rested the attention of the holy brotherhood in 
a manner, that by no means harmonized with 
the solemnity of their office; more perfect 
wolves in sheep's cloathing never M^ere beheld. 
The haughtiness and ill-breeding of the Portu- 
guese nobles is notorious to a proverb. One 
of thes^, the son of the minister Pombal, came 
into the room where I was waiting for the pro- 
cession above mentioned ; turning to me with 
an. air of supercilioui^ protection, very awk- 
wardly assumed., and making a motion with 
his hand towards a chair, he was pleased tp tell 
me that / might sit don>n — There was an in- 
splence in the manner of it irresistibly pro- 
voking, and I am not ashamed to say my an- 

B 4 



^wer was at least as contemptuous as bis ad<- 
dress was insolent. 

Early in the morning of the 30th I went 
with my daughters, and some of our naval 
friends to Cintra, visiting the palace of Queluz 
in the way : tjie terrors of an earthquake a1« 
evidently expressed in the. construction of this 
palace, Which is nothing more than a long 
range of pavilions in the Moorish character 
very richly fuFnished and profusely gilt; the 
heat was quite oppressive, but the shady walks 
^nd delicious odour of the orange groves, the 
refreshing sight of the fountains and exquisite 
beauty of the flowers in high bloom and bound- 
less abundance recompensed all we suffered by 
the mid-day violence of the burning sun. In 
tlie romantic and more temperate retreat of 
Cintra we enjoyed the most charming and en- 
chanting scenes and prospects nature can dis- 
play. The rock, the cork convent and the an- 
cient palace of Cintra are objects that surpass 
description ; from the ktter of these the rock 
and town of Cintra, With all tlie country about 
it as far as to the palace of Mafra, till where it 
is bounded by the sea, form a most superb and 
interesting scene ; the interior of the castle is 


tUEifiiibiisbed, though the painted til^, gilded 
ceiliDgft and arrangement, of the apartntenits, 
opening to parterres, cut out of the rock in 
fttories and terraces one alcove the other, i$ sin- 
gularly grand and striking. In one of th6 
great chambers the ceiling k ornamented vrith 
the scutcheons of all the noble families of Por^- 
ti^al affixed to the necks of stags of no ordi- 
nary painting or design, and^ though very an- 
cient, their remarkable freshness bespeaks the 
e:a:treme softness and dryness of the climate ; 
in diis collection the bearings and titles of th6 
HoUe family of D'Aveiro had a conspicuous 
station, from ^hich they are now dislodged 
and their rery name^ expunged^ 
- On our return to Lisbon ¥^e passed the re- 
maiicable aqueduct ^of Akantara £io ofteft de- 
scribed, and on the 5th of June at early morn- 
ing I received the expected dispatch from Mr. 
Hussey with lettei?s iwclosed for the- Earl of 
Hillsborough and Lord George Germain — 
His letter to me was as follows-— * 

"'' Aranjuez 31st May 1/80. 
" My dear friend, 

** I arrived here three days ago, 

" conversed with the minister of ;8ta«e upon 


*^ the subject of your journey, and do find that 
*' the delays, which this husiness met with^ 
"and the diflferent turn, which matters have 
*^ taken, render this negociation every day ex- 
" ceedingly arduous and difficult. However 
" as the, minister is so very desirous of finding 
" some means to bring it to a happiy conclu- 
^^ sion, and as you are already so far advanced 
" on your journey, I think it by all means ad* 
" visable that you come, (giving out that you 
" mean to pass through Spain for the benefit 
" of your health) and so give the negociation 
" a fair trial. You know me too well to sus- 
" pect that I shall be wanting to cultivate the 
" good wishes of the minister of state, and to 
" incline him towards an accommodatioB.— • 
" My servant Daly carries a memorandum of 
" the road and the difterent places where the 
" relays of carriages are to meet you, 

" Do .not forget to mention to Mrs, Cum- 
" berland and the young ladies their*s and 

" Your affectionate friend 

" Thomas Hussey. 

" P. S. His Catholic majesty's orders arc 
" gone to Badajoz, the frontier town, not to 
*^ examine your baggage — " 


Embarrassed by this letter, and doubtful of 
the part I ought to take, I obeyed my instruc- 
tions by resorting- to* our minister Mr. Wal- 
pole, and delivered tp hitn a letter from Lord 
Hillsborough, the contents of which I was 
privy to, and by which I was directed to be 
confidential and explicit with him. As there 
was but one point, upon which he hesitated, 
and which I had good reason to know would 
not be made a stipulation obstructive to my 
measures, I was disposed according to Mr. 
Hussey *s advice to give the negociation a trialj 
though his letter was by no means such as I . 
exacted from him, nor so explicit as to give 
me a safe rule to go by. Nevertheless upon 
full consideration of all circumstances, and 
under the persuasion that delay, (which .was 
the utmost that Mr. Walpole suggested) would 
in effect be taiitamount to absolute abandon- 
ment, I determined for the journey, and gave 
my reasons for pursuing the advice of Mr. 
Hussey, and meeting the advances of the 
Spapish minister, exemplified by his prepara- 
tions for . receiving me, in the following dis- 
patch, which I transmitted to Lord Hillsho- 

12 ntSMoms ot 

rough by Sir William Burnaby, then upon his 
departure for Englahdf^ 

" To the Earl of Hillsborough." 

" Lisbon June 6th 1780* 
'* My Lord, ' 

" In my letter No. 1. I informed 
*' your lordship of my arrival here on the 17th' 
^* of last month at six in the afternoon, and of 
" Mr. Hussey*s departure for Aranjue^ oti the 
" 19th following at eleven o'clock in the fore- 
" noon. 1 have now the honour of transmit-* 
" ting to you a letter, which 1 received yes- 
" tcrday morning by express from Aranjneav 
*Vaddressed to your lordship, an4i I inclose 
^' one aho, which I had from Mr. Hassey 
" of the 31$t of las?t month by the same cottJ 
** veyance. 

"The letter of my instructions is expKdt 
" for my returning to England, or advancing 
" to iSpain, as that court shall make or iiM 
" make the cession of Gibraltar the basis of d 
*^ negociation. The simple resolution of this^ 
*^ question formed the whcde purport of Mr. 
" Hussey's journey, and as I well know it was 




^- etearly understood qq his part, I expected a 
** reply in the aame style of precisron with these 
" instructions ; the case is now unexpectedly 
*^ become exceedingly embarrassing and deli- 
*^ cate. As he does not say that Spain stipu- 
"lates for the cession aforesaid; I do not 
" consider myself under order^ to jeturn ; on 
^' the other hand ias he does, not tell me that 
^* she will ti'cat without it, I am doubtful whe- 
^[ ther I am \Yarranted to advaaice^ He says 
^*tbe minister M v^ry desiirous of Jindin^g 
^' mMW/qf bringing thingi to a happy con- 
*^ olMio^y And I have not only his authority, 
" but good grounds from private inforiiiatiq% 
" tOi^ve Qi^edit Up his assertion : I am also fur**' 
V pished v^th the necessary passports from 
^/ the QXi^ster of Spaii^i itnd from her ambasisia-^ 
'/ dor at this coiuirt* It .remains therefore a 


question with me, and a viery difficult one t 
ffel it, whether I should wiait at Lisbon and 
" require a further explanation, or proceed 
*' without it 

** Jf I tako the first part of this alternative, 
" I must expect it will cneate offence to the 
'.Vpunctilio of the Spanish court who have 
'< giveu me their passport for myself and &.« 


14 IIEMOIRS 0*/ ' 

** fmly^bs^'t not only proi^ided mc with every 
V q<),n5^cnienciB of coaches and relays through 
"Spaip, but have directed therr ambassador 
'Mmrci to give me every furtberanpce from 
*^ hewce^ that xrail accommodaie me ti> Badajoz, 
M ^ndl hav« this day receive^d Count; Fernan 
f. Nunez's . passport with a letter of ri?cbmmen- 
^' d^tion to the Marquis de Ustariz, interidarit 
*' idf Badajoz^ By the terni^, in which Coimf 
{' Florida Blancal^hasi couched my passport, it 
*• is set forth that I am travelling ' through 
"Spain toward)5 Italy for the establishment of 
! my health : under this pretf:it it is in my 
^,*.ppwer to take niy rente as ^ private traveller,' 
and by no means deliver to the minister your 
-lordship's letter : until I have explicit satis- ^ 
** faction in the. leading pbipts of my instnic- 
" tions : should :I find the court of Spain ac- 
" quiescent under these partionlai«s,. success will 
" justify a doubtful measure ; whereas if I 
" withstand the . invitation and advice of Mr. 
Hussey, sent no doubt with the privity of 
the minister, and expressive of his good 
" wishes and desires far an accommodation, I 
*^ shall throw every thing into heat and fer-* 
*' roent, ruin all Mr. Hussey 's influence, from 




" which I hare so much to expect, and at once 
*^ blast all his operations, now in so fair a train 
'^ for success^ and wh|ich probably have been 
^* much advanced since Daly's departure. In 
^^ shorty my lord, I regard this dilemma as a 
*' case^. in which personal caution points to one 
^* side, and public service to the other. In 
** this light I view it, and although Mr. Hus- 
V sey's letter to your lordship, (for it was un- 
*' der a flying seal) is as. silent on the same 
^' material point, as that to me is, I have after 
^* full deliberation thought it for his majesty's 
" service that I should no longer hesitate to , 
*^ pursue the advice of Mr. Hussey, but te- 
*' solve to set out upon my journey for Spain. 
*^ The high opinion I entertain of Mr, Hus- 
*^ sey*s understanding weighs strongly with 
" me for this measure, because I know he has 
intuition to penetrate chicanery, -and discre- 
tion enough not to expose me to it; and 
*^ though he does not expressly say that there 
*^ is no obstacle in my way, yet this I am per- 
*' suaded must be his firm assurance and belief 
** before he would commit me to the journey. 
^^ The verbal message he has sent me by his 


^' seryaiit E^aly that all is well^ is to ine a very 
*^ encouraging circumstance, because it is a 
^* concerted token and passi- word between us, 
^^ agreed upon when we were together in the 
^^ frigate* The underlined expressions in the 
** memorandum for my journey have not es- 
** caped my observation, and I inclose you thitf 
origrnal for your inspection*: he says, I anl 
hnpatient to tell you a thousand things; 
^^ wkich\I do not write* This marks to me 
** an embarrassment and reserve in his letter, 
*• which probably arose from the necessity of 
^^ his communicating it to the sub-minister 
" Campo, or to the minister himself. The 
" letters to your lordship and me were couched 
'^ nearly in the same words, and these so much 
out of his style of expression, that they seem 
either shaped to meet another roan^s thoughts, 
'^ or to be of another man's dictating. He 
'^ tells me in the same memorandum, that ar 
** Araujuez every thing else^ as wiell as his 
"heart, will be ready to receive me: these 
" expressions from Mr. Hussey I know to be 
** no trivial indications of his thoughts, and 
" though I an sensible my duty instructs me 



^^ to take clearer lights for my guidance than 
** side- way hints and insinuations can supply, 
*' yet such circumstances ^may come as aids, 
" though not as principals, in the formation of 
*' an opinion. 

"I think it material to add that I have rea- 
** son to believe the dispatch, which the Spanish 
^* ambassador received from the .minister by 
" the hands of Daly, Mr. Hussey's servant, is; 
^^ expressive of the same disposition to a sepa-t 
** rate accommodation with Great- Britain, and 
*' accords with what is stated by Mr. Hussey 
** in his letter to your lordship. 

" Through the same intelligence I have dis- 
" covered the channel, by which the proposi- 
** tions fabricatied in this place were conveyed 
** to the Spanish minister, and am to the bot- 
*' tom made acquainted with that whole in- 
" trigue. I can only by this opportunity in- 
" form your lordship,' that it is a discovery of 
" miich importance to me in my future pro- 
^^ ceedings, gives me power over, and! posses- 
^^ sion of, an agent in trust and confidence with' 
^* the minister of Spain, as M^ell as with the 
^^ ambassador here, and that the deductions \ 

VOJ-. u. Q 


'^ draw from it strongly operate to incline my 
*^ judgment to the resolution I have now taken 
" of entering Spain. ^ 

^' I have the honour, &;c. kc. 

" R. C." 
Having hired carriages and provided myself 
with things necessary for my journey to Ba- 
dajb2, I wrote on the next morning the fol- 
lowing letter to the Secretary of State, sepa- 
rate and distinct from the dispatch, inserted 
as above-*— 

" To the Eari of Hillsborough/* 
" Lisbon June 7th 1780. 

" Wednesday morning 5 o'clock. 
« My Lord, 

^^ I am sensible I have taken a 
^* step, which exposes me to censure upon 
*^ failure of success, unless the reasons, on 
'' which I have acted, shall be weighed with 
^^ candour and even with indulgence* In the 
'^ decision, I have taken for entering Spain, I 
'^ have had no other object but to keep alive a 
** negociation, to which any backwardness or 
^' evasion on my part in the present crisis would 
*' I am persuaded be immediate extinction. I 


^' know wbere my danger lies, but as my ^* 
" deavours for the public service and the ho- 
*^ nour of your administration are sincere, I 
^^ have no doubt but I shall obtain your pro* 
•* tectiont 

'^ Though I dare not rest my public argu-- 
*^ ment so much on private opinion as I am 
** disposed to confess to you, yet you will 
" plainly see how far 1 am swayed by my con- 
'^ fidence in Mr. Hussey, and this will be the 
^^ more evident when I must fairly own that 
" Mr. Walpole's opinion is not with me for 
^* my immediate journey into Spain : I owe 
" this justice to him, that, if I fail, it may be 
" known he is free from all participation in 
" my eiTor. I have delivered your letter, and 
" in general opened the business to him as I 
'' was directed to do, but I have disclosed to 
'^ him no other instruction, except that, on 
** which Mr. Hussey's errand turns* He ap- 
" pears to me totally to discredit the sincerity 
^* of Spain towards any accommodation with 
^* Great- Britain, and this opinion certainly 
'^ coloured his whole argument upon the sub- 
^* ject : had we agreed in this principal posi* 

c S 

26 • MEMOIRS or 

^' tion, it is not likely we should have differed 
^* in deductions from it, 

" I have written to Mr. Hussey, and beg 
'^ leave to send you a copy of my letter. I 
" had fully purposed, in conformity to what I 
** said to your lordship, that my family should 
** not accompany me upon my journey, but 
*^ the nature of the passport and the citcuni^ 
'* stances, that. have arisen, make it indispen- 
-** sible for me to take them with me, not only 
" as an excuse for my delay upon the road till 
" Mr. Hussey shall meet me, but also as a cover 
" for my pretence of health, should I find it 
" necessary to pass through Spain without an 
*' explanation with the minister, 8cc% &c. 

f^ R. C." 

' At three o'clock in the afternoon of the 8th 
instant, I took my departure from Lisbon, em- 
barking in one of the queen's barges for Aldea 
Gallegaj whilst my wife and daughters ^ccom^ 
panied me in the Milford's cutter with the 
first lieutenant and master. 

The passage to Aldea Gallega is about nine 
Tnil€i3 up the river, which here forms a magpk 


IScent sheet of water. At the wretched Posada 
in. this place we had our first sample of that 
dirt and loathsomeness, which admit of no de- 
scription, and which every baiting place 
throughout Portugal and Spain with little va- 
riation presented to us. Men may endure 
such scenes ; to women of delicacy they are^ 
and must be, nauseous in the extreme. The 
poUcy of these courts agrees in prohibiting the 
publican from furnishing any thing to the 
traveller but firing : provisions must be pur- 
chased by the way, and the kid, whose carcass 
has dangled on your carriage in the sun and 
dust, half fried by the one, and more than 
half hasted by the other, must be roasted for 
your meal by the faggot, that you purchase of 
your host,, which in the. mean while if you do 
not manfully defend, the muleteer and way- 
faring carrier will take a share of, and incense 
your poor carrion kid with the execrable fumes 
of his rank mess of oil and garlick. This rare- 
ly fails to stir up strife and fierce contention^ 
which the host takes little or no pains to allay, 
sometimes ferments, till if your people cannot 
drive off the interlopers with a high hand, you 
call in the peace-officer of the village or towQ 

c 3 

$2 MEttOtES OV 

to adjust your rights, which he is in no haste 
to do till you quicken his tardy seme of justice 
with a portion of your roast meat. I was 
Once driven to this reference, when my people 
were out-numbered, and then my defender 
gave me gravely to understand that his spouse 
Was extremely partial to cold turkey, that al* 
hiring object having been incautiously ex- 
posed to his eager ken. I tried if he would 
compound for a leg^ but his spouse had a de* 
cided preference for the wing, and nothing 
short of half could move hra to give sentence 
for my right. I had inirchased at Lisbon two 
grey tnfules for the saddle at a high price; 
they were beautiiul creatures, yisry fest trot*" 
ters and perfectly sure-footed, so that I rode 
occasionally and could make short excursionsi 
when there was any thing better than a 
dreary wilderness to tempt me out of the 

On tibe 9th at three o'clock m the morning 
Captain Payne arrived, having been all night 
on the water; we breakfasted, and having 
taken leave of our friends, departed from Aidea 
Oallega, our road lying over a'Sandy country, 
interspersed however with the olive and cork 


iree» and almost covered with myrtle bushes 
in full bloom. We passed by Vendas Nova% 
an unfurnished palace of the Queen's, and put 
up our beds for the night at a lone house near 
Silveinu On the 10th we passed Montemor, 
situated on a beautiful eminence, and further 
oa Arrayolas, where there are the remains of a 
stately castle of Moorish construction, as it 
should seem, and concluded our day's journey 
at a lone house, called Venda do Duque. On 
the 1 Ith, passing through Estremos we came 
to Elvas, the frontier town of Portugal, within 
sight of Badajoz in the plain at three leagues 
distance. The works erected by Count la 
Lippe on the hill, which commands the town^ 
and the fortifications of the town itself seemed 
very extensive and in perfect repair, and the 
troops well accoutred and in good order, but 
the more striking sight to me was that of the 
aqueduct : it is raised on four lofty arches of 
stone one over the other, and enters the town 
in a very grand style. The suburbs are finely 
J^anted and laid out into walks by Count la 
L^pe, the projector, to whom Elvas is in* 
dd>ted for those public works, that constitute 
at once both her ornament and her defence.—- 

c 4 


As our minister at Lisbon had not furnished 
me with any letter to the governor of Elvajs^ 
I was not only put to trouble about my bag-, 
^ge^ but evidently became an object of suspi- 
cion. The former" of these difficulties I got 
over by a bribe, but the latter subjected me to 
restraint, for upon attemptiqg to walk out of 
my inn I found a guard of soldiers with fixed 
bayonets at the gate, who prevented me from 
stirring out, and mounted on me through the 
remainder of the day and the whole night, 
which I passed there. The next morning, 
whilst my carriages were in waiting forme, an 
Irish benedictine walked into my room, and 
in a very authoritative and unceremonious style 
insisted on my staying there all day, and even 
was proceeding to countermand my carriages. 
He believed, or pretended to believe, that I 
was an American agent or negociator, travel- 
ling into Spain, ^nd began to inveigh most 
virulently against <he king and country, of 
which he was a subject born: if he was em- 
ployed to sound me (which is not improbable) 
be executed his office very clumsily, yet his 
insolent importunity was a considerable inters 
ri^ption and extremely troublesome. His Ian*- 



gnage in the mean time Mras intolerably offen-^ 
sive, and his action worse, for as I reached out 
my hand to take my pistols from the table, the 
saucy fellow caught at tl^m, with an action so 
suspicious, that I was obliged to put him from 
me, and sending my ladies out of the room be- 
fore me to the carriages^ got inlast myself and 
ordered the postillions to proceed. The perti- 
nacious monk still, continued to oppose my go-» 
ing, and even vented his anathemas on the 
drivers, if tliey presumed to move. When I saw 
at the same time that there was a party of dra- 
goons mounted and parading at the gate with 
drawn swords before the heads of my mules, I 
doubted whetlicr they were in fact an escort of 
honour or arrest, but in a few minutes my lead- 
ing carriage moved, and thus guarded I passed 
the barriers, whilst the monk, keeping his 
hand upon my carriage, and vociferating with- 
out intermission, never left me till we had pas- 
sed through all the out posts, and fairly enter- 
ed the plain in sight of Badajoz. 

It was not pleasant, and I did not think that 
the proper precautions had been taken for me. 
When I had got rid of my monk, (the guard hav- 
ing taken no notice of his insolent behaviour} 


in about a leagtie and a faalPs driving a foo^§ 
pace we came to a small stream, which divides 
the territories of Portugal firoiii Spain. Here 
we watered the mules, whilst on the opposite 
bank I perceived a party of Spanish infantry 
waiting as it seemed to receive and escort me. 
My Portuguese dragoons in perfect silence 
wheeled about and departed, and no sooner 
had I touched the Spanish soil than the party 
presented arms, and a messenger in the livery 
of the king with his bajdge of office on his 
sleeve, signified to me that coaches were in 
waiting for me at Badajor, and that he had his 
Catholic majesty's commands to attend upon 
me through my journey. During this, my 
Portuguese postillions, finding themselves in 
my power, and apprehending no doubt that 
their hesitation in obeying me against the de« 
nunciations of the aforesaid benedictine, might 
justly have offended me, fell on their knees in 
the most abject manner, kissing the skirts of 
my coat and imploring pardon and forgiveness. 
Having ordered them to mount and proceed, 
we soon reached Badajois, and were received 
into the garrison with all the honours they 
could shew us. As a town Badajoz has nothing 


to engage the traveilery and as a fortified placfc 
stands in no degree of comparison with Eivas. 
The troopsy being mostly invalidSy made a very 
indifierent appearance, but the windows and 
balconies were thnmged with spectatofs, who 
bestowed every mark of favour and good will 
upon U8 as we passed the streets. 

Here I found a coach and six mules in wait- 
ing, and after some stay set forward at mid* 
night, the gates being opened for m^ and a 
guard turned out by order of the governor, 
and we proceeded to Miajada, where a ftcBh 
rekty was in readiness. The province of £&» 
tsemadura is miserably barren, producing no- 
thing to rdiev^e the eye but cork trees thinly 
scattered, and here and tihere a few distorted 
oUve trees. The Uke discbnsdate aspect of a 
country, where neither cattle nor habitations 
were to be seen, prevailed through the whole of 
our next stage to TruxiUo, where we halted on 
the night of the 14th instant 

In this stage we were warned l^ our at- 
tendant messenger to be upon our guard 
against robbers, and in trutii the <x>untry fur* 
nished most appropriate scenes and invitmg 
cippprtttnities for such adventurers^ I had 


three English servants and two men hired ill 
Lisbon, besides the messenger above-men* 
tioned, and myself and my English servants iii 
particular virere excellently armed and ammu- 
nitioned. My Englishmen consisted of Mr. 
Hussey's man Daly, a London hair-<iresser of 
the name of Legge, whom I took for the con* 
venience of my wife and daughters^ and my 
own faithful servant Thomas Camis of tried 
courage and attachment, who had lived with 
me from the age of ten years. In the middle 
of the night, when we were in the depth of 
the forest, or rather wilderness, the Sipaniard 
rode up to my coach-window, and telling me 
we were then in the most suspicious part of our 
road, recommended it to me to collect my peo- 
ple about me and keep them together. Daly 
indeed was not far behind, but in a state of 
absolute intoxication and sleeping on his mule : 
my hair-dresser pretty much in the same state, 
but totally disabled from excess of cowardice, of 
which he had given some unequivocal and 
most ridiculous tokens before and during our 
action in the frigate ; I had not nmch reliance 
on ray Portuguese, one of whom was a black 
fellow, and in the mean time my brave and 

, i 


trusty servant Camis was not to be found, nor 
did he answer to any call. Distressed with 
apprehension lest some fatal accident had be** 
feUlen this most valuable man, I got out of my 
coach determined not to move from the spot 
without him, and sent the Spanish messenger 
and two other men in search of him* During 
their absence I heard a trampling of horses, and 
soon discovered through the dusk of night two 
men armed with guns, which they carried un- 
der the thigh, who rode smartly up to the car- 
riage and proved to be archers on the patrole. 
This confirmed the report that the road was 
infested by robbers, and whilst this was pas- 
sing I had the satisfaction to be joined by my 
servant Thomas Camis on foot, his mule having 
sunk under him, exhausted with fatigue. ^ He 
now mounted behind the coach, and the men 
dispatched in search for him having come in, 
we pursued our route and arrived in safety at 

From Truxillo we passed a very rugged and 
mountainous tract of country to Venta del 
Lugar Nuevo on the banks of the Tagus. This 
is a very romantic station, and the bridge a 
(furious and most striking object passing from 

so MSK0IR8 OF 

one rook to another upon two very lofty Ro* 
man arches^ the river flowing underneath at a 
prodigious depth. 

On the l6th we passed through Lsl CaJsad^ 
to Talavera la Reina, a town in New Castile of 
considerable population and extent. A silk fa«^ 
brie is here established under the king's espe* 
cial patronage. Here the following letter from 
Mr. Hussey niet me— — 

" From Mr. Hussey to me/* 

'' Aranjuez Wednesday moniing 
** My dearest friend, "14th Juno 1780. 

'^ How could you suspect that I 
" would send for you if I found the obstacle 
" in my way, which makes you so uneasy ? 
*^ But it was always my intention to go part 
" of the way from Aranjuez to meet you, to in- 
" dulge my affection by personally attending 
''you and your family as soon as possible; 
'' but as you do not mention what delay you 
'^ intended to make in Badajoz, I cannot pre- 
*' cisely guess the day of your arrival here, and 
'' therefore I dispatch this letter to meet you 
" at Talavera la Reina, that I may know it 
'' more exactly, which will be by returning a 
'' line to me, informing me of the day, and 


*^ whether you thmk it will be in the morning 
^^ or evening. As the distance between Ta«- 
** lavera and Aranjuez is too great for one day's 
'^ journey with the same mules, I have ordered 
^ a fresh set to be posted for you seven leagues 
^^ from this place at La Venta de Olias, two 
*^ leagues and a half from that part of the Ta* 
^' gus called Las Barcas de Azecar, where you 
'^ cross the water, and probably you will meet 
^'me; otherwise you will come 'on and meet 
*^ me on the road* This fresh set of mules was 
^' absolutely necessary, because you could find 
^^ no place to sleep in between Talavera and 
'^ Aranjues. You do not come through To 
'^ ledo. I long to embrace you and my amia- 
*^ ble friends, and open my mind to your satis* 
^* faction, as well as my pleasure. 

" Adieu ! 

*• T. H." 
Tq this letter I answered as follow s 

" To Mr. Hussey." 

** Talevara la Reina, Friday l6th 
'^ June half-past 5 evening. 
** My dearest friend, 

*• Your consolatory letter meets 
'^ R)e at the end of a long and laborious jour^ 

32 MEMOIRS or 

" ney, and like a ma^cal charm puts all my 
^^ cares to rest at once. Say not however how 
" could I suspect — Had that been the case, 
** how could I advance ? Yet I am come at 
*^ every risque, upon the reliance, which I am 
" fixed to repose in your honour and friendship 
'^ upon all occasions. 

" I have entered on an arduous service with- 
" out any conditions, and I fear without se- 
*^ curing to myself that sure support, which 
** they, by w^hbm and for whom I am employ- 
" ed, ought to hold forth to me ; but you 
" know full well who is, and who is not. mv 
" corresponding minister, and if success does 
" not bear me through in this step, which I 
*' have taken, my good intentions will not 
^* stand me in much stead. Still, when I saw 
" that my reluctance would affect your situa- 
'' tion, dash ev^ry measure you have laid, and 
^* annihilate all chance of rendering service to 
*' my country in this trying crisis, I did not 
'^ hesitate to risque this journey, even again«* 
;** the advice of Mr. W. 

" We are not long since arrived after a most 
*' sultry stage, and have been travelling all 
^' night without a halt. . I dare, not but give 




•^ Mrs, Cumberland an hour or two's reppse, 
V and shall not take my depiarture from hence 

till midnight. I shall stop at La Venta de 

[ **.01ias tb relieve my party from a few hot 

I " hours, and sh&U be there to-morrow morning 

" ^boiit ten or eleven. I shall set out from 

' ** thence at seven oVlock in the evening at 

li^test, and r€ac^:the ferry at Las Barcas de 

" A?ecar at nine that evenings— There if we 

." meet, or whenever else more convenient to 

y yourself, it will I trust in God be remembered 

"as one of the happy -moments, that here 

" and there have sparingly chequered the past 

*' life of your 

"Affectionate R. C/' 
From Talavera on the 17th instant we came 
to the little village of Olias about half-way^ 
where w^ took the Accessary relief of rest, and 
as the weather was now intolerably hot, my wife 
and .daughters being almost exhausted Avith 
fatigue, we laid by for the whole of the day. 
Here the Alcayde of the village very hospita^ 
bly sent me refreshments^ and called on me at 
xny inn, offering his house and whatever it af- 
forded: I returned his visit aiid found the 
^ood pld man surrounded by his children and 


■» V 


grand-children, a numerous family, grouped in 
their degrees, and sitting in their best apart^ 
ment ready to receive me. After chocolate 
had been served the guitar was introduced, and 
the younger parties danced their sequedillasir 
When they had animated themselves with this 
dance, the player on the guitar began to sound 
the notes of the fandango : I had seated myself 
by the old grandfather, a feeble nerveless crea- 
ture, and observed with some concern a para- 
lytic motion vibrating in all his limbs and mus- 
des^ when ^ once unable to keep his seat he 
started up in a kind of ecstasy, and began 
snapping his fingers like castanets and dancing 
the fandango to my surprise and amusement— 
This was the first time I had heard or seen it 
performed, and I ceased to wonder at the ex- 
travagant attachment which the Spaniards 
shew for that national tune and dance. 

On Sunday the 18th of June, at five o'clock 
in the morning, we arrived at Aranjuez^ and - 
were most affectionately welcomed by Mr. 
Hussey. He delivered a paper to me dictated 
by the minister, and first appearances augured 
favourably fot my negociation. The day foK 
lowing I was visited by the sub-minister Cam* 


p6f Anduaga and Escarano, (belonging to the 
mitiisit:er^s department,) also by the Due d'Al- 
modovar, Abbe Curtis and others, and in the 1 

evening of that day I had my first interview 
with the Count Florida Blanca. 

I shall not enter upon local descriptions ; it 
is neither to my purpose, nor can it edify the 
reader, who will find all this done so much 
better by writers, who have travelled into 
Spain, and been more at leisure for looking 
about them than I ever was. My thoughts 
were soon distressfully occupied by the account, 
which met me, of the riots and disturbances in 
London by what was called Lord George Gor- 
don's mob, which all but quite extinguished 
my hopes of success in the very outset of my 
business. I hatd repeated interviews with the 
minister, whom I visited by night, ushered by 
his confidential valet through a suite of five 
rooms, the door of every one of which was con- 
stantly locked as soon as I. had passed it. The 
description of those dreadful tumults was given 
to the Spanish court by their ambassador at 
Paris, Count d'Aranda, and faithfully given 
without exaggeration. The effect it had upon 
the King of Spain was great indeed^ and for mc 

D 2 

36 MfiMotas ot 

most unfortunate, for I had no advices frotrt 
my court to qualify or oppose it. How this 
intelligence operated on the mind of his Ca- 
tholic Majesty can only be conceived by such 
as were acquainted with his character, and 
know to what degree he remained affected by 
the insurrection, then not long passed, in his 
own capital of Madrid. I will only say that 
my treaty was in shape, and such as my in- 
structions would have warranted me to trans- 
mit and recommend. Spain had received a re- 
cent check froni Admiral Rodney, Gibraltar 
had been relieved with a high hand, she was 
also upon very delicate and dubious terms with 
France. The crisis was decidedly in my fa- 
vour ; my reception flattering in the extreme ; 
the Spanish nation was anxious for peace, and 
both court, ecclesiastics and military professed- 
ly ' anti-gallican. The minister did not lose 
an hour after my arrival, but with much appa- 
rent alacrity in the cause immediately proceed- 
ed to business. I never had any reason upon 
reflection to doubt the sincerity of Count Flo- 
rida Blanca at this Ynoment, and verily believe 
we should have advanced the business of the 
preliminaries, if the fatal news of the riots bad 


■not most critically come to baud that very day, 
on which by the minister's own appointment ' 
we were to meet for fair discussion of the 
terms, while nothing seemed to threaten serious 
difficulty or disagreement between us. ^ 

According to appointment I came to him, ^f^ ^^ 
perfectly ignorant of what had come to pass in [ 

my own country : I had prepared myself to the 
best of my capacity for a meeting and discus- 
sion, which it behoved me to manage with dis* 
cretion and address, and which according to 
my view of it promised to crown my mission 
with success. We were to write, and Campo 
was to he present, so that when I entered the 
minister s inner chamber, and saw only a small 
table with a single candle, no Campo present 
and no materials for writing, I own my mind 
misgaye me : I did not wait more than two 
minutes before Florida Blanca came out of his 
closet, and in a lamentable tone sung out the 
downfall of London ; king, ministers and go- 
vernment whelmed in ruin, the rebellion of 
America transplanted to England, and heartil^i 
as he condoled with me, how could he under 
such circumstances commit his court to treat 
with me ? I did not take the whole for truth, 




> • 

and was too much on my guard to betray anj^ 
astonishment or alarm, but left him to lament 
the unhappy state of my wretched country, and 
affected to treat the narrative as a French eic- 
aggeration of the transitory tumults 6f a Lon- 
don mob. In the mean time I could not fail 
to see, that nothing was to be done on my part, 
but to yield to the moment and wait for infor-^ . 
mation, upon which I might rely. All that I 
did in the interim was to address a letter to the 
minister and confidently risque a prediction, 
that the tumult would be quashed so speedily^ 
and completely, as to add dignity to the king's 
government and stability to his ministers^ He 
gave for answer that both his Catholic M^gesty 
and himself trembled for the king, but of the 
extermination of the ministiy no question could 
be made, I renewed my assertions in terms 
more confident than before, not so much upon 
conviction as from desperation, well knowing 
that, if I was undone by the event, it was of 
little importance that I was disgraced by my 
over-confidence and presumption* 

In the course of a very few days my predic- 
tion was happily verified, for on the 24th I was 
informed by Escarano; that the rioters were 


quelled, Lord George Gordon committed to 
the Tower, and indemnification ordered to the 
sufferers in the tumult, and on the day follow- 
ing the minister sent me the letter he had re- 
ceived from Count d'Aranda to explain why 
he had delayed to inform me of the news from 
London. I availed myself of this happy 
change by every means in my power for bring- 
ing back the negociation to that state of for- 
wardness, in which it stood before- it was in- 
terrupted, but the minds and understandings 
of those, with whom I had to deal, were not 
easy to be cured of alarms once given, or 
prejudices once received. It is not necessary 
for me to discuss the characters, with whom 
it was my lot to treat, it is enough to say 
that during more than a year's abode in Spain, 
I believe no moment occurred so favourable to 
the business I had in hand, as that of which 
ill-fortune had deprived me in the very outset 
of my undertaking. There was a gloomy be- 
ing, out of sight and inaccessible, whose com- 
mand as confessor over the royal mind was ab- 
solute, and whose bigotry was disposed to re- 
present every thing in the darkest colours 

D 4 




against a nation of heretics, whose late enormi- 
ties afforded too good a subject for his spleen 
to descant upon ; and m the mind, where no 
illumination, no elasticity resides, impressions 
will strike strongly and sink deep. 

On the Q6th I had completed my dispatches^ 
in which I gave a full and circumstantial detaH 
of my proceedings, the hopes I had entertained 
and the interruption I had met with, the con- 
ferences and correspondences I had held with 
the minister, and the measures I had pursued 
for reviving the negociation, and reconducting^ 
it according to the tenor of my instructions. 
In this dispatch I observe to the Secretary of 
\:' A \i .State, " That although I relied upon his lord- 
" ship's kind interpretation of my motives for 
^' leaving Lisbon, yet it was no inconsiderable 
" anxiety that I suffered till my doubts were 
** satisfied upon the points which Mr. Hussey's 
*' letter had not sufficiently explained. As it 
" appeared to me a case, where I might use my 
" discretion, and in which the inconveniencies 
'* incidental to my disappointment bore no 
^* proportion to the good, that might result 
*• from my success, I decided for the journey^ 




which 1 had now performed, and flattered 
myself his lordship Would see no cause to re- 
gret the step I had taken."— 

Had I not made ready use of my passports 
and relays, I had good reason to believe my 
hesitation would have proved decisive against 
any treaty ; whereas now I had the satisfac- 
tion of seeing many things point to a fa- 
vourable and friendly issue."— 
Speaking of a probability of detaching Spain 
antecedent to the news of the disturbances in 
London, I tell the Secretary of State—" lliat 
*^ the moment for detaching Spain is now pe-' 
** culiarly favourable : she is uppn the worst 
** terms with France ; not only the King df 
"** Naples, but the Queen of Portugal have 
** written pressingly to his Catholic Majesty 
** to make peace with England, and since my 
** arrival a further influence is set to work t6 
*' aid the friends of peace, and this is thi^ Due 
** de Losada, who on behalf of his nephew the 
" Due d'Almodovar has actually solicited the 
" embassy to England, ^ and been favourably 
" received^ These and many other circum- 
^' stances conspire to press the scale for peace; 
*^ in the opposite one we may place their un** 



'^ retrieved disgrace in the relief of Gibraltar^ 
^^ their hopes in the grand armament from 
•* Cadiz of the 2«th of April, their over-rated 
^^ successes in West Florida, and their belief 
^* that your expeditions to the South- American 
^' continent are dropt, and that Sir Edward 
.^^ Hughes's condition disables him from at- 
*^ tempting any enterprise against the Ma- 
** nillas— ** I then recite the circumstance 
ibat gave a check to my negociation, state the 
pleasures I had since taken for resuming itv 
and transmit a summary of such points in re^ 
quisition as require answers and instructions, 
and conclude with suggesting such a mode of 
accommodating these to the punctilio of the 
Spanish court, as in my opinion cannot fail to 
bring the treaty to a successful issue—" If this 
* ■ is conveyed," (I observe) " in mild and 
" friendly terms towards Spain, who submits 
^^ the mode to the free discretion of Great 
" Britain, and requests it only as a salvo, I 
" think I have strong grounds to say her fa- 
•* mily compact will no longer hold her from a 
^* separate peace with Great Britain — •* 

On the 27th I removed with my family to 
Madrid, where I took a commodious house in 


an airy situation, and on the 1st of July the 
king and royal family arrived from Aranjuez. 
Though I had frequent communications ^with 
Count Florida Blanca through the sub«mi* 
nister Campo, which occasioned me to dis* - 
patch letters on the 6th instant, yet t bad no 
appointed interview till the !5th : our treaty 
paused for the eXpeoted answer to my trans* 
mission before mentioned, and it was clear to 
me that the Spanish minister, under the pre- 
tence of sounding the sincerity of the British 
cabinet, was in effect manoeuvring upon the 
suspicion of their stability. Nevertheless in 
this conversation, which he held on the 15th ' 
instant, he expressly declares, " That if Great 
*' Britain sends back any answer,, which shall 
'^ be couched in mild and moderate terms 
•^ towards Spain, he will then proceed upon 
^* the treaty with all possible good will, and 
give me his ideas without reserve, endeavour- 
ing to adjust some expedient satisfactory to 
** both parties ; but he fears that our ministry , 
** is so constituted as to deceive my hopes in 
*' the temper and quality of their reply--*" 

During this interval, whilst I remained with- . 
out an answer to my dispatch, the court re^ 

fi I If : f -' V XT U ^ ^ I 



mpv^ to San Ildefonso, where Count D'Es^ 
tain^ artived, specially commissioned to tra- 
verse my negociation, and detach the Spanish 
court from their projected treaty with Great- 
Britain. France in the mean time sax^rific^d 
her whole naval campaign in the harbour of 
Cadiz, whqre a combined force of sixty hne of 
battle ships was assembled, whilst the British 
»fleet under the successive commands of Geary 
and Derby did worse than nothing,, and th^ 
capture of our great East and West-Indian 
convoy by the Spanish squadron completed 
their triumph and our discomfiture. 

A mind so fluctuating and feeble as that of 
the Spanish minister was not formed to pre- 
serve equanimity in success, or to persist in its 
resolutions against the counter-action of opi- 
nions. He was at this pefriod absolutely in- 
toxicated not only by the capture of our trading 
ships, but by the alluring promises of D'Es- 
taing, and surrendered himself to the self-in-. 
terested councils of Galvez, minister of the 
Indies, for the continuance of the war. That 
minister, (the creature of France to all intents 
and purposes) had like himself been raised ta 
high office from the humble occupation of a^ 


petty advocate, and by iearly, habits of mti- 
tnacy, as likewise by superiority of intellect, 
acquired a power over his understanding little 
short of absolute ascendancy. 

Through the influence of this man and by 
the intrigues of Count D'Estaing my situation 
at this period became ast Critical as possible ; 
my house was beset with spies, who made re- 
port of every thing they could collect or im- 
pute; I was proscribed from all my accus* 
tomed friends and visitors, whilst no one ven- 
tured publicly to enter niy doors but the em- 
presses ambassador Coiint Kaunitz, whom no 
circumstances ever separated from me, and a 
few religious, whose. visits tb nie werie more 
than suspicious. The most insidious means 
Were practised to hreak Mr. Hiissey from me, 
but though they had theii' effect for a short 
time, his good sense soon discovered the con- 
trivance and prevented its effects. 

Finding myself thiis beset, I attached to my 
servicfe certain confidential agents, who were 
extremely useful to me, and amongst these .a 
gentleman in the employ of one of the northern 
courts, the ablest in that capacity, and cff the 
most consummate address, I ever became ac- 





quainted with ; by fats means t possessed my^ 
self of authentic papers an^ documents, and 
was enabled to expose and effectually to tra- 
verse some very insidious and highly important 
manoeuvres much to my own* credit and to 
the satisfaction of the cabinet, befbre whom 
they were laid by* my corresponding minis- 

. I now received the long expected answer to 
»y first dispatch. It served little more than 
to cover a letter to Count Florida Blanca, and 
that letter found him now in the hands of 
D'Estaing, and more than half persuaded that 
the co-operation of France would put him in 
possession of Oibraltar, that coveted fortress, 
which I would not suffer him even to name, 
and for which Spain would almost have laid 
the map of her islands, and the keys of her 
treasury at my feet* I must confess this let* 
ter, which I had looked to with such hope^ 
was more suited to gratify his purposes than 
mine, for if quibble and evasion were what he 
wished to avail himself of at this moment, hq 
certainly found no want of opportunity for the 
accomplishment of his wish. 
But if the inclosed letter was not altogether 


what I hoped for, the covering letter was most 
decidedly what I had not deserved, for it con* 
veyed a more than half implied reproof for my 
having written to the Spanish Minister on the 
matter of the riots, and at the same time ac- 
knowledges that my paper was cautiously 
zvordedj and that I had most certainly sue* 
ceeded in my argument — Why I was not to 
ivrite to the minister, who had first written to 
ine, especially when I wrote so cautiously and 
argued so successfully^ I could never compre- 
hend. When I was surprised by a very alann- 
ing and unpleasant piece of intelligence, con«> 
vejred to my knowledge through the channel 
of my country's enemy, not of my country's 
minister, what could I do more conformable 
to my duty than attempt to soften the impres- 
sions it had created ? I had not been .five mi- 
nutes arrived before the minister's letter and 
proposals were put into my hands. What could 
occur to me so natural both in policy and po- 
liteness as to write to him, especially on a sub- 
ject so deeply interesting, so imperiously de- 
manding of me an appeal, that to have sunk 
under it in silence would have been disgraceful 
in the extreme ? 


In the same letter I am reminded — That I 
was instructed not e^oen to converse upon any 
particular proportion, until I was satisfied 
of the willingness of the iJourt of Spain ta 
treat at all — rOf this willingness his lordship 
professes to doubt, and grounds that doubt upoa; 
what he gathers from my report of the change,; 
which seemed to have been wrought in the 
disposition of the minister by the intelligence 
of. the disturbances in London ; whereas the 
convei'sation, which he alludes to, was held 
before that intelligence arrived, when the wil- 
lingness to treat was put out of all doubt by 
the very progress made in that treaty, and 
which was only not completed by the check 
which that intelligence gave to it. If when the 
premier of Spain assured himself of the total 
overthrow of our ministry he hesitated to pro- 
ceed in treating with the agent of that mi- 
nistry, it is nothing wonderful ; but it would 
have been wonderful, if when I had such^ proofs 
of his willingness, I had not been satisfied 
with them, because something totally unfore- 
seen might come to pass to thwart the business 
we were then engaged in. By parity of rea- 
son I might as well have been made responsible 




fdr the riots themselves, as for the conse- 
quences that resulted from them. It is a pity 
that his lordship did not advert to the order 
of time laid down in my dispatch, by which 
he could not have failed to discover, that in 
one part of it I was reporting conversation 
held when all was well, and in the other part 
remarking upon embarrassments naturally pro- 
duced by unforeseen events of the most alarm- 
ing natui^. 

That I had been careful enough to have sa- 
tisfactory, proofs of a willingness to treat be- 
fore I committed myself to conversation is 
sufficiently dear from the circumstance above 
mentioned of the overtures presented to me in 
the very instant of my arrival, before I had 
seen the minister, or he had seen my letter of 
accreditation. Willingness more unequivocal 
hardly can be conceived, and when I did pre- 
sent that letter upon my first interview I re- 
ported to my secretary of state the sum total 
of my conversation, which consisting only of 
the following words, copied verbatim from the 
transcript of my letter to Lord Hillsborough, 
could not much edify his excellency, or di-» 
mlge any secrets I was instructed to be re- 

VOL. !!• E 


served upon. I tell his lordship in my letter 
of the £6th of June 1780,—'' That after the 
" first civilities I put into the minister's handst 
** his lordship's letter, which I desired he would 
*' consider as conveying in the language of 
"sincerity the mind of a most just and up-^ 
" right king, who in his love of peace rejoices 
*' to meet similar sentiments in the breast of 
" his Catholic majesty, and who has been gra- 
*' ciously pleased to send me to confer with his 
" excellency, not from my experience in ne-^ 
" gociation, but as one confidential to the bu^ 
*' siness in all its stages, and zealously devoted 
" to conduct it to an issue — " I proceed to 
say— That " as this visit passed wholly in ex-^ 
** pressions of civility, I shall observe no fur- 
•' ther to your lordship upon it, than that 
*' I was perfectly well pleased with my recep-^ 

If in any one part of my conduct or con- 
versation I had advanced a step beyond the 
line of my instructions, or varied from them in 
a single instance, I should not have sought to 
shelter myself under the peculiar difficulties of 
my situation, Tmust havie met the reproof I 
merited, and was certain to receive ; but whew 



I was arraigned for giving credit to sincerity, 
when it did existi and being doubtful <>f it; 
vhen it waveted, aft I wad xiot conscious of an 
*rror, I was not mQv6d by a reproof; but with* 
out entering into any argumentationi unprofit- 
able and extraneous, applied my utmost dili- 
gence to the business I was upon^ and conti* 
nued to dictate to Mr. Hussey lEny dispatches 
Ibr England, when I was disabled from writing 
ihtm by a fractured arm. 

The instant I was able to endure the motion 
tif my coach, I attended upon the minuter 
Florida Blattca at San Ildefonso: D'Estaing 
Was there, in high favour and much caressed ; 
Hussey was not permitted to accompany me ; 
I .was alone, and closely watched. It was thd 
most unfavourable moment that I passed during 
my whole residence in Spain. Florida Blanca, 
instead of taking up his negoeiation where he 
left it, gave little credit or attention to the let- 
ter of Lord Hillsborough, but evasively ad- 
verted to certain propositions, which he had 
made before I came into Spain and transmitted 
through the hands of Mr. Hussey, to which 
propositions he observed our ministry had re- . 
turned no answeiw-*-'^ I admitted that no answer / 

B 2 / 

. ' vc ;■•.'•, t..i .> r: * /-. ^f V ■■■- *^'^ * '' 


'* had been given to the propositions he al* 
" luded to, because they were formed upon the 
" suggestions of Commodore Johnstone at 
^' Lisbon without any authority : it was a mat- 
^* ter I had in charge to disavow those over- 
" tures in the most direct terms ; they neither 
*' originated wjth the cabinet, nor were ever 
^' before it; but if he could stand in need of 
y any proof to satisfy his doubts as to the dis- 
** position of my court towards peace, I de- 
^^sired him to recollect that I had been sent 
1^ into Spain for that express purpose, without 
*' any interchange on his part, and against the 
*^ formal practice of states in actual war.—** 
He acknowledged that my observation was 
fair, and that he admitted it,^ but he again re- 
verted to Commodore Johnstone, observing 
*' That although he might take on himself to 
*• make unauthorised propositions (which by 
" the way he must think was strange presump- 
" tion, and still more strange that it was passed 
*Vover with impunity) yet he said that he an* 
" sweredwith authority j his propositions had 
" the sanction of his court, and as such he 
" hoped they merited an answer from mine.** 
It was now clear to me, when he was drivea 



to allude to these unaccreditated propbsitions, 
that evasion was his only object 

*' Did he now refer to them," I asked, " as 
" the actual basis of a treaty ? — - ' 
/ He saw no reason to the contrary. 

" They contained," I said, " an article for 
*^ the cession of Gibraltar." 

They did. 

" How then did such a stipulation accord 
" with his word given, that I should be sirb- 
" jected to no requisition on that point ?" 

He was now evidently embarrassed, and 
turning aside to the sub-minister Campo, held 
^ some conversation with him apart : he then re- 
sumed his discourse, but in a desultory way, 
and being one of the most irritable men living, 
was so entirely off his guard as to let out nearly V 

the whole of Count D'Estaing's intrigue, and 
plainly intimated that Gibraltar was an object, 
for which the king his master would break the 
Pamily-Pact and every other engagement with . 
France, which he exemplified by stamping the 
very paper itself under his feet upon the marble 
floor ; when recollecting himself after awhile^ 
and composing his countenance, that had been 

E 3 


distorted with agitation, he said*«" That ifl 
" would bind him to his word, it must be so* 
*'* However, if the article for Gibraltar was in- 
** admissible, what prevented our taking the 
"remaining propositions into consideration P"^ 

I told him, and with tmth, that I had seen 
his propositions, but was not in possession of 
them. " Would he put them down afresh and 
" join me in discussing them ?^' 

•* The Abbe Hussey had his origmal^ and be 
" had taken no copy." 

As I recollected enough of these propositions 
to know myself restrained from treating upon 
them, it occurred to me^ as the only expedient 
left to keep the treaty alive, to consent to his*- 
sending them over by Mr, Hussey, who was 
now become heartily sick of his situation, and 
catching at every possible plea for his returning 
home. Still I was resolved that the proposal 
of sending over propositions of that sort by 
Mr. Hussey should not originate with me,, 
though I was perfectly willing to acquiesce in 
it, as giving my ministers the chance of getting 
Giut of a war, which I thought good policy 
would rj^ther have sought to narrow in its ex**^ 



tetit than to widai, and which ever since I had 
been in Spain presented nothing but a success 
sion of disasters. 

This expedient of getting Mn Hussey to b* 
sent home by the minister with propositions^ 
which, though upon a broader scale of treaty 
than my instructions allowed me to embrace^ 
were yet in my opinion of them by no means 
^admissible, appeared to me the be&t I could 
resort to in the present moment With this 
idea in my thoughts I asked Count Florida 
Bknca if he knew the mind of France, and 
whether he was prepared with any overtures on 
her part, which could be transmitted.— I put 
this question experimentally^ for I had obtain- 
ed pretty full information of what D'Estaing 
had been about. ' ' 

He had by this time recovered bis serenity, 
and with great deliberation made answer to 
me, as nearly as it can be rendered, (for he 
always spoke in his o\vn mother- tongue) to 
this effect—" We have no overtures to n>ake 
" on the part of France ; France, as well as all^^ 
" the other courts, which have representatives 
^ here resident, has be^n very inquisitive touch- 
*' ing your business in this place ; the only an- 




'^ swer given on our part has i been^ thait tbo 
^^ Catholic King is an honourable monarch, 
" and will faithfully observe all his engage-^ 
** ments : on the faith of this single assertion 
" the whole matter rests. If your court is sin- 
** cere for peace, let her now set to work upon 
'' that business, which sooner or later must be 
*' the business of all parties. We will honestly 
*f and ardently second her endeavours ; we do 
" not put her to any thing, which may revolt 
'^ her dignity ; we acknowledge and conceive 
•* the degree of sensibility (call it if you please 
'^ indignation) which she must harbour against 
^^ a state in actual alliance with the rebel sub«* 
" jects of her empire ; let her act with that, 
" dignity, which is her due, constantly in, 
" sight ; but let htr meet his Catholic Majesty" 
" in his disposition for finishing a war, which 
•^ can only exhaust all parties ; and as she best 
" knows what her own interests will admits 
** let her suggest such terms^ as she would re- 
" ceive, was France the proponent^ and let her 
^* couple them with terms for Spain, and if 
*^ these be fair and reasonable on both sides^ 
'^ and such as Spain in. her particular can pos* 
" sibly accede to, the Catholic King will close 



^' with her on his own behalf, and exert all his 
^' influence with hi&ally to make the peace ge*^ 
^^ neraL This is an arduous and delicate bu*^ 
^^ siness ; let us cordially unite our endeavours 
^' to bring it forwards I shall be at all times 
^* ready to confer with you freely and without 
^^ disguise, and let no difference of opinion af* 
" feet our personal good understanding/' 

The day following this conference Mr, Hus- 
sey arrived at San Ildefonso, and having com<» 
Biunicated to him what had passed and my 
wish for his going to England with the minis** 
ter's propositions, he readily agreed to it, and 
before that day passed the sub'^minister CampO 
came to my house to sound me on this very 
expedient, managing as he conceived with 
great finesse to induce me to consent to what 
in fact I much desired, and expressing, as from 
the minister, his earnest hope that I would not 
quit Spain in the interim. Unpleasant as my 
situation was now become, still I was unwil- 
ling to abandon the negociation, as I knew 
that D'Estaing was on his departure for Ca- 
diz, where I had good reason to believe he 
would lose his influence and forfeit his popu- 

larity* 1 then availed myself of his infonheiily 
and through their channel gave out what I 
knew would come to his ears^ and induce him 
to think that my negociation was totally des- 
perate : accordingly I departed from San Ilde- 
fonso, leaving Mr. Hussey to settle proposi- 
tions with the minister, and the day following 
my return to Madrid, D'Estaing set out for his 
command at Cadiz. Florida Blanca offered 
to communicate to me copies of what he. trans* 
Knitted by Mr. Hussey, but for obvious reasons 
I declined his offer. 

D'Estaing at Cadiz soon lost all the interest 
he had gained at Court. He pqt to sea with 
his fleet against the protest of the Spanish ad- 
miral, and with circumstances, that rendered 
him completely unpopular. The British fleet 
nnder Admiral Darby was at sea in his track ; 
the French ships were in the worst condition 
imaginable, but our fleet did not avail itself of 
the opportunity for bringing them to action, 
and they reached their port without exchang- 
mg a shot. How justifiable this was on our 
^pHTt I will not doubt, how disappointing it was 
cten to SpaiU; whose wishes had by this time 


turned about, and hov derogatory in her 
opinion to the credit of our arms, I can truly 

I bad now manoeuvred the Abbe Hussey into i 
a mission, the most acceptable to him that! 
could be devised, as it took him out of Spain^ ; 
and liberated him from the necessity of acting 
a part, which he could not longer have sustain* 
ed with any credit to himself; for it was only 
whilst the treaty was in train with the sincere 
good will of Spain that he could be truly cor* 
dial in the cause : wh^i unforeseen events oc« 
eatred to check and interrupt the progress of 
it, his sagacity did' not fail to discover that he 
could no longer preserve a middle interest 
with both parties, but must be hooked into a 
dilemma* of choosing his side ; which that 
would have been when duplicity must have 
been thrown off, was a decision he did not wish 
to come to, though I peihaps can conjecture 
where it would have led him. . He had no 
great prejudices for England ; Irdand was his 
native country, but even, that and the whole 
wiMid had been renounced by him, when he 
tiirew himself into the oblivious convent of La 



Trappe, and was only dragged from out hii 
cell by force and the emancipating authority of 
the Pope himself. Whilst he was here dig* 
ging his own grave, and consigning himself to 
])erpetual taciturnity, he was a very young 
man, high in blood, of athletic strength, and 
built as if to see a century to its end. It was 
not the enthusiasm of devotion, no holy rap- 
tures, that inspired him with this desperate re- 
solution : it was the splenetic effect of disap- 
pointed passion; and such was the change, 
which a short time had wrought in him, that 
father Robinson, the worthy priest with whom 
he afterwards cohabited, told me, that when 
he attended the order for his deliverance, he 
could hardly ascertain his person, especially as 
he persisted^ to asseverate in the strongest 
terms that he was not the man they were in 
search of. 

When 'he came forth again into the world 
with passions, rather suspended than subdued, 
I am inclined to think he considered hitnself 
as forced upon a scene of action, where he was 
to play his part with as much finesse and dissi- 
mulation as suited his interest, or furthered biis 



ambition ; and this he probably reconciled to 
bis conscience by a commodious kind of casu- 
istry, in which he was a true adept. 

He wore upon his countenance a smile suf- 
ficiently seductive for common pui*poses and 
cursory acquaintance : his address was smooth, 
obsequious, studiously obliging, and at times 
glowingly heightened into an empassioned 
show of friendship and affection. He was 
quick enough in finding out the characters of 
men, and the openings through which they 
were assailable to flattery; but he was not 
equally successful in his mode of tempering 
and applying it ; for he was vain of showhig 
his triumph over inferior understandings, and 
could not help colouring his attentions often- 
times with such a florid hue, as gave an air of 
irony and ridicule, that did not always escape 
detection ; and thus it came to pass that he 
was little credited (and perhaps even less than 
he deserved to be) for sincerity in his warmest 
professions, or politeness in his best attempts, 
to please. 

As I am persuaded that he left behind him 
in his coflSn at La Trappe no one passion, na^ 
tive or engrafted, that belonged to him wheui 


he entered it, ambition lost no hold upon hia 
heart, and of course I must believe that the 
station, which he filled in Spain^ and the high*^ 
sounding titles and dignities, which the favour 
of his Catholic majesty might so readily endow 
him with| were to him such lures^ as, though 
hut feathers, outweighed English guinea in 
his balance ; for of these I must do him the 
justice to say he was indignantly regardless ; 
but to the honours, that his church could give^ 
to the mitre of Waterford, though merely ti- 
tular^ it is clear to demotistratio& he had no 

He made profession of a candour atid liberali^ 
ty of sentiment, bordering almost upoif down-* 
right protestantism, whilst in heart he Was as 
high a priest as Thomas a Becket, and as stiiF 
a catholic, though he ridiculed their mumme«t 
lies, as ever kissed the cross.* He did not ex-» 
actly want to stir up petty insurrections in his 
native country of Ireland, but to head a revo^ 
lution, that should overturn the church esta-» 
blished, and enthrone himself primate in the 
cathedral of Armagh, would have been his 
brightest glory and supreme felicity : and in 
truth he was a man by talents, nerves, ambi« 



tion, iatrepidityi fitted for the boldest QtLtev^ 

After he had negbciated my ibtrodidctiom 
into Spain, and set the tn^ty on foot, the vety 
first cbetk^ which it recaved by the di^tur*^ 
bances in Londoni left me very little hope of 
further help from him; but when the prqs^ 
pect was darkened by accumulated clouds^ 
and he discovered nothing through the gloom 
of my embarrassed situation but a tottering^ 
ministry, a discontented people, an unquiet capit' 
tal, our trading fleets captured, and our fighting 
fleets no longer worthy of the name ; when h^ 
saw Spain assume a proud and conquering at* 
titude, and, (buoyed up by the promises of 
France) blockading Gibraltar and preparing 
for the actual siege of it, he began to perceive 
he had engaged himself in a most unpromising 
intrigue, and readily lent his ear to those that 
were at hand and ready to intrigue him out of 
it. He was assiduous in his homage to the 
Archbishop of Toledo, and in the closest in<* 
timacy and communication with the minister 
of the £lector of Treves, and all at once, with- 
out the smallest cause of offence, or any reason 
that I could possibly divine, changed his be" 

• V 


haviour as an inmate of my family^ and from 
the warmest and most unreserved attachment, 
/ that man ever professed to man, took up a 
\ character of the severest gloom and jsuUenness, 
1 for which he would assign no cause^ but to all 
1 my enquiries, all my remonstrances, was either 
I obstinately silent, or evasively uncommunica- 
I tive. He would stay po longer, he was re- 
I solved to demand his passports, and actually 
wrote to Del-Campo to that purpose. To 
this demand an answer was returned, refusing 
him the passports until he had le^ve from Lord 
Hillsborough for quitting Spain, which it was 
at the same time observed to him could not be 
for his reputation to do in the depending state 
of the business, on which he came. Upon 
this he proceeded to write a short letter to 
Xord Hillsborough, demanding leave to re-v 
turn : he was not hardy enough to dispatch 
this letter without communicating it to me for 
my opinion : I gave it peremptorily against hia 
. sending it: I stated to him my reason's why I 
thought both the measure and the mode de- 
cidedly improper and dishonourable; he grew 
extremely warm, and so intemperate, that I 
found it necessary to tell him, if he persiated 

ftlCHARD CUMB£&LAKi>. 65 

I. • 

In demanditig hb return of the seeretafy of 
state in those terms, that it would, oblige me 
>to write home in my own justification, and 
also to enter upon explanations with the Spa^ 
nish Minister, who might else impute his c6n« 
duct to a cabal with me, though it was so dl« 
rectly against my judgment and my wishes. I 
declared to him that I had not written a line^ 
or taken a step without his privity, and that no 
one word had ever passed my lips, but what 
was dictated by sincere regard .axkd consideia^ 
tion for him, and this was solemnly and stricdy 
tme : I said that I observed he had altered his 
behaviour towards me and my family, which 
he could not deny, and I added that this pro* 
ceeding must not only ruin him with the mi- 
nister of Spain, but was such as must b^ high- 
ly prejudicial to my business, unless I took 
every prudent precaution to explain and avert 
the mischief it was pregnant with. The con- 
sequence of this conversation was, that he did 
not send his letter to Lord Hillsborough, but 
as he was not explicit on that point, I prepared 
inysejf with a letter to Lord Hillsborough, and 
another to Del*Campo^ explanatory of his con* 
duct, which^ upon Im assuring me on our next 


(S6 .i ■'; WE^SOIBS OF 

meeting; that h^.Woukl laot write to England^ I 
fllso fot'bons to send. Upon the foUowing day, 
im^Qut any cause assigpied- or explanation 
given, my late sullen associate met me with a 
smiling countenance, and was as perfectly an 
altered man, as if he had come a second time 
but of the cloisters of La Trappe^ He was in 
&ct a mc^ profound casuist, and a confessor 
of the highest celebrity. 

•I cannot say this caprice of Mr. Hussey 
gave me much concern, or created in me any 
eictin<^dinary surprise, though I could never 
thoroughly devclope the cauae of it ; yet at 
that very time my life was brought into immi- 
nent danger by the unskilfulness of the sur* 
geons, who attended jipon me in consequence 
efniy. having received a very serious injury by 
a fall from* one^ of my Portuguese mules. I 
1(^ riding on the Pardo road^ when the ani- 
mad tooli fright, and in the act of stopping him 
i}^- Wit- broke asunder in his mouth* In this 
«tate, being under no command, he ran with 
violence against an equipage drawn by six 
mules that was parsing along the road in ^ » 
train with many others. In the concussion I 
0sun« ta ^ ground ; the carriage fortunately 


stopped short, and I was: lifted hi to it stut\ne^ 
vith the shock and for a time imerisibl^. * I 
was bleediBg at the elbow, where the skin wafe 
toniy and upon rccoTserlog . my senses I found 
myself supported fey: my wi% in her chatiot!, 
end probably indebted to* her driveiis for my 
life. Though I had cause to trembte .for the 
consequences o¥ the violent alarm I had given 
her, as she was now very near her time^ yet in 
other respects it was a fortunate and extraordi* 
sary chance, that my aiccident stiould hav« 
thrown me immediately into her prote^ction^ 
who lost not an instai^t of time itt conveying 
me home. Two surgeons, such as Madrid 
could furnish, were called in and sp^dily zt^ 
lived, but for no other purpose, as it seemed, 
texcept to dispute and wrangle with each other 
tipon the question if the arm was fractured a< 
the shoulder or at the elbow, whilst each alter- 
nately twisted and tortured it as best suited 
him in support of his opinion. In the height 
of thdr controversy a third personage tnadehis 
appearance in the uniform of the Guardes de 
Corps, being chief surgeon of that corpi and 
seiit to me by authof ity. This gentlerfian si-' 
lenced both, but agreed with neither, for he 



pronounced th6 bene to be split longitiiditxaHy 
from the shoulder to tbe elbow, and finding k 
by this time extremely swelled and inflamed^ 
very properly observed that no operation could 
be performed upon h in that state. He pro- 


cecded therefore tO' bathe it liberally with an 
embrocation, which he affirmed was sovereign 
for the purpose, but if his olgect was to re- 
duce the swelling and assuage the inflamma- 
tion, the learned gentleman was most egre- 
giously mistaken, for the fiety spirit of the 
rutfi, with which he fomented it, soon increased 
both to so violent a degree with such a raging 
erysipelas as in a few days had every symp- 
tom of a mortification actually commencing^ 
when the case being pressings my wife, whose 
presence of mind never deserted her in danger, 
took the prudent measure of dismissing the 
whole trio of ignoramuses, and calling to hdf 
assistance a modest rational practitioner hv 
Qur near neighbourhood, who under the sigi» 
of a brass- bason professed the sister arts o-iP 
shaving and surgery conjointly, by reversing 
the practice s6 injurious arid applying th© 
bark, rescued me from their hands, and under 
providence preserved my life* 


" H^re I Hvust take leave to digress a little 
from the tenor of my tale, whilst I record aa 
anecdote, in itself of no other material interest 
except as it enables me to state one amongst 
the many reasons which I have to love and re- 
vere the memory of a deceased friend, who de* 
voted to me the evening of every day without 
tl^e exception of one, which I passed' during 
my residence in Madrid. This excellent old 
man^ Patrick Curtis by name, and by birth an 
Irishman, had been above half a century settled 
in Spaifl, domestic priest and occasionally pre* 
ceptor to three successive Dukes of Osuna. 
In this situation he had been expressly the 
founder of the fortunes of the Premier Florida 
Blanca, by recommending him as advocate to 
the employ and patronage of that rich and no- 
ble house. The Abbe Don Patricio Curtis 
was of course looked up to as a person of no 
snaall consideration ; he was also not less con- 
spicuous and universally respected for his vir- 
tues, for his high sense of honour, his bold sin- 
cerity of speech and generous benignity o£ 
soul f but tins good man at the same time had 
such an over^abundant portion of the amor 
f atria about him, was so marked a devotee to 



the British interest and so unreserved an op-* 
ponent to that of France, that it seemed to de- 
mand more circumspection than he was dis* 
posed to bestow fox guarding hinii^elf against 
the resentment of a party, whose principles ho 
arraigned without migitation, and whose pow« 
er he set at opea defiance without caution or 
reserve. Though considerably past eighty^ 
hk affections were as ardetit and his feelings 
as c)ttick as if he had not reached his twen<- 
tieth year. When 1 was supposed to be out of 
chance of recovery this affectionate creature 
came to me in an agony of grief to take his last 
farewell. He told me he had been engaged id 
fervent prayer and intercession on my behalf^ 
and had pledged before the altar his most ear- 
nest and devoted services for the consolation 
and protection of my beloved wife and daugh- 
ters, if it should pleaae Heaven to remove me 
fiom them and reject his. humble supplications 
for my life: be lamented that I had no spiritual 
assistant of :my own church to resort to ; he 
did not mean to ofotirude his forms, to which I 
was not acottstomed, but on the contrary 
came purposely to tender me his services ac*- 
eording to my >awn ; and was xtiady, if I would 


fumbh him with my prayer book, and alloHf 
him to secure the doors from any, that might 
intrade or over-hear to the peril of his life, to 
administer the sacrament to me exactly as it is 
ordained by our ehurch, requesting only that I 
would reach the cup with my own hand, and 
not employ his to tender it to me. Al) this he 
fulfilled, omitting none of the prayers appoint^ 
ed, and officiating in the most devout impress 
sive manner, (though at times interrupted and 
overcome by extr^ne sensibility) to my very 
great comfort and satis&ction. Had the office 
of Inquisition, whose terrific mansion stood 
within a few pacea of my gates,' had report of 
this which passed in my heretical chamber, 
my poor friend would have breathed out the 
short remnant of his days between two walls, 
never to be lieard of more. From six o'clock 
in the afternoon till ten at night he never 
failed to occupy the chair next to me in my 
evening circle, and though I saw with infinite 
concern that his constitution was rapidly 
bneaking up for tlie last six or seven weeks of 
my stay, no persuasion could ' keep bim from 
coming to me and exposing his declining 
health to the night air; at Uu^t when I was rec^.!-* 



kd and bad fixed the day for my departure; 
dreading the effect^ which the ^ct of parting 
for ever might have upon his exhausted frame, 
I endeavoured to impose upon him a later 
hour of the morning than I meant to take for 
my setting out, and enjoined strict secresy to 
all my party.: but these precautions were in 
vain; at three o'clock in the morning, when I 
entered the receiving room I found my poor_ 
old friend alone and waiting, with his arms 
extended to embrace me and bathed in tears, 
scarcely able to support himself on his tottering 
legs, now miserably tumified^ a spectacle that 
cut my heart to the quick, and perfectly un*- 
manned me. He had purchased a number of 
masses of some pious mendicants, which he 
hoped would be efficacious and avail for our 
well-doing : he had no great faith in amulets, 
he told me, yet he had brought me a ring of 
Mexican workmanship and materials, very an* ^ 
cient and consecrated and blessed by a ve- 
nerable patriarch of the Indies, since canonized 
for his miracles ; which ring had been highly 
prized by the late Duchess of Osuna for its ^ 
efficacy in preserving her from thunder and 
lightnings and though he did jQot preimme tQ 




think that I would place the slightest confidence 
in its virtue, yet he hoped I would let him be- 
stow it on the person of the infant daughter^ 
which was boni to me in Spain, whom I then 
gave into his arms, whilst he invoked a thou* 
sand blessings upon her. He brought a very 
fine crucifix cut in ivory; he said he had pi&t 
up his last prayers before it, and had nothing 
more to do but lie down upon his bed and die, 
which as soon as I departed he was prepared 
to do, sensible that his last hour was near at 
handy and that he should survive our separation 
a very few days. I prevailed with him to re- 
tain his crucifix, but I accepted an exquisitft 
Ecce Homo by El Divino Morales, and ex- 
changed a token of remembrance with him ; I 
saw him led out of my house to that of the 
Duke of Osuna near at hand, and whilst I was 
yet on my journey the intelligence reached me 
of his death, and may the God of mercy re- 
ceive him into bliss ! 

. When I had so far advanced in my recovery 
as to be able to wear my arm in a sling, and 
'Endure the motion of a carriage, I dispatched 
siy servant Camis to San Ildefonso, and pro- 
p9sed to ibo minister a conference with him 

. y 

74f MBM0IR8 OV 

there upon the supposed mediation of Russia, 
on which he had thought fit to sound me*-— 
^ J servant returned^, bringing a tetter from 
the sub-minister Campo, in which he signifies 
the minister's wish that I would consent tb de- 
fer my visit, but adds that *^ If I think other-* 
*^ wise I shall always be welcome^-'* I well 
knew to whom and to what I was indebted 
for this letter, . and naturally was not pleased 
with it, yet I thought it best and most prudent 
to answer it as follows- ■ ■ 


^' To Senor Don Bernardo Del->Campo. 
" Dear Sir, 

" My servant returned with your 
*^ letter of this day in time to prevent my setting 
*^ out for San Ildefonso. 

^^ When I tell you that it is with pleasure I 
*^ accommodate myself to the wishes of Count 
'^ Florida Blanca, I not only consult my own 
'^ disposition, but I am persuaded I conform 
^^ to that of my court, and of the ministeJv 
*^ under whose immediate instructions I am 
*' aicting. The reconciliation of our respective 
^* nations, is an object, which I look to witll 
^^ such cordial devotion, that I would on hq 



/' acopimt niterpose myself in a moment unac^ 
^' ceptable to your court for any consideration 
^^ short of my immediate duty. I am per-* 
^ duaded there is that honour and good faith 
**m the councik of Spain, and in the minister^ 
^^ who directs them, tlmt I shaLl not sufibr in 
^-^ his esteem iby this proof of my acquiescence, 
^^ zsn^ Ikdiiw too well the sincerity of my own 
*' court to apprehend for the part I have 
** tak^ 

^^ At: the same time that I signify to yottmy 
^'acquiescence as aboyp stated, I think my 
^ pjedicatneixt thereby becomes such as tp re-^ 
** quire an immediate report to my court, and 
^ I desire yoii will request of his excellency 
** Count Florida Blanca to send me a blank 
^' passport, to be filled up by me with the name 
''of such person, as I n^ay find convenient 
'' to dispatch to England by the way of Lis- 
" bon. 

'^ I am, &c. &:c. 

* This letter pnoduced a most courteous invi-^ 
tatioo, and thence ensued those conferences al-^ 
ready dcasribed, which separated Ma Husisey 

76 MEMOIRS «0T; 

from me^ and sent liiiaa home with propositions; 
which my instruction& did not allow me ta 
discuss. By ihis chasm in* the business I was 
upon, I found myself so far at .leisure, that I 
was tempted to indulge niy curiosity by* a: visit 
to the £scurial, and accordingly set out ibr 
that singular, place with a letter from the mi- 
nister to the Prior, signifying the- king'Ss piea- 
sui^ethat I should have free access to the. ma- 
nuscripts, and every facility, that coukl be 
given to my researches: of whatever deicrip- 
tion. I had been informed by Sir John Dal- 
lymple of a curious manuscript; purporting to 
be letters of firutus, to which he could noit get 
access ; these letters are written in Greek, and 
are referred to by Doctor Bentley in his con- 
troversy with Boyle as notoriously spurious, 
fabricated by the sophists, of which there can 
be no doubt. I obtained a sight of the manu- 
script, and the fathers favoured me with a copy 
of the Greek original, and also of the Latin 
translation by Petrarch. I have them by me, 
but they are good for nothing, and bear de- 
cided evidence of an imposture. This the 
worthy father, who introduced himself to me 
as lilnrarian and professor of the learned lan?^ 


guages^ discovered by a very curious process, 
observing to me tbat these couid not be the 
true letters of Brutus, forasmuch as they pro- 
fess to have been written after the death of Ju- 
lius Cassar, which he had found out to be a 
flagrant anachronism^ assuring me that Bru- 
tus, having died before Cassar, could not be 
feigned to have written letters after the decease 
of the man, who survived him. When I apo-» 
logized for my hesitation in admitting his chro- 
nology, and asked him if Brutus was nut sus* 
pected of having a hand in the murder of Cae- 
sar, he owned that he had heard of it, but that 
it was a mere fable, and hastening to his cell 
brought me down a huge folio of chronology,, 
fbllowiiig me into the court, and pointing out 
the page, where I might read my own convic- 
tion. I thanked him for his . solicitude, and 
assured him that his authority was quite suffi- 
cient for the fact, and recollecting bow few 
aajoyments he probably had in that lugubrous 
mansion, left bim in possession of his victory 
and biumph. 

I took no body with me to the Escurial but 
my servants and a Milanese traiteur, who 
opened an empty hotel, and provided me with 


78 tteiioiBs or« 

a chamber and tny food. There were mdeed 
myriads of annoying insects, who had keptun**' 
interrupted possession of their quarters, against 
whom I had no way of guarding mys^ but 
by planting my portable crib in the middle of 
the room, with its legs immersed in paila of 
water. The conrt was expected, but not yet 
arrived, and the place was a perfect solitude^ 
so that I had the best possible opportani^ of 
viewing this immense edifice at my ease and 
leisure. I am not about to desctribe it ; as-* 
suredlv it is one of the most wonderous mcrnu*^ 
ments that bigotry has ever dedicated to the 
fulfilment of a vow. Yet there is no grace in 
the external, which owes its power of striking 
to the immensity of its mass : The architect 
has been obliged to sacrifice beauty and pro-* 
portion to security against th6 incredible hur* 
ricaaies^ of wind, which' at times sweep down 
from the mountains, that surround it; of a 
scenery more savage, nature hardly has a uun^ 
pit to produce upon the habitable globe : 3ret 
within this gloomy and enormous receptaete^ 
tl)ere is abundant fopd for curiosity in paint- 
ings, books and consecrated treasures exceed* 
ing all desciiption. There is a valGrt: and inesti^ 


mtUe collection of pictures, and the great 
masters, whose works were in my poor judg^ 
ment decidedly the most prominent and at^** 
tractive, are Raphael, Titian, Rubens, Velas« 
quez and Coello, of which the two last werfe 
natives of Spain and by no meatus unworthy to 
be classed with the three former* Of Raphael 
there are but four pre-eminent specimens, of 
which the famous Perla is one^ but hung very 
disadvantageously : of Titian there is a splen* 
did abundance ; of Rubens not man}^ but 
some that shew him to have been a hiighty 
master of the passions, and speak to the heart 
with incredible effect ; they throw the gaunt- 
let to the proudest of the Italian schools, and 
seem to leave Vandyke behind him almost out 
of sight : of Veiasquez, if there was none othw 
than his composition of Jacob, when his sons 
are showing him the coat of Joseph, it would 
be mough to rank him with the highest in hia 
art: Coello's fame may safely rest UpOn hi& 
inimitable altar-piece in the private chapel.— 
Were it put to me to single out for my choice 
two compositions,^ and only two, from out the 
whole inestimable collection, I would take 
Titiaa^s Last Supper in the refectory for my 

80 MfMOlRS OF 

first prize, and this altar-piece of Coello's for 
my second, leaving the Perla and Madona dd 
pesce of Raphael, the Dead Christ of Rubens, 
and the Joseph of Velasquez with longing and 
regret» but leaving them notwithstanding. 

The court removed from San Ildefonso to 
the Escurial in a few days after I had been 
there, and I was invited to bring my family 
thither, which accordingly I did. My recep- 
tion here was very different from what I had 
experienced at San Ildefonso. The king, one 
of the best tempered men living, was particu- 
larly gracious ; in walking through his apart- 
ments in the Escurial, I surprised him. in his 
bed-chamber: the good man had been onJbis 
knees before his private altar, and upon the 
opening of the door, rose ; when seeing me ia 
the act of retiring, he bade me stay, and con- 
descended to show me some very curious South 
American deer, extremely small and elegantly 
formed, which he kept under a netting ; and 
amongst others a little green monkey, the most 
diminutive and most beautiful of its species I 
had ever seen. He also shewed me the game 
he had shot that morning of various sorts from 
the bocafica to the vulture. He was alone. 






and seemed to take peculiar pleasure in g^tify* 
log our curiosity. No monarch could well be 
more humbly lodgedi for his state consisted in 
a small camp bed, miserably equipped with 
curtains of faded old damask, that, had once 
been crimson, and a cushion of the same by 
his bedside with a table, that held his oriicifix 
and prayer book, and over that a three^Kjuar*- 
ters picture of the Mattr-dolorom by Titian, 
which he always carried with him for his pri** 
vate altar-piece; of which picture I was for* 
tunate enough to procure a very pcifect copy 
by an oki Spanish master (Coello as I suspect) 
upon the same siaed cloth, and very hardly to 
be distinguished from the original. This pic- 
ture I brought home with me, and it is now 
in my possession. His majesty's dress was, 
like his person, plain and homely ; a buif leai^ 
ther waistcoat, breeches of the same, and old- 
fashioned boots, (made in Fall Mali) with a 
plain drab coat, covered with snuff and dust, 
a bad wig and a worse hat constituted his ward* 
robe for the chace, and there were very few 
days in the year, when he denied himself that 
The Priupe of Asturias, now the reigning 



sovereign', was always so good as to notice th* 
respect I duly paid him with the most flatter- 
ing and marked attention. He $j>oke of tne 
and to me with, distinguished kindness, and 
caused it to be signified to me, that he was 
sarry circumstances of etiquette did not' allow 
him to show me those more pointed proofs of 
his regard, by which it was his wish to make 
appear the good opinion he was pleased to ea- 
tertain of me. ^ Such a testimony from a prince 
of his reserved and distant cast of character 
was to be valued for its sincerity. On my way 
from San Ildefonso to Segovia one morning at 
an early hour, as I was mounting a hill, that 
opened that extensive plain to my view, I dis- 
covered a party of horsemen and the prince 
considerably advanced before them at the full 
speed of his horse; I had just time to order 
my chariot out' of the road, and halt it under 
some cork trees l^ the way-side, and accord- 
ing to my custom 1 got out. to pay him niy 
respects. The prince stopped his horse upon 
the instant, and with his hat in his hand wheel- 
ed him about to come up to me, when the 
high-spirited animal, either resenting the ma* 
HGBUvre, or taking fright, as it seemed, at the 


-gicamy reflection of my grey mules half-cover- 
.<d with the cork branches, reared and wheeled 
.'upon his hinder legs in a most alarming man^- 
ner. The prince appeared to me in such im* 
minent danger, that I was about to seize the 
bitt of his bridle, but he was much too com* 


plete a cavalier to accept of assistance, and af- 
ter a short but pretty severe contest, brought 
.his horse up to me in perfect discipline, and 
with many handsome acknowledgments for 
the anxiety I had shewn on his account, in a 
very gracious manner took his leave, and pur- 
sued his road to San Ildefonso : he was a man 
of vast bodily strength, and a severe rider ; the 
fine animal, one of the most beautiful I had 
3een in Spain, shewed the wounds of the spur 
streaming with blood down his glossy-white 
^ides from the shoulder to the flank. 

This prince had a small but elegant pavilion 
at a short distance from the Escurial, which in 
point of furniture and pictures was a perfect 
gem : he did me and my family the honour to 
invite us to seerit; at the appointed hour wc 
found it prepared for our reception, with a 
table set out and provided with refreshments ; 
^mc of the officers of his household were in 

Q 2 

84 / MEMOIRS 07 

waiting; the dukes of Alva, Grenada, AhncK 
dovar and others of high rank accompanied us 
through the apartments, and when I returned 
to my hotel at the Escurial, the prince's secre- 
tary called on me by command to know my 
opinion of it ' There could be no difficulty in 
delivering that, for it really meiited all the 
praise that I bestowed upon it In a very 
Bhort time after, the same gentlemaa returned 
and signified the prince's express desire to know 
if there wzs any thing in the style of iumiture^ 
that struck me as defective, or any thing I 
could suggest for its improvement* With the 
like sincerity I made answer, that in my burna- 
ble opinion the fitting of the principal room in 
the Chinee style> though sufficiently splendii^ 
was not in character with the rest of the apart** 
ments, that were hung round with Mtne of the 
finest pictures of the Spanish and Italian mas- 
terS) where a chaster style in point of ornament 
had been preserved. 

I heard no more of my critique for sodie 
days, and began to suspect that I had made 
my court very ill by risquing it, when another 
message called me to review the complete 
change^ which that apartment had undergone^ 


to the exclusion of every atom of Japsin worky 
in consequence of my remark. 

It was on this occasion that the minister 
Florida Blanca in the moment of that favour 
and popularity, which I then enjoyed, addres** 
sed nije in a very different style from any he 
had ever used, and with an air of mock solem«» 
nity charged me with having practised upon 
the heir apparent of the crown of Spain by 
some secret charm, or love-^pawder, to the en- 
gagement of his affections, ^^ which,*' said he, 
^* I perceive you are so exclusively possessed 
** of, that I must throw myself on your pro- 
*^ tection, and request you to preserve to me 
" some place in his regard—" As I had found 
his excellency for the first time in the humour 
for raillery, I endeavoured to keep up the spirit 
of it by owning to the love-powder ; in virtue 
of* which I had gained that power over the 
prince, as to seiize the bridle of his horse, and 
arrest him on the road, which led me to relate 
the anec^te of our rencontre on the way to 
Segovia above-described. He listened to me 
with greai good humour, appearing to enjoy 
my narrative of the adventure, and at the con- 
dttsioa observed to me, that my life was for- 



fcited by the laws of Spain ; but as he supposed 
I had no evil design against the prince him- 
self, but only wanted to possess myself of so 
fine a charger, as an offering to my excellent 
and royal master, whose virtues made his life 
and safety dear to all the world, he would in 
confidence disclose to me that order was given 
out by his Catholic Majesty to select from his 
stud in the Mancha ten the noblest horses, 
that could be chosen, and out of those, upon 
trial of their steadiness and temper, to select 
two, which I might tender as my offering to. 
the acceptance of my sovereign ; and this he 
observed was a' present never before made to 
any crowned head in Europe but of his ma- 
jesty's own immediate family, alluding to the 
King of Naples. 

A few days after my return to Madrid this 
gracious promise was fulfilled, and two horses 
of the royal stud, led by the king's grooms and 
covered by cloths, on which the royal arms 
&c. were embroidered, M'ere brought into tht 
inner court of my house, and there delivered 
to me. 1 flatter myself they were such horses, 
-as had not been brought out of Spain for a 
ccntuiy before, and not altogether unworthy 



of the acceptance of the illustrious personaqge^ 
who condescended to receive them. I was at 
dinner when they arrived j and Count Kaunitz^ 
the imperial ambassador, was at the table with . 
me. I had not spoken to him, or . any other 
person of this expected present, and his. asto- 
nishment at seeing that,. which had been the 
great desideratum of many. ambassadors, and 
himself amongst the number, thus voluntarily 
and liberally be&towed upon me, (the secret 
and untitled agent of a court at war with 
Spain) surprised him into some comments, 
which had the only tincture of jealousy, that I 
ever discovered in him. A crowd had follow- 
ed these horses to the gates, which enclosed 
my courts ; one ,of these opened to the Pla- 
izuela de los Affligidos, and the other to the ' 
street of the inquisition ; I caused these gates 
to be thrown open, and when the people saw 
the horses with their royal coverings upon 
them led into my stable, they gave a shout ex- 
pressive of their pleasure and applause. If my 
very amiable friend Kaunitz was not quite so 
highly gratified by these occurrences as I was, 
he was perfectly excusable. 

Q 4 


I kept these horses in my stable^ at Madrkf, 
and should not have used them b^t at the spe- 
cial requisition of the royal donor ; when that 
was signified to me^ ipy daught€»'s and myself 
rode them, as occasion suited^ and as a pfoof 
how noble they wcpe by nature, the folk)wing 
instance will suffice. As my eldest daughter 
was passing a small convent, not a mile from 
the gate of San Bernandino, a large Spanish 
mastiff of the wolf'-dpg kind rushed out ^of the 
convent, and seizing her horse by the breast, 
hung there by his teeth, whilst the tortured 
animal rushed onwards at full speed, showing 
no manner of vice, and only eager to shake off 
his troublesoriie encumbrance. In this situa- 
tion she was perceived and rescued by a Spanish 
ofiicer on foot, who presenting himself in the 
very line of the horse's course, gave him the 
word and signal to stop, when to my equal joy 
and astonishment (for I saw the action) the 
generous animal obeyed, the dog dropped his 
hold, and tlie lady, still firm and unshaken in 
her seat, though alarmed and almost breathless, 
was seasonably set free by the happy presence 
of mind of her deliverer, and the very lingula? 



obedirace' of her royal steed, whose gexierous 
hvwst long* retained the marks of his ignobte 
am) ferocious assailant 

When I had received my recall I sent these 
horses before me under the care of two Spa« 
niards, father and son, of the name of Velasco^ 
who led them from Madrid through Paris to 
Ostend, walking on foot, and sleeping by them 
in tbeir stabjes every night ; and taking their 
passage firom 0$tend to Margate, arrived widb 
them at my door in Portland*Place, and deli-» 
vered them without spot or blemish in perfect 
order and condition to his majesty's grooms 
at the royal Mews« 

If my gratitude to the memory of the late 
benevolent sovereign, who was pleased by this 
and many other favours graciously to mark 
the sincere, though inefiectual, efforts of an 
humble individual, defeated in his hoped by 
unforeseen events, which he could not con- 
troul, and afterwards abandoned to distress and 
ruin by his employers for want of that success, 
which he could not command; if my gratitude 
(I repeat it) to the deceased King of Spain 
causes me to be too particular, or prolix, in re- 
cording lus goodness to me, it is because I na** 


ttirally must feel it with the greater sensibility 
from the contrast, which I painfully expe- 
rienced, when I returned bankrupt, broken- 
hearted and scarce-alive to my native coun- 
try. But of this more at large in its proper 

I have hinted at the surprise, which my 
friend Count Kaunitz expressed upon the pre- 
sent of the royal horses, it was again his 
chance to- experience something of the like na- 
ture, when he did me the honour to dine with 
me upon the 4th of June, when with a few 
cordial friends I was celebrating my beloved 
sovereign's birth-day in the best manner my 
obscurity and humble means allowed of. On 
this occasion I confess my surprise was as 
great as his when the music of every regiment 
in garrison at Madrid, not excepting the Spa- 
nish guards, filed into my court-yard, and af- 
forded me the exquisite delight of hearing 
those, who w^re in arms against my country, 


vnite in celebrating the return of that day, 
which gave its monarch birth, . 
^ I frequently visited the superb collection of 
paintings in the palace at Madrid ; the king 
was 60 good as to give ordei's for an v pictures 



id hk taken down and placed upon thecezel^ 
which I might wish to have a nearer view of* 
he also gave direction for a catalogue to be 
inade out at my request, which I have pub- 
Ikhed and attached to my account of the Spa-^ 
nish painters; he authorised me to say, that if 
the king my master thought fit to send over 
English artists to copy any of the pictures in 
liis collection, either for engravings or other- 
wise, he would give them all possible facility 
and maintain them at free cost, whilst they 
were so employed ; this I made known on my 
return. He gave direction to his architect 
Sabbatini to supply from the quarries in Spain 
any blocks or slabs of marble, according to the 
samples, whiqh I brought over to the amount 
of above a hundred, whenever any such should 
be required for the building or ornamenting 
the royal palaces in England, 

I bear in my remembrance many other fa- 
vours, which after what'I have related are not 
pecessary to enumerate. They were articles- 
to which his grace and goodness gave a value, 
und exactly such as I could with perfect con- 
aistency of character accept. The present of 
Viguna cloth from the royal manufactory. 


■ » 

which ha had given to the ambassador Lord 
Orantham, in the same proportion walK bestow^ 
td upon me. The superior properties of tte 
Spanish pointer axe ^^ell known, and dog& of 
the tinie breed are greatly coveted : the king un-> 
der^tood I was searching after some of thiji soi% 
and was pleased to offer me the choice of any 
I might wish to have from out his whole qoU 
leotton ; but I had already possessed myself of 
two very fine ones, which his majesty saw, and 
thought them at least equal to any of his own j 
I therefore thankfully acknowledged hjs kind 
offer, but did not avail myself of it» 

The Princess of Astiirias, now rbighing 
Queen of Spain, had taken an early opportu* 
mty of giving a private audiencfe to my wife 
and daughters, and gratifying their curiosity 
with a sight of her jewels, most of which she 
described to be of English setting. She con* 
dciscended to take a pattern of their riding ha* 
bit3, though they were .copied from tha uni^ 
form of our guards, and, when apprised of this, 
replied, that it was a further motive with her 
for adopting the fashion of it ; I remember 
hovyever that she caused a broad gold lace to 
i^ oamed round the bottom of the skirt $hc 



also condescended to send for several other ar*- 
ticles of their dress as samples, whilst they 
were codfbrming to the costuma of Spain to 
the minutest particular^ and wearing nothing 
but silks of Spanish fabric, rejecting all the 
finery of Lyons, and every present or purchase, 
however tempting, of all French inanufacturea 
whatever. This lure for pbpulari^ succeeded 
to such a degree, that when these young £ng« 
lishwomeui habited in their Spanish dresses^ 
(and attractive, as I may presume to say they 
were by the bloom and beauty of their per** 
sons) passed the streets of Madrid, their coach 
was brought to frequent stops, and hardly 
found its passage through the crowd. A Spa<^ 
nish lady, when she rides, occupies both sides 
of her palfry, and is attended by her lacquiek 
on foot, her horse in the mean time, movens^ 
ied non promovens, bmndishiug his legs, but 
advancing only by inches* When my wife and 
daughters on the contrary, who were all admi«> 
rable riders, according to the English style and 
spirit, put their horses to their speed, it was 1^ 
spectacle of such novelty, and oftentimes drew 
6uch acclamations, particularly from the Spa* 
lush guards whilst we weft at the JBscurial^ m 

94 MSMomsi Of 

might have given rise to some sensations, if 
persisted in, which in good policy made it pru- 
dent for me to remand them to Madrid. 

Here. I considered myself bbund in duty to 
adapt my mode of life to the circumstances of 
my situation, and the undefined character, in 
which I stood* I viras not restricted from re- 
ceiving my friends, but I made no visits what- 
soever, and the jpurnal of any one day may 
serve for a description of the whole. The 
same circle assembled every afternoon at the 
same minute, and with the same regularity 
broke up. The ladies had a round table of low 
Pope- Joan, and I had a party of sitters- by. 
My house was extremely spacious, and that 
space by no means choked up with furniture ; 
I had fourteen rooms on the principal floor, 
and but one fire place ; in this, during the win- 
ter months, I burnt pieces of wood, purchased 
of a coach-maker, many of them carved and 
gilt, the relics of old carriages, and it was no 
.uncommon thing to discover fragments of arms 
and breasts of Caryatides, who had worn them- 
selves out in the siervice of some departed Gran-? 
dee, who had left them, like the wreck of 
^Pl^arbah's chariots, to their disgraceful fate. I 


found my mansion, in the naked dignity of 
brick floors and white walls ; upon / the former 
I spread some matts, and on the other I pasted 
some paper. I iarmed my dinners from a Mi- 
lanese traiteur, exorbitantly dear and unpar- 
donably bad ; but I had no resource ; they 
came ready cooked to my house, and were 
heated up afresh in my stoves. The lacquies, 
that J hired, had two shillings per day, and 
dieted themselves ; my expence in equipage 
was very great, for the mules appropriate to 
my town use could not go upon > the road s 
others were to be liired for posting, and less 
than six had been i^ainst all rule. I had a 
stable fun of capital Spanish horses, exclusive 
of the king's, three of which were lent to me 
for. the use of the ladies, and two given tame 
by .Count Kaunitz ; one of these, a most beau* 
tiful creature of the under size, and a favourite 
of my wife's 1 brought to England : the other 
was an aged horse, milk-white, the victor over 
nine bulls, and covered in his flanks and sides 
with honourablle scars ; he had been devoted to 
the amphitheatre under suspicion of having 
the glanders, but he outlived the imputation,, 
and in the true character of the Spanish horse 

$6 ]f£iroiB8 OF 

carried himself in the proudest style of any I 
ever saw, possesebg the sweetest temper with 
the noblest spirit, and when in tlie possession 
of the great Grandee Altamira had been priaed 
and admired above all other horses of his day. 
My eldest daughter seldom failed to prefer 
htnii but| thinking him too old to undergo^ 
any gre^t fatigue, I did not risk the bringing 
him to England, but returned him to the no** 
ble donor. 

This amiable personage, son to the Imperial 
Minister Count Kaunitz, had been ambassa^ 
dof to Russia, and was noW filling that disdn^^ 
guish<^d station at the court of Spain* When 
I had been but k few dnys in Madrid, whilst I 
was in my box at the comedy with my wife 
Und daughters, he asked leave to enter, and 
placed himself in a back seat : the drama, as 
far as I coidd understand it, seemed to be 
grounded on the story df Bichardsoh^s Pamela^ 
and amongst the characters of the piece there 
wds ohCy who meant to personajCea British sea^ 
captain. Wheii this representative of my 
countryman made his entrance on the stage^ 
Kaunita, who perhaps disco veted something 
in my countenance, which the ridiculaus dress 


and appearaooe of the actor very possibly ex* 
cited, lesntng forwards and addnessing himself 
to me {or the firftt time, said*^^^ I hope, Sir, 
*^ you will overlook a small mistake in point of 
^' costuna, which this gentleman has very na* 
^^turally fallen into, as I am convinced he 
'^ would have been proud of presenting himself 
^ to you in his proper uniform, .could he have 
^^ found amongst all his naval acquaintance 
^^ any ooe, who could haye furnished hhn with 
^^ a sample of it." This apology, at once so 
complimentary and ingenious, set off by his 
ci^ant nMoner of address, led us into convert- 
sation, and from that evening I pan hardly call 
to mind one, in which he failed to honour me 
with his company. In his features he boie a 
striking resemblance to the portrait, which he 
gave me of his father ; in his manners, which 
were those of a perfect gentleman, he was cor«* 
reotly fitted to the situation that he filled, and 
for that sitoation his talents, though not pre^ 
eminentty brilliant, were doubtless alUsufficient 
He was not unconscious of those high preten- 
aons to which his birth and station entitled 
hhn, but it was very rarely indeed tl^at I could 
discover any symptoms in his bdiaviour, that 



betokened other than a proper and bfcoming 
sensibility towards his honour and his office* 
With a constitution rather delicate, he posses* 
sed a heart extremely tender, and how truly 
and entirely that heart was devoted to the el- 
der of my daughters, I doubt not but he se- 
verely, felt, when frustrated in his honourable 
and ardent wishes to be united to her, be saw 
her depart out of Spain, and after one day's 
journey in our company took his melancholy 
leave for ever ; for after the revolution of a few 
months, when it may be presumed he had con- 
quered his attachment, and reconciled himself 
to his disappointment, this amiable young 
man, being then upon his departure for 
his native country, sickened and died at Bar- 

There were two other gentlemen of the impe- 
rial party, who very constantly were pleased to 
grace my evening circle ; the one Signer Gius- 
ti, an Italian, secretary of the embassy; the 
other General Count Pallavicihi, a man not 
more ennobled by the splendor of his birth, 
than by the services he had performed^ and 
the fame he had acquired. In the short Mrar 
between Austria and Prussia, this gallant oifi* 


cer by a very briUiant coup-de-main had sur- 
prised a forti^ss and made prisoners the gam- 
son, which covered him with glory and the 
fevours of his sovereign : he was now making 
a military tour by command and at the charge 
of the Empress Queen, and came into Spain, 
consigned (as I may say) to Count Kaunit^i 
for the purpose of being passed into the Spa- 
nish lines, then inventing Gibraltar.— Into thi« 
fortress he was anxiously solicitous to obtain 
admission, and when no accommodation could 
be granted to his wishes through the influence 
of Count Kaunitz, I gave him letters to Mr. 
Walpale, which he carried to him at Lisbon, 
ai<d by a route, which that minister pointed 
out, assisted by his and my introduction to 
General Elliot, succeeded in his wishes, and I 
bdieve no man entertained a higher respect for 
the brave defenders of that fortress, or l 
warmer sense of the gratifying indulgence, 
which they granted to.him in so liberal a man- 
ner. Count Pallavicini was in the prime of 
life, of a noble air and high-bom countenance; 
t^U, finely formed, gay, natural, open-hearted; 
his spirit was alivie in every feature ; it did not 
need . the aid of suscitation ; no dress cot|U 


IQO Mf BipiltS Of 

bide Xl» soldier, or disgtti$e the geiitl«m9»^ 
He had f ha|>py flow of cPtnifs humour at com^ 
q^fi^d) MBohtrusivKS Jaow^yer^ »iid only rotorted 
to 9rt t^mey a2)d seasons } f^f the mtvity and 
pooipqsity ef tb^ Ga«tiliw ich^fXHQber he ^loemed 
to have take^ up a yery contemptible imprte-* 
Slop, and wwld no otherwise fall in with any 
of tiheir hahita and customs, than for the pui^ 
pose of ridiculing them by imitatione design^ 
fdly caricatun6d» There are twenty ways of 
axrangiug the Spanish Capa ; he never wouhl be 
taught any of one thenv though he underwent a 
lecture €¥ery night at partings but in. aa one* 
and^-twentieth way of his own hung it on hh 
ihouiderai and niarcbed off most amitsingly ri^^ 
diculous* I think it never was my lot to mlA^ 
acquaintance with a man, for wb<Hn my heart 
more rapidly warmed into frieiidshipi than it 
did towards this engaging gallant hero; he 
oonthmed to me his afEectionate correspond - 
eoce, till turning out against the Turks, and 
ever foremost in the field of glory, his head was 
pabred from his body at a stroke, and he died> 
aa he had lived, im the very aims of victory; 
his Irdent courage, though it turned the bat« 
^ did not serve him to ward off the blow. 

EICHA&D CtrVB&fttAl^D. . lOl 

¥Vom tW» lamented friend, whose met6Mf 
iriH be evtt dear to me, 1 have Aotr itk my poa* 
^e^ion tetters^, written Ihmi Prhgae^ where he 
had a 8e{yai^ate comitiaild of eight thansaiid 
m^tf, by which letters, though he doutd odt 
ptetaH with 6fther of my daoghter^ (ftr h« 
Mceessively addr^»sed himself to each) ftl 
QhMge tfadr eoutttry atid forialie their patmtM 
^fkd contiekions, yet I trust be was^ assured ttttA 
^ti%6ed from the answers he received, tha4i 
it was beeadse they cocild tiot detach them** 
selves frdm ties like these, and not because they 
were iitsensible to his merits, when in th(iitf 
bumble station they ffelt themselves compelled! 
to reject tlK)se offers, that wonld have confer-' 
red honour on them, had they ranked amongst 
the highest. 

The Nuncio Cblonna, cardinal elect, ^aid 
me some attentions, and the Venetian am bat* 
sador favoured me with his visits. The Saxon- 
niimster. Count GerstofF,* was frequently at- 
our evening parties, and the Danish lUihister 
Count Reventlau seldom failed. The foriher' 
of these was an animated lively man, and ^ 
most agreeable companion: .Reventlau had' 
bcen^in a diplomatic character at the court o# 


102 MBMOiltS ef 

liOadoii^ and had brought with him the:l2ii« 
guage, manners and habitudes of an Engliahh^ 
man of the first fashion. His partiality to our 
tiative country created in me and my fanaily a 
reciprocaL partiality for himi and $o interesting 
i^r^s this elegant young Dane ini person, coun- 
tenat^ce and address, that the eye, which 
could have contemplated him with indifference, 
^ust have held r^ correspondence with the 
heart.. We passed the whole evening before 
our departure with this engaging and affec^- 
tionate friend; die parting was to all mostp 
painful) but by one in particular more acutely 
^'it Iblt than I will attempt to describe. Revent- 

\ lau was one, and not the eldest of a very nu- 

merous and noble family : his father had been 
' minister, but his hereditary property was by 
no means large, and the purity of his prin- 
ciple disdained the accumulation of any other 
advantages or rewards, than those, which 
attached themselves to his reputation, and 
were rigidly consistent with the character of a 

, €olonel O'^loore of the Walloons, a very 
Worthy and respectable man, and; Signer Nico- 
Ifis jMarchettiof the corps of Engineers^ a Si- 



cilian, were constant parties in^ our friendly 
circle; There were other Irish officers in the 
Spanish service, some Reli^ous also of that 
nation^.and some in the commercial line, who 
firequently resorted to me ; but to the generous 
and benevolent Marchetti in particular, who* 
accompanied me through the whole of my dis- 
astrous Journey from Madrid, by the way of 
Paris, I am beholden for the means that ena-» 
bled *me to reach my native countiy, as will 
appear hereafter. .: 

Count Pietra Santa, lieutenant- colonel of 
the Italian band of body-gu^ds, was my most 
dear, and intimate friend ; by that name in its 
truest' and most appropriate sense I must ever 
remember him, (for he is now no more) iand 
though the days, that I passed witli him in 
Spain did not out^number those of a single 
year, yet in every one of these I had the hap- 
piness to enjoy so many hours of his society, 
that in his case, as in that of the good old Abbe 
Curti^, whilst we were. but young in acquaint- 
ance, we might be fairly saici to be old in friend- 
ship. It is ever matter of delight to me, when 
I can see tibe world disposed to pay tribute to 
those modest unassuming characters, who ex* 

V H 4 


act no tribute,, but lit pkin and pure< sunplidt}r 
<3^ heart, recomtsend tibemsekvs tx> our affirc-- 
tioos, said borimriog ^thing from the 6hum^ 
of wit^ Of the diai^ay (^^eodiM) eacUbit Tirtae 
-«^n itself bow: ItfMly. Such, wis siy decanfted 
ftieod, » man, whom «?ve,y body wid, utia«. 
xoousr assent disnommated the good Fietra SexK 
tat whom evety body lored^ for be ijpat na 
couid read liim^ and who together with thte 
tiruest comagr of a soldier and the highest ptm- 
eiples of h^onour combined such moval virtues 
%ith 3udh goitle mannearSi and so sti^eet a tem- 
per, thaA be see^Mdi destined to giv« the rare 
Qstample of a^ humtiiii creature, in whom ix» 
fkub codtd be discotered. 

In this societj I oould not fail to ^ua my 
hours of relaxi&tiom vdry much to my satisifitc-" 
tioB widioivt resdrting: to- piaMic places or as** 
semblies, im wthkh species of atnusemeivt Ma- 
drid was very seamtily provided, for there waa 
but one theat^ for plays^ no opera, and a inoat 
uBfioaal gloomy etyk of living seemed to cha-^ 
racterise ihb whole body of the nobles and 
grandees. I wns. ti^t often tempted to the the* 
atre, whktb was small^ dark, iU^ursiisiied^ and 
iUratlesided^ yet when the celebrated tragic 



actrcs^ known* kjr the title of the Tkaimy 
played, it was a ttea^ which i dhould suppose 
no odiet stage difiii in Europe eoidd 'eompare 
xfiti^. That extf aonlinary woniaii, whose rdal 
name i do not remember^ and whose real ori* 
gin cannot be traced, till it ia settled from what 
particular nation or people we are to derive the 
oatcast race of gipsies, wras not kss formed td 
strike beholders with the beauty and com- 
manding' aaa^esty of her person, than to asto«« 
nisb all that heard her hy the powers, tliat suk- 
tnie and art had conabined to give her; My 
friend Count Pietra Santa, who had honour* 
able access to this great stage-heroine, inti- 
mated to her the very high expectation I bad 
fofmed of her performances, and the eager de-* 
stie I had to see her in one of her capital cha^ 
meters, telling hev at the same time that I had 
been a writer fb«' the stage in my own coiintry : 
inconsieqoettce of thU inthnatton she sent me 
word that I shonld hare notice from her, when 
she Mrisbed me to come to the theatre, till when, 
she desired I would not present myself ia my 
box upoh any rdght, thonigh her nanie mi^t 
be in tlM biil^ for it waa only when she liked 

106 MEMOIRS or ' 

her part, and was'^in the humour to play vell^- 
that she wished me to be present . 

In obedience to her message I waited seve^ 
lal days, and at last received the lo6ked*for 
summons ; I had not been many minutes in 
the theatre before she sent a mandate to me to 
go home, for that she was in no disposition 
that evening for playing well, and should nei-* 
ther do justice to her own talents, nor to my 
expectations. I instantly obeyed this whim* 
sical. injunction, knowing it to be so perfectly 
in character with the capricious humour of her 
tribe. When something more than a week had. 
passed, I was again invited to the theatre, and 
permitted to sit out the whole representation. 
I had not then enough of the language to un- 
derstand much more than the incidents and 
action of the play, which was of the deepest, 
cast of tragedy, fbrMn the course of the plot 
she murdered her infant children, and exhibitr 
ed them dead on the stage lying on each side 
of her, whilst she, sitting on the bare floor be- 
tween them (her attitude, action, features, 
tones, defying all description) presented such 
a high-wrought picture of hysteric phrerisy, 



laughing mid amidst severest wocy as placed 
her in my judgment at the* very summit of her 
art; in fact I have no conception that the 
powers of acting can be carried higher, and ' 
such was the effect upon the audience^ that 
whilst the spectators in tl^ }Hty having caught 
a kind of sympathetic phrensy from the scene, 
were rising- up in a tumultuous manner, the 
word wa& given out by authority for letting 
fall the curtain, and a catastrophe, probably 
too strong for exhibition, was not allowed to 
be completed. 

A few minutes had passed, when this won- 
derful creature, led in by Pietra Santa, entered 
my box ; the artificial paleness of her cheeks, 
her eyes, which she had dyed of a bright ver- 
mition round the edges of the lids, her fine 
arms bare to the shoulders, the wild magnifi- 
cence of her attire, and the profusion of her 
dishevelled locks, glossy black as the plumage 
of the raven, gave her the appearance of some- 
thing so more than human, such a Sybil, such 
an imaginary being, so awful, so impressive, 
that my blood chilled as she approached me 
not to ask but to claim my applause, demand* 
of me if I had ever seen any actress, that 


took! be coropatcd with her in my own^ or any 
other, countiy, **I tira& determmed,^ ^hd 
said, ^^ to excft myself fbr you this i^igbt ; and 
*^ if the sensibility of the audience iv^ould haY$ 
^' safFered me to have concluded the scese, 
^ I should have co&vinoed you th^t I do not 
'^ boast of my own perforaiancea without rda^* 

^ son." 

The alkDwances, which the Spanish theatre 
could a£Sord to make to its performers, werd 
so very moderate, that I should doubt if th< 
whole year's salary of the Tiranna would havd 
more than psud for the magtitficent dress,^ in 
which she then appeared ; but this and ^ 
other charges appertaining to her establish^ 
ment were defrayed from the cofFers of the 
Dnke of Osuna, a grandee of the first claeis and 
commander of the Spanish Guards. Thisno-* 
ble person found it indi^ensably neeessaiy for 
bis honour to have the finest woman in SpaJiK 
upon his pension, but by no means necessary to 
be acquainted with her, and at the very time, 
of which I am now speaking, I*ietra Santa se-' 
riously assured me, that bid eiiceHdncy had in« 
deed paid large sums to her order, but ha<l 
never once visited, or even $een her. He tol<* 


at iht same time that be bad very lately 
takta upon himself to repK)|]«tfate upon this 
want of cvnoBity, and having Mggested to bis 
enaellency bow possible it was for him to order 
his equipage to the door, and permit hitn to in- 
troduoe hitn to this fair creature, vrboni be 
k&ewtmly by report and the bills she had drawn 
upon his treasurer, the duke graciously con-* 
tented t<> my friebd's proposal, and actuaJly set 
out ^vith him for the gallant purpose of taking 
a cup of chocolate with his hitherto invisible 
mistress^ who had notice given herofthein** 
tended Visit The distance from the house of 
the grandee to the apartments of the gipsy was 
not great, but the lulling motion of the huge 
state-coach, and the softness of the velvet 
cushions bad rocked his excellency into so 
sound a nap, that when his equipage stopped 
at the lady's door^ there was not one of his 
retinue bold enough to undertake the invidious 
task of troubling his repose. The consequence 
was, that after a proper time was passed upon 
the halt for this brave commander to have 
wakec^ bad nature so ordained it, the coach 
wheeled round and his excellency having slept 
away bis curiosity, had not at the time when I 



left Madrid ever cast his eyes upon the persoB 
of the incomparable Tiranna. I take for grant- 
ed my friend Pietra Santa drank the chocolate, 
and his excellency enjoyed the nap. i will 
only add in confirmation of my anecdote, that 
the good Abbe Curtis, who had the honour 
of having educated this illustrious sleeper, ve- 
rified the fact. 

When Count Pallavicini left Madrid and 
went to Lisbon in the hope of getting into 
Gibraltar through the introdiiction, that I gave 
him to the minister Mr. Walpole and others of 
my correspondents in that city, I availed my- 
self of that opportunity for conveying my dis- 
patches of the 12th of December 17S0 to the 
Secretary of State Lord Hillsborough. They 
embraced much matter and very many parti- 
culars, interesting at that time, but now so long 
since gone by, that the insertion of them here 
could answer no purpose but to set forth my 
own unwearied assiduity, and good fortune in 
procuring intelligence, which in the event 
proved perfectly correct. On the 3d of the 
month following, viz. January 1781, I inform 
Lord Hillsborough, that '^having found means 
^' to obtain copies of some state papers^ tbo 


** authenticity of whicb may be relied upon, I 
*^have the honour to transmit them to your 
"lordship by express to Lisbon — '* These 
were all actual dispatches of the minister Flo- 
rida Blanca, secret and confidential, to the 
Spanish envoy at the court of Petersburgh, and 
developed an intrigue, of which it was highly 
important that my court should be a|^rised. 
This project it was my happy chance, to lay 
open and defeat by the acquisition of these 
papers through the agency of one of the ablest 
and most efficient men, that ever was concern- 
ed in business df a secret nature : had iny cor- 
responding minister listened to the recommen- 
dation I gave of this gentleman, I could have 
taken him entirely into the pay and service of 
my . court, and the advantages to be derived 
from a person of his talents and address were 
incalculable. He served me faithfully and ef- 
fectually on this, and some other occasions, 
and it was not without the most, sensible re- 
gret I found myself constrained to leave him 
behind me. 

When I had sent my faithful servant Cam is 
express with this important dispatch, I re- 

lis miioimscxF 

teired tire foUowmg Jetter fiKmi 


\ V ' '* St James's 9th December 1780. 

'^ I have duly reoeiTied your letteis 
I *^ from No. 7 to No. 12 iAohiviv^ and iaod- 
'* tlsem before the king. The last nvmiier was 
^' ddii^ered to me by Mr. Hqssey. That g|sn«- 
'^ tlesian has oommunicated to me tbe:purport 
'^ of Count Florida filxDca's cuvrefsatioii with 
^^ bm, for isrfaicfa pitrpoBe alone he appears to 
^' mo to have letursed to London^ The in* 
" trodnction of Gibraltar and the Americaa 

, I 

'^ wbeUion into that convcrationy convinces 
^' me that there is no intuition in the court of 
*^ Spain to make a separate treaty of peace 
*' ivith us. I do not himevtr su yet signify 
^^ to you the king^M commmi^ for yimr return^ 
'* though I see little ntiiity in your remmn^ 
'^ ing at Madrid. 

*^ If you should obtain any further intdli* 
'^ gence concerning the mediation, which you 
^^ informed me you understood had been pro- 
^^ posed by the Empress of Rassia, I desire you 
^* will acquamt me with it 

]a.tC£tARD CtTM:B£RLAND. 113 

** Mr, Hussey undertakes. to defiver.this lef>* 
" ter to yott.. rl have nothing, further to add; 
^'but to rq>efect 'to you^ that the king reaqpectd 
" from you the strictest adherence to ymir 'in4 
*^ stmctipliS) wifchootany xleviaticin vhatsoever 
*^ during the * remannder of the time you shall 
'^ continoe at Madiidi 

"I 9m, with great truth and regard^ . 
' «^Siii- .. '.'... 
:' '' Your most obedient / 

. , : I . " Hui!al!ile:fei^rant,' . 
; >(Sfgned) :'VHiHsttorough.'* 
*^ Mn Ciin»berland» 

i This was sufficient aiuthoHty 'for meio b^t 
iieve that my mission was f ast/^>fNmR:hing to 
ite ctmclaiian, laad I prcpawAih^^clf hccoWi- 
lagly. In tiie thcBin luihe Mr. Hnssey^ who ui^ 
4ex:ttfoh tt) deliver this htter tomk, waksfop^ 
|ied at Lisliohiand not pmititted.>'t6^c6ntSnue 
his journey into Spain ; .^or in .f^Eict the traln^ 
which my minister had nowqonitnved. to throw 
the iiirgDciation into, was not acceptable fco^^the 
Spanish court, and the rigouTy Ai^ithw^hichl 
was enjoined to adhere to tny mstructionSy 


114 ^ .M£MiOIES OF 

e{)£mted SO efFectually against the several over- 
tures, whiiih were ! repeatedly ' made to me on 
the part of Florida Blanca, that I must ever 
believe the" negociation was lost on our part by 
transferring it to one, -with-, whom Spain was 
tiot inclined to treat, and tying up my hands, 
with whom there seemed; every disposition to 
agrfee* In fact we parted merely on a punctilio, 
which might have been qualified between us 
with the m6st'oohsummate ekse; they wanted 
only, to talk, about Gibraltar, and I was not 
pernpiittcd to hear it named ; the most nuga* 
tory article \\rould have satisfied tbem, and if I 
had dared to have given in writing to th^ 
Spanish minister the Salvo, that I suggested in 
ct)|iversation after my receiving the letter ^ above 
■rbferred to, I have, every reason to be coniidait 
-that the business. would have been concluded, 
and - the object of a separate treaty acoom- 
:plished without i^ny other sacrifice than that 
^a little address and accommodation in the 


matter of a mere punctilio. 
' When soipc coiifcrences had passed, in which, 
fettered as I was by my instructions, I found it 
impossible to pot life into our expiring negoci* 


iiiCHARD cumberla:nd. 115 

afion, favoured though I was by thecolirtand 
minister to the last moment of my stay, I 
wrote to Lord Hillsborough as follows— 

" Madrid January i 8th 1781* 

•*My Lor4 . . 

" In consequence of a letter, which 

" Mr. Hnssey will receive by this conveyance 

"from Count Florida Blanca, I am to con- 

" elude, that he will immediately return to 

" England^ without coming to thrs^court. Irii 

"the copy of this letter, which his excellency 

" has communicated to me, he remarks, that, 

" in case the negbciation shall break off upon 

" the answer now given, my longer residence at 

"Madrid will become unnecessary: .and as I 

'* am persuaded that your lordship and the ca- 

^* binet will agree with the minister of Spain in 

*' this observation, I shall put myself in readi- 

". nei^s to obey his majesty's recall In the 

" meat! time 1 beg leave to repeat to your lord- 

" ship, that I shall strictly adhere to his ma- 

" j^ty*s commands, trusting that y oij will 

" have the goodness to represent to his raa- 

" jesty my faithful zeal and devotion^ how in- 


I. -f.' 


** effectual soever they may have been, in the 
" fairest light. 

" Understandhig that the king had been 

" pleased to accept from the late Prince Mas- 

" serano a Spanish horse, which was in great 

*^ favour, and hoping that it might be accept- 

'^ able to his majesty, if occasion offered . of 

'* supplying his. stables with another of the like 

^' quality, I desired permission of the minister 

" to take out of Spain a horse, which I had in 

" my eye, and his excellency having report- 

'*led this tny desire to the King of Spain, bis 

'* Gatholie Majesty was so good as to ^ive 

" immediate direction for twelve of the best 

** horses in Andalusia of his breed of royal 

*^ Caribajieers to be drafted out, and from 

" these : two of the noblest and steadiest to 

'^ be selected^ and given to me for the above 

"purpose. I have accordingly received thcni, 

" and as they fulty ans\vner ray expectations 

*' both in shape and quality, and are superior 

"to any I have seen in this kingdom, I 

"hope they will be approved ^of by his ma- 

** j^sty, if they are fortunate in a safe pas- 

" sage, and shall arrive in London without any 

" accident. 4 


*' Don Miguel Louis de Portugal, ambas* 
'' sador front her most faithful majesty to 
" this, court, died a fcAV days ago of a tedi- 
" OU8 and painful decay. The Infanta of 
" Spain is sufficiently recovered to remove from 
" Madrid to the Pardo, where the court now 
" resides. 

" I have the honour to be, &c. &c. 

Whilst the court was at the Pardo, a com- 
plaint, founded on the grossest misrepre^eutar 
tions, wa& started and enforced upon me by 
the minister respecting the alledged ill treat* 
ment of the Spanish prisoners of war in £ng? 
land: I traced this complaint to the repprjtf 
o£a certain Capb^n Nunez, then on his parole 
and lately come frcim, England ; with, this gen?- 
tleman there came a nepliew of my friend the 
Abbe Curtis^ who had been chaplain on boa^rd 
Capjtain Nunez's frigate, when she was taken^ 
and who waa now liberated, hiving brqught 
oyer with him a complete copy of the minute* 
of parliament, in which the matter in com? 
plaint was fully and completely enquired into> 
and the allegations in. question confuted upon 

I 3 


the clearest evidence, Captain Nunez himself 
feeing present at the exatnination, and testify-, 
ing his satisfactioi^ and entire conviction upon 
the result of it. These documents the worthy 
nephew of my friend very honourably put into 
my hands, and, armed with these, I proved to, 
the court of Spain, that, upon a sickness break-- 
ing out amongst the Spanish prisoners from 
their own uncleanliness and neglect, our go-; 
vernraent, with a benevolence peculiar to the 
British character, had made exertions wholly 
out of course, furnishing them with entire new 
bedding at a great expence, supplying them 
with medicines and all things needful, whilst 
in attendance on the diseased more than tweur 
ty surgeons (I speak from memory, and I be-p 
lieve I am correct) had sacrificed their lives< 
If in the refutation of a charge so grossly un^. 
just and injurious as this, I lost my patience 
and for a short time forgot the management 
befitting my peculiar situation, I can truly say 
It was the only error I committed of that sort, 
though it was by no means the only instaiace 
that oeeutred to provoke me to it, as tbff fbU 
lowing anecdote will demonstrate. 
There was a young, man, by name Antony 


. Smith, a native of London, living at Madrid 
upon a small allowance, paid to him upon the 
decease of his father, who had been watch^ 
maker to the King of Spain. I took this 
young man into my family upon the recom- 
mendation of the Abbe Curtis, and employed 
him in transcribing papers, arranging accounts 
and other small affairs, in which his knowledge 
of the language rendered him very useful— 
One day about noon the criminal judge with 
his attendants walked into my house, and seiz* 
ing the person of this young man took him to 
prison, and shut him up in a solitary cell with^ 
out assigning any cause for the proceeding, or 
stating any crime, of which he was suspected; 
I took the course natural for me to take, and 
.from the effect, which my remonstrance and 
appeal to the minister instantly produced, I 
had no reason to think him privy to the trans* 
action, for late in the evening of the next day 
Antony Smith was brought to my gates by the 
officers of justice, from whom I would not re- 
ceive him, but sent him back ■ till the day foU 
Joviisig, when I required him to be delivered to 
me at the same hour and in the same public 
manner a^ they had chosen to take him fron^ 



mc, and further insi&ted that the same criminal 
judge with his attendants should be present at 
the surrender of their prisoner. All this waa 
exactly complied \vith, and the foolish magis^ 
trate was hooted at by the populace in the 
most contemptuous manner. It seemed that 
this wise judge was in search of an assassin,, 
who was described as an old black*complexi"> 
oned fellow with a lame foot, whereas Smith 
was a very fair young man , with red hair, and 
perfectly sound and active on his legs. What 
were the motives for this wanton act of cruelty 
I nevcT CQuld discover ; I brought him with 
me to England, but the terrors he had suffered 
during his short hut disnijal confinement haunt«i 
ed him through every stage of his journey, tiU 
we passed the frontiers pf Sp^in. When we 
arrived in London I recommended him to my 
friend Lord Rodney as Spanish clerk on board 
his flag ship, but poor Smith's spirit was sa 
broken, that he declined the service, and found 
a more peaceful occupation in a n^i^c^aiiit'&. 

X was now in daily expectation of myrecal},^ 
and as my own immediate negociation.was 
shifted for a time into other handi^. I avai^d 


myself of those means, which hy my particular 
cosnexions I was possessed of, for coUectic^ 
such a body of useful iaformation, as might 
safely be depended upon, and this I transmit«i» 
ted to my corresponding minister in my dis^ 
patches No, 20 of the 31st of January, and 
No* 21 of the 3d of February 17»K I had 
now no longer any hope of bringing Spain into 
a separate treaty, whilst my court continued to 
receive overtures, and return answers, through 
the channel of Mr. Hussey then at Lisbon^ 
and Fiorida Blanca having imparted to me a 
dispatch, which he affected to call his ultima- 
tum, I plainly saw extinction to the treaty 
upon the face of that paper, for he would stil| 
persist in the delusive notion, that he could 
insinuate artictes and stipulations for Gibraltar 
in his communications through Mr. Hussey^ 
though I by my instructions could not pass a 
slingle pr9position, in which it might benamed^ 
Whien be ha^ written this letter, wWch he cal- 
led his ultimatum^ it seem^ to have occurred 
to him to communicate it to me rather.too late 
for any good purpose, inasmuch as he had ta-i 
ken his Catholic majesty's pleasure upon it,, 
and made it a state paper, before he put it into 


my hands. He nevertheless was earnest with 
me to give him my opinion of it, and I did not 
hold myself in any respect hound to disguise 
from him what I thought of it, neither did I 
scruple to suggest to him the idea, which I bad 
formed in my mind, of an expedient, that 
might have conciliated hoth parties, and would 
at all events have obviated those consequences, 
to which his unqualified requisition could not 
fail to lead. It will suffice to say that he can-' 
didly declared his readiness to adopt my idea, 
and form his letter anew in conformity to it^ 
if he had not, by laying it before the King, 
made it a state paper, and put it out of his 
power to alter and new^-model it, without a se- 
cond reference to the royal pleasure. This 
however he was perfectly disposed to do, pro-^ 
vided I would give him my suggestions in 
ssvritingj as a produceable authority for recon-- 
sidering the question. Here my instruc- 
tions Sftood so irremoveably in my way, 
that, although he tendered me his honouv 
that my interference should be kept secret, 
I did not venture to commit myself, nor 
could he be brought to consider can,vers?.-* 
tion as authority. 


Upon the failure of this my last effort I re-r 
garded the negociation as lost, andj reflecting 
Upon what had passed in the conference above 
referred to^ when I had finished my letter No. 
20 of the 3l8t of January 1781, I attached to 
it the foUbwihg paragraph^ viz.~ 

'^ Since Count Florida Blanca dispatched 
** bis express to Lisbon I have not heard, from 
^* Mr; Hussey, neither do I. know any thing of 
'** "his xrommisSton, but what Count Florida 
** filanca's answer opens to me, and as I must 
^* believe that in' great part a finesse, I caftnot 
** but lament, that it had not been prepared by 
'^^ discussidn-rr*'^ 

. As the court of Spain iias now become the 
centre of some yeiy interesting iand in^poptant 
intrigues, by which she was/attempting to im- 
pose the project of a general pleification under 
the pretended idediattoii ibf Aussia pnly, i^nd 
tpsuhstitdteihisprajeietin the place of thgse-^ 
parate andfCKrcliiswe /treaty^ now ob the point 
of dii^olijitioii, I (felt inyself justified in tick- 
ing every measure, which my judgment dicr 
tated, ;andl my conneKions gave me oppor-. 
tunity to pursue,: for bringing that event 
to pass, of which I apprise Lord HiUsborough 


in the following paragraph of my letter No. 
SO— viz.— 

" An express from Vienna brought to Count 
^^ K^unitz in the evening of the £7th instant 
*^ the important particulars relative to the me^ 
*^ diation of Ihs imperial majesty jointly with 
' - " the Empress of Russia. This court being 
^* at the Pardo, the Ambassador Kaunitz took 
^^ the next day for comnnmicating with Count 
" Florida Blanca, and yesterday a courier 
*' afrived from Paris with the j instruction^ 
^^ of that court to Count Montmorai oa the 
^* subject. . > * 

" When the ' minister of Spain shidl deliver 
'^ the sentiments of His Catholic mnjesty to 

the imperial ambassador^ which will take 

place on the day after to-morro^/!, they will 
^^ probably be found. coBfonnable. to; those- of 
- ' France, of which !• find Count Kauutz is 
*' already possest I>sh^ll think it my duty 
^^ to apprize your lordship ofanyflarticiilarsi 
^^ that may come to my knowledge, propesfoy 
** your information-—.?: , : : - :i 

In my letter No. 21 of the Sdof February, I 
acquaint Lord Hillsborough that ^^ theamwei 
<^ of Spain to the proposition of the £mp6ror^i 



'' mediation was made on the day mentioned in 
" my letter No. ^0, and as I then believed it 
" would conform to that of France, so in 
*^ effisct it happened, with this further circum-^ 
stance, that in future reference is to be made 
to the Spanish ambassador at Paris, who ia 
"concert with the minister of France is to 
*^ speak for his court, being instructed in all 
" cases for that purpose.** 

Upon this arrangement I observe that it is 
made-*-" As well to sooth the jealousy of the 
" French court, who in their answer glanced 
" at the separate negotiation here carrying on 
" with Great Britain, as for other obvious rea* 
^ sons—** In speaking of the Emperor*s pro* 
po^(l mediation I explain the reasons that pre-^ 
vailed with me for expressing my wishes in a 
tetter No. 8 of the 4th of Augufst-*" That th0 
"good offices of the- imperial court might 
** maintain their precedency before those of 
** any other, arid that I am well assured it was 
"owing to the knowledge Russia had of these 
" Overtures made by the imperial court, that 
" she put her propositions to the belligerent 
" powers in terms so guarded and so general, as 
" should not awaken any jealousy in the first 



^* proponent," and I add, ". that I kntfvr thNS 
** mstructions of Mobsieur de Ziaowi^fF, the 
'-^Russian ambassador, to have been so precise 
*' on this head,, so far removed from all idea of 
" the formal overture pretended by the Spanish 
^^ ministpf, that I think, he would hardly have 
*' been induced to deliver in any writings zs 
'' Monsieur Simblin did in London^ although 
** it had been so desired." 
' I shall obtrude upon my reader^ only one 
m6re extract from this letter, in which — " I 
beg leave to add a Word in explanation of 
what I observe at the conclusion of my let- 
*' ter Noi 20, touching the answer made to 
" Mr. Hussey, vii. that it were to be wished 
^^'it had been preceded by a discussion — this I 
*' said, toy Lord, because the answer was no 
" sooner settled and givefi to the King, than a 
•* disposition evidently took place to have re- 
" considered and modified the stipulation, foi* 
" Gibraltar, now so glaringly inadmissible ; 
" but this and every other observation touch- 
** ing our negociation, traversed by so many 
*' unforeseen events, will for the future, as I 
" hope, find its course in a more general and 
" successful channel — .** 


I make no other comment upon the good oi' 
ill policy of laying me under those restrictions, 
but that I could else have prevented the trans^ 
niissk>n of that article^ which gave the deiath-^ 
blow to my negociation* 

For this 1 was prepared, and after the reVo-* 
lution of a few days received his majesty's re-* 
call, communicated to me in the following 
letter — . , 

' St* James's 14th February 1781* ! 

" I am sorry to find from your last let-* / 
'*ter No. 19, and' from that writteti from 
" Count de Florida Blanca to Mr. Hussey^ 
" which the latter receTved at Lisbon, that aii 
^^ entire stop is put to the pleasing expectation^ ' 
" which had been formed from your residence 
** in Spain. Had I been as well informed of 
" the intentions of the court of Madrid, when 
" you went abroad, as I now am, you would 
*^ certainly not have had the trouble and fa-^ 
" tigiie of so long a voyage and journey. 

" There remains nothing now for me but t6 
" acquaint you, that I am commanded by the 
" king to signify to you His majesty's pleasure, 
'^ that you do immediately return to England i 

• % 

1128 MEttOtttS of 

'^ M^hen I say immediately^ it is not iiitaicled 
^^ that your departure should have the appeat'^ 
" ance of resentment, or that you should be 
" deprived of the opportunity of expressing a 
"just sense of the marks of civility and atten^* 
^^ tion, which Mr. Cumberland has recdved 
" since his arrival in Madrid^ 

" I am> with great truth and regard^ 
" Sir, 

. " Your most obddient 
" Humble servant^ 
(Signed) *' Hillsborough.** 

I had now his m^esty'^ commands, signi^ 
fied to me as above, for my return to England, 
and his lordship^s interpretation of them . to 
dir6ct, my behaviour in avoiding all appear* 
ance of resentmtnt^ which I did not ftel, . and 
expre^ing that sense of gratitude, which I 
did fed, for the many marks of civility zxA 
attention, which I had received in the persoti 
of Mr. Cumber lafid^ since his arrival in Ma* 
drid. To these excellent rules of conduct I 
was prepared to pay the mtost correct and cheer- 
ful obedience^ 

For the favour of his lord$ln]p's information; 
that he would have spared me the trouble and 


fatigue of my long journey, if he had heea 
aware that there was no occasion for my tak-r 
log it, I could not but be duly thankful, and I 
am moat sincerely sorry that nobody could b^ 
found with prescience to inform his lordship 
what the intentions of the court of Madrid 
would be for a whole year to come, nor to ap? 
prize me what my recompence would be upQa 
the expiration of it If such inspiration bac| 
been vouchsafed to both, I think I can guess^ 
who would have been the greater gainer of the 

9Q confidential^ as. to have told me, that it was 
his intention to set fire to Xiondon as soon as 
I was well out of it: or had Counts Florida 
filanca had the candour to have premised, that 
his invitation of me into Spain had no other 
object in view, but to give me the amusement 
of a tour, and himself the pleasure of my com-« 
pany, it would perhaps have been very flatter* 
ing to my vanity, but I don't think it woul^ 
have suited my principle to have passed it off 
for a negociation, and I am quiteconvinced it 
would not have suited my, finances \o have paid 



his fexcclleticy the visit, and StlcMficed ihy for* 
tane to the ahiuse»ti6ht 6f it. 

It certainly Would b«f ^xtrenfiely iio&Tei&i^t; 
if We eotild always »6fe to the <5nd bf bik tkpii^^ 
iwefit befbrfe we utidMakii it. I c6uld not *e6 
tb the end oFthfe tiots in Ltmdbn, When thej 
yfete tepti'tteA tb he io tferriWe, ^efc t j^feditted 
kh truly as If I had foteseto it, atrA was r6)jri» 
itiahdfed notwithstanding; if iMn J acted 
Wrbng hy guessiiig right dt thfe btly ftiVduMhkj 
bcfcurt-encc, that fikp^ieiied AvWilSt t Wtis M 
Spain, how should I have escapea a severei* rt* 
Jj^oof if I had b^ii as SucdeSfcfel in ftrtretfeHing 
the niaiiy evil • (ietnrtifteeis of ^t ditoStrbtil 
^at, dufifag the Whttle cbubt 8f Whitth I k^t 
idiVt a treaty, ■ which Wais h^^Her- Idst till it #a4 
taki^n but of itov hands ? 

if here I '^tth to tp^ak *ob taitaly of my 
titi^iiiccftssftil strvrces, I liAve fco 6'J)i$efcl Id tfie 
ttetirtiony of that grfefat 4hd kbte ttiftiiStfet 
Prince Kaubite, who together v^itli ftis tehtfer 
bfthe infediiatiotit)ftheSrf)]^'erial'couH, cotarilii-' 
tiitated to the British cabinet^ iS^uggeistis a wMi, 
that I tnay be ittdudeA ih thte cdrnWiftimi, ijp 
ttioh sh^U be appointed, at the ^en<^ki cOton 


}gtes^ ; and is pleased to give for hts reason, the 
faveurable impressions, wllich his correspon- 
dence with Spain had giwn him, of my con'- 
duct there in carrying on a veiy airduous bu- 
siness, which many circumstances contributed 
to embarrass-— This I should never have had 
the gratification to know, had it not been com- 
municated to me by a friend after my xeturn 
to England, who, concluding I had been in- 
formed of it, was complimenting me upon it. 
Thus I went abroad to find friendship and pro^ 
tection, and came home to meet injustice and 
oppression, ^ 

If the following fact, whicii is correctly 
true, and which I now for the first lime makfe 
public, ishall prove that those, whom I could 
not p^ut at peace with my country, were yet at 
perfect peace with me, I hope I shall not be 
suspected of having overstrained the privilege 
allowed me by my letter of recall, and carried 
my complaisance too far upon my farewell vi- 
sit to the Spanish minister at the Pardo. t 
certainly harboured no resentment in my heart, 
and having firee leave to avoid the fippearance 
of it, had no bbject but to express as well as I 
waaable the gratefol sense I entertained of the 


i « » 

many favours, which the King and court of 
Spain had condescended to bestow upon m^ 
and mine. In replying to the$e acknowledgr 
ments, so justly due, Count Florida Blanca, 
assuming an air of mpre than ordinary gravity, 
and delivering himself slowly and distinctly, 
as one, who wishes that a word should not be 
jost, addressed the following speech to me, 
which according to my invariable practice J 
wrote down and rendered into English in my 
enjtry book, whilst it was yet fresh in my 
xnemory ; and from that record I have tran- 
scribed not only this, but every other speech, 
that I have given as authentic in these Me- 

" Sv*, the King my Sovereig;n has been enr 
" tirely satisfied with every part of youy CQUr 
." duct during the time you have resided, 
amongst us; His ipajesty. is convinc/td that 
** you have done your duty to your own court, 
" and exerted yourself with sincere good will 
^/ to promote that pacification, which circum-r 
" stances put of your reach to foiesee, prtp 
** controuj, .^eem for the present to h^^ve sust 
**pended. And now, Sir, you .>viU be pleased 
.** to fake in good part wbf 1 1 have to say tp 


*^'you with regard to your claims for indetn-i 
" nification on the score of your expences, in 
^^ which I have reason to apprehend yoii Will 
** find yourself abandoned and deceived by 
** your employers. I have it therefore in com- 
" mand to tell you, that the King my Sove- 
reign has taken this into his gracious consi* 
deration, and tenders to you through me full 
" and ample compensation for all expences^ 
" which you have incurred by your coming 
^* into Spain ; being unwilling that a gentle-< 
*^ man, who has resorted to his court, and put 
^'himself under his immediate protection, 
^* without a public character^ honestly endea* 
** vouring to promote the mutual good and be* 
'^nefit of both countries, should suffer, as 
** you surely will do, if you withstand the of- 
^' fer, which I have now the honour to make 
" known to you — .*^ 

What I said in answer to this generous, but 
inadmissible, ofier I shall make no parade of; 
it is enough to say that I did not accept w 
single dollar from the King of Spain, or any 
in authority under him, which, as far as a ne*- 
gative can be proved, wa^ made clear, when 
upon my journey, homewards my bills were 

K 3 

• ^ 

• . 

IM liBMOiBs or 


stopped aad aiy credit $o completely hsLpikxnjAf 
that; I might have gone to prison at fiayonne, 
if I bad iH>t bofrewed five hundred pounds 
of my friendly fettow-travelter Marchetti, wbkh^ 
enabled me to pay my way through Fiance 
aad reach my own country. 

How it came to pass that my circnmstattcet 
should be so weH known to Count Florida 
Blanca is easily accounted for, when the dis* 
honiHiring of my bills by Mr. Devisme at Lis** 
bon,^ through whose hands the Spanish banlser 
passed diem, was notorious to more than half 
Madrid, and could not be unknown to the mi-* 
Ulster,. The fact isi that I had come into 
Spain without any other security than the good 
ftjth of government upon promise, pledgped to 
me through Mr. Robinson^ secretary of the' 
tfoisury, that all bills drawn by me u^n mf 
banker in Pall Mall, should be instantly le^ 
placed to my credit, upon my accompanying; 
them with a letter of advice to the said secre^ 
taiy Rc^inson. This letter of advice I regu^* 
ferly attached to every draft I made nponi 
Messrs. Crofts, Devaynes and Co. but iroaii 
the day that I left London to the day that I 
setumed to k, including a peiiod of idrnteei^ 

KtCHAllp CtrifKlp^LAKD. 1$^ 

ly^oi^t^, not a singly shilUrig was replaced to 
my account with my bankers, who persisted ia 
{^vanclng to my oc^^ions with a lib^aUty 
and poftfidepce in my hpnoyr, that I must ever 
reflect upon with the warmest gratitude. If I 
was imprpvident in relying upon thesg assi^r<> 
anc^s, tbey, who made them^ we;:e inexcu3at)la 
Uji b^eakipg t^m^ and betraying me into un<r 
po^rited distress* I solemnly aver that I had 
the pp^i|:)V9 pledge of Treasury through Mr* 
Robinson for replacing every draft I should . 
oaake upon my banker, and a very large sum 
wa^ namedi / as applicable at my discretion, if 
the service should require it. I could ex« 
plain this fiirther, but I forbear. I had one 
thousand pounds advanced to me upon set- 
ting out; my private credit supplied every 
farthipg beyond that ; for the truth pf which 
I need only to rt?fier the reader to the following 


^* Tp John Robinson Esquire &c. 

" Madrid 8th of March 1781. 


" My banker informs me of a diffi* 

^^ «u}ty, which has arisen in replacing the bills, 

V w))ich I hjive had occasion to draw upon 




136 H£MOIRS Of 

",him for the expences of my commidsk>h aC 
'* this court 

" As I have not had the honour of hearing 
** from you on this subject, and as it does not 
appear that he had seen you, when he wrote 
to me, the alarm, which such an event would 
else have given me, is mitigated by this con 
" sideration, as I am sure there can be no in- 
" tention in government to disgrace me at this 
" court in a commission, undertaken on my 
" part without any other stipulation than that 
** of defraying my expences. I flatter myself 
therefore that you have before this done what 
is needful in conformity to what was settled 
" on our parting. Suffer me to add, that by 
" the partition I have made of my office with 
" the gentleman, who executes it, by the ex- 
pences preparatory to my journey, all which 
I took on myself, and by many others since 
** my departure, which I have not thought 
** proper to put to the public account, I 
"have greatly burdened my private affairjs 
" during my attendance on the business I am 
" engaged iii. 

" That I have regulated my family here for 
•' the space of near a twelvemonth with all pos- 





^ sible Qcconomy upon a scale in every respect 
*' as private, and void of ostentation, as possi-- 
" ble, is notorious to all who ktiow nic here ; 
*' but a man must also know this court and 
" country to judge what the current charges 
" of my situation must inevitably be ; what 
*' the occasional ones have been can only be 
** explained by myself; and as I can clearly 
" make it appear, that I have neither misap- 
" plied the money, nor abused the trust of go- 
^Wernment in any instance, I cann6t merit, 
and I am persuaded I shall not experience, 
any misunderstanding or unkindness. 

" I have the lionour to be; &c. Scd 

^' R. C/* 

I might have spared myself the trouble of 
this humiliating appeal. It produced just 
what it should producer-nothing ; for it was 
addressed to the feelings of those who had no 
feelings ; and called for justice, where no jus- 
tice was, no mercy, no compassion, honour or 
good faith. 

I wearied the door of Lord North till his 
very servants drove me from it. I withstood 
the oflfer of a benevolent monarch, whose mur 


138 M<M0IAS OF . 

• • • -^ 

&ific£nce would have rescued me ; aud t eixi'* 
braced ruia in lay own country to preserve my 
honour as a subject. of it; selling every acre of 
my hereditary estate, jointured on my wife by- 
marriage settlement, who generously concurred 
in the sacrifice, which my improvident reli** 
ance upon the faith of government compelled 
me to make. 

But I ought to speak of these things with 
more moderation^ so many years having passed) 
and so many of the parties having died, since 
they took place. In prudence and propriety 
these pages Plight t^t tp have seen t^e %ht, 
till the writer of them was no more ; neither 
would they, could I have persisted in my reso- 
lution for withholding them, till that event 
had consigned them into other hand? ; but ^ 
thiere is something paramount to prudence a^d 
propriety, which wrests them from me-^ 

My poverty^ hut not my wiUy consents. 

The copy-right oi these Memoirs producejj 
to me the sum of five hundred pounds, awi ifj 
thjaugh the ^and<^<ir and proteetioo <of a ge- 

narouis puWic,.th(ey shall turn mt nQih^ har^ 
gain to the purchaser, I shall hemcwt sincerely 



thankful, and my conscience will be at rest*-^ 
but I look back) and find myself stiU at Ma"- 
drid, though on the point of n^y departure.— 
On the t5th of March I write to the Earl of 
HiHsborough as follows, vi^-^ 

"My Lord, . • iy 

"On the nth instant I had the 
" honour of your lordship's letter, dated the 
" 14^h of February, and in obedience to hisp 
" majesty ^a command St, therein signifiecl, I took 
« occasion on the same day of demanding my 
" passpotts of the minister of S^ain- AgWe- 
" ably t)o the indulgwcei granted laoe by His 
" majesty, I yesterday took leave of Count 
Florida Blanca at the Pardo> aitd this day 
my family presented themselves to the Prin-. 
" cess of Asfiimas at the convent of Santo Do- 
mingo el Real, who received their pairting 
acknowledgi»ents with many expressioins of 
^^ kindness and conde9cension.. I am to see 
^' the King of Spain on Sunday, and expeot to 
•* leave M^rid on Tuesday or Wednesday 
'' Tl^ambassador of Fiance having in the^ 







most obliging manner given me a passport, 
** and your lordship's letter containing no di- 
" rections to the contrary, I propose to return 
" by Bayonne and Bourdeaux, to which route 
^' I am compelled by the state of my health, 
" and that of part of my family, 

" I have the honour to be, &c, &ۥ 

Iv. \^» 

" I hope your lordship has received my Ict- 
" ter No. 18, also those numbered 20 and fil, 
" which conclude what I have written.'* 

To the sub-minister Caiiipo, who had been 
Confidential throughout, and present at almost 
every conference I had held with the Premier, 
I wrote as follows — 

" Madrid March 20th 178 K 
. " You kave done all things, my dear Sir, 
*^ with the greatest kindness and the politest 
attention. I have your passports, and as 
my baggage is now ready to be inspected, t 
*^ wait the directions of the Minister Musquiz, 
"which I pray you now to dispatch, To- 
^ morrow in ^the forenoon at 1 1 o'^bck, br 


^\Wf otber hour more convenient to th$ offi- 
'^ cers of the customs will suit me to attend 
'^ upon theni« 

^' You tell me that no more could be done 
^' for me, were I an ambassa^lor ; I am per- 
'* suaded of it, for being as I am, a dependant 
^\ on your protection, aioid entrusted to you by 
^^ my couQtry, how can I doubt but tl)a,t the 
^\ Spanish point of honour will concede to me 
'^ nqt less, (and I should nqt wonder if it grant* 
^' ed more) than any ambassador can claim by 
'* privilege, * > 

^' I have never ceased to feel a perfect confi*- 
'' dence in my situation, nor ever wished for 
'' any other title to all the rights of hospitality 
^^ and protection, than what I derive from the^ 
^^ trust, which my court has consigned to me, 
'* and that which I repose in yours. 

^^ I bring this letter in my pocket to tbeS 
/' Pardo, lest you should not be visible at tb^ 
" hour I shall arrive, I beg to fecommend tQ 
'' you the case of the English prisoners, who 
" have undersigned the inclosed paper. 

** I hppe to set out on Friday ; be assured \ 
^^ shall ^arry with me a lasting remembrance of 
^^ your obliging favourS| and f shall ardently 


ravage and unseemly wilderness. Th^ lands^ 
which should contribute to suppty the markets, 
being thus delivered over to waste and barren-* 
ness, are considered only as preserves for game 
of various sorts, which includes every thing 
the gun can slay, and these are as much re$ 
sacrie as the altars, or the monks, who serve 
them. This solitude ante ostium did not con- 
tribute to support our spirits, neither did the 
incessant jingling of the mules* bells relieve the 
tsedium of the road to Guadarama, where we 
were agreeably surprised by the Counts Kau-i 
nitz and Pietra Santa, who passed that night 
in our company, and next morning with many 
friendly adieus departed for Madrid, never to 
meet again-— 

Animas quds candidiores 
Nusquam terra tulU — 

The next day we passed the mountains of 
Guadarama by a magnificent causeway, and 
entered Old Castile. Here the country began 
to change for the better : the town of .Villa 
Castin presents a very agreeable spectacle, 
being new and flourishing, with a handsome 
house belonging to the Marchioness of Torre* 

kiCH ArAb CiT3tfJBJ5:ELAND; i^-g 

Mdhzanares> who is iu pad; prpprietor of the 
towns This illustrious lady w^^u^t no,w unf^ 
djer a temporary cloud for baVipg beeft party ia 
a frolic with the young and animated Duchess 
^f Alva, who had ventured tp exhibjit het fair 
person on the public parade ia the chbract^r 
of postillion to her own equipagje, whilst Torre- 
Manzanares mounted the box as cPttchmari, 
and other gallant spirits took their stations be- 
hind as footmen^ all habited . in the splendid 
blue and silver liveries of the hopse of Alva*— 
In some countries a whim like this would have 
passed off with eclat, in many. with impunity, 
but in Spain, under the governmentof a moral 
and decorous monarch, it wa^ regarded in^so 
grave a light, that^ although the great lady 
postillion escaped with a reprimand the lady 
coachman was sent to her castle at a distance 
from the capital, and doomed to do penance iu 
spUtude and obscurity* 

We were now in the country for thp Spanish 
Wool, and this place being a consi^ler^b^e mart 
for that valuable article^ is furnished with: a 
,vBry large ap.4 x^pinn^odipu^ sl^earing-house.-r 
We a ppqr little village called §an Chf- 
drjan, and bei^g obliged to chac^e* our q^^rr 


146 MJBlfOlSS 09 

ters on account of o^thcr travellers, who had 
been bcfore-liand with us, we were fain to put 
ttp with tlie wretched accommodations of a veiy 
wretched posada^ 

The third day's journey presented to us a 
fine cfaampaign country, abounding in com 
and well peopled. Leaving the town of Are- 
halo, which made a respectalble appearance, on 
t)ur right, we proceeded to Atmedo, a very re- 
mafkable place, being surrounded with a Moor- 
ish wall and towers in very tolerable preserva- 
tion ; Almedo also has a fine convent and a 
handsome church. 

The fourth day^s jouraey, being March tlie 
'27th, still led us through a fair country^, rich 
in corn and M4ne. • The river Adaga nuas 
through a grove of pines in a deep chani^l 
'^iy l?oraantic, wandering through a Vast tract 
of vineyards Without fences. The weatfcer 
was serene and fresh, and gave us smrits to en- 
'i^y the scenery^ which was new and striking. 

• • • r I 

We dined at ValdestiUas, a mean little town, 
^'and in the evening reached Valladdlid, where 
tJigotry may be said to have ^tablished it^ 

heaii quarters. The gate of the cityy whiclj 
is' of ifm>dech construction, i^nsi^t^ of thrde^ 

. i ^ 


Inches of equ^J span, an4 that very n.aiTow } 
the centre of th/ese is el/evg^tecj with ^ trib^uo^, 
fmd upon that i9 placed a pedestrian statu^^^ pf 
Carlos III. This gat^ delivers yoi| ititp ft $par 
4^iQUs squ^re^ . sun^qundeid by conT^tits and 
sbarcheS) and pfts^ing this, which oi|^<^rs nothing 
attracidvie to d^lay ypiu, you entpf the »ld gat^ 
ftf the cityj newly pp-wted in b^d fresco, ^nd 
ornamented, with ^n e<}pe$trian st^tgi^ of t^e 
mgniBg king with ^ L^tin in§crip(ian, very 
just to bis yirtnej, bujk very little to the honftnr 
qf tbe writer of it Yo^ UQW ^nd yourself in 
one of th^ most gloon^y, desol^t^ and dirty 
towns^ that can be conceived, the great $quare 
mnph resembling that of the Plj^a-maypr in 
Madrid, the houses painted in grotei^que frescc^ 
dfsi^imbly executed, and the whole ari:mi^eraT' 
hh copdition. I was infqrmed t^h^t the eont 
fvents amount to bjeitWisen thirty and forty. -r* 
There is both an English wd g. Scbtish coir 
Jege; the! former under the government of 
I^octor Shepherd, ^ man of very agreeable, 
<;heeifuV natural manners : I became acquaint'- 
«d with him at Madrid through the introduc* 
iion of my friend Doctor Geddes, Ute Princi- 
pal of itl:^ latt^ college, but since Bishop of 

z. 2 

148 MEMOIRS aif 

Mancecos, Missionary and Vicar denial a< 
Aberdeen. I had an introductory letter to the 
Intendant^ but my stay was too short to avail 
myself of it ; and I visited no church but the 
great cathedral of the Behedictine$, where 
Mass was celebrating, and the altars and whole 
edifice were arrayed in all their splendour.— 
The fathers were extremely polite, and allowed 
me to enter the Sacristy, where I saw some va- 
luable old paintings of the eariy Spanish mais* 
ters, some of a later date, and a series of Bene- 
dictine Saints, who if they are not the most 
rigid, are indisputably the richest, order of 
Religious in Spain. 

Our next day's journey advanced us only six * 
short leagues, and set us down in the ruinous 
town of Duenas, which like Olmedo is sur- 
rounded by a Moorish fortification, the gate of 
which is entire. The Calasserbs, obstinate as 
their mules, accord to you in nothing, but in 
admitting indiscriminately a Icmd of baggage^ 
that would almost revolt a waggon, and this is 
indisptnsible, as you must carry beds, provi^ 
sions, cooking vessels, and every article for 
rest and sustenance, nbt excepting bread, for 
in this country an inn means a hovel, in which 



you may light a fire, if you can defend your 
right to it, and find a dunghill called a bed, if 
you can submit to lie down in it. 

Our sixth day's stage brought us to the 
banks of the Douro, which we skirted and 
kept in sight during the whol^day from Due* 
nas through Torrequemara to Villa Rodrigq. 
The stone-bridge at Torrequemara is a noble 
edifice of eight and twenty arches. The wind- 
itigs of this beautiful river and its rocky banks, 
of which one side is always very steep, are ro- 
mantic and present fine shapes of nature, to 
. which notliing is wanting but trees, and they 
.not always. The yale, through which it flows, 
inclosed within these rocky cliffs, is luxuriant 
in corn and wine; the soil in general of a fine 
loam mixed with gravel, and the fallows re- 
.markably clean ; they deposit their wine in 
caves hollowed out of the roicks. In the mean 
.time it is to the bounty of nature rather than 
ito the care and industry of man, that the ii:^ 
habitant, squalid and loathsome in his person, 
is beljiolden for that produce, wl^ich invites 
exertions, that he never makes, and points to 
comforts^ that he never tastes. In the midst 



150 MEMOlftS OF 

, of all these scenes of plenty y6u encounter, 
human misery in its worst attire, and ruined 
villages amongst luxuriant vineyards. Such a 
bountiful provider is God, aiid so improvident 
a steward is his vicegerent in this realm. 

It should seem, that in this vall^, on' the 
•banks of the fertilizing Douro, t^ould be the 
proper scite for the capital of Spain ; whereas 
Madrid is seated on a barrth soil, bfeside a 
-meagre stream, which scarce suffices to supply 
the irasher-wonicfn, who make their troughs in 
the shallow current, which only has the apf- 
ipearance of a river, when the snow melts upoh 
the mountains, and turns the petty Manza* 
nares, that just trickles through the sand, into 
' a roaring and imptetubiis toiteiit Of the en- 
virons of Madrid I have alrfekdy fepokeh, arid 
the climate cin the ndrthern side of the truada- 
tamas is of a much supeHot ahd moresalubri- 
ou^ quality, being not so Subject to the dan- 
^rous extreBhes of heat "ftnd cold, and inaich 
oftener refreshed with showers, the great desi- 
deratum, for which the nxinks of Madrid so 
frequently importune their poor helpless saint 
Isidore, and make him feel their vengeance'. 


whilst . fi>r -montiis Jpgpt^her . tt\\e wnr^tentiug 
clouds will not c^re4it bim. witl^ a 6ii>gle' 4roa 
of rain. j\ . . . * . 

. Upfon our. road this day ;^ we purchased; tbrett 
lambs at the price of two pisettes (shillings)^ 
apiecci aud^ little as it was^ wie hardly C9uld)be 
sa|d to have had value for our money*^ Oai{ 
worthy. MarcheUiy, being an excellent engii^ce^, 
roasted them whole, with surpminge^pedi^p^ 
and address in a kitchen and at a iire; which 
wpuld hayepuzzded all the resqurii^es of^f Jj^t^ch 
coolf, and wbich, ^o £nglish scpJ^Iipn woul4 
have approached . in her yery ; worsi;, ^p^reln-y 
A crew of Cata^lu^an carriers aVTorr^pemar^ 
disp\:M:ed oiirei^clusive title tp tbefirf, and witli 
their arroz a la Vaienciana would soon have 
nuiijucd our roa$t, ; if ^our gallant: prpyedor ;ba4 
not put aside bis capa, ai;i4 4^^!^^^: ^^K ^^^ 
epaulets, to wbijch militaiy insignia, the sturdy 
inteiiopers instantly deferred.: 

. There is exc(}llent morality to be learnt in a 
journey of this sort A supper at Villa Ro^ 
drigo is a better corrective for fastidiousn^ 
and false delicacy th^ all that Seneca or £pic^ 
tetus can administeir, and if a traveller in Spain 
wiH carry justice and forti^de about him, the 


152 • ' MSMOIRiS OF 

Caiasseros* Will teach him patietice, dnd tfa^ 
Posafdaij ^vill eiinre him to temperance ; haviag^ 
these four cardinal virtues in possession, he 
has thtf^olc-: air Tally's offices can't find a 

fifth:'''''--- ■ ■■'■ ■ ■ '■■■-.■- - "'■•■ ■ 

Oitthe'/sevefath' day of our travel Wc kept? 
thh ^leaSari t Douro still in sight. Surtly th» 
n^ei! ' pldtyi^ kts'natural wvercign t slippery 
fK6k ; lifedsiii G^liciaj is' notirished andmain^ 
tairied itfHii cburse through Spain, and as soodi 
s!s he'iklbeidorhie' matute in depth aiid Size'fbr 
iradle''atid''ha.v1gati6n, deserts^ and throws him-j 
SEl^fntoith^serViM 6f Itor^u^al. This is the 
tase with the* Tagus also : this river^ Affords the 
tohdllt 'Kita^'i Uttlfeinglihg fot smilt fry a* 
•Afdhjiltii'^aixd^t 'Lisbon bfebohies i^ magmfitjent 
karbbUt* ^ fd '^ive- Wealth and splendo'ur tfer a 
kihgdbtni Th^-Opdfto tVines/that gro^?* ujibti 
the baiiks^ of the Dbiii^o iri its i*6negaido cdurse, 
find a ready andVriostpi'ofitaWe vent lit Eiig-^ 
land; whilst the Vineyards 'bfCastife kn^iiiA 
from'Arant of a'purehiiser,- and in some years, 
are'absolntefly iclast away, as liot paying fot the 
labour of making them mto wine, ' 

The city and' castle of Burgos are well situ-s 
at^d on the banks tif the river Hdancon^ Twft 


fine stone-bridges are thit>wn over that stream, 
and several plantations of young trees lin« 


> the road as you approach it The c6untry is 

I well watered, and the heights furnish excellent 
pasture for sheep, being, of a light downy soil. 

I The cathedral church of Burgos deserv^ the 
notice and admiration of every ti^veller, and it 
was with sincere regret I found myself at lei*- 
sure to devote no more than one hour to an 
edifice, that requires a day to examine it within 

I side and without. It is of that order of Go- 



thic, which is most profusely ornamented and 
i enriched; the towers are crowned with spires 
of pierced stone-work, raised upon arches, and 
laced all through with open-work like filigree : 
the windows and doors are embellished with 
innumerable figures, admirably carved in stone, 
and in perfect preservation ; the dome over the 
nave is superb, and behind the grand altar 
. there is a spacious and beautiful chapel, erected 
by a Duke of Frejas, who -lies entombed with 
his duchess within a stately monuihent, recum-^ 
bent with their heads resting upon cushions, in 
their robes and coronets; well sculptured in 
I foost exquisite marble of the purest white. 
T^ bats-reiieVejs cit the back of the grand altar , 

IM Ut^MOim OF 

representing passages in the life and actions of 
our Saviour, are wonderful samples of sculp* 
tiire^ and the carrying of the cross in particular 
is expressed with all the delicacy of Raphaers 
famous Pasma de Sicilia. The stalls of the 
choir in brown oak are finely executed and ex- 
hibit an innumerable groupe of figures ; whilst 
the seats are ludicrously inlaid with grotesque 
representations of fauns and satyrs unaccount^ 
ably contrasted with the sacred history of the 
carved work^ that encloses them. The altars^ 
chapels, sacristy and cloisters are equally to be 
admired, nor are there wanting some fine 
paintings, though not profusely bestowed^ 
The priests conducted me through every part of 
the cathedral with the kindest attentionr. and 
politeness, though Majs$ was then in high cele- 

When I was ort my departure, ai^d my cari- 
riages were in waiting,, a parcel of British 
seamen, who had. been prisoners. of \var, most 
importunately besought me, that I would ask 
their liberation of the Bishop of Burgos,, and 
allow t];iem to make their way out of the coun*- 
try under my prot^tion. This good bishop, 
in his zeal for making coftvertss, had taken 


these ^loirs tipbn thek word into his list of 
pensioners, as true pfros^ytes, and allowed 
them tb establish themselves in various occu-* 
pations and callings, which th^ nownrofessed 
themselves most heartily disposed t6 abandon^ 
and doubted not but I should find him as wil- 
ling to release them, as they were to be set £ree^ 
Though I gave little credit to thrir assertions, 
I did not r^se to make the experiments and 
wrote to the bishop in thekr behalf, promising 
to obtain the release of the like number of 
Spanish jiriaoners, if he would allow ihe to 
take these tnen away wifdi me. To my gt^t 
siirpriise I iiistatitly recdted his free consent 
and "pertuit under his hand and &eail to dispose 
of them as I saw fit, This I accordingly did, 
and by occasioiial jetiefl; upon thd blrac^ of niy 
carriages ibarcbed iby party of i^negadoes eiEi^ 
tire into BaycHine^ wher^ I got leave upon cer^^ 
taiti cokiditions' to dfmbai^ them on board a 
neutral ship bound to Lisbon, and consigned 
them to Cotnnlodbre Johiistone, or thecoma 
ilnandii^ officer {br.th0 time being, to be put 
On board, aiid excba«iged for the like number 
of Spanish prisoners, which accordingly was 
done wi}}l the exception of one or two^ whQ 


]i£MQIJlS «0f 

turned^ iasick by! the way. I have reason to 
believe the good Ushop wa3 thoroughly sick 
of his cbnyerts^ and I eocountered no opposi* 
tion froip .the ladies^ wh9Bi . two or . thr^ of 
them;hdd taken to wife. . 

;We. ptttsued our eighth day's, joi^irney oyer a 
deep rich- ^oil, witli sight cqyered 
y/it]i 4now/. which had fallea tw^ days befoie. 
There was norw a scene ofrnpre wqpd, and the 
face * qS the. . country !mv>Ch, ^res^mbled parts of 
England. . We advaiioed but, seven leaguesi 
the ^rtver EeJancon. accoq^panying us for the 
)a3Jt ^huo^f where our. j0^ wa3 Qut .out of the 
side of a steep cliff, very, n vrow, aud so ill de- 


fended, that in many places the prqcipice, con- 
sidering the mode, , in which th« Spaaiish Ca- 
lasseros drive, was ^seriously al^^rmipg.. The 
wild wOooan of San .Anderoi ,wbo mp-sediny 
infont, vduring this, day/s Jouriiify was at high 
wohrds iVith the witches, who twice pulled off 
ber< jedecilla^ and otherwise annpyed her in a 
very provoking mauBer till we arrived at Bre^ 
viesca>. a tqlerable good .Spanish town, where 
they allowed her to repose and we heard no 
more of them. " 

Prom Breviesca we/travelled thipvjgh aJto^ 

picturesque* o6Ufitry o^ a ricli soil to Pancorvo 
'^i'thef^t of a 8tee|>' range of rocfcy tnoan- 
I^Im, attd {)a$si[iyg through si niost roTnabtic 
fissure hi^ the tocky a work ^f ^great^art and la- 
'bottb, -We feadhed the riiv^er Ebro, iifhich .foirms 
thfe ^anditty of Old Castile. Upon this river 
stdbds the ^ town of Miranda; ^hich is ap-^ 
]^Maeb^ over a ^ we w bridge of seven stone 
nith^, atid Mr^ lodged ourselves for the night 
itt the pb^ada it d)e foot of it; a home of 
the worst reception vsre hadniet in Spain, which 
is giving it as 'ill aname as^ 1 can well bestow 
vlpm' any house whatever. 
* 'A short ^ stage brought us from Breviesca to 
fhifc' tewtt ot Vittoria, the capital of Alaba, 
which fs one^ portion of the delightful province 
of Biscay, We w^ere now for the first time 
todged witb^ some degree of comfort. We 
^hevined dur passport at the custom-houscy and 
the adniini^rator of the post-office having de- 
sired to' have immediate notice of oui? arrival, 
I lequested my friend Marchetti to go to him, 
and in the mean time poor Smith passed a very 
anxious interval of suspense, fearing that he 
might be stopped by order of government in 
this place, (a saspicion I confess not o^itof the 

153 IfBltOIllS ot 

range of probabilities) but it proved to be oa\f 
•a punctilio of the Sub^minister Campo, who 
had written to this gentleman to be particular 
in his attentions to us, inclosing his batdy as if 
in person present to t^ke le^ve ; this mar^ of 
politeness on his {^art produced a (Htsent froin 
the administrator of some fine a9paragii$, and 
Excellent sweetnaeats^ the prodm^ of th^cpu^i** 
try, with the further favour of 9' vinit from tb^ 
donor, a gentleman of great good maimers 
and -much respectability* 

The Marquis Legarda^ Governor of Vitto- 
fia, to whom 1 had a letter from Count 
D'Yranda, the Marquis D'Allamada, and Qtber 
gentlemen of the place, did i|s tjbr honour U> 
visit us, and were extremely polite. We vmte 
invited by the Dominicans to their comel^tf 
and saw some very exquisite paintings of IU« 
betra and Murilio. At noon we tQok our 4e* 
parture for Mondragone, passing Ibroiigh ^ 
coiintiy of undescribable beauty* The scjde 
is vast, the heights are lofty without being ^re** 
mendous, the cultivation i$ of various sorts^ 
and to be traced in every spot, where the hand 
of industry can reach: a pro&sio^ pf Ihiit tre^ 
.til blosssom coloured the landscs^e with su<^ 



vivid and luxuriant tints, that vre had nevr 
charms to admire upon evicry shift and winding 
of the road* The peopleiare laborious, and the 
fields being full of men and women at their 
work (for here both^sexes make common task) 
nothing could be more animated than the seer 
nery ; '^twas not in human nature to present a 
stronger contrast to the gloomy character and 
squalid indolence of the Castiliaas. Amd whai; 
is it, which constitutes this marked distinction 
between such near neighbours, subjects of the 
same King, and separated from each other, only 
by a narrow stream ? It is because the regal 
power, which in Castile is arbitrary, is limited 
by local laws in Catalunia, and gives passage 
^r one ray of liberty to visit that b^ippi^r ?nd 
more enlightened country. 

From Mondrs^one we went to Villa Francai 
where we dined, and finished our twelfth 
day's journey at Tolosa ; the country still 
presented a succession of the mo&t, enchant-* 
ii^ scenery, but I was now become insen^ 
sible to its beauties, being so extremely iUi 
that it was not without much difficulty, so ex- 
cruciating were my pains, that I reached Tola* 
sa« Here I staid three days, and when I found 


160 iiEMOIRS CJ? 

my* fever would not yield to James's powdefy 
I resolved to attempt getting to Bayonnci where 
I might hope to find medical ai^sijstance, and 
better accommodation^ 

On the seventeenth day, after suffering tor* 
tures from the roughness of the roads, I reached 
Bayonne, and immediately :put myself under 
the cate of Doctor Vidal, a Huguenot physi* 
cian. Here I passed three miserable week», 
and though in a state of almost continual de^ 
lirium throughout the whole of this time, \ can 
yet recollect that under Providence it is only 
owing to the unwearied care and tender attea- 
tions of my ever-watchful wife, (assisted by her 
faithful servant Mary Samson) that I was 
' kept alive ; fiom her hands I consented tore* 
ceive sustenance and medicine, and to her 
alone in the disorder of my senses I was ttni*' 
formly obedient 

It was at this period of time that the aggrir 
trating news arrived of my bills being stopped, 
and my person subjected to arrest I was not 
sensible to the extent of my danger, for death 
hung over me, and threatened to supersede all 
arrests but of a lifdejss corpse : the kind heart 
however of Marchetti had compassion for my 




disconsolate condition, and he found means to ' 
supply me with five hundred pounds, as I have 
already related. It pleased God to preserve 
my life, and this seasonable act of friendship 
preserved my liberty. The early fruits of 
the ^eai^n, and the balmy temperature of the 
air in that delicious cKmate, ^ided the exer- 
tions of my physician, and I was at length 
enabled to resume my journey, taking a day's 
rest in the magnificent town of Courdeaux^ 
from whence through Tours, Blois and Orleans 
I proceeded to Paris, which however I entered 
in a state as yet but doubtfully convalescent, 
emaciated to a skeleton, the bones of my 
back and elbows still bare and staring tlH'Ougfa 
my skin. 

I had both Florida Blanca's and Count 
Montmorin's passports, but my applications 
for post-horses were in vain, and here I should 
in all probability have ended my career, as I 
felt myself relapsing apace, had I not at length 
obtained the long- withheld permission to pasjs 
onwards. They had pounded the King of 
Spain's horses also for the space of a whole 
month, but these were liberated when I got 
my freedom, and I embarked them at Ostend^ 

VOL. II. u 


from whence I took my passage to Margate, 
and arrived at my house in Portland-Place, 
destined to experience treatment, which I had 
not merited, and encounter losses, I have ne* 
ver overcome. 

I will here simply relate an incident without 
attempting to draw any coiyectures from it, 
which is, that whilst I laid ill at Bayonne, 
insensible, and as it was supposed at the point 
of death, the very monk, who had been so 
troublesome to me at Elvas, found his way 
into my chamber, and upon the alarm given 
by my wife, who perfectly recognized his per- 
son, was only driven out of it by force. 
Again when I was in Paris, and about to sit 
down to dinner, a sallad was brought to me 
by the lacquey, who waited on me, which was 
given to him for me by a red-haired Dominican, 
whose person according to his description ex- 
actly tallied with that of the aforesaid monk ; 
I dispatched my servant Camis in pursuit of 
him, but he had escaped, and my suspicion of 
the sallad being poisoned was confirmed by ex- 
periment ori a dog. 

I shall only add that Somewhere in Castile, 
I forget the place, but it was between Valla- 



dolid and Bargos, as I was sitting on a bench 
at the door of a house, where my Calasseros 
were giving water to the mules, I tendered my 
snuff box to a grave elderly man, who seemed 
of tl^e better sort of Castilians, and who ap* 
peared to have thrown himself in my way, sit^^ 
ting down beside me as one who invited con« 
versation. The stranger looked steadily in 
my face, and after a pause put his fingers in 
my box, and, taking a very small portion of 
my snuff between them, said to me — " I am 
" not afraid. Sir, of trusting myself to you, 
"whom I know to be an Englishman, and a 
" person, in whose honour I may perfectly re* 
" pose. But there is death concealed in many 
" a man's snuff box, and I would seriously ad-r 
" vise you on no account to take a single pinch 
" from the box of any stranger, who may offer 
" it to you ; and if you have done that alrea- 
" dy, I sincerely hope no such consequences 
" as I allude to will result from your want of 
" caution." I continued in conversation with 
this stranger for some time ; I told him I had 
never before been apprised of the practices he 
had spoken of, and, being perfectly without 
iuspicion, I might, or might not, have exposed 

H S 



myself to the danger, he was now so kind as to 
apprize me of, but I observed to him that how- 
ever prudent it might be to guard myself 
against such evil practices in other countries, I 
should not expect to meet them in Castile, 
where the Spanish point of honour most de- 
cidedly prevailed. "Ah, Senor," he replied, 
" they may not all be Spaniards, whom you have 
" chanced upon, or shall hereafter chance upon, 
^ in Castile." When I asked him how this 
snuff operated on those who took it, iiis an-. 
swer was, as I expected — " On the brain." I 
was not curious to enquire who this stranger 
was, as I paid little attention to his information 
at the time, though I confess it occurred to 
me, when after a few days I was seized 
with such agonies in my head, as deprived 
me of my senses ; I merely give this anec- 
dote, as it occurred; I draw no inferences 
from it. 

I have now done with Spain, and if the de- 
tail, which I have truly given of my proceed- 
ings, whilst I was there in trust, may serve 
to justify me in the opinion of those, who read 
these Memoirs, 1 will not tire their patience 
with a dull recital of my unprofitable effort? to 

fitCBAIlt) CtMBERLAKD. l65 

dbtaiQ a just and equitable indemnitication for 
my expences according to agreement. The 
evidences indeed are in my hands, and the pro- 
duction of them would be highly discreditable 
to the memory of some> who are now no more; 
but redress is out of my reach; the time for 
that is long since gone by, and has carried me 
on so far towards the hour, which must extin- 
guish all human feelings, that there can be little 
left for me to do but to employ the remaining 
pages of this history in the best manner I can 
devise, consistently with strict veracity, for 
the satisfaction of those, who may condescend 
to peruse them, and to whom I should be 
above measure sorry to appear in the character 
of a querulous, discontented and resentful old 
man ; I rather hope that when I shall have 
laid before them a detail of literary labours, 
such as few have executed within a period of 
the like extent, they will credit me for my in- 
dustry at least attd allow me to possess some 
claim upon the favour of posterity as a man, 
who in honest pride of conscience has not let 
•his spirit iS^ink under oppression or neglect, nor 
suffered his good will to mankind, or his zeal 
for his country's service and the honour of his 

M 3 



God, to experience intermission or abatement^ 
nor made old age a plea for indolence, or an 
apology for ill humour. 

Nevertheless as I have charged my employers 
with a direct breach of faith, it seems necessary 
for my more perfect vindication, to support 
that charge by an official document, and this 
consideration will I trust be my sufficient apo- 
logy for inserting the following statement of 
my claim • 

" To the Right Honourable Lord North 

&c. &c. &c. 


" The humble Memorial of Richard Cumber-* 

*' Sheweth, 

" That your Memorialist in April 
" 1780 received His Majesty 's most secret and 
" confidential orders and instructions to set out 
" for the court of Spain in company with the 
" Abbe Hussey, one of his Catholic Majesty's 
"chaplains,* for the purpose of negociating a 
" separate peace with that court 

" That to render the object of this commis- 

** sipn more secret, your Memorialist was di- 

/^ rected to take his family with him to Lisbon, 

" under the pretence of recovering the health 



•^ of one of his daughters, which he accord- 
" ingly.did, and having sent the Abbe Hussey 
" before him to the Court of Spain, agree- 
" ably to the King^s instructions, your Memo- 
'^ rialist and his family soon after repaired to 
** Aranjuez, where his Catholic Majesty then 
." kept his court. 

" That your Memorialist upon setting out 
'^ on this important undertaking received by 
*^ the hands of John Robinson flsquire, one 
" of the secretaries of the Treasury, the sum of 
^' one thousand pounds on account, with di- 
** rections how he should draw, through the 
" channel of Portugal, upon his banker in 
" England for such, further 6ums as might be 
" necessary, (particularly for a large discre- 
" tionary supi to be employed, as occasion 
" might require, in secret services) and your 
-^Memorialist was directed to accompany 
• * his drafts by a separate letter to Mr. Secre- 
" tary Robinson, advising him what sum or 
" sums he had given order for, that the same 
" might be replaced to your Memorialist's cre- 
" dit with the bank of Messieur Crofts and 
" Co. in Pall Mall. 

" That your Memorialist in the execution 

'' M 4 

t'_ f. 


" of this commission, for the . space of nearly 
'* fourteen months, defrayed the expences of 
" Abbe Hussey's separate journey into Spain, 
*^ paid all charges incurred by him during four 
'^ months residence there, and supplied him 
" with money for his return to England, no 
** part of which has been repaid to your Me- 

" That your Memorialbt with bis family 
" took two very long and expensive journies, 
" (the one by way of Lisbon and the other 
^ through France) no consideration for which 
" has been granted to him, 

**.That your Memorialist, during his r^t- 
** dence in Spain, was obliged to follow the 
" remov Is of the court to Aranjuee, San Ilde- 
*^ fonso the Escurial and MiLdfid, besides fre- 
" quent visits to the Pardo; in all which 
*^ places, except the Pardo, he was obliged to 
** lodge himself, the expence of which can only 
*^ be known to those, who in the service of 
** their court have incurred it. 

" That every article of necessary expence^ 
"being inordinately high in Madrid, your 
*' Memorialist, without assuming any vain ap* 
" pearance of a minister, and with asmiifeb 


" domestic frugality as possible, incurred a very 
*' heavy charge. 

" That your Memorialist having no courier 
*' with him, nor any cypher, was obliged to 
" employ his own servant in th^^t trust, and the 
"servant of Abbe Hussey, at his own proper 
" cost, no part of which has been repaid to him* 

** That your Memorialist did at considerable 
" charge obtain papers and documents, con- 
" tainihg information of a very important na- 
*' ture, which need not here be enumerated ; 
" of which charge so incurred no part has 
" beefn repaid. 

" That upon the capture of the East and 
" West India ships by the enemy, your Me- 
" morialist was addressed by many of the Bri- 
** tish prisoners, some of whom he relieved 
" with money, and in all cases obtained the 
' " prayer of their memorials. Your Memo- 
" rialfst also, through the fevour of the Bishop 
" of Burgos, took with him out of Spain some 
** valuable British seamen, and restored them 
" to His Majesty's fleet ; and this also he did 
" at his own cost. 

" That your Memorialist during his resi- 
"dence in Spain was indispensibly obliged to 


*' cover these his unavoidable expences by sc* 
" veral drafts upon his banker to the amount 
" of 45001. of which not one single bill has 
*^ been replaced, nor one farthing issued to his 
** support during fourteen months expensive 
" and laborious duty in the King's immediate 
"and most confidential service; the conse* 
" quence of which unparalleled treatment was, 
" that your Memorialist was stopped and ar- 
/* rested at Bayonne by order from his remit- 
" tancers at Madrid ; in this agonizing situa- 
" tion your Memorialist, being then in the 
" height of a most violent fever, surrounded 
" by a family of helpless women in an enemy's 
" country, and abandoned by his employers, 
" on whose faith he had relied, found himself 
'* incapable of proceeding on his journey, and 
" destitute of means for subsisting where he 
" was : under this accumulated distress he 
"must have sunk and expired, had not the 
" generosity of an officer in the Spanish ser- 
" vice, who had accompanied him into France, 
" supplied his necessities with the loan of five 
" hundred pounds, and passed the King of 
" Great-Britain's bankrupt servant into his 
** own country, for which humane action this^ 



friendly officer, (Marcbetti by name) was 
arrested at Paris, and by the Count D'Aranda 
remanded back to Madrid, there to take his 
chance for what the infloence of France may 
find occasion to devise against him. 
" Your Memorialist, since his return to Eii- 
gland, having, after innumerabte attempts, 
gained one only admittance to your lord- 
ship's person for the space of more than ten 
months, and not one answer to the frequent 
and humble suit he has made to you by let-^ 
ter, presumes now for the last time to solicit 
your consideration of his case, and as he is 
persuaded it is not, and cannot be, in your 
lordship's heart to devote and abandon to 
unmerited ruin an old and faithful servant 
of the crown, who has been the father of 
four sons, (one of whom has lately died^ 
and three are now carrying arms in the ser- 
vice of thieir King) your Memorialist hum- 
bly prays, that you will give order for him 
to be relieved in such manner, as to your 
lordship's wisdom shall seem meet— 
" All which is humbly submitted by 

** Your lordship's most obedient 
" And most humble servant,. 
" Richard Cumberland." 




This tnemotial, which is pcrliaps too long 
aiid loaded, I am persuaded Lord North never 
took the pains to read, for I am unwilling tb 
^oppose, that, if he had, he would have treated 
it with absolute neglect. He was upon the 
pioint of quitting office when I gave it in, and 
being my last eflfort I ^vas desirous of summiiig 
tip the circumstances of my case so^ that if he 
had. thought fit to grant me a compensation, 
this statement might have been a justification 
to his successor for the issue ; but it produced 
ho compensation, though I should presume it 
proved enough to have touched the fecHngs of 
bne of the best tempered men living, if he 
would have devoted a very few minutes to the 
perusal of it - ' 

It is not possible for me to call to mind i 
character in all essential points so amiable as 
that of this departed minister, and not wis^h td 
find some palliation for his overeights ; but if 
I were now to say that I acquit him of injustice 
to me, it would be affectation and hypocrisy; 
at the same time I must think, that Mr. Se- 
cretary Robinson, who was the vehicle of the 
promise, was more immediately bound to solicit 
and obtain the fulfilment of it, and this I am 



persuaded was completely in his pow^r to do; : 
to him therefore I addr^sed such remoii- 
strances, and enforced them in such terms^ ^ 
BO manly spirit ought to have put up with ; 
hut anger and high words mal^e all things 
worse ; and language, which a man has not 
courage to resent^ he never will have candour 
to forgive. 

When in process of time I saw and knew 
Lord North in his retirement from all public 
affairs, patient, collected,, resigned to an afSict- 
hig visitation of the severest sort, when all bujt 
his illuminated mind was dark around hhn, X 
contemplated, an affecting aiiid an- edifying obr 
ject, that claimed my admiration and esteeip ; 
a man, who when divested of that incidental 
greatness, whicl^^high office for a time can give^ 
self-dignified and .'independent, rose to rea^ 
greatness of his own creating, :which no timi: 
can take away; whose genius gave a grace tp 
every thing' he said, and. whose benignity shed 
a lustre upon every thing he did ; so Tichly wa* 
his memory stored, and so lively was his imagir 
nation in applying what he remembered, that 
after the great source of information was shut 
against himself^ he still possessed a bovndle^ 


fiind of infonnation for the instruction and de* 

light of others. Some hours (and those not 

few) of his society he was kind in bestowing 

upon me : I eagerly courted, and very highly 

prized them. 

, I . I experienced no abatement in the friend- 

^ ^ * ship of Lord George Germain ; on the con- 

i I i' V trary it was from this time chiefly to the day 

of his death, that I lived in the greatest inti- 
i^1ri!,*^?^acy with him. Whilst he held the seals I 
,, ^ continued to attend upon him both in public 
^ . . and in private, rendering him all the voluntary 

service in my power, particular^ly on his Levee- 
days, which he held in my apartment in the 
Plantation office, though he had ceased to 
preside at the Board of Trade, and here great 
numbers of American loyalists, who had taken 
refuge in England, were in the habit of re- 
sorting to him : it was an arduous and delicate 
business to conduct : I may add it was also a 
business of some personal risque and danger, 
as it engaged me in very serious explanations 
upon more occasions than one. Upon Lord 
George's putting into my hands a letter he had 
received from a certain naval officer, very disr 
respectful towards him, and most unjustifiably 



to to me, for having brought him an answer td 
an application, which he was pleased to consi-^ 
der Tks private and confidential,. I felt myself 
obliged to take the letter with me to that gen- 
tleman, and require him to write add sign an 
apology of my own dictating ; whatever was 
his motive for doing what I peremptorily re- 
quired, so it was, that to my very great sur- 
prise he submitted to transcribe and sign it, 
and when I exhibited it to Lord George, htf 
acknowledged it to be the most complete re- 
Vocation and apology he had ever met with. 

There were other situations still more deli- 
cate, in which I occasionally became involved, 
but which I forbear to mention : but in thos6 
unpleasant times men's passions were enflamed, 
and in every case, when reasoning would not 
serve to allay intemperance, and explanation 
was lost upon them, I never scrupled to abide 
the consequence. 

When Lord George Germain resigned the 
seals, the King was graciously pleased in reward 
for Ms services, to call him to the House of 
Lords by the title of Viscount Sackville. The 
well known circumstance, that occurred upon 
the event of his elevation to the peerage, made 

? * 

'. -i 




a deep and paitful impression on his feeling 
mind, and if his seeming patience under the 
infliction of it should appear to merit in a moral 
sense the name of virtue, I must candidly ac- 
knowledge it as a virtue, that he had no title to 
he credikd for, inasmuch as it M^as entirely 
owing to the influence of some, who over-ruled 
his propensities, and made themselves responsi- 
ble for his honour, that he did not betake him- 
self to the same abrupt unwarrantable mode of 
dismissing this insult, as he had resorted to in 
a former instance. No man can speak from a 
ZQore intimate knowledge of his feelings upon 
this occasion than I can, and if I was not on 
the side of those, who no doubt spoke well and 
wisely whpn they spoke for peace, it is one 
amongst the many erroris and offences, which 
I have yet to repent of. 

There was once a certain Sir Edward Sack- 
ville, whom the world has heard of, who pro- 
bably would not have possessed himself with 
so much calmness and forbearance as did a late 
noble head of his family, whilst the question I 
allude to was in agitation, and he present in his 
place. It was by the mediuixi of this* noble 
personage that the Lord Viscount SackviUe 


medka/ted to send that iavitation he had pre- 
pared, when the mterpositum aad well-consi* 
dered Demonstrances of some of his nearest 
firiends, (ia particular of Lord Amherst) put 
htm by from his resolve, and dictated a con. 
duct mpre oonibrmaiiie to prudence, but much 
less Slotted to his tnclinatioo. 

The laMT, that is saftcient for the tedress of 
injuries, does sot always reach to the redress 
ofiosuks; thus it comes to pass^ lliat many 
men, in other. respects wise and jnsir and tem- 
perate, not having resohition to be right in 
their own consciences, have set aside both rea* 
SM attd xeligioB, and, in compliance with the 
evil practice of the world about them, per^ 
formed their bloody sacrifices, and immolated 
human victims to the idol of false honour.-*- 
Tmth obliges me to confess tliat the itiend, of 
whom I am speaking, though possessing one 
of thp best and kiiuiest hearts, that ever beat 
within a human hceast, was with difficulty di>- 
verted from resorting a second time to that 
despecate i:efnedy, ^hich modern -empirics have 
prescribed for wounds of a peculiar sort, of- 
tentimes imaginary and always to be cured by 

VOL. II. y 


178 MEMOIRS or 

When Lord North's administration was over- 
turned, and the Board of Trade, of which I 
was Secretary, dismissed under the regulations 
of what is commonly called Mr. Burke's Bill, 
I found myself set adrift upon a compensation, 
which though much nearer to an equivalent 
than what I had. received upon my Spanish 
claims, was yet in value scarce a moiety of 
what I was deprived of. By the operation of 
this reform, after I had sacrificed the patri- 
jnopy I was born to, a very considerable re- 
duction was made even of the remnant, that 
was left to me : I lost no time in putting my 
family upon such an establishment, as prudence 
dictated, and fixed . myself at Tunbfidge Welb. 
This place, of which I had made choice, and 
in which I have continued to reside for more 
than twenty years, had much to recommend 
it, and very Uttle, that . in any degree made 
against it. It is not altogether a public place, 
yet it is at no period of the year a solitude.— 
A reading man may command his hours of 
study, and a social man will find fiiU gratifica- 
tion for his philanthropy. Its vicinity to the 
capital brings quick intelligence of all that 
passes there : the morning papers reach us be* 


fore the hour of dinner, and the evening ones 
before breakfast the next day ; whilst between 
the arrival pf the general post and its depar* 
tare there is an interval of twelve hours ; aa 
accommodation in point of correspondence 
that even London cannot boast of. The pro- 
duce of the neighbouring farms and gardens^ 
and the supplies of all sorts for the table are 
excellent in their quality ; the country is on 
all sides beautiful, an4 the climate pre-emi« 
nently healthy, and in a most peculiar degree 
restorative to enfeebled constitutions. For 
myself I can say, that through the whole of 
my long residence at Tunbridge Wells I never 
experienced a single hour's indisposition, tliat 
confined me to my bed, though I believe I 
may say with truth that till then I had en- 
countered as many fevers, and had a$ many 
serious struggles for my life, as have fallen to 
most men's lots in the like term of years. 

Some people can sit down in . a place, and 
live so entirely to themselves and the small 
x:ircle of their acquaintance, as to have littlfc or 
no concern about the people, amongst whom 
they reside. The contrary to tliis has evet 
Jbeen my habit, and wheresoever my lot in life 

N 2 


}ms)cast iDe, something more than curiosity 
]^3 always iBduced nie to mix with the ma^s^ 
and interest myself in the concerns of my 
neighbours and &Ilow subjects, however hum* 
i)le in d€gi:ee ; and from the ooxitempktion of 
their chi^racters, from my acquaintance with 
^heir hearts and my assured possession of their 
Affections, I can truly declare that I have de« 
rived, and still enjoy some of the most gratify* 
ing sensations, that reflection can bestow.— 
The Men of JCent, properly so calWd, are a 
peculiar race, well worthy of the attention and 
Etudy of the philanthropist. There is not only 
\ a distinguishing cast of humour, but a dignity 
of mind and principfe about them, which is 
the very clue, that will lead you into their 
hearts, if rightly understood ; but, if njistajcen 
fxr misused, you will find them quick enough 
to conceive, and more than forward enough to 
express, their proud contempt and resolute de- 
fiance of you. I have said in my fir«t volume 
of Arundel, page 220, that they are — '^ a race 
" distinguishable above all their fellow sub- 
^^ jects for the beauty of their persons, the 
^* dignity of their sentiments, the couragje of 
** their hearts, and the degance of their man- 



" nefs^-^ Many years hare passed since I 
gave this testimony, and the full experience I 
have now had of the men of Kent, ever my 
kind friends, and now become my comrades! 
and fellow soldiers, Confirms every word that 
I have said, or ean say, expressive of t^eii* 
worthiness, or my esteem* 

The house, which I reitted of Mr. John Fry, 
at that time master of the Susse:^ Tavern, was 
partly new and partly attached to an old foun- 
datioaj it was suffidient for my family, and 
when I had fitted it up with part of my furm-* 
ture^ arid all iliy pictures hom Portland-Placce, 
k had more the air of comfort and less the ap^ 
jiearaAce of a lodging house than most iii th0 
place: it Was by ilo tneanfe the least of its re- 
commendations, that it was well appointed 
with offices and accommodations for those old 
^nd faithful domestics, who continued in my 
service. There was ^ square pitch of ground 
in front, of about half an acre, fenced and 
Ranted round with trees, which I converted 
into a flower garden and encircled with a sand 
walk : it had now become the only lot of Eng- 
Klh terra flrma, over which I had a legal right, 
and I treated it with a lover-hke attention ; it 

N 3 . 


182 MEMOiRfe or 

soon produced me excellent wall'fruit of my 
own rearing, and at last I found a little friendly 
spot, the only one as yet discovered, in which 
my laurels flourished. My true and trusty: 
servant Thomas Camis, (more than ever at- 
tachfsd, because more than ever necessary to 
me) had a passion for a flower garden, and he 
quickly made it a bed of sweets and a display 
of beauty. It was now, unhappily for me, too 
evident, that the once-excellent constitution 
of my beloved wife, my best friend and under 
Providence the preserver of my life, was sink- 
ing under the effects, which her late sufferings 
and exertions in attending upon me, had en- 
tailed upon her : I had tried the sea-coast, and 
other places before I settled here, but in this 
climate only could she breathe with freedom 
and experience repose : the boundary of our 
little garden was in general the boundary of 
her walk, and beyond it her strength but rare- 
ly suffered her to expatiate : so long as she. 
could have recourse to her horse, she inade a 
struggle for fresh air aad exercise, but when 
she had the misfortune to lose her favourite 
Spaniard, so invaluable and so wonderfully atn 
tached to her, she despaired of replacingihimy 


ind 1 can well believe there was not in all En- 
gland an animal that could. , He had belonged 
to the King of Spain, and came, by what tneans 
I have forgot, into the possession of Count 
Joseph Ka'unitz, who gave him to Mrs. Cum«i 
berland : he was a most perfect war-horse, 
though upon the scale of a galloway, and whiOist 
his eyes menaced every thing that was fiery 
and rebellious, nothing living was more sweet 
and gentle in his nature : he could not speak, 
for he had not the organs of speech, but he 
had dog-like sagacity, and understood the 
words,' that were addressed to hira, and the. 
caresses, that were bestowed upon him. Being 
entire, and of course prohibited from passing 
out of Spain, I am persuaded some villainous, 
measures were practised on the Frontiers to- 
wards him in hi§ journey, for he died in agonies 
under so inveterate a strangury, that though I 
applied all the remedies, that an excellent sur- 
geon could suggest for his relief, nothing could 
save him, and he expired, whilst resting his 
bead on my shoulder, his eyes being fixed 
upon me with that intelligent and piteous ex- 
pression, which seemed to say<— -Can you do 
nothing to assuage my pain ? I thank God I 

N 4 

184 KXirorfts or 

Bevfer angrily and unjustifiably chastised htA 
0nd horse to m^ renoicfQikbrande, and tba4; cred* 
titttey (a barb ^iven to me by Lord Halifax) 
Heiiser wlittst it hod life forgave, ne^ or worild 
Ibe reizloiiciled to let me ride it in any peajce^ 
thcifgh it carried my wUe with aH imaj^ndbW 
gentteriesf; I ditdain to make any a|iologjr 
for tiiT» prattiey nor am witting to suppose it caii 
be uninteresting to a benevolent reader; for 
tboae who mt not such^ I have no cdncerni— <^ 
The mkn, who is cruel to his beaat is odibus^ 
and I am inclined to diink there may be chidlty^ 
expr^sed eren in the treatment of "things' 
manimate ; in short I believe that I am des* 
tised to die, afc I hnsve lived, with all that fa-^ 
mily weakness about me^ which will hardly 
suffer me to clmstise ofienc^ or teU a fellow 
creature be i» a tascaL for fear the uititnation 
should give him pain« I have been wronglu)*' 
ly and hardly dealt with ; I have bad my feel-^ 
ihgs wounded tritfaout mercy; I declare to 
God I never knowingly wrongtd a fellow crca* 
ture, or designedly offended ; if, whilst I am 
giving my own history, I am to give my ow» 
eharaotei^, this^ in few words is the truth ; lam 
tbo old, too conscientiona, too well persuaded 


:mA too fem-fbl of a jtK^ment M coihe, to 
d£ff6 to^d to death with a lie in my niGU^b: 
tet the censors of my actionts and the sera-* 
tinizers of my thoughts^, confute me^ if they 

The children, who were inmate with me, 
Wben I settled at Tunbridgc Wells, were my se* 
emid daughter Sophiay and the infimt Mananae^ 
h(^tn to me in Spain ; my three surViying sons^ 
Riehartl) Charles and WiUiam, were serving 
in tht Ist tegiment of guards^ the lOth foot 
and the royal navy : my eldest diin^ter £ltea« 
h&k had married tiie Lord Edward fientinck^ 
brother to the Duke of Portlmod, and at thai 
time member for the couhty of Nottingham ; 
df him Were I to attempt at 8a3ang what my 
txperienee of \m character, and my aflRsctioH 
for bis permit would saggest, I should dnly 
puniih his sensibility, atid fall far short of do^ 
iDg jwtice to my own : he is too well esteemed 
and beloved to need my praise, and how truly 
and entimly I love htm is I trust too well known 
to renins professions* 

I was now within an bourns ride of Stoiie- 
lands^ where Lord Sackville resided for part 
ff the yeai^ and as this was amongst the mo^ 


tives that led me to locate myself at Tunbridge 
Wells, so it was always one of my chief gratis 
£k;ations to avail myself of my vicinity to so 
true and dear a friend. 

Being now dismissed from office I was at 
leisure to devote myself to that passion, which 
from my earliest yoiith had never wholly left 
me, and I resorted to my books and my pen, 
as to friends, who had animated me in the 
morning of my day, and were now to occupy 
and uphold me in the evening of it. I had 
happily a collection of books, excellent in their 
kind, and perfectly adapted to my various and 
discursive course of reading. In almost every 
margin I recognised the hand- writing of my 
grandfather Bentley, and wherever 1 traced 
bis remains, they were sure guides to direct 
ana gratify me in my fondness for philological 
researches. My mind had been harassed in a 
variety of ways, but the spirit, that from re- 
sources within itself can find a never-failing 
fund of occupation, will not easily be broken 
by events, that do not touch the conscience. 
That portion of mental energy, which nature 
had endowed me with, was not impaired; 
on the contrary I took a larger and more 



tarioiw range of study than I had ever done- 
before, and collaterally with other composi* 
tions began to collect materials ,for those 
essays, which I afterwards com pleated and 
made public under the title, of The Obsevoer. 
I sought no other dissipation . than the induU 
gence of my literary faculties could afford me, 
and in the mean time I kept silence from com- 
plaint, sensible how ill such topics recommend a 
man to society in general, and how very near- 
ly most men's show of pity is connected with 

I bad already published in two volumes my 
Anecdotes of eminent Painters in Spain. I 
am flattered to believe it was an interest- 
ing . and curious work to readers of a certaii^ 
sort, for there had been no such regular history 
of tBft Spanish school in bur. language, and 
when I added to it the authentic catalogue of 
the paintings in the royal palace at Madrid, I 
gave the world. what it had not seen before, 
as that catalogue was the first that had been 
made, and was by permission of the King of 
Spain undertaken at my request, and transmit- 
ted to me after my return to England. 

When these Anecdotes had been for some 

188 HsnoiRs or 

short time befdre the public^ I was surprised 
to find myself arraigned for havrog introduced 
a passage in mj second Tolnme, grossly mj^-^ 
lious to the reputation of Sir Joshua Reynolds, 
and i am sor^y to add that I had reason to he-^ 
lieve, that thd misconception of my motives 
for the insertion of that passage was adopted 
by Sir Joshua himself* The charge consists 
in my having quoted a passage fiom a piubli^ 
cation of Amtk% whicfa^ but fdr my n<^mng 
it, might have never met the obsetvatiofi of thd 
English reader. I own I thought this charge 
too ridiculous to merit any answer, for t had 
not gone out of itoy way to seek Aza«t*s pafe- 
Kcation ; it was in the shops af Londoti, afid 
there I chanced updn it and purchased it. 
Asara was the friend of Mengs, and treats 
professedly of his character and composition^. 
A work of this sort was in no degree likely to 
preserve its incognito, neither had it so doB6 
before it came into my liands. 

The following extract from my id voL p# 
fi06, comprises every word^ that has any re- 
ference to Sir Joshua Reynolds, and I am per- 
suaded it cannot fail to acquit me in thfe judg- 
ment of every one, who resds it, m^st clearly 




RICHARD cum:b££land. 189 

^a4 completely — this it is-r^** Whether Mengs, 

^* really thought with oontetupt of art, which.v 

^^ WM lAferior to his owb, I will not pretend to 

^' decide ; but that he was apt to speak con- 

** temptuously of artists superwr to bimsdf, I 

^' am iacliiied to believe. Azam telb us that 

he pronounced of the axrademical lectures of 

our ReynoldSj that they vene calculated to 

^^ mislead young students into error, teaching 

^'nothing but those superficial principles^ 

^' which he plainly avers ane all that the author 

** himsielf knows of the art be professes-^^De/ 

** libra moderns del Sr Reyn^ids, Ingk$^ dcf 

^* da que €9 una obra^ que puede conducir los 

^^ Juvenes al error ; po$que se qucda en hs 

^^ principios superficialeSj que canoce so laments 

'* a quel autor-^hiQx^ immediately proceeds; 

^* to say that Mcngs was of a temperajnent co- 

** lerico y adusto^ and that his hitter and sa- 

*^ tirical turn created him infinitos agraviados 

" y qi^josos. When his historian and friepd 

^* says this, there is np occasio|i for me to re- 

" peat the i?einark. If the genius of Mengs 

** had been capable of producing a qoraposi- 

^^ tion equal to that of the tragic 9nd pathetic 

** Ugolino, I am persuaded such a sentence as 


" the above would never have passed his Ups ; 
** but flattery made liim vain, and sickness 
" rendered him peevish ; he found himself at 
" Madrid in a country without rivals, and, be- 
** cause the arts had travelled out of his sight, 
** he was disposed to think they existed no 
** where but on his own pallet." 

If this be not sufficient for my justification I 
could wish any of my readers, who has my 
book within his reach, would refer himself 
to the page in question, and read onwards till 
I dismiss the subject of Mengs with the follow- 
ing strictures on his talents, dictated no doubt 
in that spirit of resentment, which Azaxa'k 
anecdote above recorded had most evidently 
inspired ; for what more highly tinctured with 
asperity could be said of Mengs, than — " that 
*' he was an artist, who had seen much, and in- 
** vented little ; that he dispenses neither life 
** nor death to his figures, excites no terror, 
•' rouses no passions and risques no flights; that 
*' by studying to avoid particular defects, he 
■ ' incurs general ones, and paints with taine- 
^' ness and servility ; that the contracted scale 
*' and idea of a paipter of miniatures, (as which 
- * he was brought up) is to be traced in all or 


" most of his cpni|)ositions, in which a finished 
" delicacy of pencil exhibits the hand of the 
" artist, but gives no emanations of the soul 
" of the master ? If it is beauty, it does not 
"warm; if it is sorrow, it excites no pity: 
" that when the angel announces the saluta^ 
" tion to Marjfy it is a messenger, that has 
" neither used dispatch in his errand, nor 
" grace in his delivery of it ; that although 
" Rubens was by one of his oracular sayings 
" condemned to the ignominious dullness of a 
" Dutch translator, Mengs was as capable of 
" painting Rubens^ s Adoration, as he was of 
" creating the star in the east, that ushered 
" the Magi But these are questions above 
" my capacity ; I resign Mengs to abler cri- 
" tics and Reynolds to better defenders ; well 
" contented that posterity should admire them 
" both, and well assured that the fame of our 
" countryman is established beyond the reach 
*^ of envy or detraction.** 

If I had been aiming to employ the autho- 
rity of Mengs against the reputation of Rey- 
nolds, I thinfc>it wpuld not have been my part 
to take such pains for lessening the import 

taoioe of k, and dkappoiating my owb pur- 
fose. I fsatmot d^ubt but I am fi^riy open 
to reproach for diese invectives a^in^ the 
fluid of Mepga, but if there is «ny edge in 
the ireapoH I have wjeidod, I may say to fab 

« P^diMs te b9C vuiner^y PtHas 

In thp mcond volume, p. 8^ where I am 
l^pe^l^i^g of the grmt Juofiinary of the fipanish 
school Ve]j»zqu69« I observe that, amongst 
oth^r ^vidies Hiore immediately attached to his 
l(rt, h^ p^r^ted )iifl9$elf in the prx^positlonfi of 
J^uclidr^— '^ ElpBient^ that prj^are t^ mind in 
" eviery /wt ajwi every ficieoce, to which the 
*^ ihueian faculties can be applied ; which give 
** ^ rule and unoa^ufe for ^eveiy thing in life, 
^' d%npfy things familiar imd famiiianse things 
'' abetnuse; invigorate thi^ xemom^ nestraioi the 
*^ liisenjtiQU^Ae^s of fancy« open aU the ai^emies 
" of truth, and give a charm .even to contro- 
" versy ai^d dispute-^." I insert this extract, 
bec^ni^ it is in proof to s^ew that my of>inio]i 
with respect to thfi impoxtonce of an ^cademu 
€al education w^s at this period of iife ^ogd* 


ther as strong in favour of the mathematical 
studies, as I have expressed it to be in the for* 
mer Dart of these Memoirs. 

If it were not a ridiculous thing for an au- 
thor to give his own works a good word, I 
should be tempted to risque it in the instance 
of these two volumes of anecdotes; forasmuch 
as I bear them in grateful remembrance, as 
having cheered some of my heaviest hours, 
and as being the first productions sent by me 
into the world after my return out of Spain; 
from which period to the present hour, when 
I review the mass of those many and various 
works, which my literary labours have struck 
out, I will venture to say, that if I have me- 
rited any chance of living in the remembrance 
of posterity, it is in these my latt^r^years I am 
to look for it. 

Before I settled myself at Tunbridge Wells 
I had written my comedy of The WalloonSj 
brought out at Coveni Garden theatre, where 
my friend Henderson exhibited a most inimi- 
table specimen of his powers in the character 
of Father Sullivan. If some people were in- 
genious enough to discover any likeness of the 
Abbe Hussey in that sketch, they imputed to 

VOL. II. o 

19i MEMOIllS OF 

in^ a dffiign, that was never in my thoughts 
It wu Heoderaon, with whom I was living in 
the greatest intimacy, who put me upon the 
project of writing a character for him in the 
cast of Congreve's Double Dealer.r— ♦* Make 
^^ me a fine bold-faced villain, '' he said, *' the 
^* direst and the deepest in nature I care not^ 
^^ so you do but give me motives, strong 
*^ enough to bear me out, and such a promi-r 
^f liency of natural chiiracter, as shall secure 
'* me ftom the contempt of my audience; 
'^ whatever other passions 1 can inspire them 
^* with will never sink me in their esteem.*^ 
^ Upon the same principle I conceived the chat- 
racter of Lord Davenant for him in The Mjff^ 
terious Hu^hand^ and in that he was not less 
conspicuously excellent 

He was an actor of uncommon powers, and 
a man of the brightest intellect, fornied to be 
the ddight of society, and few indeed are those 
men of distinguished talents, who have been 
more prematurely lost to the world, or more 
llistiugly regretted. What he was on the stage 
those, who recollect his Falstaff, Shylock, Sir 
Giles Overreach, and many other parts of the 
strong cast, can fully testify ; what he was at 

ElCHA&t) CtTtt&lSELAKl). 195 

faifi own fire-side and in his social hours, all, 
who were within the circle of his intimates, 
will not easily forget. He had an unceasing 
flow of spirits, and a boundless fund of hu^ 
mour, irresistibly amusing; he also had wit^ 
properly s6 distinguished, and from the spe-*- 
citnens, which I have seen of his sallies in 
verse, levelled at a certain editor of a public 
print, who had annoyed him with his para*** 
graphs, I am satisfied he had talents at his 
command to have established a very high re- 
putation as a poeU I was with him one morn- 
ing, when he was indisposed, and his physi- 
cian Sir John Eliot paid him a visit. The 
doctor, as is well known, was a merry little 
faehig, who talked pretty much at random, 
and oftentimes with no great reverence for the 
i^ub^cts, which he talked upon; upon the 
present occasion however he came profession- 
ally to enquire how his medicines had succeed- 
ed, and in his northern accent demanded of 
Iris patient—** Had he taken the palU that he 
** sent him"—" He had"—" Well ! and how 
" did they agree? What had they done?" — 
" Wonders, replied Henderson ; I survived 
" them"—" To be sure you did, said the 

o 2 


" doctor, and you must take more of 'em, and 
" live for ever : I make all my patients immor- 
" tal" — '* That is exactly what I am afraid of, 
** doctor, rejoined the patient. I met a lady 
" of my acquaintance yesterday : you know her 
" very well : she was in bitter affliction, crying 
** and bewailing herself in a most piteous fa- 
" shion : I asked what had happened ; a melan- 
" lancholy event ; her dearest friend was at 
*' death's door"—" What is her disease, cried 
** the doctor?" — " That is the very question I 
" asked, replied Henderson ; but she was in 
" no danger from her disease ; 'twas very 
" slight ; a mere excuse for calling in a physi- 
*' cian'* — *^ Why, what the devil are you talk- 
" ing about, rejoined the doctor, if she had 
^' called in a physician, and there was no dan- 
*' ger in the disease, how could she be said to be 
" at death's door ?"i — " Because, said Hender- 
"son, she had called in you: every body 
" calls you in ; you dispatch a world of busi- 
" ness, and, if you come but once to each, 
" your practice must have made ybu very 
*' rich" — ^' Nay, nay, quoth Sir John, I am not 
** rich in this world ; I lay up my treasure in 
" heaven'*- — " Then you may take leave of 



" k for ever, rejoined tlie other, for yoii h4ve' 
" laid it up where you will never find it." 

Henderson's memory was so prodigious, that 
I dare not risque the instance which I could 
give pf it, not thinking mysdf entitled to de- 
mand more credit than I should probably be 
disposed to give. In his private character 
maqy/ good a:nd an^able qualities . might be 
trac^dt particularly in his condi^t towards an 
aged, mother, to ^JiQ]:n he bcjre a truly filial 
a!ttachn[ient ; ' and inlaying up a pro vision, for 
his wife and daughter he was at lea$t suiH- 
ciently. careful and oeconofpical. He was con- 
cerned with the elder Sheridan in a course of 
public readings : there cpuld not be a higher 
treat than to hear' his recitations from parts 
and passages in Tristram Shandy: let him 
broil his dish of sprats, seasoned with the sauce 
of his pleasantry, and succeeded by a desert of 
Trim and my uncle Toby, it was ian entertain- 
ment worthy to be qnrolled amongst the nodes 
candsque Divtim. I once heard him read 
part of a tragedy, and btit once ; it was in his 
own parlour, and he ranted most outi^ageously : 
he Was conscious how ill he did it, and laid it 
aside before he had finished it. It was clear 

o 3 • 

19d MEMoxifcit or 

he had not studied that moM excelleHt proper- 
ty of pitching \m voice to the siae of the room 
he was in ; an art, which so few readers have, 
But which Lord Mansfield was allowed to pos« 
3e»s in perfection. He was an admirable mi- 
tnic, and in his sallies of this sort he invented 
Speeches and dialogues, so perfectly appro* 
priate to the characters he was displaying; that 
I don't doubt but many good sayings have 
\jieen given to the persons he made free with, 
whid) being fastened on them by him ma 
frolic, have stuck to tbem ever since^ and 
perhaps gone down to posterity amongst their 
memorabilia. If there was any body now 
qnalified -to draw a parallel between the cha- 
racters of Foote and Henderson, I don't pre- 
tend to «ay how the men of wit and humour 
might divide the laurel betwieen them, but in 
this all men would agree that poor Foote at* 
tached to himself very few true friends, and 
Henderson very many, and those highly res- 
pectable, men virtuous in their lives, and en- 
lightened in their nnderstandings. Foote, 
vain, extravagant, embarrassed, led a wild 
and thoughtless course of life, yet when death 
Upproacbed him, be shrunk back into himsdf, 


saw and confessed bit errors, ^nd I have reason 
to beliere was truly penitent Henderson's 
conduct through life was uniformly decorous^ 
and in the conduding stage of it ^xein|)larily 

I have said be |^yed the part of Lord 
J>av6Bant m my drama of Tke MystcriouB 
Husband : I believe it was upota the last ni^t 
of its. representation, the King and Queeli 
being present, when Hendsrson's exertions in 
the conclcKling scene, where he die$ vpoti the 
stage, occasioned certain agitations^ which 
have thenceforward rendered spectacles of 
that sort very properly ineligible. The late 
Mrs* Pope was very successful and impress 
sive in the character of Lady Davenant, 
which I am. inclined to consider at the bett 
female part I have ever tendered to the stage, 
but as the pky is printed and before the 
pabitc^ the public judgment will decide upon 

Though I continued to amuse my fancy 
with dramatic composition, my <^ief atben^ 
tion was best6wed upon that body 6f ori^nal 
essays, which contpose the volumes of The Ob^ 
HTver. I fiist printed two octavos expoii* 

o 4 


mentally at our press in Tun bridge Wells ; the 
execution was so incorrect^ that I stopped the 
impression as soon as I had engaged my friend 
Mr. Charles Dilly to undertake the reprinting 
of it. He gave it a form and shape fit to 
meet the public eye, and the sale was encou- 
raging. I added to the collection very largely, 
^hd it appeared in a new edition of five vo- 
iumes' ; when these were out jof print,. I macte 
a, fresh arrangement of . the essays, and inciwr' 
pbratiug my entice translatioo of Tke jClouds, 
we iedited the work thus, modelled in sjjc vo- 
lumes, and these bbing now. attached to ikt 
•great, edition of the .British Essayists, I cousi* 
-der thie Observer /as fairly ^enrolled amongst 
the -Standard classics of our. native language. 
ThisiWork therefore hcts obtained: for itself an 
inheritance; it: is fairly, off niy^ hands, and 
wihat I have. to saw abouit it will be confined to 
larfpw simple. facts.; I. had noackuowledgment? 
to make in my concluding essay, for I had rc*- 
•^ived no aid. or assistance from any man liv- 
-iti^J . Every page and paragraph, except what 
is avowed quotation, I Urn singly responsible 
■fori /My much esteemed friend -Richard 
Sharp > Esquire, now of Mark^Lane, had the 


kindness, during tny absence from town to 
correct the sheets as they came from the press ; 
had that judicious friend corrected them he* 
fore they . went to the press, they would have 
heen profited by the reform of many more than 
typo^aphical errors ; but the approbation h^ 
was pletoed to bestow Upon that portion of the 
itrork, which: pftssed under higi. inspection, was 
a. very sensibli^ ^^upport * to me iia the ptosecu- 
•tion of it t for though I wals atware wl^at allow-! 
ances I had to make for his candid disposition 
to .copinaend^ I hM too much confidence in 
)us sinp^ity rtPi suppose? hin^ -^^apaible of com* 
j^limenting jn^'^agsiiust his; Judgip^nt or bis 

- I. have bieeh. suspected of; ^king stories out 
Krf S|]ranish, 4uliliors, . aiid ^^eaying them; into 
some of: these -eiJjSays as jBoy 'P!<^ii without ac- 
knowledging the, plagiarism. Oiiei of my re- 
viewers inst^cesrthestOry of ]NicQf as JPedros^f 


and roundly ^^^erts: that from internal ^yidenca 
it H>ust berQft.Sp^fiishoConstruCtion, and from 
tbeselasfsiimied preQiises ^eave^ me to abide the 
odium of tib^{infe?ence; To this I answer with 
the^nost aolein'n appeal to truth' alid hornour, 
that I ^m i^49bt(^d'to po^uthor whatever, 

£03 MEMOIRS or 


8f)atiish or other^ for a siagle hint) idea or ittg'* 
gestion of an incident in the «tory of VtAto^ 
iror in that 6f the Misanthrope, nor in atiy 
other, which thd work containi^ In the fiftN 
racite of the Pdrtuguese, whe-'wa* brougbt 
bi^fore th^ Inqui^ibn/ what I say of it as behir^ 
matter of tritditian^ ii^rhich i^otleMed ontiie 
spot, i»a tmre fk^don'tJ^^ire an; aik* of trediM- 
Bty and .h<^or to the tale : the whok^ A;vi:tb(SiJt 
exeeption of a ^Hable, ift ab#6}at6 add entir<fc 
Invention. ; . . 

I take eredit to myd*tf fbr ^6» ehfttaet^ of 
Abrabim Abmhai*^s; I wt5t?e it tlp^ principkj 
thinking it high thii^ tiiat something ihoi^ 
be done for a persecuted race : I se<K)fided wy 
Appeal to the cfiarity of mank4nd: by the clia- 
taeter of Shera, vrhich I oopi»d ftom this of 
Abrahams. The public prints ^viei the Jew 
credit for theiJ- sensibility in acknowledging 
iny welUtt tended detviie^: my friends p:^t 
itoe joy of honorary pfesetrtft, and sonje eren 
aceused me of ing/atitudte fdr not making pub* 
lie my thanks for their muniflcenee* I wiM 
^peak plainly on tbis point ; I Ao tm^t heartily 
w«h they had flattered me with some token, 
however smadi, of which I tnight have said 


this is a ttihute tQ my philanthropy^ and de* 
livered it down to my children, as iny beloved 
father did to me his badge of favour from the 
citizens of Dablin '; but not a word from the 
lip^, not a line did I ever receive from the p^n 
of any Jew, though 1 have foond myself 
in company with many of their nation ; and in 
this perhaps the gentlemen are quite rights 
whiht I had form^ expectations, that were 
quite wrong; for if I have said for them only 
what they deserve, why should I be thanked 
for it ? But if I have said more, much tAore^ 
than they deserve, cart they do a wiser thing 
than hold their tongues ? 

It is reported of me, and very generally 
believed, that I compose with great rajiidity. 
I must own the mass of my writing*, (of 
which the world has not seen more than half) 
might seem to warrant that report ; but it is 
pnly true in some particular instances, not in 
the general; if it were, I should not be disin- 
clined to avail myself of so good an ap<Jbgy 
for my many errors and inaccuracies, or of so 
good a proof of tlie fertility and vivacity of my 
fancy. The fact is, that every hour in the 
day is my hour for study, and that a minute 


rarely passes, in which I am absolutely* idle; 
in short, I never do nothing. Nature has 
given me the hereditary blessing of a constitu- 
tional and habitual temperance, that revolts 
against excess of any sort, and never suffers 
appetite to load the frame : I ani accordingly 
as fit to resume mjy book or my pen the in- 
stant: after my meal as I was in the freshest 
hours of the morning. I never have been ac- 
custoiped to retire to my study for silence and 
meditation; in fact my book-room at Tun- 
bridge Wells was. occupied as a bed room, and 
what books I had occasion to consult I brought 
down to the common sitting-room, where 
in company, with my wife and family, (nei- 
ther interrupting ; them, nor interrupted by 
them) I wrote Tljke Observer or whatever else 
, I had in hand. 

I think it cannot be supposed but that the 
composition of those essays must have been a 
work of time and labour; I trust there is in- 
ternal evidence of that, particularly in that 
portion of it, which professes to review the 
literary age of Greece, and gives a history of 
the Athenian stage. That series of papers 
will I hope remain as a monument of ray in- 


dustry in collecting materials, and of my cor- 
rectness in disposing them^ ; and when I lay to 
my heart the consolation I derive from the ho* 
nonrs now bestowed upon me at the close of 
my career by one, who is only in the first, out- 
set of his, what have I not to augur for myself, , 
when he who starts with such auspicious pro- 
mise has been pleased to take my fame in hand, 
and link it to his own ? If any of my readers 
are yet to . seek for the author, to whom I al- 
lude, the Comicorum Graecorum fragmenta 
quaedam will lead them to his name, and him 
to their respect. 

If I cannot resist the gratification of insert- 
ing the paragraph, (page 7) which places my 
dim l*mp between those brilliant stars of clas* 
sic lustre, Richard Bentley and Richard Por- 
son, am I to be set down as a conceited vain 
old man ? Let it be so ! I can't help it, and 
in truth I don't much care about it. Thdusth 
the following extract may be the weakest thing, 
that Mr. Robert Walpole, of Trinity College, 
Cambridge, ever has written, or ever shall 
write, it will outlive the strongest thing, that 
can be said against it, and I will therefore ar- 
rest and incorporate it, as follows— ^^//^w</^ 



quoque baud txiguum ornamentum huic *oalu^ 
mini accessity siquide^ Cumberlandius nostras 
amich benevoiique permisit^ ut *cersianes suaM 
quorundam fragmentorum^ esquisitas sane 
illas, ' mirdque elegentid conditas et commen* 
datas hue transferrem. 

If there is any man, who has reached my 
age, and written as much as I have with as 
little recompence for it, who can seriously con^ 
demn me, to his sentence I submit ; as for the 
sneerers and sub-critics, who can neither write 
themselves, nor feel for those who do, they are 
welcome to make the most of it. 

My publisher informs me that enquiries .are 
made of him, if I have it in design to translate 
more comedies of Aristophanes, and thatf these 
enquiries are accompanied by wishes for my 
^mdertaking it. I am flattered by the honour, 
ivhich these gentkinen confer upon me, but 
the version of The Clouds cost me much tim6 
and trouble ; I have no right to reckon upon 
much more time for any thing, and it is very 
greatly my wish to collect and revise the whole 
of my unpublished, and above all Dfmyun«* 
acted dramas, which are very numejous; I 
have also a work far advanced, though put 



wide during the writing of thme Memoirs, 
whicby if life h granted to me, I shall he anxi- 
om to complete, I must further obser^-e that 
there ia but one more .comedy in our volume 
of Aristophanes^ vi«» The PlutuSy which I 
could be tempted to translate. ... 

As I hope I have already given a sufficient 
answer to those, who were offended with my 
treatment of Socrates, I have nothing more to 
say of The Observer, or its author. 

Henderson acted in one other play of my 
writing for his benefit, and took the part of 
The Arabj which gave its title to the tragedy. 
I have now in my mind's eye the look he gave 
me, so comically conscious of taking what his 
judgment told him he ought to refuse, when I 
put into his hand my tributary guineas for the 
few places J had taken in his theatre — *^ If I 
" were not the most covetous dog in creation, 
** he cried, I should not take your money ; but 
" I cannot hdpit'' I gave up my tragedy to 
his use for one night o«ly, and have never put 
it to any use since. His death soon followed, 
and he was hurried to the grave in the vigour 
of his talents, and the meridian of his fame. 

The bte Mrs, Pop^, tbea Miss Young, per- 

208 M£MOI<RS OF 

formed a part in The Arah^ and I find an epi- 
logue, which I presume she spoke, though of 
this I am not certain. I discovered it amongst 
my papers, and as I flatter myself there are 
some points in it not amiss, I take the liberty 
of inserting it. 

*^ Epilogue to the Arab* 
' " Miss Young. 
<* Yes, 'tis as I predicted — There yoo sit 
<^ Expecting some smart relisher of wit* 
<' Why, 'tis a delicacy out of season 
^^ Sirs, have some conscience ! ladies, hear some reason ! 
*^ With your accustomM grace you come to share 
'^ Your humble actor's annual bill of fare ; 
** But for wit, take it how he will, I tell you, 
^< All hare not FalstaflPs brains, that hare his belly. 
<^ Wit is not all men's money ; when you'it bought it, 
<< Look at your lot Yoa're trick'd. Who co)ild hare 

" thought it ? 
<^ Read it, 'tis folly ; court it, a coquette ; 
*^ Wed it, a libertine — you're fairly met. 
<^ No sex, age, country, character, nor clime, 
<< No rank commands it ; it obeys no time ; 
<< FearM, loT'd, and hated ; prais'd, ador'd aiid«urt*d, , 
<< The very best of all things and the worst ; 
<^ From this extreme to that for e?er hurl'd, 
'^ The idol and the outlaw of the world, 
<< In France, Spain, England, Italy and Greece, 
<^ Tlie joy, plague, pride and fnqt-ball of caprice. 


' ^^ Is it in that imui's face^ who looks so vise 

*^ With lips half-opened and with half-shut eyes ? 

*' Silent grimace ! — Flows it from^this man's tongue, 

" With quaint conceits and punning quibbles hung ? ^ 

<^ A nauseous counterfeit ! — Hark ! now I hear it— » 

<^ Rank inrfidelity! — I cannot bear it. 

" See where her tea.table Vanessa spreads ! 

^' A motley groupeof heterogeneous heads 

^^ Gathers around ; the goddess in a cloud 

^^ Of incense sits amidst the adoring crowd, 

^^ So many smiles, nods, simpers she dispenses 

*f Instead of five you'd think she'd fifteen senses 5 

^^ Alike impatient all at once to shine, 

^^ Eager they plunge in wit's tuifathom'd mine : 

^^ Deep underneath the stubborn ore remains, 

^^ The paltry tin breaks np, and mocks their pains^ 

^^ Ask wif of me ! Oh monstrous, I declare 
" You might as well ask it of my Lord Mayor : 
*' Require it in an epilogue ! a road 
^^ As track'd and trodden as a birth-day^ ode ; 
^^ Oh, rather turn to those malicious elres, 
^^ Who see it in no mortal but themselves ; 
" Our gratitude is all we have to give, 
*' And that we trust your candour will receive." 

Garrick died also, and was followed to the 
Abbey by a long extended train of friends, 
illustrious for their rank and genius, who truly 
mourned a man, so perfect in his art, that na- 
ture hath not yet produced an actor, wortlay 

VOL. II. p 


to be called his second. I saw old Samuel 
Johnson standing beside his grave, at the foot 
of Shakespeare's monument, and bathed in 
tears ; a few succeeding years laid him in earth, 
and though the marble shall preserve for agen 
the exact resemblance of his form and features; 
his own strong pen has pictured out a tran-. 
script of his mind, that shall outlive that and 
the very language, which he laboured to peri« 
petuate. Johnson's best days were dark, and 
only, when his life was far iti the decline, he 
enjoyed a gleam 6f fortune long withheld,—^ 
Compare him with his countryman and con- 
temporaiy last-mentioned, and it will be one 
instance amongst many, that the man, who 
only brings the Muse's bantlings into the world 
has a better lot in it, than he, who has the crC^ 
dit of begetting them. 

Reynolds the friend of both these worthies, 
had a measure of prosperity amply dealt out to 
him ; he sunned himself in an unclouded sky, 
and his Muse, that gave him a pallet dressed 
by all the Graces, brought him also a comu- 
copiae rich and full as Flora, Ceres and Bac^ 
chus could conspire to make it. His hearse 
was alsQ followed by ^ noble cavalcade of 


mournerS) many of whom^ I dare believe^ left 
better faces hanging by the wall, than those 
they carded with them to bis fliReral. When 
he was lost to the woild, hi& death was the dis- 
persion of a bright aii(i luminous circle of in- 
genious friends^ whom the etegance of his man*- 
ner% the equability of his temper and the at- 
traction of his talents bad caused to assemble 
round him as the centre of their society. In 
all the most engaging graces of his heart; in 
jdisposition, attitude, employment, character 
of his figures, and above all in giving mind and 
meaning to his portraits, if I wepe to say Sir 
Joshua never iKfas excelled^ I am inclined to 
believe so many better opinions would be with 
me, that I should net be found to have said 
too much. 

Romney in the mean time shy^ private, stu- 
dious and contemplative ; conscious of all the 
disadvantages €ind privations of a very stinted 
education ; of a habit naturally hypochondriac, 
with aspen nerves, that every breath could 
Tuffie, was at once in art the rival, and in na- 
ture the very contrast of Sir Joshua. A man 
of few wants, strict eeconomy and with no disr 
like to money, he bad opportunities enough to 

p 3 


ench him even to satiety, but he was at one? 
so eager to begin, and so slow in finishing his 
portraits, that he was for ever disappointed of 
receiving payment for them by the casualties 
and revolutions in the families they were dcr 
signed for, so many of his sitters were killed 
off, so many favourite Btdies were dismissed, so 
many fond wives divorced, before he would 
bestow half an hour's pains upon their pettir 
co^ts, that his unsaleable stock was immense, 
whilst with a little more regularity and deci- 
sion he would have, more than doubled his for- 
tune, and escaped an infinitude of petty trou- 
bles, that disturbed his temper. At length 
exhausted rather by the languor than hy the 
labour of his mind, this admirable artist re- 
tired to his native county in the north of Eng- 
land, and there, after hovering between life 
and death, neither wholly deprived of the one, 
nor completely rescued by the other, he con^ 
tinned to decline, till at last he sunk into a dis- 
tant and inglorious grave, fortuna,te alone ib 
this, that his fan^e is cpnsigned to the protec- 
tion of Mr. Hayley, from whom the world ex- 
pects his history : there if he says no more of 
him, than that he was at l^ast as good ^ paiu- 

lllCHAltD CliMBERtAND. 213 

ter as Mr. Cowper was a poet, he Iv^ill say 
Enough ; and if his readers See the parallel in 
the light that I do, they will not think that 
he shall have said too much. 

When. I -first knew Romney, he was poorly 
lodged in Newport- Street, and painted at the 
small price of eight galbeas for a three-quarters 
portrait : I sate to him, and was the first, who 
encouraged him to advance his terms, by pay- 
ing him ten guineas for his performance* I 
brought Garrick to see his pictures, Sloping to 
interest him in his favour ; a large family piece 
unluckily arrested -his attention ; a gentleman, 
in a close-buckkd bob A^ig and a sc&,rlet waist- 
coat laced with gold, with his wife anfl children, 
(some sitting, some standing) had taken pos* 
Session of some yirds of canvass vety much, as 
it appeared, to their own satisfaction, Sot they 
were perfectly atftused in a contented absti- 
nence from all thought or action; Upon this 
unfortunate groupe when Garrick had fixed 
his lynx's eyes, he began to put himself into 
the aittitude of the gentleman, and turning / to 
Mr. Romney— ^" Upon my word, Sir, said he> 
" this is a very regular welUordered iamily, 
" and that is^ a very bright well- rubbed raaho- 

p 3 


*' ^iiy taUe, at which that motheriy go^ 
'' lady is «ktiiig| and this worthy geademaii 
** itx the 8cafkt waistcoat is doubtless a very 
" excellent subject to the state I mean^ (if all 
*^ these Me his chil^^n) but not for your art, 
" Mr. RofnrBey, if you mean to pursue it with 
*^ that success^ which. I bo^ will attend 
** y«u*— /* The modeat artist took the hint> 
as it wtas meant, in good f>art, and toriied his 
family with their faces to the wall. When 
Ibomttey ipreduced my portrait, not yet finish*- 
ed*— ^It was very well, Garrick observed ; *' That 
is very like my friend, and that blue coat 
with a red <^ape is very fike the coat he has 
** on, itnt you m«ist give hitn something todo ; 
'^ fmta.pen ^in his liaBd, a paper <m his table, 
** and make him a poet ; ^ you can once set 
^' hian down well t^ liis writing, who knows 
*^ bmt iin time he may write something in your 
" prawe.'* TliQse words weKe mot absolutely 
a^ipro^hetical^ I maintained a friendship :for 
Aoinney to bts death ; he was utviformly kind 
and a^ctridnate to vne, and certainly I was 
zealous in my services to him. After hisi 
death I wrote a short account (^ him, which^ 
was published in a mstgazine ; I did my bes^ 



bt^t must confess I should not have undertaken 
it but at the desire of my excellent friend Mr. 
Grreen of Bedford-Square, and being further 
urged to it by the wishes of two other valuable 
friends Mr. Long of Lincoln's Inn Fields^ and 
Mr. Daniel Braythwaite, whom I sincerely 
esteem^ it was not for me to hesitate, especially 
las I was not then informed of Mr^ Haylcy s 
purpose to take that work upon himself. 

Here I am tempted to insert a few lines^. 
which about this time I put together^ more 
perhaps for the purpose of speaking civilly of 
Mn Romney than for any bther use, that I 
could put them to ; but as I find there is ho- 
norable mention made of Sir Joshua Reynolds 
also, I give the whole copy as a furtlier proof, 
thsit neither in verse or prose did I ever fail to 
speak of that celebrated painter but with the 
respect so justly due* 

<^ Wheki Gotliic rage had pat the arts to flight 
^ And wrapt the world in uniyersal night, 

< When the dire northern swarm with seas of blood 

< Had drowned citation in a second flood, 

^ When all was Toid, disconsolate and dark, 

< Rome in her ash«8 found one latent 'spark, 

P 4 




<^ She^ not unmindful of ker ancient name, 
<^ Nurs'd her last hope and fed the sacred flame ^ 
^^ Still as it grew, new streams of orient light 
^^ Beam'd on the world and cheer'd the fainting sight} 
<' Rous'd from the tombi^ of the illustrions dead 
<^ Immortal science rear'd her mournful head ; 
^^ And raourni she shall to timers eitremest hour 
^^ The dire effects of Omar's sarage power, 
^^ When rigid Amrou's too obedient hand 
^* Made Alexandria blaze at his command ; 
*^ Six months he fed the sacrilegious flame 
*^ With the stor'd volumes of recorded fame : 
^^ There died all memory of the great and good^ 
^^ Then Greece and Rome were finally subdu'd. 
' ^^ Yet monkish ignorance had not quite effaced 
^^ AH that the ehissel wrought, the pencil trac'd;* 
. ^^ Some precious reliques of the ancient hoard 
^' Or happy chance, or curious search restor'd ; 
*^ The wond'ring artist kindled as he gaz'd, 
'^^ And eaught perfection from^the work he prus'dir 
i* << Of painters then the celebrated race 

'^ Rose into fame with each attendant grace ; 
*^ Still, as it spread, the wonder-dealing art 
^^ ImproT'd the manners and reform'd the heart ; 
^' Darkness dispersed and Italy became 
<^ Once more the seat of elegance and fame. 
" Late, Tery late, on this sequestered isle 
^^ The.heav'n-descended art was seen to smile ; 
^^ Seldom she came to this storm-beaten coast^ 
^^ And short her stay, just seen^ admirM and lost :^ ' 



^* Reynolds at length, her fatourite suitor^ bore ' 

** The blushing stratiger to his natiye shore i 

^^ He by no mean, no selfish motives sway'd 

*^ To public view held forth the liberal maid, ' 

^^ Call*d his admiring countrymen around, 

*^ Freely declar*d what raptures he had found $ 

^^ Told them that merit would alike impart 

** To him 01* them a passage to her heart. 

*' RousK^d at the call, all came to new her charm£i^ 

^< All press'd, all strove to clasp her in their arms ; 

^^ See CoeUs and Dance and Gainsborough seize the spoit^ 

^^ And ready Mortimer that laughs at toil ; 

*^ Crown'd with fresh roses graceful Humphry stands^ 

** While beauty grows immortal from his hands ; 

^^ Stuhhs like a lion springs upon his prey, 

<« With bold eccentric Wright that hates the day J 

<< Familiar Zoffany with comic airt, 

^^ And West great painter of the human heart. 

** These and yet more unnam*d that to our eyes 

<^ Bid lawns and groves and tow'ring mountains rhe^ 

<^ Point the bold rock or stretch the bursting sail, 

*^ Smooth the calm sea, or drive th* impetuous gale : 

<^ Some hunt 'midst fruit and flowery wreaths for famej^ 

<^ And Elmer springs it in the f^ther'd game. 

^^ Apart and bending o'er the azure tide, 
<^ With heavenly Contemplation by his side, 
^^ A pensive artist stands — in thoughtful mood, 
*' With dowilcast looks he eyes the ebbing flood ;- 
^^ No wild, ambition swells his temperate heart^^ 
^^ Himself a;» pure, as patient as his art,. 

218 MBMOtAi^ or 

<^ Nor sullen sorrow, nor latempenite joy 
' <^ The even teaour of his thou^ts destroy^ 
<^ An undiBtingttish'd candidate for fame, 
<^ At once his country's glory and its shamo : 
^' Ronse then at length, with honest pride inspir'd^ 
^* RomfUQfy adtaace 1 2>e known and be admir'd." 

I perceive I must resume the immediate sub 
ject of these Memoirs ; it is truly a relief to 
me, when I am called off from it, for unvaried 
egotism wbuld be a toil too heavy for my 
mindi When I attempt to look into the mass 
of my productions, I can keep no order in the 
enumeration of them ; I have not patience to 
arrange them According to their dates : I be- 
lieve I have written at least fifty dramas pub- 
lished and unpublished. Amongst the latter 
of these there are some, which in my sincere 
opinion are better than most, which have yet 
seen the light: they certainly have had the ad- 
vantages of a more mature correction. When 
I went to Spain I left in Mr. Harris's hands a 
tragedy on the subject of The Elder Brutus ; 
the temper of the times was by no means 
suited to the character of the play ; I have iie* 
ver written any drama so much to my own sa- 
tisfaction, and my partiality to it has been 



flattered by the judgimfent of several, who have 
read it I have written dramas on the storie» 
of the False Dtmctrius, of Tiberius in Ca^ 
prtttB^ and a tragedy on a plot fHirely inventive^ 
which I entitled Torrential ; these with seve«* 
ral others may in time to come, if life shall be 
continued to me, be formed into a collection 
and submitted to the public. 

About the time, at which my story points^ 
my tragedy of The Carmelite was acted at 
Drury^Lane, and most ably supported by Mrs. 
Siddons, who took the part of the Lady of 
Saint Valort, and also spoke tl^ Epilogue^ 
She played inimitably, and in those days^ 
when only men. and women trode the stage, 
the public weie contented with what was per* 
iect in nature, and of course admired and ap- 
plauded Mrs. Siddons ; they could then also 
see asneritt; in Mr. Kemble, who was in the com- 
mecioement of his career, and appeared in die 
character of (be youthful Montgomeri : the 
andienoes of that time did not think the worse 
of him because he had reached the a^^e of man« 
hood, and appeared before them in the full 
stature and complete jnaturity of one of the 
finest forms, that probably was ever exhibited 



M£MOIItS of 

upon a public stage. A revolution since tbeft 
has taken plac'C; a caprice^ as ridiculous- as it i& 
CKtraordinary, and a general act of superan- 
nuation has gone forth against every male per- 
former, that has a beard. How I am to style 
this young child of fortune, this adopted fa- 
vourite of the public, I don*t rightly knowj 
the bills of Covent-Garden announce him as 
Master Betty, those of Drury-Lane as. the 
Young Rosfcius* Roscius, as I believe upon 
the authority of Shakespear, was an actor in 
RomCy and Cicero, who admired him, made a 
speech in his praise: all this of course is very 
right on both sides, and exactly as it should 
be. Mr. Harris announces him to the old wo- 
men in the galleries in a phrase, that is fami^. 
liar to them ; whilst Mr. Sheridan, presenting 
him^^to the senators in the boxes by the style 
and title of Roscius, fails perhaps in his little 
representative of the great Roman actor, but 
perfectly succeeds in his own similitude to the 
eloquent Roman orator. In the mean time my 
friend Smith of Bury, with all that zeal for me- 
rit, which is natural to him, marries him to 
Melpomene with the ri»g of Garrick, and 
strewing roses of Parnassus on the nuptial 


couch, crowns happy Master Betty, alias 
Young Roscius, with a never-fading chaplet 
of imm ortal verse 

jind now when death dissohes his moricd frame j 
His soul shail mount to hetto^nfrom whence it came^ 
Earth keep his ashes^ verse preserve his fame. 

How delicious to be praised and panegyrised 
in such a style ; to be caressed by dukes, and 
(which is better) by the daughters of dukes, 
flattered by wits, feasted by aldermen, stuck 
up in the windows of the print shops, and set 
astride (as these eyes have seen him) upon the 
cut-water of a privateer, Uike the tutelary ge- 
nius of the British flag;. 

What encouragements doth this great en- 
lightened nation hold forth to merit ? What 
a consolatory reflection must it be to the su- 
perannuated yellow admirals of the stage, that 
when they shall arrive at second childhood^ 
they may still have a chance to arrive at ho^ 
nours second only to these ! I declare I saw 
with surprise a man, who led about a bear to 
4ance for the edification of the public, lose all 
his popularity in the street, where this exqui-» 
site young gentleman has his lodging; the 
people ran to see him at the window, and left 



this bear and the bear* leader in a solitude. 
I saw this exquisite young geatlemap, whilst 
I paced the streets on foot, wafted to hia 
morning's rehearsal in a vehicle, that to my 
vulgar optics seemed to wear upon its polished 
doors the ensign of a ducal crown ; I looked 
to see if haply John Kemble were on the 
braces, or Cooke perchance behind the coach ; 
I saw the lacquies at their post, but Glenalvoo 
was not' there: I found John Kemble sick at 
bome-^I said within myself*-^ — 

Oh ! what a time kaoe y9u chose outj hrafoe CaiuB^ 
To toeur a hotikieff tVould you inert not sick ! 

We shall have a second influx of the pig- 
mies ; they will pour upon us in multitudes in- 
numerable as a shoal of sprats, and when at 
last wt have nothing else but such small 
fry to feed on, an epidemic nausea will take 

There are intervals in fevers ; there are lu- 
cid moments in madness; even folly can* 
not keep possession of the mind for ever. It is 
very natural to encourage rising genius, it is 
highly commendable to foster its first shoots ; 
we admire and caress a clever school boy, but 
we should do very ill tt> turn his master out of 


his office and put him into it. If the the- 
atres persist in their puerilities^ th^y ynil find 
themseiyes very shortly in the predicament 
of an ingenious mechanic, whoqi I remem« 
her in my younger days, and whose story 
I will briefly relate, in hopes it may be a warn- 
ing to them. 

This very ingenious artist, when 'Mr. Rich 
the Harlequin was the great dramatic author 
of his time, and wrote successfully for the stage^ 
contrived and executed a most delicious ser- 
pent for one of those inimitable productions^ 
in which Mr. Rich, justly disdaining the weak 
aid of language, had selected the classical fa«^ 
ble (if I rightly recollect it) of Orpheus and 
Eurydice, and having conceived a very capital 
part for the serpent, was justly anxious to pro* 
vide himself with a performer, who could sup^ 
port a character of that consequence with cre^ 
dit to himself and to his author. The event 
answered his most ardent hopes; nothing 
could be more perfect in his entrances and 
exits, nothing ever crawled across the stage 
with more accomplished sinuosity than thip; 
enchanting serpent; every soul was charmed 
with it§ performance ; it twirled and twisted 


and wriggled itself about in so divine a man* 
ner, the whole world was ravished with the 
lovely snake : nobles, and non-nobles, rich and 
poor, old and young, reps and demi-reps 
flocked to see it, and admire it. The artist, 
who had been the master of the movement, 
was intoxicated with his success ; he turned 
his hands and head to nothing else but ser- 
pents ; he made them of all sizes, they crawled 
about his shop as if he had J>een chief sqjike- 
catcher to the furies : the public curiosity was 
satisfied with one serpent, and he had nests of 
them yet unsold ; his stock laid dead upon his 
hands, his trade was lost, and the man was 
ruined, bankrupt and undone. 

Here it occurs to me that in one of my pre- 
ceding pages I have promised to address a 
parting word to my brethren and contempo- 
raries in the dramatic line. If what I have 
now been saying coincides with their opinions, 
I have said enough ; if it does not, what I 
might add to it would be all too much, and the 
experience of grey hairs would be in vain op^ 
posed to the prejudices of green heads. May 
success attend them in their efforts, whenever 
they shall seriously address them to thp study 


tif thc^ legitiip^te drama, an4 the restoration of 
good taste ! Thefe is no l^ck of genius in thp 
mUon; I therefore will not tot3.l}y despair, 
j^ %s I nm, pf living still to witpess the com- 
m^^imm^nt ^S a brighter spra. 

About thi3 time I unflprfeopli the h?rdy 
ta&k of di&ring in ppinion fypm oije qf th^ 
ablest sobolaris apd finest writers in the king- 
dont, and controverted the propo$ftl of the Sir 
«h£>p Qsf Llan4alF fpr equalizing the revenues pf 
the bieiarchy and dignitaries of the churc^ 
established. I $tiU think I had the best of thp 
argnment, and that his lQr4sh]p did a t^iser 
thing in dedtning the cpntroyiersy, than }pi 
throwing out the pi'opQsaU I haye re^d f 
charge of th^ bishop's tP the i^lergy of his dio- 
cese for enforcing many ppint^ pf discipline, 
and enjoining resideufse. As his lordship neir 
ther resides in bis dipcese, upr executes the im- 
portant duty of Regius Professor of Diyinity 
in person, I am not informed wliether his cler- 
gy took their rule of conduct from his priecept, 
or from bis example ; bjut I talge for granted 
that those, whose poverty conned them to 
their parsonages, diid not stray frjcxn hpme, ^nd 
that those, whose me»ns eji^bled theiQ to visit 

YOL, ij. Q 


Other places, did not want a precedent to refer 
to for their apology. 
f As I have dealt extremely little in anony- 

mous publications, I may as well confess my- 
self in this place the author of a pamphlet 
entitled Cur tins rescued fram the Gulph. I 
conceived that Doctor Parr had hit an unof- 
fending gentleman too hard, by launching a 
imge fragment of Greek at his defenceless 
head. The subject was started, and the ex-^ 
terminating weapon produced at one of my 
friend Dilly's literary dinners ; there were se* 
veral gentlemen present better armed for the 
encounter than myself, but the lot fell upon me 
to turn out against Ajax. I made as good a 
fight as I could, and rummaged my indes^es for 
quotations, which I cr?immed into my arlillciy 
as thick as grape shot, and in mere sport &[^ 
them off against a rock invulnerable as the 
armour of Achilles. It was very well ob- 
served by my friend Mr. Dilly upon the pro- 
fusion of quotations, which some writers af- 
fectedly make use of, that he knew a presby- 
terian p^son, who for eighteen-pence would 
furnish any pamphleteer with as many scraps 
pf Greek and Latin, as would pass him off fov 


an accomplished classic. I siiiiply discharge 
a debt of gratitude, justly due, when I acknow- 
ledge the great and frequent gratifications I 
have received at the hospitable board of the 
worthy friend last-mentioned, who whilst he 
conducted upon principles of the strictest in- 
tegrity the extensive business carried on at his 
house in the Poultry, kept a table ever open to 
the patrons and. pursuers of literature, which 
was so administered as to draw the best cir- 
cles together, and to put them most com* 
pletely at their ease. No man ever understood 
this better, and few ever practised it with such 
success, or on so large a scale: it was done 
without parade, and in that consisted the pe- 
culiar air of comfort and repose, which charac- 
terised those meetings : hence it came to pass 
that . men of genius and learning resorted to 
them with delight, and here it was that they 
were to be found divested of reserve, and in 
their happiest moments. Under this roof the 
biographer of Johnson, and the pleasant tour- 
ist to Corsica and the Hebrides, passed many 
jovial joyous hours ; here he has located some 
of the liveliest scenes and most brilliant pas-^ 
sagra in his entertaining anecdotes of his^ 


firieacl Samuel Jolinsoh, who yet lives asdi 
speaks in him. The book of Boswdl, is, ever 
AS the year comes .round, my wintcr-evemog*& 
entertainment : I loved the man ; he had gvcat 
convivial ^wers aind zn inexhaustible fund 
of good humour in saciiety; no body could 
detail die spirit of a conversatiou in the 
true style and character of the parties more 
happily than my friend James Boswell, espe^ 
cially when his vivaicity was excited, and his 
heart exhilarated by the circulation of the 
glasS) and the grateful odour of a well-broiled 

To these parties I can trace my first impres-; 
«on. of e«tem % certain chantcters, whose 
merits are above my praise, aoid of whose 
friendship I have still to boast. From Mr« 
Dilly*s hospitality I derive not only the recol- 
lection of pleasure past, but the enjoyment of 
happiness yet in my possession. ]^eatb has 
not struck so deep in^o that cirde, but that 
some ate left, whose nan^s are Sear to ^society, 
whom I have stili to number asnongrt my liv- 
mg friends, to whom I canaresort aaad find my- 
self not lost to their rememfaraiioe. Our hos^ 
pitable host, retired from business, still greets 

felCHAmi) CtntfRBHLAND. S29 

Ihe with a friendly welcome ; in the company 
of the worthy Braythwatte 1 can enjoy the 
toutemplation of a man universally beloved^ 
full indeed of years, but warm in feeling, un* 
impaired in faculties and glowing with hene-^ 

I can visit thcjustly^admired author of 2%e 
Pleasures of Memory^ and find myself with 
ft friend, who together with the brightest, gc* 
iiius possesses elegance of manners and excel*' 
lence of heart. He tells me he remembers the 
day of our first meeting at Mr. Dilly^s j I also 
' remember it, and though his modeat unas- 
suming natui^e held back and shrunk from all 
appearance of ostentation and display of ta- 
lents, yet even then I take credit for discover- 
ing a promise of good things to come, and 
suspected him of holding secret commerce with 
the Muse, before the proof appeared in shape 
of one of the most beautiful and harmonious 
poems in our language. I do not say that he 
has not ornamented the age he lives in, though 
he were to stop where he is, but I hope he will 
not so totally deliver himself over to the Arts 
as to iieglect the Muses ; and I now publicly 
call upon Samuel Rogers to answer to hi$ 



name, and stand forth in the title page of some 
future work that shall be in substance greater, 
in dignity of subject more sublime, and in pu- 
rity of versification not less charming than his 
poem above-mentioned. 

My good and virorthy friend Mr. Sharpe has 
made himself in some degree responsible to the 
public, for having been the first to suggest 
to me the idea of writing this huge volume 
of my Memoirs ; he knows I was not easily 
encouraged to believe my history could be 
made interesting to the readers of it, and in 
truth opinion less authoritative than his would 
not have prevailed with me to commit myself 
to the undertaking. Neither he nor I how- 
ever at that time had any thought of publish- 
ing before my death ; in proof of which I have 
luckily laid my hand upon the following lines 
amongst the chaos of my manuscripts, which 
will shew that I made suit to him to protect 
this SLfid other reliques of my pen, when I had 
paid the debt of nature 

<^ To Richard Sharpe Esquire of Mark-Lane. 



^^ If rhjmtf e'er spoke the language of the heari^ 
'^ Or tr«th emplojr'd the measured phrase of art. 


^^ BelieTe mO) Sharps, this verse, wliioh smoothlj flowi^ 

^' Hath all the rough sinceritj of prose* 

^^ False flatteriDg words from eager lips may flj^ 

*^ But who can pause to harmonize a lie ? 

« Or e'er he made' the jingliog couplet chime, 

^^ Conscienoe would start and reprobate the rhyme* 

^^ If theik 'twere merely to entrap youT ear 

^^ I calQ' friend, and pledg'd myself sincere, 

<< Grenius would shudder at the base design, 

<< And my hand tremble as I shap'd the line* 

<^ Poets oft times are tickled with a word) 

<< That gaily glitters at the festiye boar^ 

*< And mimy a man, my judgment can't af^rOT^ 

^^ Hath trick'd my foolish fancy of its loTe ; 

<^ For every foible natural to my race 

^' Finds for a time with me some fleeting place ; 

<< But occupants so weak have no controul^ 

<^ No fix'd and legal tenure in my soul, 

<^ Nor will my reason quit the, faithful clue, 

<< That points to truth, to virtue an^ to you* 

^^ In the vicissitudes of life we find 
*' Strange turns and twinings in the human mind, 
"^^ And he, who seeks consistency of plan, 
^'^ Is little vers'd in the great map of man ; 
*^ The wider still the sphere in which we liir^ji 
*^ The more our calls to suffer and forgive ; 
<< Bnt from the hour (and many years are past) 
<^ From the first hour I knew you to the last, 
<< Through eyefj scene, sellf-center'd and at rest, 
''^Your steady character hath stood the test, 



236 KfiMOIRlS OV 


(( No rash i;<Aeek« diVeH jrouir sblM tlK>«glit^ 
<< By patience foster'd afid with cAAdtmr fhiti|^t jf 
<< Mild in opfniott, bxd of son! sinceire, 
<< And only to tbt io& of trilth ftet«t«$ 
% << So unobt^ttsilre k yotilr trtodotti's tone^ 
<< Yetiir co&ttits IMM: tmd IfMicy it their «iim> 
<^ With hand f^ fillip .ytou pfdbe tlie fwterliig ini»i, 
^^ You heal oiir trminds, And ledtvtB no sore hehind* 
/^ Now say, tidy friend-^-^at t^er yo« toudi th« tftsk 
<< Weigh well the bUDrdeft ot Ae boon I ask>— 
<< Say, when the pCiUieb of diis he^tt «hali e^ase, 
<< And my sonf ^iiiitii h&e mAA to seek her pMrir^^ 
<< WiU yidar !seal ^irolnpt y^Mi to pr^t^et the lUmKi 
<< Of one not totally Unkttt^wm to fame ? 
*^ Will you, who only call the plftde supply 
<^ Of a lost sob, {yefiieild tny ptogtny ? 
<< For when Ihe irtrfeck go^ do>fm there WiU be ibtt<id 
<< Some remnants ^ flie fte^h% to flOftt i^^^tind, ' 
<^ Some that long Itee bftth i^Oikt sttiitchVI ^rofti %ht, 
<^ And more tmseenj tiMii struggle fiof tiie tight ; 
^^ And sure I am the sfa^e irlU tat>t refuse, 
« To *ft he* c^rfcaitt fot itty widow'd Mese, 
" Nor will her heaf^rfi les* ittdulgent be, 
** When that k*t curftitn shall be dro^t on me.'* 

I have fairly given the Reasons, that prevail- 
ed with me for publishing these Memoirs in 
my life time, and 1 believe every' man, that 
knows .them, will acknowledge they are lea- 
fions sufficiently cogent My friend Sharpe 


Vefy kindly acceded to the suit above*-made ; 
Mr. Rogers has since joined him in the task, 
end Sir James Bland Barges, of whose friend** 
ship I hftve had many and most convincing 
proofs, has with the candour, that is natural 
to an enlightened mind, generously engaged 
to take his share in selecting and arranging the 
miscellaneous farrago, that will be found in my 
drawers^ after my body has been committed 
to the earth. To th^se three friends I devote 
this task, and upon their judgment I rely for 
the publication or suppression of what they 
may find amongst my literary relics ; they are 
all much younger men thaU I am, and I pray 
God, that death, who cannot long spare m^, 
will not draw those arrows from his quiver, 
which fate has destined to extinguish them, till 
they have completed a career equal at least in 
leUgth to mine, crowned with more fame, and 
graced with much more fortune and prospCi* 
rity. I know that they will do what they 
have said, and faithfully protect my posthu- 
mous reputation, as I have been a faithful friend 
to them and to their living works. 

The heroic poem of Richard the First is 
truly a very extraordinary work. I am a wit- 


ness to the extreme rapidity, with which mf 
friend the author wrote it It far exceeded 
the supposed rate, at which Pope translated 
Homer, -which being at fifty lines per day, 
Samuel Johnson hesitates to give credit to*— 
If to this we take into account the peculiar 
construction of the stanza, every one of which 
involves four, three and two terminations in 
rhyme, and which must naturally have en- 
hanced the labour of the poet in a v^y consi- 
derable degree, I am astonished at the facility, 
with which Sir James has triumphed over the 
difficulties, that he chose to impose upon him- 
self, and must confess his Muse moves grace- 
fully in her fetters. I was greatly pleased to 
see that the learned and judicious Mr. Todd 
in his late edition of Spenser has spoken of this 
poem in such handsome terms, as I can never 
meet a stronger confirmation of my own opi- 
nion, than when I find it coinciding with that 
of so excellent a critic. The ffira, in which my 
friend has placed his poem, the hero he has 
chosen, and the chivalric character, with which 
he has very properly marked it, are circum- 
stances that might naturally prevail with him 
for modelling it upon the stanza of the Fairy 



Qu^eeB, which) though it has not so proud a 
XE^rch as the heroic verse, has certainly more ^ 
of the knightly prance in it, and of course 
more to the writer's purpose than the rhyming 
couplet. Perhaps the public at large have not 
yet formed a proper estimate of the real merit 
of this heroic poem. Its adoption of a stanza, 
obsolete and repetitionary on the ear, is a cir- 
cumstance, that stamps upon it the revolting 
air of an imitation, which in fact it is not, aild 
deters many from reading it^ who would else 
find much to admire, and instead of discaver- 
ing any traces of the Fairy Queen, would meet 
enough to remind them of a nobler model in 
the Iliad of Homer. In the mean time it gives 
me great satisfaction to kjiow that the author 
of Richard has since paid loyal service to the 
dramatic Muse, and when a mind so prompt 
in execution, and so fully stored with the 
knowledge both of men and books, shall ad* 
dress its labours to the stage, I should be loath 
to doubt but that the time will come when 
classic writing shall expel grimace. 

I hope I shall in no wise hurt the feelings of 
a lady, who now most worthily fills a very ele- 
vated station, if, in speaking of my humble 

Sd6 li£MOZftS Of 

pioductiom in the course of my subject, I dk^ 
not avoid to speak of one of the nu>3t elegant 
actressei that ever graced the stage^ When I 
brought out my comedy of The Natural Son^ 
I flattered myself that in the sketch of Lady 
Paragon I had conceived a character not quite 
unworthy of the talents of Miss Farren : it id 
spying little in the way of praise, when I ac* 
knowledge the partiality I still retain for that 
particular part, and indeed for that play in ge« 
mmh It was acted and published in the same 
season with the Carmelite, and though I did 
not either in that instance, or in any other to 
my knowledge, obtrude myself upon the pub- 
lic to the exclusion of a competitor, still it was 
90 that the town v»s pleased to interpret my 
Becond appeal to. their candour, and the news* 
papers of the day vented their malignancy 
against me in the most opprobrious terms. . So 
exquisite was the style, in which Miss Farren 
gave her character its best display, and so re* 
ftpectable were her auxiliaries in the scene, par* 
ticularly Mr* John Palmer, that they could 
never deprive the comedy of favourable audi- 
ences, though their efforts too frequently suc- 
ceeded in preventing them from being full 


ones. It w«s a persecution most disgraceful to 
lite freedom of the press, and the perfoimec^ 
pesented it with a sensibility, that did them ho-^ 
nour ; they traced some of the paragraphs to 
their dirty origin, but upon intnds entirely de« 
based shame has no efiect 

I now foresaw the comhigron. of an erent, 

liiat must inevitably deprive me of one of the 

greatest comforts, wfaich| still adhered to ma 

in my dedine of fortune. It was too evident 

that the constituticm of Lord Sackville, long 

harassed by the painful visitation of that dread« 

ful malady the stone, was decidedly giving 

way. Theve was in iam so generous a repugn 

nance against troubling his friends with any 

oomplaints, that it was from external evideaco 

only, never from config^sion, that his suf&r-* 

ings could be guessed at; ' Attacks, that would 

have confined most people to th^ir beds, never 

moved him from hi£ habiftttal punctuality. It 

wsLs curious, and probably ij& jsome men^s ryes 

would fram its extreme precision have appears 

ed ridiculously incimte and formal, yet in the 

movemeiits of a domestic establishment ao 

large as his, it had its uses and comforts, which 

his guests and ^untly could not ^ tx> partake 


of. As sure as the hand of the clock pointed 
to the half-hour after nine, neither a minute 
before nor a minute after, so sure did the good 
lord of the castle step into his breakfast room, 
accoutred at all points according to his own 
invaria|>le costuma, with a complacent coun- 
tenance, that prefaced his good-morning to 
each person there assembled ; and novr, whilst 
I recall these scenes to my remembrance^ I feel 
gratified by the reflection, that I never passed 
a night beneath his roof, but that his morning's 
salutation met me at my post. He allowed 
an hour and a half for breakfast, and regularly 
at eleven took his morning's circuit on horse- 
back at a foot*s-pace, for his infirmity would 
not admit of any strong gestation ; he had an 
old groom, who had grown grey in his service, 
that was his constant pilot upon these excur* 
sions, and his general custom was to make the 
tour of his cottages to reconnoitre the condi- 
tion they were in, whether their roofs were in 
repair, their windows whole, and the gardens 
well cropped and neatly kept ; all this it was 
their interest to be attentive to, for he bought 
the produce of their fruit trees, and I have 
heard him say with great satiflrfaction that, he 


has paid thirty shillings in a season for straw- 
berries only to a poor cottager, who paid him 
one shilling annual rent for his tenement and 
garden ; this was the constant rate, at. which 
he let them to his labourers, and he made them 
pay it to his steward at his yearly audit, that 
they might feel themselves in the class of re- 
gular tenants, and sit down at table to the 
good cheer provided for them on the audit- 
day. He never rode out without preparing 
himself with a store of six-pences in his waist- 
coat pocket for the children of the poor, who 
opened gates and drew out sliding bars for him 
in his passage through the enclosures : these 
barriers were well watched, and there was rarely 
any employment for a servant ; but these sixr 
pences were not indiscriminately bestowed^ 
for as he kept a charity sc;hool upon his own 
endowment, he knew to whom he gave them, 
and generally held a short parley with the 
gate-opener as he paid his toll for passing.—^ 
Upon the very first report of .illness or accip- 
dent relief was instantly sent, and they were 
put upon the sick list, regularly visited, and 
constantly supplied with the best medicines 
administered upon the best advice : if the poor 


m^u lost Im cow or }^k pig or hlf. pQu}try^ tln^ 
lofi$ was never ipade up in money, but in stock. 
It was his ^u^toni to buy tbf ^p^at^o^ liveri^f 
of his own s^v^pte as constantly a9 the 4^y 
of cloathiQg came i^biout, a,ud th^^ h(B <}i4trif- 
bated to the old and worn-out lM^bourpr3, wh^ 
turned out daily on the lawQ ai^d paddqc in 
the Sackville Uv^sry to pick up boughs and 
sweep up leave^i apd in i^hort do ju^t m 9»uch 
work as served to k^ep them whpl?3ome «od 

To his religious dutiea this good mw^ w^ 
not only regularly but respectfully attentive : 
on tiie Sunday morning he app^red in gala, 
zs if he was dressed for a dr^wing-room ; be 
marched out his whole family 10 grand cavaU 
cade to his parish churchy leaving only a cen^ 
tinel to watch the fiies at home, and mount 
guard upon the spits. His deportment in the 
house of prayer was exemplary, and saose m 
character of times past than of time present : 
he had a way of standing up in sermon-ti^ne 
for the purpose of reviewing the congregation, 
^ajui awing the idlers into deco^m, that nev^ 
failed to remind noe of Sir Boger de Coverly at 
church ; son^tixnes^ wke» be has been ^trupk 


with passages in the discourse, which he wish- 
ed to point out to the audience ^ rules for 
moral practicfe worthy to be noticed, he would 
ixiark his approbation of them with such cheer- 
ing nods and signals of assent to the preacher, 
as were often more than my muscles could with- 
stand ; but when to the total overthrow of all 
gravity, in his zeal to encourage the efforts of 
a very young declaimer in the pulpit, I heard 
him cry out to the Reverend Mr. Henry Eatoff 
m the middle of his sermon— " Well done, 
"Harry!" It was irresistible; suppressioa 
was out of my power : what made it more in- 
tolerably comic was, the unmoved sincerity of 
his manner, and his surprise to find that any 
thing had passed, that could provoke a laugh 
so .out of time and place. He had nursed up 
\yith no small care and cost in each of his pa- 
rish churches a corps of rustic psalm-singers, 
to whose performances he paid the greatest at- 
tention, rising up, and with his eyes directed 
to the singing gallery, marking time, which 
was not always rigidly adhered to, and once, 
when his ear, which was very correct, had 
been tortured by a tone most glaringly dis- 
cordant^ he set his mark upon the culprit by 


24f MEittdifes of 

catfing oat «o him by name, aAd loudly sayJn'g; 
^' Out of ttine, Tom Baket^ ?'' No# thb^ 
fkdty itiiisickti Tom Bak^r happctted to be Ifts 
lordship's butchef, but tlten ih ordtef ia set 
ifames and trades upon a! pai', Tour But^Ref 
wis his lordship's baker ; wWcb I observed to 
hitii <va;s liitfch such a recontifemetit of eross 
piarfners is ftty rlhisttious frreiid George Faitlk- 
jikt hit upon, whet iti his DubKn Journal he 
pftitited-^** ErratmA hi our last-^For His Grace 
" the Duchess of Dorset read Her Gface tlie 
'* C^uke of Dorset^'* 

1 relaie these fittfe anccdote^s of al ilian, 
n^hose charactet had nothing little in it, that 
i flfiray show hitn to thy re^dert in hfs private 
scenes, and be as far as I am able the ititiMate 
and tfue tratisCttber of his heart While the 
mai^rkge-settlemeiit of his eldest daughter wa* 
ifi preparation, he said to the noble pefiSdn then 
in treaty for her-^*'I am perfectly assured, my 
" l6fd, that you have correctly giveii in a 
** statement of your affaii's, as yoti iii honbur 
" and in conscience religiously believe them tor 
** be ; but 1 aki mdch afraid they have beett 
" estimated to you for better that they really 
** are, and you musi aHoW me thetefort to ap- 




prise you, that I shall propose aa alteration 
m my daughter's fortune, more proportioned 
*' to* what I now conceive to be the real valua- 
*' tion of your lordship's property—" Ta this, 
when the generous and disiliterested suitor ex* 
pressed hfs ready acquiescence my friend re- 
plied (I had the anecdote from his own mouth) 
*' I perceive your lordship un^eistands me, a!s 
proposing a reduction from my daughter's 
portion ; not soj my lord ; my purpose is to 
** double if, that I may have the gratification 
** of suppfying those deficiencies in the state- 
** ment, which I took the liberty of noticing, 
** and which, as you were not aware of them, 
** might ehe have disappointed and perhaps 
** misled you — *' When he imparted this cir- 
cumstance to me in the words, as nearly as I 
can remember, but correctly in the spirit of 
those words, he said to me — ** I hope yon don'€ 
^^ suppose I would have done this for my eldest 
^ daughter, if I had not assured myself of my 
" ability to do the same for the other two—.** 
It was m the year 1785, whilst he was at 
Stoneland, that 'those symptoms first appeared, 
which gradually disclosed such evidences of 
debiSfy, as couM not be concealed, and shewed 

E S 



to demonstration, that the hand of death was 
even then upon him. He had prepared him- 
self with an opinion deliberately formed upon 
the matter gf the Irish Propositions, and when 
that great question was appointed to come on 
for discussion in the House of Lords, he 
thought himself bound in honour and duty to 
attend in his place. He then for the first time 
confessed himself to be unfit for the attempt, 
and plainly declared he bfelieved it would be 
his death. He paused for a few moments, as 
if in hesitation how to decide, and the air of his 
countenance was impressed with melancholy : 
we were standing under the great spreading 
tree, that shelters the back-entrance to the 
house ; the day was hot ; he had dismounted 
heavily from his horse ; we were alone, and it 
was plain that exercise, though gentle, had in- 
creased his languor ; he was oppressed both in 
body and spirit; he did not attempt to dis- 
guise it, for he could no longer counterfeit : 
he sate down upon the bench at the tree-foot, 
and composing his countenance, as if he wish- 
ed to have forced a smile upon it,* had his suf- 
fering given him leave — " I know, said he, as 
** well as you can tell me, what you think of 




** me just now, and that you are convinced if 
"I go to town upon this Irish business, I go 
"to my death; but I also know you are at 
" heart not against my undertaking it, for I 
" have one convincing proof for ever present 
" to me, how much more you consult my ho- 
** nour than my safety : And after all what do 
" I sacrifice, if with the sentence of inevitable 
" death in my hand, I only lop off a few rest- 
" less hours, and in the execution of my duty 
" meet the stroke ? In one word I tell you I 
" shall go: we will not have another syllable 
"upon the subject; don't advise it, lest you 
" should repent of it, when it has killed me; 
" and do not oppose it, because it would not 
" be your true opinion, and if it were, I would 
" not follow it—" 

It was in that same day after dinner, as I 
well remember, the evening being most serene 
and lovely, we seated ourselves in the chairs, 
that were placed out upon the garden grass* 
plat, which looks towards Crowbeiy and the 
forest. Our conversation led us to the affair 
of Minden ; my friend, most evidently courted 
the discussion : I told him I had diligently fit- 
tended the whole process of the trial, und th^t 

R 3 

^46 •memoirs of 

I had detailed it to Mr. Dodiogton ; I bad 
x:onsequently a pretty connect TCmerabrance of 
the leadiog circumstances as they cwae out 
upoH the evidence. Bwt I observed to him 
that it was not upon rtbe questions .and $rro* 
ceeding agitated at that court, that J could 
perfect jmy opinion of the case ; there must be 
probably a chain of leading causes, which, 
though they could not make a pairt of his de* 
fence in public court, .might, if developed, 
throw such lights on the respective conduct of 
the parties, ^s would have led to conclusions 
different frof» those, which stood upon fthe re-* 

To this he answered that my remark was 
just : there were certain circumstances ante- 
cedent to the action, that should fbe taken into 
consideration, and there were certain forbear- 
ances, posterior to the trial, .that should be ac*- 
counted for. T:he time was come, when he 
oould have no temptation to disguise ^)d vio- 
late the truth, and atmuch moue awfol trial 
Was ^now close at hand, where he must. suffer 
for it if he did. ;He would talk plainly, tem- 
perately and bneifly toime, as his mdxmer W9S, 
provided I wcmld ^promise him to dealsinoecely^ 



ap4 iiQt apare to jpress him on sue}; popiats/^ 
stuck with me for want of .explan^ion. This 
^jeing propised^ he ^ptered upon ^ detaij^ which 
i^ess I x^ould giye^ as t9^en ,dpwu froi;!;! hi^ 
lips, wji^hput the variation pf ^ wprd^ iso ^-^ 
C^d 4o I hold the reputation of the dead ^-^ 
tmsted to mCf and the ;&eling$ of tiie livii^ 
who^ flny errojT of miae .mjght wound, d^p^ { 
shall Jfprhear to speak ,Qf it exjcept i# g^neraj 
teiw^« He appe^^ to j»9 Xkro^j^hfmt' hi$ 
whole discourse Jike a oian, who jbad perfectly 
dismissed hi3 passM>,ps ; hisx?plaur;pever c^ngr 
ed, his features never indicated eyib^Mrasisqnent^ 
his vpice was jieve^r elevated^ wd b^ing rcr 
lieved at tina,es by xpy qjues^tip^Qs and remarket 
he appeared to speak without pain, a.nd in th^ 
event his miiid seemed lightei^ed hy the disr 
charge. When I cpniparie wh^ he said tp nip 
in his l^t maj(;aents^ (not two hours hefore 1^ 
.expired) with wl^at he ^stated at this conferr 
ence, if I did not fron^ my he^r^, apd yppfi 
the most entire cfoiiviction ofmj reasoa ^nd 
^Vflderstandipg, solemnly aicquit that injjaj-ied 
flian, {(now gofle to his aQCou4a,t) of th$ oppr^- 
ihrioiis and false iiyipkutatio^s, deposed against 




him at his trial, I must be either brutally igno- 
rant, or wilfully obstinate against the truth. 

At the battle of Fontenoy, at the head of 
his brave regiment, in the very front of danger 
and the heat of action, he received a bullet in 
his breast, and being taken off the field by his 
grenadiers, was carried into a tent belonging 
to the equipage of the French King, and there 
laid upon a table, whilst the surgeon dressed 
his wound ; so far had that glorious column 
penetrated in their advance towards victory, 
unfortunately snatched from them. Let us 
contemplafe the same man, commanding the 
British cavalry in the battle of Mlnden, no 
longer in the front of danger and the heat of 
action, no longer in the pursuit of victory, for 
that was gained, and can we think with his 
unjust defamer, that such a man would trem- 
ble at a flying foe ? It is a supposition against 
nature, a charge that cannot stand, an imputa- 
tion that confutes itself. 

Perhaps I am repeating. things that I have 
said in my account of him, published after his 
death, but I have no means of referring to that 
pamphlet, and have been for some time writing 

. J 


at Ramsgate, where I have not a single book 
to turn to, and very few papers and minutes 
of transactions to refresh my memory. 

Lord Sackville attended parliament, as he 
said he would, and returned, as he predicted, a 
dying man. He allowed me to call in Sir 
Francis Millman, then practising at Tunbridge 
Wells : all medical assistance was in vain ; the 
saponaceous medicines, that had given him in- 
tervals of ease, and probably many years of 
existence, had now lost their efficacy, or by 
their efficacy worn their conductors out. He 
wished to take his last leave of the Earl of 
Mansfield, then at Tunbridge Wells; I signified 
this to the earl, and accompanied him in his 
chaise to Stoneland ; I was present Jtt their in- 
terview. Lord Sackville, just dismounted from 
his horse, came into the room, where we had 
waited a very few minutes, and staggered as 
he advanced to reach his hand to his respecta- 
ble visitor ; he drew his breath with palpitating 
quickness, and if I remember rightly never 
rode again : there was a death-like character 
in his countenance, that visibly affi^cted and 
disturbed Lord Mansfield in a manner, that I 

953 ^^uolR^i OP 

did x^ot <quijte expect^ fpr It had mope qF borror 

and lessj^bap^ of other feelings thw 9. f;riei^ 
jiivit;ed Xq a fleeting .p^ th^ xi^tur^ mi^si; have 
- 4iscoveirc;d^ had he xiof, }^^i^frigjktmed frt>m 
kis propriftjf. 

^ i^apv «s I^r4 S^apky illp had v^^v^ptd ^ 
i^r^athi his visitor rpip^WBg silent, ,he he^ip 
by ^pK^ogii^ing ipr the trouble h(? had glviep 
Jbjii9f aijid Iq^ ;th^ u^pl^asfMUt specJ;acle ^e w^ 
•p^)Q>/cio^^ .of ^^I^lV^biting 4;p hini i^ {the cofl4itiw 
Jie wa^ ;«aj»r rc;4^«e4 tp; " h^ n>y gpod io,i^ 
" H^ .5^14, thwg^ J pug^t,iiot to hay»e iipposcft 
:** iiq^Mw you the ^pawfUl ,ceneipp»y pf ptayi^^a 

^* last yi«it tp a dy^iflg man^ yiet ^o jgrqaf wfts 
"jiijy anxi^jty to fp^fiixi^oii^ wy mifieigijiied 
*' .thanks for 1^11 y;oux giwDdiies^ Ito me, a)t 
"<the kincj pi;atectioip yw haw shpwn W 
/ ^' tjhi^oja^h thpxx)urs(e .of ^)y junprospqrous life, 
" that J cwiW (iw);t ^pow you <wi^ 30 near i»c, 
** wxd not jy^sh ^0 assiufp yt^xx .of the iayariable 
** xesp^t I hav^,€ntextained for your charapter, 
'' aud now ifi the ipost S4£;riQi;LS manner to so- 
*' lioit yoiir fpjcgiyeness^ if jeyer 4n the fljiptua- 
'• tiops of ppMtips pr ,tl*e heafes 9tf ffirty, J haxc 


" appeared ia your eyes at any moment of my 
" life unjust to y.ow great merits, of forgetf^i 
" of your 4Many favours." -^ 

Whea I record d;ii$ speech, J giv^e it J^ -H^ 
ireader as coiirect^ I do not trust to mei^Qry 
at this distance; I traascnbe it: { is^xyii Xbe 


paltry trick of writing speeches for any jan%o, 
M^bose name is in these Memoir^ ar for my^aiielf, 
m whose name .these Memoirs shall gq foxth re- 
sectable at leasjt for their veracity ; for I cai> 
tainly caunot wish to presei^it myself to th? 
;»;!arld in two such oppoMte aud incobereiit.(;har 
jacters as the writer of my own history^ fi,mi 
the hero of a fiction. 

Lord MansfieU made a reply perfectly be*^ 
<roming sindliighly satisfactory : be was £KrQli upt 
years, and uot hn sanguine health or a ^tron^ 
^te of nerves ,; thece was no i^^mediate vea- 
w^ to continue the-discourse ; Lor4 Sackville 
dldjiotpress.foi'it,; bi^.vdsitor depantec^ and I 
staid with bim- He ^made j>o other ,obser\atioR 
upon what had passed than tih^t it was ex^ 
tremely obliging in Lord Mansfield^ And thea 
turned rtp 6ther*subjec,t3. 

In bim the yital ^pdncipk was «tropg, ami 
nature^ wjupb ^sisted dissolutipif^ jp^jnt^ined 



at every out-post, that defended life, a linger- 
ing agonizing struggle. Through every stage 
of varied misery — extremes by change more 
fierce — his fortitude remained unshaken, his 
senses perfect, and his mind never died, till 
the last pulse was spent, and his heart stopped 
for ever. 

In this period intelligence arrived of the 
Propositions being withdrawn in the Irish 
House of Commons : he had letters on this 
subject from several correspondents, and one 
from Lord Sydney, nonf of which we thought 
fit then to give him. I told him in as few 
words and as clearly as I could h9w the busi- 
ness passed, but requested he would simply 
hear it, and not argue upon it — "I am not 
" sorry, he said, that it has so happened. 
^* You can witness that my predictions are ve- 
' rified : something might now be set on foot 
' for the benefit of both countries. I wish I 

* could live long enough to give my opinion in 
' my place ; I have formed my thoughts upon 

* it ; but it is too late for me to do any good ; 
' I hope it will fall into abler Panels, and you 

* forbid me to argue. I see you are angry with 

* me for talking, and indeed it gives me pain. 


*' I have nothing to do in this life, but to obey 
" and be silent — ^ From that moment he ne- 
ver spoke a word upon the subject 

As I knew he had been some time medi- 
tating on his preparations to receive the sacra- 
ment, and death seemed near at hand, I re- 
minded him of it ; he declared himself ready 
and at peace with all mankind ; in one instance 
only he confessed it cost him a hard struggle. 
What that instance was he needed not to ex- 
plain to me, nor am I careful to explain to any. 
I trust according to^the infirmity of man's na- 
ture he is rather to be honoured for having fi- 
nally extinguished his resentment, than con- 
demned for having fostered it too long. A 
Christian Saint would have done it sooner: 
how many men would not have done it ever ! 

The Reverend Mr. Sackville Bayle, his wor- 
thy parish priest and ever faithful friend, 
administered the solemn office of the sacra- 
ment to him, reading at his request the prayers 
for. a communicant at the point of death. 
He had ordered all his bed-curtains to be 
opened and the sashes thrown up, that he 
might have air and space to assist him in his 

js^^my y/Jr-ez/fi/ Qycf^flmMc/? 

RICHAlld CUlKAjSftLANt). 255 

tfztnety now Eatl of. Dorchester, \tiittett a few 
dayd after his uticle Lord Sackt^iHe's death, 
attd dated September iSth 178;5. 

7b that excellent and truly noble person 
1 recommend and detote this short butfaitk- 
ful sketch of his relation's character^ eon-^ 
scions kow highly ke desercedy and how 6n^ 
tirdly h€ possesstdj ihd love and the esteem 
cf the deceased. 

It friay to some appear strange that I do 
not rather address myself it the present lord, 
tire eldest son of his father and the inheritor 
of his title. He, who knows he has no plea 
fof slighting the friend, who hais loved him, 
knows that he has put it oat of my power, and 
tliat I miist be af all men m=ost insensible, if I 
did not poignantly feel and feelingly lament his 
iXnfitierittd neglect of me. If the foregoing 
pages ever meet his eyes, I hope the recbrd of 
his father's virtues wilt inspire hifn to imitate 
his father's example. 

I pat \tk my i^ea for pardon in the very first 
page of my book with respect to errors in the 


' I 


dates of my disorderly productions. I should 
have mentioned my comedy of I'he Impostor, 
and the publication of my novel of Arundel 
in two volumes, which I hastily put together 
whilst I was passing a few idle weeks at 
Brighthelmstone, where I had no books but 
such as a circulating novel- shop afforded. I 
dispatched that work so rapidly, sending It to 
the press by parcels, of which my first copy was 
the only one, that I really do not remember 
what moved me to the undertaking, nor how 
it came to pass that the cacoethes scribendi 
nugas first got hold of me. Be this as it may, 
I am not about to affect a modesty, which 
I do not feel, or to seek a shelter from the sin 
of writing ill, by acknowledging the folly of 
writing rapidly, for I believe that Arundel has 
entertained as many readers, and gained as 
good a character in the world as most heroes 
of his description, not excepting the immacu- 
late Sir Charles Grandison, in whose company 
I have never found myself without being puz- 
zled to decide, whether I am most edified by 
his morality, or disgusted by his pedantry. 
Arundel perhaps, pf all the children, which 
my brain lyas given birth to, had the least care 

&I€HA&tt CVIIfi^tttAKO^ 


and pains bestowed upon his education, yet he 
ii^ a gentleman, and has been received as siich 
in the first circles, for though he takes the 
strong side of the question in his argument 
with Mortlake upon duelling, yet there is 
hardly one to be found, who thinks with Mort* 
like, but would be shamed out of society, if he 
did not act with Arundel. In the character of 
the Countess of G. I confess I have set virtue 
upon ice ; she slips, but does not fall ; and if I 
have endowed the young ladies with a degree 
of sensibility, that might have exposed them to 
da2iger, I flatter myself I have taken th* 
proper means of rescuing them from it by 
marrying thefn respectively to the men of their 

The success however, which by this novel I 
obtained without labour, determined me to 
write a second, on which I was resolved to be* 
stow my utmost care and diligence. In this 
temper of mind I began to form to myself in 
idea what I conceived should be the model of 
a perfect novti ; having after much deliberation 
settled and adjusted this to the best of my 
judgmfent, I decided for the novel in detail ; 
rejecting the epistolaiy process,^ whidh I had 

VOL. II. i 

258 MEMOIJ^S Of 

pursued in Arandel, and also that, . in which 
the hero speaks throughout, and is his own 
biographer ; though in putting both these pro- 
cesses aside I felt much more hesitation in the 
last-mentioned case than in the first. 

Having taken Fielding's admirable novel of 
Tom Jones as my pattern in point of detail, I 
resolved to copy it also in its distribution into 
chapters and books, and to prefix prefatory 
numbers to the latter, to the composition of 
which I addressed my best attention. In some 
of these I have taken occasion to submit those 
rules for the construction of a novel, which I 
flattered myself might be of use to future wri- 
ters in that line, less experienced than myself. 
How far I have succeeded is not for me to 
say, but if I have failed, I am without excuse, 
for I had this work in hand two full years, 
and gave nrore polish and correction to the 
style, than ever I bestowed upon any of 
my published works before* The follonving 
few rules, which I laid down for my owh 
guidance, and strictly observed, I still per- 
suade myself are such as ought to be observed 
.by others. 

I wo^d have the story carried on in a regu- 


ht ujHnterrupted progression of feveats/withK 
out those dull recitals^ that call the attention 
oiFfrom what is^oing on, and compel it to 
look back, perhaps . in the very crisis of curio-* 
sity, to circumstances antecedent to, atid not 
always materially connected with,. .t|ie. history 
in hand. I am decidedly adverse to episodes 
and stories within stories, like that of thie Man 
of the Hill in Tom Jones, and in getieral all 
expedients of procrastination, which come un- 
der the description of mere tricks to torture 
curiosity, are in my opinion to be very sparingly 
resorted fro, if not totally avoided. Casual- 
tie^ and broken-bones, and fain tings and high 
fevers with ramblings of delirium and rhapso- 
dies of nonsense are perfectly contemptible* 
I think descriptive writing, properly, so distin- 
gui&hed, is very apt to describe nothing, and 
that landscapes upon paper leave no picture iii 
the mind, and only load the page with daub- 
ings, that in the author's fancy may be sketches 
after nature, but to the reader^ eye offer no- 
thing but confusion. A novel, professing it- 
self to ^e the delineation of men and women 
is they are in nature should in general confine, 
itself to the rdation.of things probable, and 

s 2 


though in ftktlful hands it may Be made ta 
touch upon things barely possiUe^ the seldomer 
it risques those experiments, the better opinion 
I should form of ^e contriver's conduct : I do 
not think quotations ornament it^ and poettj 
must be extremely good before I can allow it 
is of any use to it* - In short there should be 
authorities in nature for every thing that is in«* 
troduced, and the only case I can recollect in 
which the creator of the fictitious man may 
and ought to differ from the biographer of the 
real man, is, that the former is bound to deal 
k out his rewards to the virtuous and punish*- 
^ments to the vicious^ whilst the latt^ hasiK^ 
choice but to adhere to the truth of facts, and 
leave his hero neith^ worse nor better than he 
found him* 

Monsters of cruelty and crime, monks and 
Zelucos, horrors and thunderings and ghosts: 
are creatures of another region, tools apprbpria* 
ted to another trade, and are only to be ban<^ 
died by dealers in o)d castles and manufac*^ 
turers of romances^ 

As the tmgie drama may be not impro^ 
periy described as an 6pk p^em of compressed 
action^ so I think we may eatt the novel a di*- 


iattd comedy ; though Henry Fielding, who 
was pre-eminently happy in the one, was not 
equilly so in the other : non omnia possumus 
omnes. If the readers ot Henry have agreed 
with me in the principles^ laid down in those 
prefatory chapters, and here again hriefly 
touched upon, I flattar myself they found a 
novel conducted throughout upon those very 
principles, and which in no one instance does 
a violence to nature, or resortTlo forced and 
improbable expedients to excite surprise; I 
flatter myself they found a story regularly pn>- 
gressive without any of those retrogradations 
or counter-marches, which break the line, and 
discompose the arrangement of the fable : I 
hope thqr found me . duly careful to keep the 
principal characters in sight, and above all if I 
devoted myself con amare to the delineation 
of Zacbary Cawdlej and in a more particular 
manner to the best services I could perform for 
the good Ezekiel Dwwj I warmly hppe they 
did not think my partiality quite misapplied^ 
or my labour of love entirely thrown away. 

.If in my zeal to exhibit virtue triumphant 
over the most tempting allurements, I havf 
painted those atturemeats in too vivid colours^ 


262 MEMOIRS or 

I am sorry, and ask pardon of all those, who 
thought the moral did not heal the mischief. 

If my critics have not been too candid I am 
encouraged to believe, that in these volumes ' 
~oi Henry ^ and in those of The Observer^ I 
have succeeded in what I laboured to eflfect 
with all my care — a simple, dear, harmonious 
style; which, taken as a model, may be fol* 
loved without leading the aoviciate either into 
iurgidity or obscurity, holding a middle tone 
of period, neither swelling into high-flown me- 
taphor, nor sinking irito- iftelegant and undas- 
sical rusticity* Whether or not I ,have suc- 
ceeded, I certainly have attempted, to reform 
and purify* niy native language from certain 
filse pedantic prevalencies, which were much 
VI fashion, wlien I first becaaxie a writer ; I dare 
not say with those, whose.flattery might mis- 
lead me, that I have accomplished what I aim- 
ed at, but if I have done somethi;ig towards 
it, I may say with Pliny— P^i^em an aliqua 
eura nos'trL hescio. Nos eerte meremur ut 
jU aliqua; nbn dicam ingenio ; id enim su* 
perbum; sed studia, sed iabore, sed reverentia 

The mental gratification, which the exercise 


of the fancy in the act of composition gives' 
me, has, (with the exception only of the task 
I am at present engaged in) led me to that in- 
ordinate consumption of paper, of which much 
has been profitless, much unseen, and very 
much of that which has been seen, would have 
been more worthy of the world, had I be- 
stowed more blotting upon it before I com- 
mitted it to the press : yet I am now about to 
mention a poem not the most imperfect of my 
various productiotiSi of which the first manu- 
script copy was» the only one, and that perhaps 
the i^irest I had ev6r put out of my hands. — 
Heroic verse has been always more familiar to 
m^, and more easy in point of composition,- 
than prose : my thoughts flow more freely in 
metre, and I can oftentimes fill a page with less 
labour and less time in verse of that descrip- 
tion, than it costs me to adjust and harmonise 
a single period in prose to my entire satisfac** 

The work I ndw allude to is tny poem of 
Calvary J and the gratification, of which I have 
been sj^king, mixed as I trust with worthier 
and inore 3erio\is .motives, led < me ' to that un- 
dertaking. It had -never been ipy hard lot to 


964 M<RMOI|(,| Of 

write, as many of my superiors l^ve b^en forc«4 
to do, task-work for a bookseller, it was t^ere* 
fore my oustom, as it is with voluptuariea of 
another description, to fly from o^pe pursuit to 
another for the gieater ^est which chs^ngci ajid 
contrast gave to my intetlQCtu^l pleasured* I 
had as yet doi^ nothing in th^ epi^ way, e:;- 
cept my juvenile attempt, of whioh I hftvq given 
an extract, s^nd I applied n^yself to the. cpitt- 
position of Calvary with uncommon ardour; 
I b^gan it i9 1^ ymt^r, ^^, ii^ ev«iy 
morning some hours before dayr%ht, «0OA 
dispatched the w\\9k poem of eight bc^s at 
the average of fuU fifty Mm^ \n a. day, of which 
I kept a regular w?cou^t; marking .«ach day's 
work upon my i^a^^script I mje^^tion thi$f 
because it is a fact ; b^t I am iH>t $o sotii^takcai 
a$ to siHppose that any authot. can be entitled 
to take credit to himself for the littk carp be 
h^ bestowed uj)pn his. ocanpositions. 

It was not till I had taken up Milton's im^ 
Biortal poem of Fettadiu Losf^ aind read it 
$tudik)usly and completely through, that 1 
brought the pl^n of Cttlvary to a consisteacy^ 
and resolved to venture on Uie atten^t I aair 
auch ^ids in point of characteri incident and 


. diction^ 8\Kh jSeiolUtiea held out by tlie s^cied 
bi^tori^nsi as eocour^ged me to hope I might 
aspire to introduce v;iy humble Muae upep 
that hallowed ground without profaning it. 

As for the difficulties, which by the nat^ri^ 
of his subject Milton had to encounter, I p€T«* 
ceived them to be sMch as QodvAg hut the ge* 
nius of Miiton could surmount ; that he haa 
failed in some iostances cannot be dfnie4ft 
but it is matter of wonder a^d adiQiration, 
that he has miscarried in so few. The noble 
structure he has contrived to raise with th^ co« 
operatioii of two human beings only, and th<>«^ 
the first created of the human race, strikes m 
with astonishment; but at the same time it 
forces him upon auch fVequent flights beyond 
the bounds of nature, and obliges him in $o 
gi?eat a degree to depend upon the agency of 
supernatural beings^ of whose persons we have 
no prototype, and of whose operations, offices 
and intellectual powers we are incompetent to 
form any adequate conception^ that it is not 
to be wondered at, if there are parts and 
passages in that divine poem, that we either 

. pass over by choice, or cannot read without 

Q66 memoirs ot 

Upon a single text in scripture he has de* 
scribed a Battle in Heaven^ in most respects^ 
tremendously sublime, in others painfully re- 
minding us how impossible it is for man's li- 
mited imagination to find weapons for immor* 
tal spirits, or conceive an army of rebellious 
angels employing instruments of human in- 
vention upon the vain impossible idea, that 
their material artillery could shake the imma- 
terial throne of the One Supreme Being, the 
Almighty Creator and Disposer of them and 
the universe. Accordingly when we are pre- 
sented with the description of Christ, the meek 
Redeemer of mankind, going forth in a chariot 
to the battle, brilliant although the picture '% 
it dazzles and we istart from it revolted by the 
blaze. But when the poet, deeming himself 
competent to find words for the Almighty, 
contrives a conference between the First and 
Second Persons in the Trinity, we are compel- 
led to say with Pope-^ 

That God (he Fatlier turns a school^divine, 

I must entreat my readers not so to mis- 
conceive my meaning as to suppose me vain 
enough to think, that by noticing these spots 


in Milton's glorious sun, I am advancing my* 
dim lamp to any the most distant competitioa 
with it. I have no other motive for mention*- 
ing them but to convince the patrons of these 
Memoirs, that I did not attempt the c6mposi<« 
tion of a sacred epic, where he must for ever 
stand so decidedly pre-eminent, till by com* 
paring the facilities of my subject with the 
amazing, difficulties of his, I had found a bow 
proportioned to my strength, and did not pre« 
same to bend it till I was. certified of its flexi-f 

It could, not possibly be overlooked by mc> 
that in taking the Death of Christ for my sub- 
jecty I had the advantage of dating my poem 
at a point of time, the most;a\vful in the whole 
history of the world, the mostf pregnant with 
sublime events^ and the most fiilly fraught 
with grand and interesting characters ; that I 
had those characters, and those events, so 
pointedly delineated and so impressively de-? 
scribed by the inspired historians, as to leave 
little else for me to do, but to restrain inven-* 
tion, and religiously to follow in the path, that 
was chalked out to me. Accordingly 1 trust 
there will be found very little of the audacity 



of fancy ia the composttiQii of Cal&ary, and' 
few sentiments or exprosaions ascribed to the 
Saviour, which have not the sanction and au^ 
thorlty of the sacred records. When he de« 
scends into Hades I have endeavoured to avail 
myself of what has been revealed to us for 
those conjectural descriptions, and I hope I 
have not fitr outstepped discretion, or heedless-- 
ly indulged a wikl imagination ; for though I 
vienture upon untouched ^^und, presuming 
to unfold a scehis, which mystery has. involved 
in darkness, yet I have the visions of the Saint 
«t Patinbs to hold up a light to me, and. assist 
me in my efforts to pervade futurity* 

My first publication of Calvary in quarto 
had so languid a sate, that it /left me with the 
inconvenient loss of ;at least one hundred 
pounds^ and the discouraging conviction, that 
the public did not; concern itself about the 
poem, or the poem-nutker; I felt at the same 
time a proud indignant consciousness, that it 
claimed a better treatment, and whilst I calli^ 
to mind the true and brothei^ly devotion I had 
evter bcMme to the lame of my contemporaries^ 
I was stung by their neglect ; and having lai4 
my poem on the deaths c^ my Redeemer at the 


Ibet of my S6TiereigTi^ which> for aiaght that 
ever reached my knowledge, he mighty or 
might not, have received by the hand of his li- 
brarian, I had nothing to console me but the 
reflection that there would perha{>8 be a tribu- 
nal, that would deal out justice to me, when I 
could not be a gainer by it, and speak favour^* 
ably of my performance, when I could not 
hear their praises. 

I shall now take leave of Calvary after ac* 
knowledging my obligations to my publishers 
ibr their speculation of a new edition, and also 
to the purchasers of that edition for their re- 
concilement to a book, which, till it was re^ 
duced to a more portable siee, they were little 
disposed to take away with them* 

I consider Tristram Shandy as the most ec* 
centric work of my time, and Junius the most 
acrimonious; tve have heard much of his 
style ; I have just been reading him over with 
attention, and I confess I can See but little to 
^dniire. The thing to wonder at is, that a se« 
ciaet, to which several tiiust have been privy, 
has been so strictly kept ; if Sir William Dra- 
per, who baffled him in some of his assertions, 
h«d kept his name out of sight, I am inclined 


t70 UEMOIRS 0» 

to think he might have held up thp cause oi 
candour with sucdess* The publisher of Ju- 
nius I am told was deeply guaranteed; of 
course, although he might not know his au- 
thor, he must have known where abouts to 
look for him. I never heard that my friend 
Lord George Germain was amongst the sus- 
pected authors, till by way of jest he told me 
so not many days before his death ; I did not 
want him to disavow it, for there could be no 
occasion to disprove an absolute impossibility. 
The man, who wrote it, had a savage heart, 
for some of his attacks are execrable ; he was 
a hypocrite, for he disavows private motives, 
and makes pretensions to a patriotic spirit I 
can perfectly call to mind the general effect of 
his letters, and am of opinion that his malice 
overshot its mark. Let the anonymous de- 
iamer be as successful as he may, it is but an 
unenviable triumph, a mean and cowardly gra- 
tification, which his dread of a discovery for- 
bids him to avow. 

As for Tristt^am Shandy, whose many pla- 
giarisms are now detected, his want of deli- 
cacy is unpardonable, and his tricks have too 
much of frivplity and buffoonery in them to 


pass upon the reader ; but lus real merit lies 
not only in his general conce{)tion of charac- 
terS) but in the address, . Math which he marks 
them out by those minute, yet striking, touches 
of his pencil, that make his descriptions pic*» 
tures, and his pictures life : in the pathetic he 
excels, as his story of Lefevre witnesses, but he 
seems to have mistaken his powers, and capri- 
ciously to have misapplied his genius. 

I conceive there is not to be found in all the 
writings of my day, perhaps I may sajr not in 
the English language, so brilliant a cluster of 
fine and beautiful passages in the declamatory 
style, as we are presented with in Edmund 
Burke's inimitable tract upon the French Re-- 
volution. It is most highly coloured and 
most richly ornamented, but there is elegance 
in its splendour, and dignity in its magnifi'* 
cence. The orator demands* attention in a 
loud and lofty tone, but his voice never loses 
its melody, nor his periods their sweetness.—* 
When he has roused us with the thunder of hjs 
eloquence, he can at once, Timotheus-like, 
chuse a melancholy theme, and melt us into 
pity : there is grace in his anger ; for he can 
inveigh without vulgarity ; he can modulate 

373 ttiMOlAS OF 

the strongest bursts of passion, for even in his 
madness there is music. 

I was so charmed with the style and mattef 
of this pamphlet^ that I could not withstand 
the pleasure of intruding upon him with a let« 
ter of thaiks, of which I took no copy, but 
fortunately have preserved his answer to it/ 

which is as follows-— 


" Beconsfleld November 1 3th 1790. 
** Dear Sir, 

" I was yesterday honoured with 
•• your most obliging letter. You may be as* 
** sured, that nothing could be more flattering 
" to me than the approbation of a gentleman 
" so distingaished in literature as you are, and 
•* in so great a variety of its branches. It is 
" an earnest to me of that degree of toleration 
" in the public judgment, which may give my 
re&sonings some chance of being useful. I 
know however that I am indebted to your 
politeness and your good nature as much as 
to your opinion, for the indulgent manner, 
" in which you have been pleased to receive 
my endeavour. Whether I have described 
our countrymen properly, time is to shew: 






'* i iiopfi I hhvtj but at any rate it -is perhaps 
*^ tbe best iray to persuade them to be right by 
•*^ aupposixig that they are so. Great bodies^ 
^' li^e great men, .tmat be instructed jn .the 
^ wsyj 'm whieh |iiey will be; best ^ea^ed to \ 

^meeive iiiatruction ; ^a^Jbeiy itself tnay be 
^^ bonverted into a^ode of coumel : laudando 
^ admoMere has notat^ays been the tnos^t un- 
^^ aiocs^sfni method of-' advice. In this case 
^ nndrai policy seq^'es it, for when you must 
^^ eK^oae tbe practices ofA^ome kinds of men, 
'^ you do nothing i€ yott do not <ii66ngaish 
" them from others. 

* *^ Accept .onoe. more my best acknowledg^i 
V M6itf 9 for the viery handsome manner, in 
^S arhtdi you have been pleased to consider my 
'^pMBphlet, and do roe the justice to believe 
^^ ane with the moBt perfect xespect, 

" Your nuist faithful 

'^ And obliged humble servant^ 

, '' Edm. Burke/* 

' ' * . ' 

Aon I, or am i not, to regret that this fine 
waiter ideiroted himself so professedly to poli» 
tigs ? I caaceivie there must be twb opinion* 

VOL, II, 1 T 

S74 . liBMOIES OF 

uppn this question amongst his contempora^ 
Ties, and only one, that will be entertained by 
posterity. Those, who heard his parliamen- 
tary speeches with delight, will not easily be 
induced to wish that he had spoken less ; whilst 
those, who can only read him, will naturally 
regret that he had not written more. The 
orator, like the actor, lives only in the memory 
of his hearers, and his fame must ];est upon tra- 
dition: Mr. Burke in parliament enjoyed the 
triumph of a day, but Mn Burke (m paper 
would have been the founde? of his own im- 

. Amongst the variety of branches, to which 
Mr. Burke is pleased so flatteringly to allude, 
and which certainly are more in number than 
the literary annals of any author iu/ my recol- 
lection can exhibit, I reflect with satisfaction 
that I have devoted much time and thought 
to serious subjects, and been far from idle or 
lukc-warm in the service of religion. I have 
written at different times as many sermons as 
would make a large volume, some of which 
have been delivered from the pulpits : I have 
rendered into English metre fifty of the psalms 
%f David, •which are printed i)y Mr. JStrangtf 



of Timbridge WelK ^^ upon which I flatter 
tnfyfifelf I have not; m taiu' bestowed ihy best 
attention.. . l- have, fok* soihe Vears been in the 
habit of composing an appropriate prayer- of 
thanksgiving for the last day in the year, and 
of supplication for the first day in the succeed- 
ing year. I published by Messrs. Lackington 
and Co. a religious and argumentative; ti-act, 
entitled A Jew plain Reasons for believing in 
the Evidences of the Christian Revektion; 
and this tracts Ivbich I conceive to be brtho* 
dox in all its points, and unahswerably de-* 
monstrative as a confutation of. all the false 


reasbners according to the new philosophy, I 
presented with all due deference to the Bishop 
of London, wh» was pleased to honour me 
with a very gracious acknowledgment*by letter, 
and likewise to the late Arch- bishop of Can* 
t^rbury, who was not pleased to acknowledge 
it in any way whatever. But I had no parti- 
cular right to expect it : all regulars are not 
equally candid to the volunteer, as I have 
good reason to know. 

I have selected several passages from the 
Old Testament, and turned them into verse: 
they are either totally lost, or buried out of 

tj6 MSMOIltS 6t 

sight in the chao» of iMy AiAtiusdriptH > I fidtl 
Me only touragBt the tew Ido^ paj^it I liavd 
with me^ kwA i tfkt Che liberty of ^^ytki^ 

It-*- i 

* • 

<' Judges J Ckapler'fke Hhi 

^^ Hear, all earth's crowned monarcks, h<^ ! 
<< Princes and judges, to my song gire ear : ^ . 
" ^6 Israiers (Jod my; voice t^ raise," 
^ Ana joylnl channt hhpti^^ pAke: ^ ' ' ' 

<< Thoa weiitest Ibrtii in-bon^^^ anrajCy 
^^ Earth to her inmost c^itre shook* 
^^ The mountains melted at thj look, 
'*' The clouds iropp'd down their watry store^ 
'< IReiift "^i^ 'i!he thti'nder^s loud tremendous roar. ' 

^ M^t i tednasber ^htangMr'i^Itfomy dtyi, 
^< ABd'thtttiad tknennien JaelrulM ocrr ^ast? 
^< No print of foot thea mark'd our public ^^p^ 
<( Waste horror rcign'd, the human face was lost 
^^ Then 1, 1 Deborah, kssum'd command, 
^ irhe ntir^ng hibtheV df the drdoping lanff; 
» ThetiNi^^ o^r naiSdn's^Ifen^ffoih the Lt)^, 
f < Then-D^er onr^heads High <w&T'tl thehOBtitei iwnid^ 
'< Nor shield, nor spear was fbudd to arm for figh^ 
^^ And naked thousands turn'd their ^backs in ligkf*^ 

^^ ^ut now awake, my soul, anB {hou arise^ 
**^Dartik ; to theefte tictory is'givni ; 


<< The 6«Ke f9f If 1)94 IW bftfkuw'd : 

<< The Sm^ of Zebpl¥« itiiegMoe 9kew^4, 
<< And Is«M|i«f| II pji9Q»lj tniiJ^9 
<< W|ib f^i^mg emg^^ daxddi the fkdm. - 
<^ Bot Ob ! w^ «»d diiifipm keep . 

^< Reuben inglorious 'midst his bleating sheep ? 
'^ P^Qi^ ifi jQfdi|a ^i^ a^j|oB| se4% ^ 

*^ Sj^Q 10 hi^ shi^Sy i^d Asl^r in ^Li cveek^ 
^^ Whilst Naphthali's more warlike soqs expose 
*^ Their gallant lires, and dare their country's foes. 
^^ iPhen was the battle fought by Canaan's kings 
^< In Taipach beside lifegidde^s springs ; 
^f Tke atara tkemeires 'gainst Sisera declare; 
<f Tftrael ju» Maya's peo^i^ c^'e. 
- ^< Old KjshoQ ptain'd vitd hQ^iile Uoodji 
'^ Roird to the main a purple flood ; 
^^ The neighing steed, the thund'rin^ car 
^ Prodaim'd the terrors of the war ; 
'^ But high in honour 'bove the vest 

" Be J^el Q^t fty^nger blest, 
<^ Bfasf. aboTC woiaen ! to her tent she drew 
f^ With fte^ming friendship Jajbel's mijjhty chief; 
^' Fainting with heat and toil he sought relief, 
^^ He slept, and in his sleep her weary guest she slew. 
<^ Hie workman's hammer in this hand she took^ 
l< In tbait the ftital nail, then baldly struck ; 



<< Through ,teth bis temples droTe the. dead! j ^vrouikiy 
<^ Transfixed his brain and pinn'd him to the gronnd. 
^< Why stays my son, his absent molher cries ; 
<< When shall i welcome liis returning car, 

*< Loaded with spoils of conq«'ring war ? 

^ Ah wretched mother, hide thine eyes ; 
<< At J^ael's feet a headless trunk he lies — 
^^ SoSiserafell, and Grod made wars to cease, 
^^ So rested Israel, and the land hadpeacob'^ 

Of my dramatic pieces 1 must say in the 
gross, that if I did not always succeed in en- 
tertaining the audience, I continued to amuse 
myself. I brought out a co^iic opera in three 
acts, founded on the story oflVat Tyler y which 
being objected to by the Lord Chamberlain^ I 
Was obliged to new model, and produce under 
the title of The Armourer. When I had ta- 
ken all the comedy out of it, I was not surprised 
to find that the public were not very greatly 
edified by what was left. 

I also brought out a comedy called The 
Country Attorney at the summer theatre, 
when it was under the direction of the elder 
Mr. Colman. At the same theatre, under thq 
auspices of the present candid and ingenious 
Buperintendant, I produced my comedy of 


J%e 3ox- Lobby Challenge^ and my. drama of 
Dan Pedro. 

When the new and splendid theatre of 
Dru7y*Lane was opened, my comedy of 7%^ 
JesBD was represented, and if I am not mistaken, 
(I speak upon conjecture) it was the first new 
piece exhibited on that stage. I am ashamed 
to say with what rapidity I dispatched that 
hasty composition, but my friend Bannister^ 
who saw it act by act, was a witness to 
die progress of it; in what degree he was a 
promoter of the success of it I need not say : 
poor Suett also, now no more, was an admirabte 

The benevolence of the audience assisted me 
in rescuing a forlorn and persecuted cha^ 
racter, which till then had only been brought 
upon the stage for the unmanly purpose of 
being made a spectacle of contempt, and a 
butt for ridicule : In the success of this comedy 
I felt of course a greater gratification, than I 
had. ever felt before upon a like occasion. 

The part of Sheva presented Mr. Bannis* 
ter to the public in that lights in which 
he will always be seen, when nature fairiy 
drawn and strongly charactered is committeU 

T 4 

280' H£M0IR8 OF 

to hts care. . Jjdt the poet give him the nftodef^ 
and his animation will give^ it the actidA and 
the life. 

It has also served as a stepping-stone tb 
the stage for. an actor, who in my jodgineiit, 
(and I am not afraid of being singular in that 
opinioti) stands amongst the highest of bit 
profession ; fbr if qnidk conception^ true dis^ 
crimination,' and . the haj^y faculty of- incar« 
nating the idea of his poet, are properties essen^ 
tial in the almost undefinable cbm position of iai 
gneat and perfect actor, these and many mote 
will be found in Mn Dowtoiu Let thos^ 
who have a claim upon his servicei)^ call 
him to situations not unworthy of his best 
exertions, and the stage will feel the raltie «f 
his talents. 

The fVheei of Fortune came out in the sue** 
ce^ding season, and First Love followed clost 
upon its steps. They vrtre su^rcessfnl dome* 
dies, and very powerfully supported by the per* 
formers of them in every part thrDughont. I 
was fortunate in the plot of tht first ; for there 
is dignity of mind ki the fbolgiveness of dnjo4 
ries, which elevates the character of Penrud* 
docki and Mr« Kemble's just perdenSfication of 


it addedtx^ n hu!kj fiction all the ffarce aadin^ 
terest of a reality. When so much bcfasvgi to 
tte actov the aathor must be careful faow^he 
armgfttes t(k) nmcb to him sitf» ^ - 

Of Fir^t L$^e I shail only sity/ that: vdieti 
tvo such e^R}ui(Bite aeti^sB^l; tedOMpijred 'to%ap^ 
pofime; I will not be 90 vain as to pT«sui«fr«i 
e^uld have stbod without tfceir help, : 

I think, M I atn now bo near the conelonoa 
^ diese Memoirs, I may as w^U wind np tny 
dealii^gs with the t^eacre^ hefott I proceed 
any further. I am beholden to Coven4>-Gtt«* 
deti ft>r accepting my drama* of The Dc^s of 
Fore and False Impressions-^To Druryi-Lane 
for The Lust of the Family, The W4>rd for 
Ndturey The DependaM, The Eceetviric 
Lover and for The Sailor*s Daughftr. My 
life has been a long one, and my health of late 
years uninterrupted ; I am very rarely called o^ 
by avocations of an undomestic kind, and the 
man, who gives so very small a portion of 
his time to absolute idleness as I have done, 
will do a vast d^l in the oourse of time, espe- 
cially if his body does XKit stand in need of 
exercise, m^ his mind, which never knows 

282 MBM0IR8 OF 

reihissioQ of activity, incessantly dem&ndk to 
be employed. 

I was in the practice of interchaqging an 
annual visit with Mrs. Blud worth of Holt near 
Winchester, the dearest friend of my wife. 
When I was upon those visits I used to amuse 
myself with trifles, that required no application 
to my books. A few from amongst many of 
these fugitive compositions appear to me not 
totally unworthy of being arrested and brought 
to the bar as petti-larcenary pilferers of the son- 
net- writing style, of which some elegatit sisters 
of the Muses have published such ingenious 
originals, as ought to have secured them against 
interlopers, who have nothing better to produce 
than some such awkMrard imitations as the 


<< How shall I paint thee, many-colour'd Wit? 
<< Where are the pallet's brilliant tints to Tie 
<^ With the bright flash of thine electric eye ? 
*^ Nor can I catch the glance ; nor wilt thoa sit 

<< Till my slow^copying art can trace 

<< One feature of thy Turying face. 

<< Soul of the social board, thy quick retort 
<^ Can cut the dbputations quibbier shorty 


^ Stop ^ dali pedanf 8 drcanutaiitial mw, 

^< Aitfi silence er'n the lond-tongn'd mfta of law* 

<^ The solemn ass, who daily great 
<^ Mistakes stupidity for state^ 
<< Unbends his marble jaw6, and brayt 
<' Inyoluntarj, pidnfal praise, 

<< Thon, Wit, in philosophic eyes . 
<^ Can'st make the ianghing waters rise ; 
'< Proad Science Tails with bended knee 
<^ His academic cap to thee^ 
<' And thoogh thy sallies fly the test 
<< Of truth, she titters at the jest 

<< Thrice happy talent, could'st thon understand 
<^ Virtue to spare and buffet Tice alone, 
^' Woald*8t thou but take discretion by the hand, 
^' The world, O Wit, the world would be thine own.*^^ 


Jfo. 2. 

<^ Why, Affectation, why this mock grimace ? 
^^ Go, silly thing, and bide that simpering face 1 
>^ Thy lisping pnittle ai|d thy mincing gait, 
^^ All thy false mimic fooleries I hate; 
^^ For thon art FoUy's counterfeit, and she^ 
^^ Who is right-foolbh, hath the better plea { 
<^ Nature's true ideot I prefer to thee* 

2M ai«if«i^« o-f 


<< Why OaA B9ft IWigw^ ^ Wkf HM 4iiiw8lw4oi)e; 

^^ I laugh at all those pretty baby tears, 

<< Those fluttefiniB^ filintiiW »nd mr^ f«api- 

<< Caa tSey ifimife m I Qw mch mwmfif\§» moTe, 
<< Tonch us with pity^ qr mw^ iyW> iwro i . 
<< No, Affectation, yain is all thine art, 
<^ Those eyes ^lf^y iratvter iQif er ®^iy S^fft ; 
<^ They'll iMf or te4 tbw pwagfat tp th? bcjif t,** 


«< Go, Vanity, 8pm4 fr rt> 4l0 ff^Nllted^ ^i»g i 
<< I'll harm thee not, gay flutterer, not I ; 

<' Pass on uobrnt J { wtr Ml ivUb a fly« 

«^ Alt if the M1110 w »p«ftiv9 jtyk» 
. ' >^ BiAtoci tfty fliUjr fmkt nbUey 

<* Fear not — shell lash thee only with a smites 

^ ^ If thoQ art heard too 1qyi4 of tongue^ 
<* ■ ^* And thy small tap pf wit runs oijt 

** Too fast, and bubbles all abont^ 
'^* 'Twere charity methiqjk^ to stop the bnng. 
<< If when thon should'^ be staid akid a^j^ 
^' Thoult take na warning from old ajs^e^ 
<< But still run riot, and spread 9^11 
^ la aU the coloujrs of the pcnicock's tafl ; 
<< If, with two hollow cheeks bedaub'd with red» 
^ TI19 Qttrich ploflie Mds on thy palskd head* 


c< And with soft glances IrMi la^kslustre eyes 
<< Thou aim'st to make our hmftis thy beauty's priie, 
<< Then, %h(Nii, Bum Valif1l)r, %cwail^ ; 
<< Look to tbytfellr«^-49Mlir««rtiie^4f I^8f»«K^ : * 

No. 4. 

*^ A little more, and yet a little more— 
^^ Oh, for the nmltipjying art 
<^ To heaj) the still increasing stpr^^ 
^^ Till it make Oisa like a wart ! 

.' . . .... ' i 

! , > ' • • ♦ . 

*^ Oh Avarice,, thou rage accurst, 

** Insatiate dropsy of the soul, / 

^^ Will nothii^ quench thy sordi^ thirst'^ . . . 

^* Were the sea jgold, -WQuld'st dij^ink the whole? 

*^ Lo ! j^it^^leads— W^^t^hen ? There's none-^ 
*^ The widow kneels for bre^. — Bcgon©— 
^^ Hark, in thine ears, the lOrphans cry; 
** They die4)f famine — -l^^ ^l^om die.-r- 


*' Oh scene of w6e ; -heariHrending sight ! 
^^ Can'st thou turn fram them ? Yes, behold — J 
<' From all those heaps of .hoarded jj^d ^ 
** Not one, one piece to save them ?-^Not a mite,-*- 

<< Pitiless Wretch, sudi sMl thy sentence be 


' No, 6. . 
<< What is that stiff and statelf thiDg I see ? 
<< Of fiesh aod blood like you and me^ 
'< Or is it chissePd out of stone, 
*< Some statue from its pedestal stept down ? 

<< 'Tis' one and both-»-a rery prude 

^< Of marble flesh and icy blood ; 

<^ Dead and afire at once— behold, 
*<< It breathes and liyes ; touch it, 'tis dead and cold. 

<^ Look how it throws the scowling eye 

<< On Pleasure as she dances by ; 
<< Quick flies the sylph, for long she cannot bear 
*^ The damping rigour of its atmosphere^ 

<^ Chill as the eastern fog that blights 

<^ Each blossom upon which it lights; 

<^ Say, ye that know what Tirtue is, dedare, 
<^ Is this the form her rotaries must wear ? 
'^ Tell me in time ; if such it needs must b^^ 
^ Yirtue and I shall never more agree.'* 

ENVY. ' ' 
(See The Observer. Vol., 4. No. M.J 


*f Cant in thjself, Q Pride, thoa oast aot b». 
** More competently cant by m*. 


^ Hence, ^aiXkm, sdf-tofmentiag stupid sot ! 

^< Thy dullness di^mps pur jojs ;^ we want thee not. 

<< Round the gay table side l>y side , . / . 

<^ Social we sit ; there, is no room for Pride : 

<^ We cannot bear thy melancholy face ; 

^< The company i? fUU ; thou heilt no place. • ^ 

<< Man, miui^ thou little groVeUqg etf^ . 
^< Turn thine eyes inwards, yiew thyself; 
<< Draw out thy balance, hang it forth, 
<< Weigh e¥ery atom thpu art worth, 
<< Thy peerage, pedigree, estate, 
^< (The pains that Fortune took to make thee ^rtat) 
^< Toss them all in — stars, garters, strings, 
^< Heap np the mass of tawdry thin^i, 
^^ The whole t^lia of kings^-^ 
'^ Now watch the beam, and fiiirly say 
<< How moch does all this trumpery weigh t 
*^ GiTe in the total ', let the scale be just, 
*< ^nd dyrtky prond mprtal, own tho^i art but diisf 


No. S. 

<< Oh sweet Humility, can words impart 

<< How much I Ibye thee, how diyioe thou art ? 

<^ Nurse us not only in our infant age, 

*^ Conduct us still through each successiye stage 

^^ Of varying life, lead us from youth's gay prime 

^^ To the last step ,of mail's appoint time* 

<< Wit, GebtiiiytilAHilltg^WlMtM« Omt^ 
<< Ti«'{MMet^ <$6km«5^r(tliepe«r*la)r«y 
<< If without the^ i^}t caiiMt pkKuiey ' • 
<< If withc^^hee'ivb^mMlot pHkti ' ^ 

<< Why do I doat upon her faded face ? 

<c Nor rosy heaMi Wiif Vhmnkkg ywil^ ji 4feie 

<' Humility rb6Bl4iw« 4^ amgel gMce. 

5« . 

<^ Where should 4itMlMid^imni^ltng skitter ilie, 
<< How should a ChBisttta lk«, Imw sko»M1i^ ^ 

<< 'Twas in thytem tM vnm^II^s fMeemer^^aia^^ 

'^ And condescended -to'hisJiunatt Wvtii, 

<< With thee htf.«^.^ffiwiifaiffB, ideaih and ^iKime, 

<< Thoughwgc^s iMiM'lyikn LoM of Jbeakr'a «n««arth." 

When iJwf '^f!MDtysieqtieoces wsiritmg fwm the 
French revolution had involved us in a war, 
our country called ' upon its patriotic volun- 
teers to turn out and assemble in its defence. 
I was still resident at Turibridg6 Wells, and, 
though hot proprietor of a single foot of laud 
in the cQUB»ty pf j^je^t, j4&t I iiound nayjseJf in 
the hevitefpf My .Ej66aclitf)0ate ficie^ds aa»d felkyr 
subjects; t]mf immsidi9:fs^ ^ v^ to 

mount and form themselves under my com- 


mand as a tioopof yeomen cavalry: I was jdif- 
fident of my fitness to bead theni in that capa- 
city, aud, dedining their kind offer, recoin-. 
nifiiided to them a neighbouring gejitleman, 
^ho had served in the line, and held .the r^nlf: 
of a field officer upon half pay. Mep pf their. 
priaciples and spirit could not fail to be re- 
spectable, and they are aow aeryiog vith cre- 
dit to their x:aptain and themselves under the 
con)«iand of the Lord Viscount Bojne, who 
iiesides at Tunbxidge WeUsy and together 
with the dAities attenda^nt on his .commission, 
as coti^bmaiKler of this respectable corps, exe- 
cutes the .offide <xf a magistrate for the cquuty, 
not less amiable and honourable in bis private 
character, than useful and patriotic in his pub* 
tic <Qne. 

Some time after this, when .certain leading 
gentlemen qf the ,coun,ty began tp make their 
tenders to government for raising qorps pf vo- 
lunteer infa<nt;ry, J no logger hesitated to. obey 
the wisb^s qf the loyal and spirited young pien, 
who offered to :enrpU themselves under my 
command, .aud finding (them amount upon the 
muster to >two full companies, properly offi- 
cered, I reported them to our, excellent Loxd 

▼OL. II. u 


Lieutenant of the county the Earl of Romneyv 
and received His Majesty's commission to 
command them with the rank of Major Com- 
mandant. I had instant proof that the 2%al 
they had shewn in turning out in their king 
and country's cause did not evaporate in mere 
professions, for to their assiduity and aptitude, 
to their exemplary and correct observance of 
discipline, and strict obedience to their officers, 
the warmest testimony, that I could give, 
would only do them justice. It was winter 
when we first enrolled, and every evening 
after striking work till ten o'clock at night wc 
were incessantly at the drill, and after we had 
been practised in the manual, som^tioies 
turning out for the march l^ moonlight,, 
sometimes by torch-light. I had not a pri- 
vate that was not in the vigour of his youth, 
their natural carriage was erect and soldier- 
like, they fell readily into the attitude and 
step of a soldier on the march, for they we»e 
all artisans, mechanics or manufacturers of 
Tunbridge-ware, and I had not one, who did 
the work of a mere labouring peasant; amongst 
them, whilst every officer submi^ed to the 
rule I laid down, and did the duty and learnt 


Ihe diercise of a private in the line before hj 
stood out and took command in his proper 
pojst. ' 

Our service beitig limited to the district of 
the counties, of Kent, Sussex: and Surry, no 
SQpner Were' rty companies fit for duty, than ^t 
their unatiimOus desire I reported them to the 
Secretary of State as ready and willing to serve 
in any part of England, and this their loyal 
tender being laid before the King^ His Majesty 
wais gjaciously pleased to signify to us h^s 
royal approbation of our zeal through his S^*^ 
cretary of State; • 

. When the volunteer infantry were dismissed 
at the peace of Amiens, my men requested 
leave. to hold their arms and serve without pay. 
At the same time they were pleased to. honour 
me with the present of a sword by the hands 
of their Serjeant Major^ to the purchase of 
which every private had contributed, ancj 
which they rendered infinitely dear and valua- 
ble to me by engraving on the hilt of it—* 
" That it -was a tribute of their esteem for 
" their beloved commander/' 

. The renewal of hostilities has again put 
tjbem under my command, and I trust thd 

u2 • 

wannth a^d sinteertty of my unaiterable at- 
tachment td ihe^ h^s >m)w ti6 iieed iof appeal- 
' ing to professions. We know each other too 
well, and I am persuaded that th^ere is nxM: one 
'ainongst thetn, but wiU giv^ me credit Ifor the 
truth when I declaTC, that as >a fttber lovoshi^ 
chiMreh, so iJo I love ^^k^m. We have no^v 
augmetited atr strength to foer com^anie^, 
and ffoitt the expctiencfe 1 have repeatedly had 
of their <;enduct, virben upon petxnanent d«ty, 
i am <^orivitoced, that if wer theineoessity siiatl 
t>ccHt for caM^g ^bem <mt iipoin a<ct(ial service, 
they will be found steady in thfe h&ur df trial, 
^nd perfectly resolved never to^^fsgraoe the 
^character «of Men of Kent, 0r tarmish that 
proiid trophy, •ii^iich they iiwcribe "t^p^^n their 

I humbly conceive, that if *we talce into our 
consideration the 'prodigious tnagtiJtude and 
Extent <3f the volunteer igyjgitetn, we shafll find 
it 'hats been |>roihic!ave of wore real iise^ 
and less incidental emba'rrassmeiift *o gt>vem- 
ment, thaii 'conld have been expected. We 
must 'make allowances for tbose, 'who have 
been accustomed to look for the streng^ and 
resources of the nation only dn its disposable 

1 / 


force, if they arc apt to undervalue tbe impart-* 
ance of it& domestic army. But aftc:r the; 
proofs^ which the capital and country hav^ 
given of the 3pirity discipline and good ojdcf 
of their volunteers, both cavalry and infantry, 
it is not wise or politic, or liberal to disparage 
them as some have attempted to do ; there a?^ 
indeed but few, who have so done ; the wO|w 
der is that there are any; but tl^t a man 
should be so fbnd qf his own dull jest a^ to 
risque it upon one, who haa too much wit of 
his own not to spy out the want of it in others, 
is perfectly ridiculous ; and I aip })erf^uaded, 
that a nun of Colonel Birch's acl^nowledged 
merit as an officer, and established character 
for every good quality, that denotes and maiks 
tbe gentleman, would mfinitely rather be the 
object of such a pointless sarca^rPi than the 
author of it 

The man, who lives to see many days, must 
look to encounter many sorrows- My eldest 
son, who had married the e)de^t daughter of 
the late Earl of Buckinghanishire, and sister of 
the present, died in Tobago, where be weht to 
qualify for a civil employment in thi^t island ; 
and, some time after, de^th bereft me of my 

u 3 

1 / 


wife: Their virtues cannot need the ornament 
of description, and it has ever been my study 
to resign myself to the dispensations of Provi- 
dence with all the fortitude I can summon, 
convinced that patience is no mark of insen- 
sibility, nor the parade of lamentation any 
evidence of the sincerity or permanency of 

My two surviving sons are happily and re- 
spectably married, and havefemilies; I have 
the care, under chancery, of five children, re- 
licts of the late William Badcock Esquire, who 
married my second daughter, and died in my 
house at Tunbridge Wells, and I have the 
happiness to number nineteen grandchildren, 
some of whom have already lived to crown my 
warmest wishes, and I see a promise in the 
rest, that flatters my most sanguine hopes.— 
These are comforts, that still adhere to me, 
and whilst I have the kindness of my children, 
the attachment of my friends and the candour 
of the public to look up to, I have ample cause 
to be thankful and contented. 

Charles, the elder of my surviving sons, 
married the daughter of General Mathew, a 
truly noble and benevolent gentleman, loved 



and honoured by all who know him, and who 
will be ever gratefully remembered by the 
island he has governed, and the army he has 

William, the youngest, married Eliza, daugh- 
ter of Mrs* Burt, and, when commanding His 
Majesty's ship the La Pique in the West In- 
dies, being seized with the fever of the coun- 
try at Saint Domingo, was sent home, as the 
only chance of saving him, and constrained to 
forfeit the command of that very capital .fri- 
gate. When the young and amiable Princess 
Amelia was residing at Worthing for tlie be- 
nefit of the §ea and air, my son, then com- 
mander of thp Fly sloop of war, kept guard 
upon that station, prepared to accommodate 
her Royal Highness with his boats or vessels 
in any excursions on the water, which she 
might be advised to take. I came to Wor- 
thing, whilst he was there upon duty, and was 
permitted to pay my homage to the Princess. 
It was impossible to contemplate youth and 
beauty suffering tortures with such exemplary 
patience, and not experience those sensations 
of respect and pity, which such a contempla- 
tion naturally must inspire. When my daugh- 

u 4 


ter-in-law, Lady Albinia Cumbetlaod tookber 
tarn of duty as lady of the bed-chamber, I 
took the liberty through her hands to offer the 
few stanzas which are here inserted 

<^ How long, just heav'ti, shall Britain's ro^al maid 
<^ With meek snbmissibn these sad hours sH^taan ? 
^^ How loQg shall liiaocenGe inTUke thine aid^ 
<^ And yon^ and beauty press the couch of pain ? 

*^ Enough, dread pow'r, unless it be decreed, 
^^ To reconcile thee in these eyil times, 
<< That one pot-|$ victim for the whole should bleed, 
^' And by her suffering expiate our crimes. 

<^ And sure I am, in thine offended sight 
*' If nothing but perfection cati atone, 
<^ No wonder thy chastising rod should light 
^' On ok)e,^who hath to Errors other a^kn^ 

<^ But spare, Ah spare this object of our lore, 
<< For whose dear sake we're punish'd in our fears ; 
'^ Send down thy saving angel from above, 
^^ And quench her pangs in^our repi^tkrtt tears. 

^' Yes^, they shall It in compasston from the skies, 
"^^ Man cannot be more merciful than heav'n : 
" Thy pangs, sweet saint, thy patience shall suffice, 
^< And at thy suit our faults shall beforgiv'n. 


^^ And if, wbilst ef&tj rabjecfs rack'd, 
^< Our {MOII9 King preseiiti a fotbef'a plea, 
<< What hdaY'n with justice n^ght from ua exact 
^^ HeaTeti'9 mercy will remit tD him and thce« 

<< Nor iriU I doubt if thy dtar kiiother'» pnjtr^ 
<< BreathM from her sorrowing bosom, shaU provail ; * 
<< Thesighsof aagds atenotlost in air, 
^' Can thea Amelia's fiister-snitorft fail I 

^^ Come thtfi, hoart-h^^Ui^ cherab, from on high, 

<< Fresh dipt in dew of Paradise descend, 

<^ Bring tender syniiathy with tearful eye, 

^^ Bring hope, bring health, and let the Mnse attend. 

^^ Stretched on her coach, beside tiie Mmt jstrand^ 
<^< Whose skirts old Ocean's briny bfllows lave, 
^^ From the extremest verge of British land 
^' The languid fair-one eyes the refluent wave* 

'^ Was ever suffering purity more meek, 

^^ Was ever yirgin martyr more resigned ? 

^^ Mark how the smile, yet gleaming oti her chedt, 

** bespeak* hef gentiest, best of human 

^^ Arovnd her aithnd Uie synpaihiBing friends^ 
*' Whose charge it is her weary hours to cheer, 
*^ Each female breast the struggling sigh distends, 
^* Whilst the bfave veteran drops the secret tear. 


<< And be, whose sacred trust it is to guanl 
<^ The faire$t freight, that ocean ever bore^ 
*^ He shall receive his loyalty's reward 
<^ In iadrels won from Gallia's hostile shore* 

<^ Now let thy wings their healing balm distill 
<^ Celestial chernb, messenger of peace ! 
*^ 'Tis done ; the torttir'd nerre obeys thy will^ 
^^ And with thy tonch its angry tbrobbings cease. 

<^ Light as a sylph, I see the blooming maid 
*^ Spring from her conch — Oh may my votire strain 
<^ Confirm'd erince, that neither I have pray'd, 
^^ Nor thou, my Muse, hast prophesied in vain." 

I have now completed, what occurred to me 
to say of an old man, whose writings have been 
very various, whose intentions have been al- 
ways honest and whose labours have experi- 
enced little intermission. I put the first pen 
to these Memoirs at the very close of the last 
year, and I conclude tbepi in the middle of 
September. * I had promised myself to the un- 
dertaking, and I was to proportion my dis- 
patch to the measure of the time, upon which 
without presumption I might venture to reckon. 
As many of my readers, as may have staggered 
under the weight of such a bulky load, will 



have a fellow feeling for me, even though I 
shall have sunk under it : but if I have borne 
it through with tolerable success, and given an 
interest to some of the many pages, which 
this volume numbers, I hope they will not 
mark with too severe a censure errors and in- 

Quas out incuria fudUj 
Aut humanaparum cavii natura • 

I have through life sincerely done my best 
according to my abilities for the edification of 
my fellow creatures and the honour of my 
God. I pretend to nothing, whereby to be 
commended or distinguished above others of 
my rate, save xinly for that good will and hu- 
man kindness, which descended to me from 
my ancestors, and cannot properly deserve the 
name of virtue, as they cost no struggle for 
the exertion of them. I am not exempt from 
anger, but I never let it fasten on me till it 
harden into malice or revenge. I cannot pass 
myself off for better than I have been where I 
am about to go, and if before my departure I 
were now to take credit for merits which I have 
not, the few, which I have, would be all tqo 


• \ 

300 MBMOlJttS OP 

few to atone for the deceit ; but I am thorou^- 
ly weary of the task of talking of myself, and 
it is with unfeigned joy I welcome the conclu- 
sion of my task and my talk. 

I have now only to devote this last page of 
my book (as it is probable I shall the last 
hour of my life) to the acknowledgments, 
which are due to that beloved daughter, who 
ever since the death of her mother has been my 
inseparable companion, and the solace of my 


Extremum hunc^ Aretkusa^ mihi concede laborem 

Frances Marianne, the youngest of my 
children, was born to me in SpfeiUf After 
many long and dangerous returns of iiiness, it 
has pleased Providence to preserve to me the 
blessing of her life and health. In her filial 
affection I find all the comforts, that the best 
of friends can give me ; from her talents and 
understanding I derive all the enjoyments, 
that the most pleasing of companions can com* 
niunieate. As she has witnessed every step in 
the progress of this laborious work, and cheer- 
ed every hour of relaxation whilst I have rested 
from it, if these pages, which contain vthc Me- 


moirs of her father's life, may happily obtain 
some notice from the '\^'orlxi, by whomsoever 
they are read, by the same this testimony of 
my devotion to the best of daughters shall be 
also read ; and, if it be the will of God, that 
here my Kterary labours are to cease for ever, 
I can say to the world for the last tiine, that 
this is a dedication, in which no flattery is 
mixed, a tribute to virtue, hi which fiction has 
tio part, a:na an effusion of gratitude, esteem 
and love, which flows sincerely from a fathei^s 


' f 



February the IQth 1806. 

a AM this day seventy four years old, anj 
having given to the world an account of what 
I have been employed upon since I have be-, 
longed to it, I thought I had' said quite enough 
of an humble individual, and that I might 
have been acquitted of my task, and dismissed 
to my obscurity; but certain friends, upon 
whose judgment and sincerity I have all pos- 
sible reliance, tell me that I have disappointed 
their expectations in the narrative of what I 
have been concerned in since I came from 
Spain ; a period, which, being more within 
th^ir own time, might, as they conceive, have 
been made more interesting to then>, and to 
the rest of my readers. 

It may be so ; nay, I have reason to believe 
it is so, for I am conscious that I was impa- 
tient to conclude my work, and was intimi- 
dated by the apprehension of offending against 
that modesty of discourse, which becomes me 


to hold, wben I have no better subject to talk 
upon than myself.* 

In deference to their judgment I shall now 
attempt to fill up that chasm, which they have 
pointed out in my imperfect work ; but the 
volume, which is in the hands of the first pur- 
chasers, aod whibh I have disposed of to them 
with all its errors, I consider myself in honour 
bound to abide by ; as I hold it not correctly 
fair to recommend a second edition by any 
means, that may contribute, to degrade the 
first: I therefore leave untouched all which 
the liberal patrons of my book are already pos- 
sessed of, and now tender to them a few addi- 
tional pages, which they may, or may not, 
attach to their volume, as they shall see fit. 

There afe considerations, that will weigh 
with every writer, when his subject leads him 
to discourse of living characters : there is at 
once temptation to indulge his friendly preju- 
dices, and motives to deter him from exposing 
all his free opinions. Hence it comes to pass, 
that, being checked by truth on one side, and 
by delicacy on the other, he finds his only safe 
resource in silence or an inoffensive tame neu- 


If therefore I hare written indolently of tbif 
latter period of my life, it was not becaw^ I 
had been more indolent in it, for I jDigbt have 
said without offence to modesty^ th^t I havQ 
been much more active as a literary din sincf 
I have ceased to be busied as an officic^l 09^i 
but it was because I had &Uen idiiito heavy 
roads, and like the traveller, who, weaiied by 
the tediousiiess of the way, puts four horses to 
hfs chaise for the concluding sta^ so did I 
hasten to terminate my task, shutting my eym 
against those objcctis, that would have operated 
to prolong it. 

I will oniy say in general, that there is a 
-multiplicity of ifty unpublished productiooa, 
written since I came from ISpain, aviliich to 
those, who shaH search for them and :find tiliem, 
will evince my industry. The worid has such 
an amiable partiality to dead men's dooaags, 
that perhaps, when these em bvios shall see the 
light, and my eyes shafH be for ever closed 
against it, I may look to receive a vast deal of 
mercy and some praise, wlien I can no longer 

be the better for either. If our 'resurrection- 


critics shall persist to rummage amongst the 
graves, and carry their eyes like the hare, who 



sees distinctly only what is behind her, they 
may probably spy out* my 3hade in the back- 
ground, and bring it into notice. It is natu* 
rally to be. presumed that^ if they would come 
manfully forward for a living author, the living 
author would be better pleaded ;. but this he 
must not expect; the temple of their praise is 
reared with dry bones and skulls, and till he is 
a skeleton he cannot be their hero r in this 
however they are more generous than the le-^ 
gislature, who have given so short a date to 
the tenure of his copy-right, that, till that is 
out, the circulation of his works can scarce 
•commence. Now although this mode of deal- 
ing may not exactly suit the living man's oc^ 
colons, yet theiie is a kind of posthumous jus-* 
tice in it, as it leads him to expect a considera-^ 
tion for what he does some time or other, not- 
withstanding he shall have done it so much 
the worse for the discouragen^ient, which he 
met with whilst he was about it It also 
warns him what he is to expect from the com* 
pany he lives with, and apprises him of the 
luxury he is to enjoy, when he is out of their 
My youngest son, now a Post- Captain in 



606 ME MO I us OF 

the Royal Navy, had a lazy, pilfering rascal 
in his ship, though all the while a prime sea- 
•man : when he had seized him up to the gun 
for some enormity, he liberated him without a 
stroke, and reminding him of his capacity to 
perform his duty with credit to himself and 
good service to his country, iappointed him at 
a word to be Captain of the fore- castle. Re- 
'formation instantly took place in the man's 
mind ; promotion roused his pride ; pride in- 
' spired honesty, and he thenceforth acquitted 
himself as an excellent and trust- worthy sea- 
man, and was pointed out to me froln his 
quarter-deck as such. Now according to the 
moral of my story we may imagine a young 
beginner to set out ,lazily on his first start into 
authorship : he may, like the seaman, have 
good stores in his own capacity, but through 
indolence or something else prefer the shorter 
process of plagiarism to the laborious efforts 
of invention. I humbly apprehend that his 
reviewing officer, instead of flogging him round 
the fleet of critics, may come sooner to his 
point, if the object of correction be amendment, 
by copying the humane experiment of the gal- 
lant officer, whom I have taken the liberty to 


instajicej.and have the honour of being allied 


I flatter myself I have through life been not 
unmindful of the riile, which I have been so 
frequently importunate to recommend ; and I 
must own in some instances I have had no 
better reason for my praise and commenda*" 
tion of a brother author than because he was 
alive ; for I was perfectly convinced he would 
no^ mend upon discouragement^ and I coni» 
ceived perhaps it was as easy for him to be 
better, as it was for me to persuade myself that 
he was not bad^ 

In these endeavours I have sbmetimes been 
defeated, and an instance has occurred since 
the publication of my Memoirs, which proves 
how Uttle certainty there is diat fair intentions 
shall be fairly understood. I have unfortu^ 
nately for myself given offence to Mr. Hay* 
ley, and put him to the trouble of stopping 
the presSf whilst advancing peaceably towards 
the completion of its labour, merely to make 
room for me in his supplementary pages to 
the life of Cawper^ and with no other cause 
in view, that I can comprehend, but to show 
the world that he can be angry without causei 

ix 2 

308 MEMOIRS t)9 

The passages he alludes to in my Memoirs aie 
in the hands, if not in the recollection, of my 
readers. As they gave umbrage to him^ I 
wish I couid extinguish them ; but that is not 
in my power, and he has made them necessary 
far my exculpition ; to them of course I mnst 
appeal ; to. His pages there is no need that I 
^ould make any reference^ for all the M'jorld 
Will read \diat Mn Haylcy writes. Still I 
must think that in the judgment of all men, 
who have read us both, I shaQ stand acquitted 
t>f any purpose to affront Mr. Hayley ; for 
surely I may hope there cannot be a chance 
that any man besides himself can so miscon* 
9true and pervert the compUmemt I meant ta 
pay him. 

He doabits if I deserve the praise he ^ve 
me : I doubt so too, and my doubts were 
prior to his. I believe he also doubts if I am 
justified in publishing his Verses. I confess I 
am at his mercy upoa that account; yet he 
gives me reason ^to hdpe he oumot be very 
^angry with me, when I can qiubte his owaa au* 
thority in extenuatiodi of my fault, for he says 
*— that the prais€ of Cowper is s& mngulMvly 
vuiuable from the re^rve and purity ^ his 

1 ' 


^hpoiition^ that it ^suauld almost seem a Cfni^l 
injury to suppress a pm*ticie of it, when de^ 
Uberately or even cursorily bestowed-y^Cpagi 
4 Add. Pages). Now why it should be " al«» 
** most a cruel injury** to suppress Mr. Cow* 
per's praiee, and any thing like an offence to 
publish Mr. Hayley's, I do not comprciiend : I 
have ever paid my testimony both publicly and 
in private to Mn H^yley's genius, and how 
then can I be supposed insensible to his praise ? 
Though I should profess myself even as vain 
of his applauc^ as I could have been of Mr« 
Cowper'Sy there is one man at least in the 
world, who methinks might in his heart be 
moved to pardon and excuse my error. I must 
confess however that if Mr. Hayley had tmat*- 
ed me no better than his. hero has treated his 
three kittens in the Colubriad, I should not 
have estwmed myself justified in exposing bis 
lusus paeticus to the ridicule of the reader. 

I had not the happiness to know the hero 
of Mr. Hayley, and I am not quite sure that I 
h&ve a clear conceptiop of his eharact^ from 
his biographer's description of it; for when I 
am told in one page of the reserve and purity 
of Jiis disposition, and in inother, ck>se-ensu*« 

X 5 

310 MEMOIRS or 

ing, of his unsuspecting innocence and sporiivs 
gaiety, I am rather puzzled how to reconcile 
these seeming contrarieties ; especially when I 
am again informed of a peculiarity in his cha^ 
racter, a gay and tender gallantry, perfectly 
distinct from amorous attachment-^^^ reserve 
of this nature was indeed a peculiarity in the 
character of this gentleman; and whilst the 
ladies had nothing to apprehend from his gay 
end tender gallantry, his male acquaintance, 
who enjoyed the unsuspecting innocence and 
sportive gaiety of his disposition^ very possi* 
bly overlooked the reserve of it, and found 
him a very pleasant companion with the pro- 
perty most decisively characteristic of a very 
dull one. 

. Now I want all that respect for the gay re- 
sfTve of the departed poet, which should cause 
me to appreciate his praise above that of the 
living one ; and with ail the reverence, that I 
can sumn^on, for a gallantry so perfectly dis- 
tinct from amorous attachment, I cantiot bring 
myself to honour Cowper, as a poet, one whit 
the more for his non-amorous gallantry, or 
Mr. Hayley, in the same light, one atofn the 
IcsSi though any ok slu)uld officiously suggest 


tlmt bis gallantry may be of a different com*- 
pkxion^ I h^ve nothing more to offer in my 
own 4^fence. 

On the part of Doctor Bentiey 1 shall hope 
tliat Mr. Hayley describes his character with 
no better precision than he does the reserve of 
Mr* Cowper, when he stigmatizes him as an 
arrogant critic, subject to fits of dogmatical 
petulance, an imperious PatagonianPoleiftiC'^ 
These would be hard words in some men's 
mouths, but I would fain convince the author 
of The TriumpJis of Temper, that I have not 
been lesn edified than delighted by his poem ; 
and as the natural suavity of his disposition 
has induced him to ^omise that my Grandfa- 
ther shall rest in peqcefor the present, I can 
assure Mr. hayley that I should credit him 
fox his mercy, if I ponld f(?el any horror of his 
viengeance ; but when 1 kno^ he cannot dis- 
turb that rest, over , which he presumes to ar- 
rogate a dispensing power, I must p^t the best 
interpretation on hia language |;hat it y^iU bear, 
a^d calmly tell him-^if it was not; nonsense^ 
it would be something wofse. . . 

But when Mr. Hayley, a,fter venting tliese 
invectives against Doctor Sisntley, is pleased 

X 4 

312 • MEMOIRS ^¥ 

to announce to the world thkt he meditates ta 
pay his respects to him again^ if Hea'den aU 
lows him life and leisure to write such aprt^' 
face as he wishes to prefjp to * the Milton of 
Cdwj)er— it seems to me that if this ingenious 
gentleman had not stopped the press at all, or 
only stopped his pen before he wrote this 
vaunting and inveterate paragraph, it Would 
have been a rescue to his reputation. Let the 
public now decide betwixt the station, which 
Mr. Hayley fills in literature ami that which 
jhy ancestor once held, and say if I have cause 
to tremble at the flourish of this proud chal- 
lengers trumpet ; No ; I am \wll aware that 
although a giiat can soutad a loud horn, it is 
but a little insect : and I am confident that 
arrogance and pet ula^e, when charged upon 
my ancesfol* by'on6 SO o^n to the rebound, 
will neither penetrate nor fix, but return back 
to the plaee from whence they caine. 

In the mean' time I ho^ie that Mr. Hayley, 
who piously refers his*' purpdte to the will of 
Heaven, fnay have'7i/e ^and'teisure allowed to 
him for all worthy undertakings, and wisdom 
to abstain frdmall ridiculons ones ; and as for 


this meditatfed preface, which he btatidlshes 


oter the ashes of dead Bttitley, I hope he wiU 
#ish to writfe nothing but whatlwill do himself 
credit, and theii I hope it will be just such an 
one as he wishes to prefix.* ; but if it slmll be 
his ptea^nte to attack him with a repc^tion of 
bard namts and foiil language, And "calls that 
paying his respects, I trust thet^ will be found 
some friend to truth and good manners, sdme 
temperate defender of the real character of that 
good and benevolent man, who will Imng his 
rash assailant to a better sl^fise by cohviiiciBg 
hiin how very little: oil will serve to sttfl^ate 
a wasp. ' . i 

Mn Hayley calls Doctor Bentley the god pf 
my infatitint Molatry. I havfe simply i^elated 
what I kd^w of him as a boy : I hope therie 
was nothing fttlsome or extravagant in my 
puerile anecdotes, and trust I have ni^ither 
made bim^ a god, nor myself an idolater. I do 
not charge that upon the biographer of Mr, 
Cowper, though in mejas an infant silch weak- 
ness would be mote cxicusable than in him as' 
a man. l^till I own myself impressed with a 
warm and heartfclt respect for the memory of 
my gmndfather, but it is a resj>ect ** on this' 
^'^side of ^ idolatry," and' when I said of Mr, , 


MfiM0IR6 OF 

Hayley, that he wa$ one of the last men liviag, 
vho should disparage Bentley, it was because 
% rqg^rded him as one of the best classical 
scholars of his day. 

In coBclusioa I declare; that I never meant 
to give offepce to Mr. H^yl^y^ and as I 
think 1^ had no shadow of a. right to take of* 
fence, I .cannot consider mys^f bpitnd to apo-. 

I seldom hear the present sera spoken of as 
I think it ought to b|e, for sure I am that it 
has beea brilliantly disttog^ished for a. variety 
of characters great in science, arts and arms* 
Should J venture to pronounce upon it as the 
most luminous in the annals of our country, I 
am not sure that afiy man would be able to 
confute the assertion, but I will throw down 
no such gauntlet to the ch^unpions of past 
times; yet although instances may not occur 
of individual pre-eminence so striking as some, 
which record could supply, still the general 
diffusion of talents is so very much increased, 
that it operates as a leveller, which nothing 
less than first-rate genius can surmount. 

I have lived to see Pitt, Nelson and Com-r 
wallis struck out of the number of the living,, 


yet neither eloquence, valour or integrity are 
buried in their ashes. 

Ciirero published studied oratiops ; Pitt ut- 
tered unpremeditated speeches; yet >vho is 
prepaid to say that the eloquence of the En- 
glish senator was inferior to the eloquence of 
die Roman pleader? Cicero wrote innumer 
rable epistles, crammed with praises of bimr 
self; I believe there is no Atticu^ in existence, 
who can produce such specimens of the va- 
nity of the modern. Cicero humbled him* 
self to Lucceius, and made abject suit even to 
his partiality, imploring him to write a pane- 
gyric on bis consulsliip ; Pitt has never been 
accused of paying court to any man as the 
historian of his administration, but on tlie 
contrary carried himself too loftily towards 
men of talents, for any such to be in niuch 
good humour with him^ Cicero had many 
objects, that attracted his ambition, his mind 
was stored with various kinds of knowledge, 
and ardently attached to various studies and 
* pursuits ; one passion only, untainted by self- 
interest, unseduced by pleasure, took early 
possession of Pitt's whole heart, and only 
left it in the moment when it ceased to beat 

5]# MEMOIltS OF 

If I were now living in .times as tumultuous as 
those, when the partizans of Antony stuck up 
the head of Cicfero in the forum, I might be 
afraid to venture an opinion as to what I take 
that ruling passion to have been ; but under 
correction of those, who from their know- 
ledge of Mr. Pitt are better able to judge of 
his motives and impressions, I conceive that 
a tnie and zealous love for his country ac- 
companied him through life to death, and 
was paramount to every other object in his 

I am giving my conception of his fedings 
as a man ; of his character as a statesman, I 
do not presume to speak. Those respectable 
persons, who regularly opposed his public 
measures as Minister, could not well give 
countenance to ^ the honours, that were de* 
creed to him at his public funeral ; but wb^n 
some, who had efficiently coincided with tbem 
in the policy of those measures, coincided 
also in the condemnation of them, it must 
have been a strong case either of conscience, 
or of party spirit, which compelled them, by. 
arraigning him, to criminate thenfiselves. This 
is rather an awkward alternative for theaty 


ad I am afraid the world is not always dbposed 
to put the bei?t interpretation on . a doubtful 
case. At the same time it is a little difficult to 
understand the principle of a resolution, in 
which both old and new opponents united, 
to discharge his debts oat of the public purse, 
which to my vulgar apprehension seems like 
complimenting the extravagance of a man, in 
whom they would not acknowledge a single 
merit, that could tend to atone for his bad 
ceconomy. If he was not in their opinion aia 
useful servant to the public, why should they 
consent to make him an expensive one ? All 
this* perhaps can. be readily unravelled, but ho\t 
he should be entitled to be set clear in what he 
h^d outrun, when he did not earn what he had 
received, is a mystery to me of which no doubt 
there is a very competent $<dution, though J 
cannot guess what it is. 

I never was in a private room with Mr. Pitt 
but once, and that was for a few minutes only 
at Burlington House. I recollect having 
troubled him with three several lettc<ps at dis- 
tant periods ; but he did not trouble himself 
•to answer any one of them. In the first of 
these. I tendered myself as a candidate for a 

Sis Mfiuoiiis OF 

literary office with a salary so very sntalf, M 
could of itself be no gentleman's object, in the 
solicitation : I dare say I did not deserve the 
office, but I must think that I deserved an an« 
swen , 

The second letter was very thoroughly con* 
sidered) for I wrote it at the* suggestion of a 
common friend to us both, who examined and 
approved of it* It contained a short and mo- 
dest recital of my services and sufferings^ and 
in general terms humbly prayed to be recom- 
mended for some small bounty from the crown 
in alleviatioa of my case. I trust it is not too 
much to say, that justice, humanity and the 
manners of a gentleman dictated some reply to 
this. unassuming petition : none was given ; not 
a single word was ever vouchsafed. 

The last letter, which I addressed to Mr. 
Pitt, was upon the question of some proposed 
arrangements with respect to volunteers, when 
he was out of office and commanding in persoli 
the Cinque- Ports volunteer battalions. I had 
the honour to command a corps of some years 
longer standing than his own, and it was 
A communication, which for the matter it con- 
tained, and the terms, in which it was couchedj 


ought not to have been .overlooked by a gen- 
tleman engaged in the same service, and serv- 
ing in the same county. It imposed ijo trpu- 
ble J it solicited no favouf*, nay I may venture 
to say, (as it was written with the concurrence 
and assistance of my brother, officers) that it 
conferred a favour, T took care, in my re- 
spect for them, that it should reach his hands; 
it received no answer. 

I have thought it not improper to detail 
these circumstances, because I would not 
pass myself upon the reader as a man, who 
had ]Sben in the favour of Mr. Pitt, or as if I 
were making a display of my gratitude ; when 
in fact I have no such feeling in my heart, and 
only remember him as a man, who spurned 
my humble appUcations from him with a de* 
gree of contempt, which could not fail to di- 
vest me of every motive to admire him, save 
what his great endowments and the compulsive 
power of his superior genius absolutely ex- 
torted from me. 

As for the brief delineation of his character, 
so far as it might be traced by ^ one, who 
viewed him at a distance, I conceive I have 
»ot greatly mistaken features, which were so 



continually in the eyes of the public^ that he 
may be said to have sate for his portrait every 
day of his life. He had so few off-sets and 
mmifications from the one gi;eat rooted pas- 
sion of his mind, that we need not search 
deeply into his private history or habits for the 
dbcovery of those fine and finishing touches^ 
viiich in some instances constitute the whole 
spirit of the likenessr. * 

A statue in brass was the highest honour 
the Athenians could decree to a mortal, and 
many of their minor deities were not account- 
ed worthy to receive it. Upon the presump- 
tion that it may be in contemplation to devote 
a public monument . to the memory of this 
great orator, I take the liberty to insert a few 
lines, not with the most distant idea of recom* 
mending them to the sculptor, but simply to 
assign to them a short and transient habitation 
on this perishable page— 

^^ To thee great orator, >vhose earlj mind 

^^ Broke forth with splendor, that amaz'd mankind, 

** To thee, whose lips with eloquence were fraught, 

<^ By which the aged and the learaM were taught, 

<( To thee, the wonder of Britaania's ble,. 

« A grateful seaate lean this miM*ble pile. 




^^ This pious token of a nation's lof e^ 

<< Here, thotig& th« sculptor simpl5r grat^ Ih^ datfis, 
<< H« gites thy tiftlbs and teeords thy fame ;. 
^^ Tbj great end^wnents had he aim'd td tra^e^ 
^^ The swelling catalogue had wanted space. 

^^ Though rast the range of thine expunsiTe soul^ 

<^ Thy God and country occupied the irhole s 

^^ In thskt dread hour, when e>9^ry hetMrt is tried^ 

<« The chtfisilan tdumph*d whilst the nrortal dM ; 

'^ In the last gasp of thin^ expirikif breath 

*^ The pray'r yet quircrM on the Up of d^ath ; 

<< Hear this, ye Britons, and to God be true,. 

^< For know that dying pray'r was breath'd for you.^' 

As for the illuatncms naval hivo^ who fell in 
the glbrious actiim of Trafalgar, his famt 
is exjsdtrd on a pedestal, which envy carmot 
scale, and kts funeral triumph carried with it to 
bis grave the hearts of the wbde iiatiotB^ 
I walked about the streets of the capital om 
the night of the rntelKgence^ which reached 
»l of his victory and of his death ; I remarked 
with peculiar sati^action the divided flings 
of the common prople ; they knew not haw to 
rejoicei yet &ey wanted. a triumph ; thfc i>cea^ 

- V4IL. II. ¥ 



sion demanded it, but they were unfitted for 
enforcing and disqualified from enjoying it : I 
was charmed with their dilemma. 

Great things have been done for the family 
of this departed hero, and the nation has 
a right to something yiore from the present 
inheritor of his titles and rewards than the 
inere fortuitous merit of being the. vehicle 
to transmit his name and honours to posterity : 
I hope he willnot tarnish them in th§ir pas- 
sage by any thing, that is not congenial with 
the spirit of hfs predecessor. In the mean 
time it appears' to me, ^yho am only a looker- 
on, that the meritorious services of Lord 
Collingwood in the action itself, and during 
those disastrous duties that resulted from itj 
Constitute a daim and establish a reputation^ 
hardly secondary to those of his commanding 
admiral ; but this is a subject hot properly 
under my contemplatton in. these memoirs* 
a scene not within the short horizon, of my » 
humbler prospect: I did however say a little 
through the organs of the stage, and was pre-- 
pared to say more, if I had not ibcen silenced : 
Still I bore my partrii the dirges, which niy. 
brother-poets sung upon that memorable locca-- 


«!on, and wrote the following impromptu, 
which Mr. Wroughton addressed to the audl*- 
ence at Drury-Lane on the evening of the day, 
in which the news arrived ^ 

<^ Is there a oian wbo this great triumph hears, 
*^ And with his transport does not mingle tears ? 
^^ For though Britannia's flag Tictorious flies, 
^* Who can refrain from grief when Nelson dies ? 
^^ Stretcht on his deck amidst surrounding fires, 
'^ There phoenix-like the gallant chief expires. 
*^ CoTer'd with trophies let his ashes rest, 
*^ His memory lives in eTery British breast : 
^' i}is dirge our groans his monument our praise, 
<^ And whilst each tongue this grateful tribute pays, 
-^ ^ His spul ascends to heav'n in glory's brightest blaze/' 

I also composed the melofdramatic piece,, 
which was represented on the third night fol- 
lowing, and repeated several times after with 
that effect, which the subject naturally iur 

For this small service I was favoured with 


the present of a gold snuff-box, and hold my- 
self much honoured by the gift, 

I had not yet ceased from piy attempts to 
c<>]minemorate. the victory and de^th of '^cU 

Y 2 

324 MEMOIRi Of 

sdn, hat with more deliberation wrote a piece 
o^ two short acts^ which was to have been 
pcvfonned at, Covent Garden tlwatre on the 
evening after his public funeral. The music 
was composed^ the scenes were preparing and 
the drama was* in rehearsal, when I was in- 
formed that the representation was interdicted 
by authority. The objections, which so paI-< 
pably bof e against the exhibiticm of that affect- 
ing event at the Opera-House, were in no re- 
spect whatever applicable to my composition,, 
and I am to this hour uninformed of the rea-« 
sonSy wl^ieb actuated the I^rd Chamberlain 
for the suppression of it 

I have noticed with ^cat sensibility the 
very candid and encouraging reception, which 
my volume of memoirs has b^en fisirvoured 
with by the pubKc, and I am possessed df let- 
ters from some men of eminent t^ents^ wbiclt 
have amply overpaid me for the labour of the 

That, which I am honoured \i'ith from 
Mr, Sharon Turner, I shall treasure up fcir 
my posterity, as a proud memorial of my 
having gained the approbation of on^ of the 

EtCBARt) CtrMBSEtANB. 32$ 


best wiiters, of the most learned antiq^ft* 
mns and most enlightened scholars pf his 

I beg leave to offer my most grateful ae* 
k«owledgm€nts to the writers of the Review% 
who ha^e immrsally treated me with tk^ 
greatest liberality, amd in several instances be-t- 
stowed upon my ladbours those encomiums, 
¥rhtch (without afKscting a oonseioitsaess thstt 
I do not feel) i am doly sensible are above my 
deservings; but it is duarhabie in thefA t^ 
praise the eiSotts of a worn-out veteran, ^mA 
fan the sparks of an expiring flame. 

From the amiable £arl of 3>orebe8ter I bav« 
been flattered with a letter, whicb aimongst 
the kind expressions it abounds in toi^^urds aae, 
p^^s a tribute to the memory of the deceased 
Lord SackTiH^ traly gratifying to my feelinga, 
aiid highly honorable to those 4Df his tiear sne^ 
iatien the writer of it. 

I can well believe I have dwdtt too kmg 
itpoa the narration of what ocdtrted to me in 
Spain ; yet I must think that every man natu^ 
rally wishes to exculpate his <;onduct in a 
transaction, whe*e his efforts are known to 
tiave failed of snccess ; and aritbough I was 



suspicious that the importance of the subject 
was not sufficient to compensate for the pro- 
lixity of it, still I felt a kind of melancholy 
gratification in the detail^ which none need en- 
vy and the humane will pardon : let me be ac- 
quitted of all trespasses but such as they may 
forgive, and I will not repine. 

Though I have not been at ease in my cir- 
cumstances since I came from Spain, and 
probably never shall, I do not regret my going 
thither, being proudly conscious of having 
done my duty, and that I can look back upon 
no period of my past life with a clearer self-ac- 
quittal than I can on that I am past all hop6 
of receiving any recompence for my sacrifice^ 
and I have accommodated ipyself to all those 
privations, which the circumscription of my 
means prescribes. Though in my seventy-fifth 
year I am even now in the act of levying con- 
tributions on my brains, and thanks be to Pro- 
vidence, age has not quite exhausted the re- 
source, which nature and acquirement have 
endowed me with. 

I remember the time, when the malevolent 
personality of the public prints was truly dia- 
bolical ; I have lived to see more just and 


tninly principles prevail upon the faee of them 4 
this is a revolution to rejoice in ; their only 
fault seems now to be that of tantalising ua 
.with too many good dinners, that we do not 
.partake of; and I must think, if they would 
^nake orie grand^ and sweeping remove of the 
\vhoIe, their publications would be profited by 
it. But if it better suits them to record the 
splendor, in which our great men live, let 
us not be fastidious t-eadcrs, but let Us recol- 
lect that every one of us without exception is 
ta a certain degree wafmed and enlighteped by 
that effulgence, which> a luminous and 6x«- 
alted character, like a beacon Ou an eminence, 
scatters and disperses all aroundt If their in*- 
'forriiation does not serve them to report how 
wittily these great men talk over their tables^ 
let us hear at least how learnedly they eat ; 
fori can give no better reason for the* slight 
respect^ in which I hold the science of cookery^ 
<;xcept that I am too much of an Englishman 
to instance any ohe acquirement, in which the 
'genius of our countrymen must ttuckle to the 
talents of the French. 
. When the historians- talk td us of the dark 


^gcs^ they certainly do not meaiLto insinuatt 

Y 4 

9tB lt£ICOI»5 OV 

th^X the mm was kss hriglity and die sky 
not so clear in tboae days as in certain othevs^ 
but by a figure call that dark, which acxencc 
$»d the human genius do Bot illuoiinalie : 
Mrdy then, if we wi^h to live in the light, 1% 
is every man's interest to cherish his neight- 
1»our's tap^r^ convinced that should he hlow 
it out, bis oiwrn will burn no brighten I know 
I jbave said soniething to this purpo3e nearly 
a hiiiqdred times over, but as I am nearly a 
hundred years old, I will say it once mone^ and 
peit»a,p$ 9ot for the last time. Let me go to 
ipy grave with the conaciousocas of having 
succeed^ in dis,posifig my contemporaries to 
^ster and encourage one another in the spirit 
of brq^erly love and heneviolenoe, aod I have 
»ot lived in vain. 

. Whm I reviev that period of my timu^ 
vhich I have passed smce my return from 
SipaiAy I eai%not but be aensihte, that if I sfaaM 
ji«a]velMshitid..nieany ^ing wortby the atteni^ 
ti^W of posterity, it must have been chiefly 
Written Urithin that period, when I composed 
the poem of Calvary, the essays in the Ob- 
servier apd the twvd of Henry. In my retreat 
. %H Tunbodge Wc^^ as s<mmi as I had dis*- 


dialed mysl^lf from my liouse in Portiandr 
Place, I $ate down wiih my family, mtA nefv«r 
had aa abiding place in town after that ¥wtB 
that hour ^ the present moment what cati$^ 
have I not had to biess my God lor hsm^ 
•eiidowed me with that natired ^ttachmsnt to 
my books and to my ptn, (those Qievei*-*iaili«i$ 
comforters aand friends) whitch has eoahled me 
to meet and patiently to endiane saaoy croska 
€und some misfortnnges of no common vmgnu 
tude. How fortunate am I now in the winter 
4)£ my age, that never hi the sunshine of my 
younger days, when the world comparatively 
fiiniled upx)n mCy did I sink iiato idleness^ or 
^surrender mysdf to any pleasures, that could 
rival thxMe more temperate axa^d permameat rei- 
eoureeSf which education smd early hahits of 
atudy had supplied, rae with ! 

There is no sui« way of providing against 
the natural itb, that Jlcsh i$ heir tOy hut by 
the cukivation of the natcud. The senses can 
^ little for us, and nothing lasting. When 
they have for a time enjoyed every thing they 
^2an wish for, they wMl ultimately be kd tx> 
twkh for what they can no longer eojoy. A 
msm^ wiu) wants mental powers, wants every 


330 irfiMOiRs o* ' 

thing J for though Fortune were to heap sii^ 
perfluities of every species upon him, the very 
overflowings of prosperity would destroy his 
-peace, as an abundance of things without can 
never compensate for a vacuity within. 

More than twenty years I Hved at Tun*- 
bridge Wells inhabiting the same house^ and 
cultivating a plot of garden ground, embowered 
with trees, and amply sufficient for a profusion 
of flowers, which my old servant Thomas Ga- 
mis nursed and took delight in : it was theD| 
if only common justice had been rendered to 
me by governmentj I should have enjoyed as 
much tranquillity and content, as can fall to 
the lot of imperfect man ; for my mind was 
emancipated from the shackles of office, and I 
seemed to have a property in the day, for which 
I paid no tax to business. Whilst I lived in. 
town I had hardly ever passed a year without 
a long and dangerous fever, but in this salu*- 
brious climate I never once experienced so 
much indisposition as to confine me to my 
bed even for a single hour* In possession of 
a most excellent wife I had all the happiness 
that as a husband I could enjoy,, and I . had 
ieea my eldest daughter Elizabeth married to 


ofae of the best and most amiable of men : his 
choice was conspicuously disinterested ; for if 
any thing like worldly wisdom could have 
found admittance to his generous heart, he 
might, and must, have sought— Jortunam ex 
aliis — ^neither could the lure of affluence and 
establishment be the motive, that induced my 
-child to share the fortunes of Lord Edward Ben- 
tinck. No circumstances in life colild.more 
clearly evince the purity of affection in both 
parties. They have been happy in their lives> 
and I trust, with God's favour, as the promise 
is so fair, they will be blest in their posterity^ 
To this beloved daughter I dedicated the vo* 
lumes of the Observer, and in the unabatihg 
duty and affection of her benevolent and grate- 
ful heart, I never saw, or faucied that I saw, 
a moment's variation. 

Fortunate as I accounted myself in my lo- 
cation at Tunbridge Wells, and gratified by 
the kindness and good will of the people, I 
was not contented to reside in idleness amongst 
them, but in every thing, that concerned their 
interests, to the best of my power took an ac- 
tive j>^rt, and I flatter myself that some oppor- 


tanities occurred^ when my zeal was tuot vntk^ 
out effect. 

A serrice to the souls of men is above ail 
others, and whilst I am entitled to consider 
myself as the happy instrumeat of introducing 
their present esjempiary minister, the Revei^iftd 
Maitin Benson, I dom't claim to be remember^- 
ed by them on account of less important ser* 
vices. Unblemished in his morals, corr-ect in 
the discharge c^ every duty that his sacped 
&fiction can involve, this excellent servant of 
Christ approves himself the faithful shepherd 
of his flock. I have had the experience of 
jvars in contemplating his merits as tilie frieixl 
of the industrious poor, the reformer of the 
idle and unwary, and the ever- ready interces^ 
sor for the truly penitent at the approach of 

Mr. Senson cannot need this testimony, and 
perhaps from me he has not looked to receive 
it ; hut I am incapable of withholding this trt« 
bute to his virtues, which is so justly due, and, 
without attempting to establish any better in« 
terest in his thoughts than i ak^ady have es:«> 
peri^nced, bid him everlastingly &rmweU. 


I cajl to mind a conversation I held whh mj 
ever*kind and respected friend Primate Hokifi^ 
son upon one of his visits to Tunbridge Welto, 
soon after Mr. Benson's kidnction^ respecting 
the numbers of seceders, who in times of past 
laxity had fallen off from the established mode 
of worship, and gone astray after strange and 
whimsical teachers. Whilst I was describing 
to him some of these motley cong^j^ttions^ 
and the nnwearied efforts of Mr. Benson for 
reclaiming them^ he said to me in his platm and 
pointed way--^" If you wish to get these peo- 
^' pie back again, you must sing them in : they 
** won*t come to your preaching; argument 
^ will do nothing with them, but they havo 
'' itching ears, and will listen to a hymn or an 
*^ anthem, and as you have an o^rgan, such as 
^^ it is, yon must set to work and assemble the 
^ best singers, which your place affords-^^ I 
need not say this good advice was feilowed,. 
fbr it was the very measure we had projected, 
' and our rural choir soon became conspienoos 
and id: credit' In the mean time Mr. Ben* 
son's admonitions, backed by our melodies^ 
tbinnfed the ranks of the seceders, ' and a cer- 
tain female apostle was deserted by her closet 


congregation, and thenceforth devoted her at- 
tention to a favourite monkey, who profited 
more by her caresses, and about as much by 
her instructions, as the silly souls, who had 
been lectured by her. 

The men of Kent, properly so called, have 
a point of honour, of which they are extrepiely 
jealous, and, as they in general merit to be 
trusted, they are not very patient to endure 
suspicion. They will hold tenaciously and li- 
tigiously to their point, so long as you dispute 
it ; but refer it to their honour, and they shall 
award that demand upon them as too little, 
whicli, so long as you enforced it, tliey con- 
tended was too much: of this I could adduce 
a case most strikingly in point. 

Of the characters of the people in and about 
the spot, where I have so long been resident, 
I ought to be a judge, for I have mixed with 
them as fellow subjects, and comma,nded them, 
as fellow soldiers ; and if I were not forward ta 
acknowledge the just cause I have ever had to 
love them, to contribute to their comforts, to 
listen to their sorrows and to bestir myself for 
their interests, I should be a most ungrateful 


It is no small credit to the loyalty of Tunr 
bridge Wells, that it is the head-quarters of 
one troop of Yeomen Cavalry, and four com- 
panies of Volunteer Infantry. What is likely 
to be the fate of us, who come under the lastr 
mentioned description, it would be highly un- 
becoming in me even to conjecture, forasmuch 
as the measures, which are to decide upon us, 
are, at the moment of my writing this, only in 
their progress, but not complete. This how-f 
ever I will take the liberty to say in vindicar 
tion of the good order, aptitude and discipline 
of the volunteers (not partially applying those 
properties to the corps, which I have the ho- 
nour to command, but generally to others, 
which I have had opportunities to observe) 
that no other possible method could be taken 
for rendering them that dry stick, xvhich can^ 
not vegetate, but by depriving them of their 
permanent duty. When that is done, I most; 
devoutly hope, that the evil day, that waa 
heretofore, so imminent,* will be henceforth so 
entirely out of sight, as to leave no responsibi- 
lity on the score of prudence, no charge but 
that of ingratitude, with the projector, or pro- 
jectors, of those measures, \\4iich are so infal- 


]]bly contrived to divest them of tbetr useful- 
ness, and deprive tbem of their energy. 

The first time I was ordered out u|>oii per^ 
manent duty, I had men eniiployed upon the- 
king's works at Hythe, who were absent upcnt 
le^ve : <every one of these brave lads cacne in 
on the evening before I marched, and took 
then sbflltng a day with mc and their straw at 
nighty in lieu of the high pay, which they earn^ 
ed as carpenters and masons. Sorry I am to 
add, that when I had marched them liomei 
and they went down to tbeir work again, the 
ditt^or sent them back, and treated my most 
earnest appeal for their re^emplcvyment, backed 
hy certificates of their good behaviour, with 

Can 1 suppose that men like these would 
disgrace their cok)ursy ot desert their officers ? 
Their officers I am sore will exchange that 
confidence with tbem, and I helieve there is 
no conMnandant, who was not satisfied of the 
alertness of his men in that crisisy when ex-* 
pectation watched the beadon, that was to give 
the signal for their turning out upon a mo-* 
mentis notice. It was not then the season tor 
empxke from what shops they issued, and tine 


felCHABD CUMBfillLAND. 337 

i>uffodttj ^ho hid risked a silly sneer at iny 
tttan's vocation, would have met about as much 
Jipplause for his gabble as a goose Wcnxld foi: 
herhisiing. ^ 

I readily admit that it must be every loyttl 
taan*8 wish to keep alive the martial spirit of 
the countryj but how it can be any rationiil 
ftian^g expectatipn to accomplish that wish by 
discouraging and revolting the volutiteefs, Is i 
riddte chat defied solution. 
. I wis a Captain of Infantry in the year 1747, 
Mid ktii perhaps At this time the most aged 
field officer of volunteers in the kingdorn j 
but ifi ever it shall be rty lot to find myself urt- 
d^ t^e coitiroand of the youngest Major in 
tlw liii4^; 1 i^ball not be the less obedient to,nty 
iupetidr, though he should issue out his orders 
to me in the- person of my grandison. 

Left liim/ who is now master of Hit fate of 
hahdi«eds of thoui^nds of His Majesty's brave 
and loyctl strbjects, yet carrying arms in their 
king'i^ and country's cause, lower them to what 
le^ be se^ fit, he cannot take from themf the 
^on^cious recollection, that they have done 
f^rduty, and Will hold a rank in history, of 
wiifcb it i^ in no Efen's power to strip them. 

VOL. II. z 

338 MEMOIRS Olf 

It was no common recommeodatiou to * 
place of residence, where our summer society 
could boast of visitors so respectable as the 
Lord Chief Justice Mansfield, the Ex-Premier 
I-ord North, the Duke of Leeds, the Lord 
Primate Robinson, the Lord Chancellor Ross* 
lyn, Archbishop Moore, Bishop Moss, and 
others, who, like thenii have paid the debt of 
nature, and are now no mgre. 

I must confess, when these, and some less^ 
illustrious, but more near and dearer to my 
heart, were struck down, it seemed to me as 
if the place had lost its sunshine, and our 
walks, so often paced by their steps, had been 
strewed with their tombs. Within the period 
of my residence at Tun bridge Wells I have felt 
the loss of many friends : I have followed Lord 
Sackville to his vault at Withyham, my lament- 
ed wife to her grave in the church of Frant, 
and there also I caused to be deposited this re^ 
' mains of William Badcock Esq. the husband 
of my second daughter Sophia, and father of 
five children, awarded to my care by chancery, 
and looking up to me for the education, that 
is to decide upon their future destinies— My 
God ! can I presume tQ hope that thou wilt 

ItiCHAttD CnlfB£&LAMD. SS§ 

giv« tne life to eitecute this sacred trust, aad 
train them in the waj, poor innocents, wherein 
they ought to go-^ ? 

This yK)ung man, Mr. BudcOck, died' a vid* 
tim to excess in the prime of life, before he 
had attained the age of thirty; He had re-» 
ceived his education at the Charter House and 
Ht the University of Oxfords Hfe had good 
natural parts, an uncommon strength of me-^ 
toory, read much and recited well and copi- 
ously from our English poets s he was no con- 
temptible amateur-actor upon the model of 
Kemble, and exhibited himself repeatedly upon 
the stages of Bath and Tunbridge Wells in the 
parts of Hamlet, Richard, Jaffier, and perhaps 
some others. He had a great share of a pecu- 
liar kind of humour, was an admirable mimic, 
and at times would be extremely ple^ant and 
entertaining in society ; but the general turn 
of his temper and habits was reserved and 
gloomy, proudly independent, too quick in 
conceiving himself affronted, and much too 
slow in regaining his good humour when he 
had discovered his mistake* I have oftett 
found him under the visitation of these sullen 
fits of discbntent, for whkh I could assign no 

^ 2 

540 )^^^o|)|s er . 

b^ b«4 jestr^ijg^d him^f fro^> toQ.for * cqUsh 
derable length of time, residiag ^t Dath» till I 
V49 i^f0rp(l€d, by A common ixknd of bis bdng 
iPj town, iln^ttended by ac^y se?v^nt ai^d dft«r 
g^roiusly ilK I fwnd him ia the public room 
QJ^dt coflfi^e hoMae, ^here he hjid takcm hisloitg-^ 
ipgt ^i)d most evidently in tbelaat stage of a^ 
iftqurabl^ and confirnwd decay, Ke r^ceiv^d 
mq \vil;b ex;tr^in^ a»ff(pcti?^B and se^ni^d greatly 
penetrated by ^^ attentioiis, whi<:h I paid him 
iu^ his splitary and aUr^^ing situation. I called 
}n the asi;5i3ta»^^ of an eininetit pbysipian, who 
npon a consultation confirmed my appiehen- 
$ion$ that his cs^a was irreooverabie : th$ coim*^ 
try ^ir \s?as however rec(;^mineflded5 and I re- 
c^iv^d him in my own hovwcir at Tunbo'idge 
Yi[^\l% where he l^ngui^hed for some few days, 
BiVd w^th pious rcsii^nation, whilst invoking 
bluings, on .his fchildfen, whoija he recom- 
mended to my car?, closed . bk short term of 

Three of these five fatherless relicts are boys, 
a^ as \ distribute my fow 900s between the 
fle^t and arnpy, even so, if my life is spared, T 
iM^dUaie to dea) wiitb these gran<jteons, who 

3^ ■ • 

'JK m^ ■ 


Hecm fey wkVsXt ittdoii^ed with Yigonr bdth of 
body *nd of 'spirit for tbeir desticatioii. The 
eldest, a boy of briUiant parts^ has now coni*^ 
pleated morethan half btsr training-time, and is 
serving; in His Majesty's frigate La Loire uiidef 
the (tommaad of Captain ]tf aitland : that gal*^ 
font tod distingfiished ofiicer reports in terms 
of my young charge, that inspire itie with the 
waVmesthopes of his^ well-doing, and as I tbmk 
J cka fonesbe tbat \re sisall halve to iighi for ouif 
iritaifs and oni* hearths before the present gene^' 
rfetiion ahall |>ass off,, I siionld be sorry at my 
soul to lirppose tfafiMt ;ai1y one of my poslterity,' 
over whom Irchavc-'controul, were Hot iti ttaiit 
)o> take hid part in.' that decisive day,> whenever 
It phalli comtr. . 

In the arranglement of this business^ which 
g^iteis me the superintewdaoce of my grat^dM 
oMildreh's education under the aothomy of the 
court of chancery, it was my good fortane t^ 
find myself in the hamds of a most sinc^e and 
honorable friend, who conducted the wbote 
with great legal ability, and delivered the ehil*' 
dren into ndy cafre, bringing them from Bath 
to Timbpidg^ Welfe. To %\i. ft*nry Fi'y I 
ato beboldeiv for every comfof t^ tl>at has ac* 

z 3 



crued to me respecting that ill* fated portion of 
my family ; and so many have been the in- 
stances, which I have experienced of his inva- 
riable afFection, his correct integrity and disin«^ 
terested services ever since, that if I could neg- 
kct to render him this public mark of my 
esteem and love, I should be guilty of the 
worst mgratitude. 

When I first enrolled my companies of Vo-» 
lunteer Infantry, this young and ardent enthu-^ 
siast in his king's and country's cause, then 
living at Tunbridge Wells, resorted to me with 
several recruits, which his popularity had at* 
tached to him, and from that hour to the pre- 
sent, at which he is now serving as Captain of 
one of the companies under my command, I 
have had the gratification of witnessing his 
true apd steady services to the corps, and his 
cordial attachment to me and to his brother 

' As my friend is happy in a most amiable 
and excellent wife, and is already the father 
of four young children, I have induced him to 
place his son under my eye at the training 
school, to which I have sent my grandsons at 
{lamsgate^ till they are all fit to be removed t€( 


Westminster ; in the mean time I liave the 
gratification to see him entering on a more ex* 
tensive field of business with his worthy and 
respectaUe partner Mr. Crutchley of CiifFord's«- 
Inn. In this, and every thing else^ which con«- 
cems his honour, interest or happiness I must 
heartily participate; and I hope my Lord 
Chancellor Erskine is not angry with me fior 
the letter, which in the zeal of friendship for 
this excellent young man I took the liberty to 
address to him,, and which in fact being little 
more than an humble offering of my respectful 
congrajtulations, was naturally considered as 
the tribute of a person too obscute to be en« 
titled to an answer. 

I have known a man as nobly born, as high* 
ly endowed and as fully occupied as the illus- 
trious personage I. allude to, who never suffered 
a letter to be thrown by unacknowledged. If 
I were called upon to name that grace, which 
;is most endearing, that maxim, which is most 
worldly-wise for men in elevated sftations, it 
would be punctuality in answers and appoint* 
ments* It sweetens favours, and it softens re- 
fusals ; it is the most sovereign charm against 
irnvy, malice and those numerous discontents, 


■344! ^ UiUQlR^Qf 


that indis^oae the minda of ; mep ag^mst tj^o 
great and fortunatet. I %Vivk I? way vqptMre 
to say .upon my lang e*p^??e|v?e| thp^t I l>av€ 
never . klio.w^ th^ pejjsQij/ ;W{lfiQ Aeft; * great 
man^s presenc^' inau angi>y a^^ rcivqi^ful .bv?T 
tnoory whcaai ]|f>e had:bfe»fj|atif«fct}y :lvq«rd 5^4 
^roiitely treated, bltJb^iiigh . 1^^$ $,h£^^ im^h 
carried. -. •..::•;,:■.. ,;.!. , . ; 

. Diave named tb« I?Qf4 iChi^f; J^stica Mau$r 
field amongs.t the. (Ji»ti«guigto^ j^rsoaj^y.whp 
wem in the b.abiti of iiej^^ftjii^^.tp Tunbr^dgjp 
Wells i I WM led tq ^teto MW© few particulars 
in the foraatfrjp^rt ,of tbiesij Meiiwus respecting 
that great man, who^ QOrO^ \y^U4taiid so pr(^* 
miDent in the annals of his time. | w^^^ fr^r 
qnently ip hia caoopaBy, b^t^bftve w» right: to 
think that I was. ever sfi hr- in his ^Qpfidci^c^ 
as to reii^der we a QQmpQto^C delii^eartop pf^ bis 
character. . Son^ few foat^re^^^ as they caught 
my observation^ I m^y. y^i^ture to trac^ oul^ 
and can 3ay of bim whiat every body, who kpe^ 
iav^ in his s(>isiftl houjp^' Hijjsit §^y witlww^ .th^ 

mom of a mis,tak<^». I c^i^ot recollect the 
tkne, wheqi,: fitting at tbie table with, 1^4 
Mans&ekl,. I ev^er f^^iled to renvaik that ba4>pj 
and engaging at t» wWcb h^ ppssess^d^ ^f put^ 



$hg thgrfiompwyi jimseiitJn good hiimour 
writb theftis^lves ; I am iCotivinciBd they natuf 
Itally likedt him tbft more fbrhis seeming to like 
tbiem jsp^ ^ell ; tbi^has stotrbeen the genera} 
property of all the witty, great and karned 
men, whom J have looked, up .b)' in my coiirse 

pf life?./ : ' '■■''. > ' ' 

Somi? imaginations aji^ 90. vivid, that thrf^ 
who arjD ui»d§r tMir influence, are aU tdngilc 
?aad no e^igi,--T-" What :a senmWe and agreoaUi 
• ' cotrnpanjon i$ that getitkmaH} whd has just 
/'left ui^*' said the fampus Charles Towns^ 
hand to the worthy and sensible Fit^bcdbert ; 
" I neve^;p4s$e4 anevwing with a mer^ enters 
^^: t^ipiRg^;w%titamtance in my fife-^* " What 
•* cjouki ef>te<t^tt you ?: i Xh« gentkman nevci 
^pe«ifd 1^^ lips—" *' I granit you, my deat 
^ Fit?; ; l»t he listened faithfully to w4»i i 
•'^ Baid, *nd always llughed inj tl^ right pldca— '^ 
" I am answered," said Fi{ziH?rbert~":A gtesrt 
'^nation like ours, ^' said this hat vasmed: 
fmnd to me,.. " should have a Charles TowM^r 
V h€*id in it for show,, as a gra»d metnageiiet 
^ should: have an ostricb/^ > ' 

Jplii^sonj though in • arwthejr style o£ voltt;?: 
hiiityy iv^nt ?oHing on, and wver stopped te 


take in the little rills and rivulets, that would 
liave mingled with his cataract: it was at 
Dnce too rapid to admit their slender offerings^ 
and too sonorous to allow tjleir feeble tinklings 
to be heard. 

Doctor Bentley would readily have listened, 
but did not always recollect that he was dis- 
cussing subjects and discoursing in a language, 
that his company did not understand and pro« 
bably could not* sjpeak : he accordingly took 
their task on himself, and kindly posted his 
€wn answers to the account of those, who had 
!no answers to give* 

Lord Mansfield (from whom I have digres- 
$6d) would lend his ear most condescendingly 
to his company, and cheer the least attempt 
at humour with the prompt payment of a spe*. 
cies of lauglf, which cost his muscles no exer- 
tion, but was^ merely a subscription, that he 
xeadily threw in towards the general hilarity 
of the table. He would take his share in the 
small talk of the ladies with all imaginable af- 
fability : he was in £tct, like most men, hot in 
the least degree displeased at being incensed 
by their flattery. He was no great starter of 
pew topics^ but easily led into anecdotes of 



|iast times ; these he xktailediwith pleasure, bat 
he told them correctly lut^r than amusingly; 
I am inclined to think he did not covet that 
kind of conversation, which gave him any 
pains to carry oi^ his professional labours were 
great, and it was natural that he should resort 
to society more for relaxation and rest ci mind 
than for any thing, that could put him upon, 
ftesh exertions. Even duiness, so long as it 
was accompanied with ^lacidity> was no abso^^ 
lute disrecommendation of the companion of 
his private hours ; it was a kind of cushion ta 
bis understanding* 

I agree with the general remark, that he had^ 
ijbe art of modelling his voice to the room.or 
space in which he was ; but I am not one of 
dios^ who admired its tone ; it was of a pi|ch 
too sharp to please my ear, and seemed more 
tuned to argumentation than urbanity. His^ 
attentions, whenever he was pleased to bestow > 
them, were not set off with any noble air, and 
I would rather call them civil than polite; for 
ike stamp of his profession! was upon him, and 
his deportment wanted gracefulness and ease« 
pope, above all the sons of song, was his AooU 
}q ; but I suspect he had no real attachment 

tD the Muscs^ abd'was meedy ciiil ia liiimm 
ifituro for the. ccHBQ^lhnesito ihsyhatd pdid to 
himt I ' remember i when the ^attack was. made 
mponfaiai forbisiioociduct aiidiopmions in this 
Sougka caiisie:: I was ;WeIl loqaainted: wid^ 
Mr^ Andrew: Stiiartyliis wa&: aa acot^ a&d able 
d^n^and I :liad. tlie opportmiity of knowhii^ 
ifeowr. glad . he yould ha^ve been, to bare dravif 
liord Mansfiel^tinto tHie fair field of controver'-r 
8y^;vibiit I am p^suaded tfaesei wa& more soirsd 
%dsdom ill his Lordsliip'k silence^ Oian these 
catddi.haTjebden. sauod.reaspmng'^in. lii& an^ 
swer, had his spirit led him ta accept the chal« 

X faavse.Jdentioned/ bad la$t intetyie^ vnth 
Lord Sackviik inidsie fanner ^art of th^se Me- 
moirsw It wm thpvinfy opportiuiity I fa^d of 
IcAowiiag 90iBeithing:of the movqrastiteK of bis* 
heart : I oaagfat a^ ^Kmpse^ as it irete throagb 
acrecice^ bat iib soon shut up^ and the eatte- 
rior rematn^d^fas befdre^ f^/a^ teres ^fue m- 

! When. I : caAl to mind the hofjirs J pas^ witk 
Lord North in: tire darkness of bis lattevdaySy 
there was avcha-diarm ia Ins .genius^ sudb-a^ 
cham upon, niy^pity iit the cbntes^iUtioii; of im 


iufibriligfi, that even then, lacerated as i was 
ift my feeltflgs, I could not help saying wi4liiii 
myseif^The minister indeed' has iHrronged mc^ 
but the man atones**^. Hk houste at Tun^^ 
bridge Wdls was in The Grore : one day be 
took my arm, and asked me to. conduct him to 
the parade upon the )>antffes-^V I hwe a ge«^ 
^^ nerai recollection of the way, he said^ and if 
^\ you will make me understand the posts upon 
** the|bot^path, and the steps about thecbajie), 
^* I shall rememt)er them in future^^"* leoubi 
not lead blind Gloster to tke eliiF: I executed; 
a^y 'alTecting trust, and bn^yght him safeljr 
to his family : the ministering and mild daughv 
ter of Tiresias received her father fnoni my. 

I bave already touched upon the character: 
of this interesting man, and what little im^te 
my pallet can supply, shall be still only touches* ^ 
I would not ra^e th6 skin, nor lAar the pottshi 
of bis brilliant talents for any thing that fame' 
can give ; and as for that strong food, on which • 
rcseatoient feeds, I have long sinjce perceived 
ifty stomach is too weak to relish it. 
' -1 do not know the person; to whose society 
^man of sensibility might have given bimjeif 

350 MEMOIRS 01^ 

with more pleasure and security than to that 
of Lord North i for his wit never wounded^ 
and his humour never ridiculed : he was not 
disposed te mttke an unmerciful use of the 
power, which superiority of talents endowed 
him with, to oppress a weaker understanding $ 
he had great charity for dulness of apprehen^ 
sion^ and a pert fellow could not easily put 
him out of patience ; there was no irritability 
in his nature. To his acquaintance and friends 
he was all complacency ; to his family all af-^ 
fection: he was generous, hospitable, open- 
handed, and loved his ease infinitely too well 
to sacrifice any portion of it to a solicitude 
about money<^ 

The vivacity of his natural parts was ntrik-* 
ingly contrasted by the heaviness of his ip* 
pearance ; in this particular, and iii some 
others, he would occasionally remind me of 
Dodington ; they were both scholars and lo- 
vers of literature and the Muse: both were 
quick in repartee, but Dodington could be 
sarcastic, and I am afraid it was too truly said 
of him, that he kept a tame booby or two 
about him fpr the sake of making them his 
butt ; a kind of luxury very Httle above, the 


gratification of a hog, when he rubs himself 
against a post. Dodington was too fond of 
giving ironical turns to serioUs subjects, by 
which he possessed himself of other people*s. 
opinions, and kept his own in reserve. I do 
not say but that occasions may sometimes jus-^ 
tify a man in point of policy for thus talking 
under a mask; but I am very sure it .cannot 
well be resorted to top seldom. He would 
also at times indulge a whim of aping the rus^*^ 
ticity of the vulgar, and with a considerabla 
share of humour mimic their dialect and as« 
#ume dieir manners ; it was this whim that in* 
duced him to read Jonathan Wild and the 
clowns in Shakespear to the Ladies HerVey 
and Stafford, when they were visiting him at 
£astbury : I remember his asking them if they 
had seen him in the print shops astride upon 
the ear of an elephant with a sun-flower in his 
mouth ; I believe no such caricature was in 
existence, but I have perfect recollection of 
the old political print, called The Motion^ ia 
which he was admirably pourtrayed as a mas- 
tiff between the legs of John Duke of Argyle 
upon the coach box, with his name Bubb, if 1\ 
xoistake not, upon a colUr round his ne«k ; he 

852 MA^iioims ot^ 

had a retefeflcb, no truly aristocratical, fof 
great men with greslt titles, that it wa9 
enough for hhn to be admitted itto the 
groupei though in W& dog4ike caricature^ 
and he took bis metamorphosis in perfect good 


. None of these caprices were to be found in 
Lord Ncw-th ; he bore Ms part in eofiversatiOBj 
and introduced his anecdotes to the full as ap-' 
positely as Podington, but I confer* he did 
»ot iset them off with quite the same advan- 
tages of manner. They had both the like pro-* 
pansity of slumbering in company with their 
€Atk open, and their wits wide awake, which 
had a very eurifeui^ effect, when the flash bre^ccf 
out 4m the sudden in the midst of somnolencyj 
^ if the mind had kept watch whilst the body 
took a nap; • 

W'ben Lord North lost bis sight he appeared 
to enjoy a vivid recollection of the pictures he 
had stored in his memory from men and books, 
and I have reason tO' think that, when hef 
ceased to search for fresh s^upplies, he became 
the thore liberal in dispensing the stock he had 
in hand, and that was in no dangef of being* 
exhausted. lie repeatedly expreaiei a wish^ 


lltdHARD^ GtJM££BLAN&4 355 

to me, that some young man of education 
inight be found, whose business it should b^ 
to read to him and live an inmate in his family : 
I observed to him that there were many to be 
found in either University, of whom he might 
make choice^ but the man, who had for so 
many years been minister of this great coun- 
try, confessed to me that his means were too k 
scanty to provide for that establishment Like 
the great Lord Chatham and Mr. I^itt, he 
kept his own hands clean and empty, and wheln 
he applied to his son, who could not afford 
to keep his favourite mare, that happy quo-> 
tation— ^ 

Equam memento rebus in arduU 

The son might have filled up the sentence 
as it stands in the original, and applied it 
to the father, who, when deprived of sights 
could not afford to maintain a reader, though 
he had administered the revenues of a nation. 

The Lord Primate Robinson was my very 
kind and partial friend \ but, more than this, 
he was the friend of my father* Splendid, li- 
beral, lofty, publicly ambitious of great deeds, 
and privately capable of good ones, there was 

VOL. ir. A A 


an exterior, that to tlie strafager did not al- 
ways hold out an cncouragiDg aspect, but to 
him thit stept within that barrier ail was 
mildness, suavity, benevolence. He supported 
the first station in the Irish hierarchy with all 
the magnificence of a Prince Palatine. He 
made no court to popularity by his naaowers, 
but he benefited a whole nation by his public 
works ; he gave plenty of employment to the 
industrious, and of food to the humgiy, but he 
spread no table for the idle, and made no ca- 
rousals fbr the voluptuous. He built a gram^te 
palace from the ground witli all its offices, 
gardens, farm and demesne ; he repaired afod 
beautified his cathedral, 'built houses for his 
vicars choral, erected and endowed a very no- 
ble public school, and built several parish 
churches in the neighbourhood of Armag?). 
He lived and died a bachelor, and administered 
his revenue with great regularity, else his fol"- 
tune could never have sufficed for the accom- 
plishment of such expensive projects, for he 
kept an estaiblishment of servants, equipage 
and table highly suitable to hfs rank. 

The cathedral phurch of Armagli, stands in 
full view from tlie windows of the palace 

imd Ht a $hQrt distance from it Whilst I was 

p^^ing ?pm^ days writh the Primate on my re- 

tvrn to EnglanfJ from KilmorCj I accompanied 

hioi <)n the Sunday forenoon to tl;^ cfithedral i 

^ lYfifit in his Kjharjolfc. with six boTSies attended 

by three fooSmen behind, whilst my wife and 

jd^nghter^ with Sir Wiljiam Rpbinsion followed 

i% my feither'ft coisuch, wbich h^ lent me for the 

jpurftpy/ At oiir appro^^b the greiat western 

door Was thrown open^ and my friend, (in 

|iier${>ii on0 pf the fin^^t men that could be 

I5^n^) jeptered, like .another Archbishop jLaad, 

in high prplafic^l sti^te^ pre<iedf4 by his pfjScefs 

and mi»i3t^s pf tb* churcb> c^n4uctifig. hi»i 

m file? to the robipg chamber apd back again 
to the thrpne* Afftsr divine lewce the 0%- 
ciatiog clergy pre$«ited theinsejlves in the h^U 
of his palace to pay their court* I asked himi 
hqw many w^re to dine with us^j .he answered 
^'' Nal»pe"-rHe did them kindnesses, but 
he g»ve them no entertaijamejats : thqy t^ere ip 
€xceUi^t discipliae* I had accu^towed myself 
af) lately fcp admire %hfi mild and condescend- 
ing dbgiraoter of iwy benevolent and hosf)i)»hlei 
feather at Kilmore^ th^it I cdnfesg rthe contraM: 
did npt pjea$e we ; bnt the 3?rijppLate hmv^-^ 


my father loxied — mankind. I saw the princely 
demesne at Armagh covered with a small 
army of wretched creatures, making hay after 
the old Irish fashion in loose great coats^ a lazy, 
ragged, dirty gang: how different was the 
scene I had contemplated in my father*s fields ! 
But the Primate left many noble monuments 
of his munificence in brick and stone, my 
father left his bounteous tokens in the human 

As my wife and daughters were probabty 
the first and only female visitors, who had 
been lodged within the walls of Armagh pa- 
lace, the ladies of the neighbourhood, not 
knowing how to decide upon the question 
of coming to them, very properly took no no- 
tice of us, and we enjoyed our liberty without 

Sir William Robinson, elder brother of the 
Primate, accompanied us on our return to 
England. He was a man of the mildest and 
most amiable quality ; though perfectly un- 
like his athletic brother in form and constitu- 
tion, a feeble, infirm man and a real valetudi- 
narian, yet he followed step by step the same 
regimen, observed th€ same diet, took the 


same physic, swallowed the same number of 
rhubarb pills, and fought off the bile with ra>y 
eggs and mutton broth mixed up with Mus- 
cavado sugar, and although this system did 
not seein by any means suited to his constitu- 
tion, yet, being ad^opted by his brother, he 
was convinced of its being the best and wisest 
of all possible systems, and faithfully adhered 
to it This good man carried his devotion so 
far as to form many articles of his wearing ap- 
parel upon the same scale with those, which 
the Primate wore: this was inconvenient 
enough in all conscience, and in some cases 
the disproportion was not a little ridiculous, 
particularly in the article of shoes, which he 
piqued himself upon having made on the same 
last with the Primate's, v^^ho besides being a 
colossal man studied his ease by far too much 
to cramp his feet : my friend in the mean 
time, who, with the pleasing consciousness of 
putting on the same fraternal shoe, had not 
by many degrees the same foot to put into 
that enormous case, was fain to shove it 
on before him like a boat upon dry land; 
and indeed it was a boat of such size and bur* 
den, that the man, who wore it, ought by ana- 

A A 3 

55d MBltOlKS Ot 

tomical prerportion to have been a Herculei e^ 

The bile however so fat got the mastety 
over this excellent man od his journey, and 
the shaking of oor coach so disturbed thd 
quiet of his raw eggs and i^ugared broth, that 
at Donaghadee in a wretclied ititi he suf-* 
fibred an alarming attack, and had not my 
good wife been at hand to have rescued him 
with James's powders^ his old enemy would 
hardly have given way to any remedy less ef- 

Archbishop Moore wa* highly to be e&teeni-r 
ed for his mild and condescending manner; 
and Doctor Moss, the bishop of Bath and 
Wells, was an amiable ^nd edifying instance 
how serenely to the latest period of extreme 
old age a good man can posisess his spirit, 
when supported by religion. I recolledt one 
day, after dining with Lord Mansfield, the 
good bishop, who was of the party, informed 
us that he was repairing an alms-house at 
Wells for the reception of five and twenty wo- 
men, the widows of clergyriiali, and, turning to 
roe, asked if I could suggest to him an appror 
priate inscription—" Why do jroti apply to 


'.' Cumberland," said Lord Man&field, " for> 
" ai> inscription ? I'll furnish you with what 
*' you want directly— Here are five and twetity 
** women, all kepi by the Lord Bishop of 

Bath and Wells — ^That's plain English ; Cum-. 

berland would liave puzzled the cause, and 
^^ his brains into the bargain." 

In general the connections, which I formed 
at Tunbridge Wells, were of a sort to favour 
irather than obstruct my studks; of frivo* 
lous acquaintance I had no great stock, and 
limongst my intimates I had the happiness 
to number many valuable characters, many 
candid and ingenious men. Some of these 
have now withdrawn themselves to other des- 
tinations ; ' some, alas ! are no more, and a 
^ew order has succeeded, with whom I am 
not as with them. 

What a multitude of past friends can I num- 
ber amongst the dead ! It is the melan* 
choly consequence of old age ; if we outlive 
our feelings we are nothing worth ; if they re* 
main in force, a thousand sad occurrences 
remind us that we Uve too long. For my part 
I must sojourn amongst strangers, or seek to 
make acquaintance with the children and 

A A 4 


grandchildren of my departed friends.* 

Though I can hardly harmonize with their 

society, still I prefer the making suit to their 

favour, and am flattered if they endure me ; 

for I have never yet discovered the delights of 

solitude. I consider it as a singular felicity in 

my Ufe, and a circumstance to instance for 

their credit, with whom I have been connected, 

that when Fortune seemed to have deserted 

me J had not to lament the falling away of 

friends. Men of the world are drawn off from 

lis by the world ; this is too often interpreted 

as an abandonment, when in fact it is only 

the result of avocation : when they in course 

of time cease to tread the public road of life 

we meet them' in the bye paths of retirement, 

and find our friendship interrupted only, not 


V Whilst Sir James Bland Burges inhabited 
the next house to mine at Tunbridge Wells, 
I had ever an intimate and kind friend to re-- 
sort to. He has always been a studious man, 
and his knowledge is very various ; few men 
have read to better purpose, and fewer stitt 
can boast a more retentive memory, or a hap^ 
pier faculty of narrating what they remember, 



The early part of his education he received in 
Scotland, and completed it at Westminster 
school under Doctor Smith ; at the University 
of Oxford he wfis the pupil of Sir William 
Scott; an opportunity that he has greatly 
profited by, and an honour, that he is justly 
proud of. Upon his leaving Oxford he re- 
sided in the Temple, and devoted himself to 
the study of the law : since then, he has served 
in Parliament, and filled an active and efficient 
post in, public office : from both these duties 
be is now released, and, with a mind at leisure 
to pursue its natural bent, has commenced 
his literary career by devoting those talents, 
to which his country has no longer any coun- 
ter-claim, to the more tranquil service of the 

Reading has stored the mind of my friend 
with such a plenitude of matter^ and nature. 
has giyen him such a facility of expression, 
that his rapidity has hitherto been so great as 
hardly to allow fair leisure for his judgment 
to exert itself. The world therefore, that has 
only seen his Richard Coeur de Lion, (and 
in my humble opinion not yet sufficiently 
(8$V*oiated the real merit of that extraordinary 



36^ MBMaiES ITH - * 

poem) has better tbinga to* Expect from hiiil^ 
when his genhis shall begin to fe^l the tein, 
and practice shall make him len^ible that 
there h a labour m well as a lii^sury. in cam* 
poftitioti. He is now cdnceraeci in a long: 
Utid arduous Wdfk, too >teighty to be moved 
by slight excrtiona, and tx)o extursiye to be. 
oifcum^ribed by rbydne* — He mu&t no IbUgfif. 
ixiw caparison his Muse, as a Spaniard does 
\Ai mule, and niake her frisk along the road to 
t«he eternal jingle of her own bells. 

He has in the mean while written some 
dratnaS) and if in these he has qot exactly 
stmck Dut what the times are pleased with^ it is 
more than probable he might have struck out 
something not so good, and pleased them 
better ; for it is but justice to confess thjit 
they have all possible consideration for folly, 
and no • great partiality for common sense^ 
It is a gaudy thoughtless age, and they, who 
live up to -the fashion of it, live in a continual 
display of scenery ; their pleasures are all 
patitomimical ; their dinners steam along the 
eolumns of every daily paper, and their sup-^ 
pers and assemblies, dazzle the guests with 
tawdry lights and suffocate them with Jua-» 


cioas odoixfs'^natio comceda est-^It mu$t be 
a surprtge Upon a plain gentlemaifi, when, ift 
consequence of an invitation from his friend, 
he driven t6 the door of wbai: he Conceives to 
be an 0rdinaiy street-houdei and upon entering 
it finds himself in an iUuminated temple, 
formed perhaps upon the model of the con* 
eluding s^ene in a Harkquin-entertainment 
I ought to believe there is a great deal of good 
taste tn all this, ai so many £ne people are 
concerned in it, but till I am betteif instructed 
I cannot help seeing it in a very ridiculous 
light. I am told the spectacle of The Forty 
Thieves was a delicious treat ; I did not hear 
quite so good an account of the dialogue ; in 
like manner I read of forty honest gentlemen 
at least, who set out exqiiisite entertainments, 
but nobody records a single syllable of their 
conversation. It is a lucky circumstande for 
men of low birth, mean talents and confined 
education, that if they can buy good wine, 
and hire a good cook with plenty of winter 
roses, green peas aud strawberries out of sea- 
son, they can refresh the bowels of the old no- 
bility, who will walk into a man's house, form 
their o^n parties when they are in it, and 


take no more notice of the master of it, than 
they would of the landlord of the inn they 
take post at, or the keeper of the turnpike* 
gate that they pass through ; but there must 
be luxury in the glare of lustres to a man, 
who has drudged at his desk by the light of a 
tallow candle, and how much handsomer must 
a floor appear to him, when splendidly be- 
chalked by a capital designer than when be- 
sprinkled with a watering pot by a slip-shod 
apprentice I 

The whim must have its run, and so long as 
our public prints have no better anecdotes to 
amuse us with than what are dated from the 
kitchen, we must be content to read what they 
relate, and let Hannah Glass still flourish in 
the lustre of her fame. We are apt to covet 
what we can't obtain, and poets, both ancient 
and modern, have written much . in praise of 
luxuries, which have not fallen to their share ; 
whilst the ladies of Helicon, who should best 
understand what is fittest for the constitutions 
of their votaries, never treat them with anything 
stronger than a draught of pure water* For 
my part I cannot comprehend how the Ge- 
nius can affect any thing worthy of itself 


amidst the inroads of dissipation, and wfaoeret 
the man may be, or may have been^ who has 
written a good song in praise of drinking^ 
I must believe he was sober when he wrote it 
They charged Cratinus. with writing comeidies 
when he was tipsey, but Cratinus soberly de- 
nied it. 

I could instance a very ingenious contem^b 
porary, who is both a poet and a scholar of 
no common rank, a man withal of modest coa* 
versation, and amongst my acquaintance one 
of the very last, to whom I should impute 
a natural depravity of mind ; yet > it must be 
confessed the Muse of Mr. Moore is by no 
means pure, and he is a writer of love-songs 
much too highly coloured. I am not amongst 
his intimates, yet 1 have seen enough of him 
to be persuaded it is not his character to do 
purposed mischief, but having, together with 
the gift of poetry, the grace of song, and his 
style of composition in music being professedly 
that of the tender and empassioned, he falls 
into the habit of suiting his words to his 
strains, and addresses soft love-ditties to ima- 
ginary mistresses. That he can write gravely^ 
^olidly and sublimely no critic, who has rea<J 

SS6 * iicBivoiits OF 

jm volutoe, will <|eny* There are paitfiagegj, 
{>articularly in hi3 epistles, that are conceived 
jjn the true and genuine spirit of poetry, H^ 
he been lc«3 tensw^iw* of quantity, and thrown 
Asiiie some loo^e di$r^putabl^ tn^h that takes 
ftom value what it adds to bulk, no critic 
cbuld have wounded any feelings, that q. gen* 
deman should own^ He give^ a reason why 
he did not do this, which would have disarni*' 
ed most «o«n of their severity ; but if he bai 
Teally mixed too n>uch of levity with .his better 
ittattet, (which J %m *fraid i§ tbp f;ict) let hire 
mnember Aat hfe PW^ an atonenif nt tP ran- 
dour; and as be has yputh fpr bis apology^ 
and genius for : his reyourg^ let him mi^ hi^ 
Muse . upon domfc nobler unddrtaking, and 
when he has subjected bis conoppsition tP tba 
review of his cprrfect and judicious friend Mr« 
Rogers, he may surrender himself without fear 
to the criticism of the world at large. 

I might remind him of anotbef friend^ thaia 
whom I could not name a better in all points 
of honour ; but Mr, William Spentrer ba$ in 
himself such a superabundance of fancy, that 
he will hardly be on the rpstrjc^iv? side ; he fi^* 
gures in so wide ^ circle^ and is $o prodigal of 



iiis wit) that he disfierses it amongst tpa.if>y, whit 
^can neither retail it nor retain it. His gond 
uyings are lilge the Hazing, spltiiters that fly 
toff from tlie hammered iron, and they that 
woukl ^y hold of them u^ould only burn ttieir 
ifiii^ers : if he would raserve Im Greek for 
those, diat understand it, he must seek odipr 
<XMapaayj if he would . display hh stores of 
dassic koowkidge to mof« puUic use and pno^ 
^ he ituipt oease for 9> time to be tthe brnar 
ii^Bt of s^ety, aod trim his solitary mi4^ 
^iglit laEn»p«^Thi8 he ■ koo w?, hpt this 1m; 
Vitl Mt do, and will lau^b at me for «uggies<>- 
ing it. 

I suppose* the fiog of my Cambridge train- 
ing will Ujgver clear «p sjufficiently for me to 
see and understai^ the wo#ld, either as know 
is, or heretofore 'has been. Gray in his Jong 
Hory says, the Lord ChancefUor Hatton danced, 
a^nd Mr. Bentiley in his ornamented editio<) of 
that ^poetfs work^ ibas 4rawn him in the act 
of cutting capers : ComTnissioner Whiteloclfce 
was as solemn and precise a personage as need 
^ ; he telk 41s in his memoirs of his daundng 
^^t in'ifwls at 4:he court of S^weden, when he 
was 'Ofiver. CromwelFs ambassador to.<iueea 


Christina, and, if we may take his account fof 
truth, he seems to have acquitted himself to 
the admiration of all beholders, unless indeed 
be mistook bis own admiration for that c^ 
other people's, which is not quite impossible^ * 
for Goldsmith thought himself extremely 
graceful, Lord Melcombe studied attitudes in 
bis looking glass, and Soame Jenyns, as I have 
before remarked, wrote to the full as seriously 
on the art of dancing as he did upon the ori- 
gin of evil. Now though Aristophanes ridi- 
culed a capering poet, modern times have en- 
dured a dancing Lord Chancellor, and may 
endure such antic tricks again. 

The world will take its own course. The 
illustrious personages, who manage its con- 
cerns, will continue to manage them after their 
own way till they are thrown out of their seats, 
and when they are prostrate, helpless and at 
mercy, the critics, who watch them as magpies 
watch a flock of sheep, will pounce upon them 
and pick out their eyes. 

We are just now, (as I before observed) by 
no means in our former character of philoso- 
phers, but rather living, as creatures should 
live, who are born for no other purpose, and 

ttiCHAkl) ttTMiERLAND, 36(9 

i^evoted td nd other uses, but to consume 

the fruits of the earth, and leave their names 

to be carried down to posterity in the culinary 

records of oiir publifc prints. The frivolity of ' 

their tables seems in a great degree to have 

Overturned the solidity of their undefstandings, 

and by the frequency of their dealings with 

confectioners and cooks they appear to have 

contracted certain new, but consentaneous 

habits of speech, a sort of huffish pufF-paste 

eloquence, which consists in treating grave 

and serious matters of debate with a vapid. 

kind of levity, affecting quaint conceits and 

doggerel quotations, which stand very well 

in Mother Goose's Tales, but are rather out 

of their latitude in Saint Stephen's Chapd. 

lam sorely afraid that 'our dfcluded senators, 

who by the flatulency of their mental diet 

have falleii into this laxity of talk, conceive it 

has tome affinity to wit, and think themfeelves 

bappy in a familiar style, which has all the 

pciint of ridicule and the grace of ease, Alas' ! 

it' has . nor J)0int, nor edge, nor grace, nor 

ease; in fact, it is no style at all; ipiere gab- 

ble, nothing else. One iiecommendatiori it 

may Imve, which is that 6f being uiianswer- 


370 * M^*lOIR$ 0lf 

able, for who can remember it; aQd^ heing 
quite as fiimsey as Ixiou's mistre% v/ho am 
embrace it P 

This is IK) proof to me that tbeie n a teil 
dearth of tadte or geniiiis in the age ; it onljK 
Qonfiirma whafe we knew bfefore, that fake 
1|iste and false genius are more obtrusive, tbaa 
true. If ever there was a time . for thi3 dis- 
tinguished nation in a more peculiar tnanner 
to maintain her dignity and.dis()lay hesr. virtue^ 
it is now when the eyes of $ufFt?ring and 
degraded Europe are directed towards herr 
and she has not yet been tempted to lay aside 
her arrns^ 

There is a northerix junto of periodical criticfi, 
who have render^ themselves extremely for- 
midable to us poor author^ md to whom 
such of usy as have viands at Command; ofier 
them up, as Indians dd tlieitoUations to the 
devil ; whilst they, wbo know we do not m* 
cetise them out oi love but feat, receive oyx 
knee« worship with indifibiancfe atad despssb 
1^ for our meannes2|, I have itot the honour 
of being personally acquainted with any oa0 
^{ these gentlemefi, but I peccdve . thai: my 
shffts amonffst others have. bcea talflim vota 

ItlCHAftb CplfBjB&LAlTD. 6fl 

ihejr l^midry, and have goue through the 
wu^l process qf mangling* I am truly ^4 
siacerely obliged to them fot the gr^pajt con7 
ftidefatioii they hava h94 * for the fe#b]^ fabric 
of njy maniiifactur^, on whi?h th^y have be-» 
•towed $Q very gentle a scfueezbg as not to 
bfeak ^ thread, that was not rotten before 
^y handled it, npr make one hole but wha( ^ 
lMwij^wife> hand may darn. Iq short, though 
it is so much my wish to be well with them, I 
oftnnfOt co9ipliment them on their sagacity, 
focasQMch as they have not hit upon a singly 
fault in my imperfect wfxrk, that was not mucl^ 
too obvious for any common m^rkeman tQ 
laave missed* 

They say with a great deal of natural good 
manners, that they should have been bettei^ 
xeconciled to me, if I had talked more of otheif 
people and less of myself This marks a de^ 
Mcate attention to certain feelings, which I am 
proud to find they give me credit for, and J[ 
wish as mucih as they can do, that I could 
have discovered the happy means of being my 
own biographer without egotisms ; but having 
been induced by reasons, which I hafe not 
scrupled tn confess, to render an account of 



^72 ifEMOlES 6t 

my life and writings, whilst I am yet living 
and personally responsible for the truth of 
what I have written, I endeavoured to the best 
of my power to lighten a dull topic by digres- 
sions, wherever I could avail myself of an op-- 
portunity ; and if these gentlemen found those 
digressions the more tolerable part of my per- 
formance, so did I also. They, seem as if they 
had written for the very purpose of confirming 
me in ihy own c^nions. 

The friends, who know with what hesitation 
I yields to their advice and undertook this 
task, can witness that I did not expect to 
make my own immediate Memoirs entertaining" 
to the public ; yet every reviewer, who ha* 
condescended to notice them, (these of Edin- 
burgh excepted) have had the charity to make 
hie think they had, read me with complacency* 
But they were my countrymen; they could 
feel for my motives, they could allow for my 
difficulties ; they had too much manliness of 
nature to endeavour at depressing me, and 
forebore for a time to be critics for the gratifi- 
cation of exhibiting themselves in the more 
amiable character of gentlemen. 

I understand that these acrimonious Nortbn 


Tritons are young men ; I rejoice to hear i^ 
not only for the honour of old ngp, but in 
the hope that they, will live long enough tp 
discover the error of their ambition, the misiE4>r 
plication of their talents, and that the CQmbir 
nation they have formed to mortify their con- 
tempocarie$ ^ u^ fapt a copspiracy to MndQ 

I 4m afraid that, in spite of tlie plain hint 
they have given me, I ahall not be able to 
keep mysplf totally out of sight through the 
remainjiig psiges of this supplement, especial- 
ly as they themselves have ^ven me an oppor- 
tunity of explaining 9. circumstance of some 
impoYtanipe, which had not come to my know- 
ledge when I was eraployiBd upon the former 
part of th^^e Memoir3. 

By the anecdote, which I relate of Admirab 
jSir George Rodney, whilst he wa$ manauvring 
th^ cherry-stones lupon Lord Sackville*s table 
after dinner at Stonelands, I certainly meant 
to convey to the reader my sincere belief that 
it was then he first conceived the project of 
cutting through thfe enemy's line. I was not 
at that time, nor till very lately, apprised that 
there was a man living, who could dispute thg; 

B B 3 

574 nJBMaifts OF 

originaKty ot that mafiteuvw M^ith him, 1 
now kaiu that Mr. Gterk hail coinoinac&taoiis 
with the Adtoiral, and if they were p^iemut to 
the period of my anecd^ote, (whiich may be ea^ 
liily ascertained ) it will be evident that I mistook 
those symptoms, which so strongly impressed 
me and others present with the belief, which I 
attached to my relation of that ^^ecdl^te. 
That I was more partieulariy attentive to the 
i^hole elabdrate pwc^ss of the gaitairt Ad- 
miral ^th hi^ cherry -«tone?S, is a ft^A that I 
dan Wi^ll account for, iiKasmuch as wb^ t per- 
ceived Lord Sackville tosinghk att^tion to his 
jguest, and wearied with the maiay lesidwg 
questions, uninteresting % they seemM to be 
to the rest of the comjyany, 'who did not foresee 
the point they led to, I tkoo^t it right in ttry 
regaid for botii parties to give ihe moie earnest 
beed to what my friend was about, ^who seeM^ed 
in travail wkh some new ide^a, and in ^ whisper 
predicted to his Lordship, that J t^s persuaded 
somtetbing worth his notice Wi^ld come out at 

I repeat this as mj^apotogy tb Mr. Clerk and 
^he public at large, ' if, being misled by these 
indic^tioins^ } have ^eribe4 <^]4ginaiity to tb^ 

aicHAJiD oimcneALAND* ^9T5 

«rmQg pertoD : ' nodbiag eoald more MfoAg{y 
i^faeter the first conci^taxm of anew id^^w 
Whea thp Admlval avoweid bis ris<riution to 
make cypenment of his plan iti actio^^- and 
heard it treated widb somethhig more than 
doubt, he ^quoted ' no audiority in sqpport <^ H, 
but seemed contented to stanid alone in the 
opinipn of its pnactioabilitj^, and persiMed in 
deciariflg liiat he vould try it^ * 

I must aiso beg leave to ad4 that my friend 
ftir Chnrles Douglas, upon bis teium to Eng- 
land expressly decUned to me that the m^ark 
of cutting the French }me rested entirely \i^ith 
iiis Adniiral, and that his own opinion ^6r 
ment against* it In my assertion of this fadP 
I am strictly correct, and the obsen^iofi f 
deduce frooo it, is, that if Mr. ^Clerk suggi^atefl 
it to Sir Charles Douglas f^t the AdmiraiPs 
tonsideratioa, it must hai^ fe»een theMgadity 
ef the prineipal, not that of t^e seeooil, 
wfaidi discerned the merit of Mr. Clericfis dk^ 
covery, and in spite ^ all 'dl^ouragemfntb 
carried it pesoluteiy and roecesjsfutly ijato ope* 

If, after aU tliis discussion, it shall turn out 

n b4 

^6 ,c, MEMOIRS OP 

that two . men great in naval tactics^ struck 
up0n tbe^ame idea, where would be the imncle? 
Whilst, I. wai upon a visit to my old and 
^wqrtfey friend: the I Eeverend Mr. Higgs ethi$ 
rectory: of ^rafctdi&burgh in the coiinty. of 
Siiffoik I put, itbe. last hand tOv uiy poem of 
Galyliry. In[ hU hospitable mansito I enjoyed 
my leisure! in complete; tranquillity and peace-. 
It does not often come to pass, that two, me6, 
i who had, been intimates in their boyish dayis at 
school, . and contemporaries in the same col?; 
legei shall meet,: as we did, in our old age with 
(the, consciousness that there had not. been a 
single moment when our friendship: felt a 
'checki or a word had passied, . that w^ could 
wish unsaid; , '^hosie days of .^<»irse were to. me 
5)eculiarly grateful, and I flatter myself if ^ny 
visitations- qf my Muse were happy, it was 
then they ^ere ^Ucb,- when she }e.d me to those 
regions, which I attempt to de^i'^be as the re-r, 
^idjeQce of death. I should hardly presume 
tp, particularize\,these .p^ss?^^, had I not the 
authority of my l^ind reviewer Debtor Drake 
to appeal to for my apology, and to him I 
shall ever hpl4. myself indebted a& (be QQe cgn- 



-did critic, who brought that poem out of its 
jobacurity, and obtained for it a place amoBgst 
twr British clasi^cs^ 

Encouraged by that favour, which was thus 
pbtained. for Calvary, I cherished a design of 
.attempting another epic poem on a sacred subr 
Jcct, and of selecting it frbm the Old Testa- 
iii^nt, following the example of Milton in his 
Paradise Lost and Regained. Whilst these 
thoughts were in my mind, though without 
any fixt plan, my friend Sir James Burges 
suggested to me the history of Moses from 
th^ period, of his leading the Israelites out of 
Egypt to his death upon Mount Horeb. This 
he did; Qot {>rQpose in a crude and undigested 
state^ but imparted to me a plan deliberately 
and minutely methodized, and apportioned 
into bpoks, ten in number, with the argument 
of each correctly drawn up ; a work of much 
labour and considerable research. When I 
had. taken, this plan into consideration, I found 
that he had not .only traced out the journal of 
the sacred Historian with the most exact fide- 
lity, but had availed himself of maps and books,^ 
till then unknown to me, and which seemed 
to leaye little to the pen, that followed hiwL| 


except the task of filling up the outline be 
had laid down. It appeared to me to be a 
subject, comprising every property that shduki 
unite to constitute a sacred epic poeni'^a se- 
ries of supernatural and sublime events, awful 
and tneniendous judgments, forming a perfect 
and magmficent whole, d]spla}ring characters, 
achievements, incidents and situations, such as 
the history of no other people upon earth ever 
did exhibit, eacceeding all the powers of mor- 
tal agency, yet backed with the aatbority of 
)ioly writi^ 

My fiieaad, who l»d taken to himself die 
whole labour of die pka, 4^0Metited abo to 
fiaat that of the eaoecution, and we divided 
our lapective ^rtiom aocordhigly t Though 
we hupt each been drawn off to odier studies, 
jet we have advanced considerably in €be 
joint work, and I purpose with the concur* 
nence of my worthy colteague t^ sutmiit iho 
first and second books to the public very 
sbortiy, and so to publish part by part, if fife 
and health permit, till the whole sfaaH be com-* 
pleted~-We entitle it ITie Ejfoiiad. 

i have also planned zriA m great part finished, 
on^ more nov^I, upon which J have bestowed 


fiindi thne stud csae^ anxious to Irave toftie* 
thing bebind me in that wi^, which may «fi<^ 
tereat the ilcholar as weH a3 tiie idkr ; sonw^ 
timgy which gravity maj read withtmt c<m« 
tetupt, %iid tnodenty without n hbsh : a worit 
0f fa^cy, that may prove I faare m>t ^aite €x% 
haustied my capacity to amwe, nor quite aban* 
doned my endeavours to instruct^ 

I hofye it is not the chiaracter of ohi ^age to 
his ^mloiis and (dissatisfied; if itisy Iltirust I 
ha^ tBtBptd t^ common iot, for Nature has 
foestm^ed on me such strong animal ^piritSy asd 
I h^ve b^6n Messed vrich so iong a series of 
health, that I ha^e fakherto found an ttafaiUttg 
soarfeis c^ t>ceupati(m ta solitude ; and of ^ea^^ 
sure in society. Wt vAd feltoiis dnmld hk 
viWfLft itiat the 3N:>ung otijn will onfy sufer as 
Whitst We are conformabie^ The worU at 
iai^ win pay but little revenetice ta tnir grey 
haits, anlMs life set them off with the graces 
of gobd nature, 

Fot iBotne years befbie the decease -of my 
wife, such Was the unhappy atate of her ex«* 
Ikausted and decayed constitwtioa, that my 
house was in a manner inaccessible even to nqr 
fiearefst fri^s a$i4 iM^ighbcws : Iwr inervfl 

580 I MEMoiicNs ap 

being utterly destroyed^ and even her recoU 
lection impaired by the effects of the breaking 
of a blood-vessel, which no art could beal^ 
every step, that approached her, threw her 
mto- tremors, and it required careful preparation 
to enable her to support an interview with any 
of her children, who came at times to pay their 
duty to her, 

The daughter, who is. now the comfort of 
my old age, was then the only inmate in my 
family : fortunately for her^ she had the ^une 
resources with myself; from her earliest in- 
fency boofebad been berpasMon, aiui of these 
her choice was. directed much more' to edifica- 
tion, than mere amusement *, and so clear was 
her comprehension, ' so retentive her memory, 
that I had the substance of any new publica- 
tions in. her own language so well detailed to 
ine; that I could, reap the fruits of her studies 
and pursue my own. So supgprted I could 
not wholly sink ; but when she also fell dan- 
gerously HI, and Death seemed only pausing 
between objects so infinitely dear where first 
to. point the inevitable blow, it was a.trying^ 
and distressful crisis : still I struggled agaij^t 
Jbase despondency, to wJiich amidst the wreclfL 

%f father, mother, sons and friends I never yet 
had yielded ; ai^l h^re (as I am sttU my own 
biographer) I mast take leate to say, in miti^ 
gation of itiy mainy failings and infirmities, 
that waiit of patience under the dispensationis 
of God's providence is not amongst their num- 
ber— *Lct not tny readers think I aim to give 
£ilse colo^trs t0 iny character! I scorn the infi-^ 
f>utation, and am too- sensible how nearly I am 
apprcKKdiiiig to the hour, when every idle word 
mu^ be accounted for, to load my conscience 
with the guilt of an untruth. 

Men, who ba^e been in situations, and av&il'' 
ed themselves of opportunities for conferring 
favours, are apt, wheu fortune turns against 
diem, to be loud in their complaints of the in^ 
gratitude of mankind ; I have, had those op^ 
portanities, but am not warranted to make 
those complaints^ whether I have not met 
with instance^ of ingratitude, or have out« 
JiKred. the recollection of them, I would not 
Wfsh to ascertain, if it were in my power. I 
know that many people torment themselves 
with conceiving slights, and teaze their bearers 
with describing them: I can readily call to 
jnind^ xpany small services of mine gratefu% 

989 HSHOlAB Of 

remembereid amt gfi^exomly overpwd; I havf 
bad maiiy true and »tfsady ftkii^ aAd n«veir 
found myself ca$t off by ^nj, only becaiiae I 
«could no longer keep the atatipn^ which J held 
before : when I ain within their reach they wel* 
come me with all thf c^rdklity of forM^ 
times^ and when I am masjter of a leisure day 
in London^ I cap always find a hip^pitable tar 
ble and a friendly host :. thw is at QUQe my 
consolation and my pride ; I baye^ tivfid be* 
yoQd the . ordinary limits of man's . time <m 
earth, and have npt fiUifeited the good will of 
thosCi with whom I lived; whibt with few 
exceptions from amongst the numbers^ who 
are* now no more^ I can rellept with comfort 
th^t I did not lose them tiU death took ,tbem 
from m& 

Oiie in$tance of injustice nnd oppression 
was so interwoven with my history, that 1 
could not avoid the recording it^ Setting l;ha.t 
aside, whieh it now behoves me to do, I have 
much reason to timik. well of t)» world, imd 
when my time shall come n^uch good cause to 
part from it in peace. 

In the quarto .edition. of my Memoirs, page 
4(71). I mention a certain tributary pre^eat^ 


RICHAED oxjn:berland. 389 

which my old frietid . Mr. Smith of Bury was 
pleased to bestow upon the puerile Rotcius tti 
the candid spirit of encouragement If any 
thing, that appears upon that page, gave my 
respectable contemporary a moment's, pain^ 
I am sincerely sorry, and though I know he 
has forgiven me, yet before I can be heartily 
disposed to forgive myself, he must allow mc 
to tender htm this my public apology. We 
are both far advanced into the vale of years^ 
both pilgrims grey with age> and pressing on<» 
wards to our jcnimey's end : time has been 
when his encouragement put me upon attempts^ 
which his abilities as an actor contributed to 
s«ipport I met him lately in town ; a lucky 
chanf^e brought him to the hotel, where I had 
lodgings { I was delighted to see him in such 
green old. age, upright in person, active in 
limbs, and of a countenance still so animated, 
as bespoke him apparently as able to perform 
the part of Charles as in his younger days. I 
intfoduced Mr. iUexander Rae to him, and 
tempted him to the Haymarket theatre to see 
bim in the character of Mortimer in The Iroa 
Cke$iu He sate with me in the orchestra, and 

884 M£MOIES O^ 

Was highly pleased with the performance bt 
that young and very promising actor, withf 
whose merits I am so intimately acquainted^ 
2md for whose success I am so warmly inte- 

Since the stages of Drury Lane and CovenC 
Garden have been so enlarged in their dimen- 
sions as to be henceforward theatres for spec- 
tators rather than playhouses for hearers, it is 
hardly to be wondered at if th6ir managers 
aiid directors encourage those representations, 
to which their structure is best adapted. The 
splendor of the scenes, the ingenuity of thd 
machinist and the rich display of dresses, aided 
by the captivating charms of music, now in a 
great degree supercede the labours of the poet 
There can be nothing very gratifying in watch* 
ing the movements of an actor's lips, When we 
ciannot hear the words that proceed froni 
them ; but when the animating march strikes 
up, and the stage lays open its recesses to tht 
depth of a hundred feet for the proe&sion 
to advance, even the most distant spectator 
can enjoy his shillingV worth of show; . What 
then is the poet's chance ? Exactly what th^r 



p^tMu^H would be, if the mouDtebank was in 
'the 'market-place, when the bells were chiming 
for cdfiuFch. 

On the *stag€ ©f Old Dniry in the days of 
t^arriok the moving brow and penetrating 
eye of 'that matohless actor oame home to the 
spectator. As the passions shifted, and were 
^by turns reflected irpm the mirror of his ex- 
pressive counteimnce, nothing was lost ; upon 
the scale of modern Drury many of the finest 
touches df his art would of necessity fall 
'Short The distant auditor might chance to 
catch' the teict, but would not see the comment^ 
that was wont so exquisitely to elucidate the 
poet's meaning, ^and impress it on the hearer's 

It never was my object to depress the Jiving 
^Candidate for &me, but has been uniformly my 
desire and my endeavour to uphold and che« 
rah genius whilst it lives amongst us, and 
may be fostered by our commendations. The 
'dead can do no more; they have finished 
'their* career, and there isno more use and profit 
inourpraise^of them: the living are our pro- 
perty ; we have a participation in their talents, 
vand ft is no less our interest than our duty to 

VOL. II. c c 


encourage all their efforts for the honour of 
the aera we belong to. How much more 
gratifying must it be to behold perfection than 
to hear of it ! If I tell a man that Garrick 
was an inimitable actor, he may, or he may 
not, take it on my credit ; but how does my 
report edify him unless I could present him 
with a sample of his style, and be mysel£in 
every circumstance of action, voice and fea- 
ture perfect Garrick ? But this I cannot be, 
and in the mean time nothing is more elusory 
and vague than my description ; I can give 
, the measure of his stature, and perhaps some 
idea of his person, but that which alone is 
interesting to be acquainted with, I cannot 
communicate. The living actor is within our 

* So long as I have known the stage, so many 
eminent performers as I have seen pass over it, 
and so frequent as my concerns with them 
have been, I should be glad to, say something 
in this place, , that might manifest my regard 
for them, and keep me in their remembrance 
Avhen I am no more ; but when I turn to th« 
essay,, No* xxix, in The Observer, which I de- 
voted to their use and service, whilst ray 


thoughts were fresher than they are- at present^ 
it is but little I can add, and that little will be 
hardly worthy of their attention in any other 
light than as a mark of* the unvaried good will, 
wkich I entertain for them. 

As. men separated by their profession into a 
distinct, order, I have the satisfaction to see 
them maintain a more respectable station m 
society, than they did in my early acquaint- 
ance with the stage. Though they have 
produced no writer from amongst themselves 
equal to the author of The Careless Husband^ 
yet I could instance some who hav^e written, 
and still write, more prosperously in their day 
than Cibber did in his. Though hone per- 
haps, since Garrick trode the stage, can boast 
such various excellence as he possessed, yet I 
have seen nature so admirably imitated in par- 
ticular characters by performers yet amongst 
us, that i have said within myself-r- If hu- 
toan powers can reach perfection, I behold it 

The stage has never within my knowledge! 
of it been wholly unprovided with performers 
of distinguished merit in the tragic line. I 
have remarked that it is generally the first am- 

G c S 

^88 ^E^oilis OF 

^ition bf 'the'candidafe for histridhic fariie'ta 

• ■ ■ ► * ^ 

be the Ti'ero or h^oifie of a fragddy. It is 
perfectly in nature thiat it should lie so: the 
ichbol-hoy, wh6 is taught to declaim, Ttias 
his passages selectee) from the writers iiitiefbfc 
ifn'etre : hie speaTks a solikiquy of Hamlet's fo a 
parcel of people, who are predisposed to ap- 
plaud him, and he conceives himself a second 
Garrick ; he riiakes love as Romeo dr Marc 
Antony, behold he is another Bariy ; he recites 
%n extract from Macbeth or Richard, and he 
is Kemble, Cooke, or any other, who can 
plek^e you better, if any such there are. Blank 
W ..ore easily to ft. niemoiy fa 
prose ; tlie human passions are more strongly 
roused by tragedy than comedy, arid he be- 
comes a decided Vcitarist of Melpomene; he 
enrblls himsdf 'in the troop of a country thea- 
tre, ^the manager of which pays no attention 
to his prejudices, no respect to the sublinii^ 
of his ideas, but levels him at once with^is 
fellows, and makes him stand in any jgiajp, 
that Vaiits a substitute to fill it up : at length 
by'fteqrient loVerings he discovers toliis sur- 
'prise, but ultimately to 'his advantage, fhat he 
Is 1a lo\v 6binedian. and 'ih'at it is 'much easier 



^ftrbim to proyq^e a laugji than to extoi;ta 
XeB^. Thus it comes to pass tliat comedy iqi 
its lower characters has been always well filled 
tip, but very few indeed have distinguished 
^hjfnpi^elves in the in ore refined an^ el?gant de-^ 
pertinent : there i^ust be ^ graceful ease and 
^ hifi;hly finished air^j which'without an expe* 
riienpe, that faill? to thp lot of very few per- 
formers, cannot be engrafted (py^p upon tha 
finest ^ftd the fairest form?. 
. The profession of thp actor is l^bprious in th? 
extreme ; it i^ oply to fee upheld by habitua| 
teipperance ^nd incessant study: jindolenc? 
cannot retaiii it ; dissipation must extinguish 
it. They, who are for ever in the public eye, 
<ian surely estimate the value and advantage? 
pf private pharacter ; • they must know ho.Yf 
grudgingly applause is given to suqh as have 
no title to respect. The ipcrpasjed exertion of 
the voice alone is now become a task more 
toilsome than their predecessors underwent, 
and by how much the present call for novel- 
ties exceeds that \yhjch is past, by so much 
greater must the eicercise of the, memory be 
now than heretofore. With these extraordi? 
pary demands upon the vijtal sources ojF their 

c c 3 

390 MEMOIRS or 

noblest functions, how cautious should they 
te to keep those sources pure! Kepletioa 
xnust impede; the faculties ; ebriety deserves no 

It would be possible for me to bring to my 
recollection the particular style and manner of 
many eminent performers, 'who are now no 
more, arid my description of them might per- 


haps afford amusement to the generality of 
my readers ; but I am not disposed to make ' 
the attempt, because I am so averse from all 
comparisons between the dead and living, that 
I will not give any one the opportunity of sup- 
posing that my praise implies preference. It 
is more a trick of talking than a truth of judg- 
ing in those, who make a practice of decrying 
living actors : if they would write but half as 
well as the perforhiers can act, the stage would 
be better furnished with new; pieces. ' ^A silly 
Witless coxcomb conceives it is a token of su- 
perior taste to contemplate every thing with 
cold indifference : whereas his foolish affecta- 
tion only impresses us with a sure conviction 
of his dulness, and a shrewd suspicion of his 
maliciousness. Such a man will tell you there 
arc no good actors pow \ they are liiot to b$ 


compared with some, that he remembers; 
whereas he said the same of those then, as he 
does of these now, and perhaps with something 
more hke truth and reason. Is he a judge of 
what an actor should be ? Is he competent to 
distinguish the just and genuine representation 
of nature from the tricks of art and studied 
pedantry of declamation ? If he were, he 
would know better where to look for merit, 
and how to value it when he had discovered it. 


But I am resolute to credit no man for merit 
in himself, who can see none in others, ai)d 
am persuaded that with all his contempt for 
the sons and daughters of Thespis, there is no 
strolling master of a troop of spouters, who 
would admit him into his bam,, unless to snuff 
the candles or to beat a drum. 

The living actors can do justice to the liv- 
ing authors, let them write as well as they can, 
and as much better than they do write, as it 
shall please Heaven. If their wit provokes 
them to attempt a comedy, the danger will 
not be that any part shall be too good for the 
performer, but that the performer shall think, 
himself too good for the part. I am satisfied' 
it is not in my power to name the time withini 

c c 4 


more than half a century pftst^ ti^hei^ thf 
stages of Drury Lane and C6vent Garden 
have been better fumithed with comediaEi^ 
than at the present hour^ Perbapa k is to be 
lamented, tbat tbeir influence is sneh^ as to 
induce an author to make greater sacrtfices, 
and pay more attention to the particular per^ 
Bonsi whom he has in . Ttew to represent the 
diaracteis of his play, than to the geiietal in? 
terests of the play itself; and though I W0yM 
ndt be understood to inemnate that ^n actor 
or actress should not have the privilege of de-s 
^lining certain partsy that may . be tendered to 
them, yet I am fully warranted to remafk, 
that they exereise that privilege much $w 
frequently, and upon too frivolous pbjectionsi 
They are become exceptions to a degree^ that 
the stage in former times bad no idea of, and 
this unaccommodating caprice reduces the au** 
thor either to sacrifice the hatmony of his 
composition out of flattery to their freaks,, 
or by submitting to the rebuff put his play 
upon its trial with the discouraging circum* 
stance attached to it of having begged its way 
through the repugnant heroes and heroines of 
^hc gTeen-room» It may not be reasonable 

Itk some cases to expect eoispluuvce, bat whsu 
tfae diiectof of tbe theatre coi>cu]^ with th^ 
author in deciding on the ca^t^ ^ther th^ pei^r 
^rmer must do hi» duty, oc the wnter shoald 
irithdraw hi$ play» and giv^ his reason t^ ^h^ 

But it is iw>t in thift particula? only that d^e 
ponduct of our theatres seems to need som? ^ 
further regulation^ theie might in my opiniou 
be a better mode adopted than what they now 
pursue in treating writers for the stage, and 
passing judgment on the manuscripts referred 
to them. As there can be no premeditated of* 
fence in the person, who makes suit to be ac« 
i:%pted, them should be nothing that can 
vound his feelings in the manner of rejecting 
bioi. He has an equitable right to know the 
judge, that passes sentence on his wprk^ and 


there cannot be a good reason why that judge 
should only be heard to speak through the 
oigans of the prompter, and commit the ma* 
iiuscript to be sent back to its owner, with a 
note from that servant of the side-'sceoe, so 
uncourteously concise, that it would barely 
serve to warn an actor to reh^rsal. 

If it were to be wished that he, whose first 


proposal does not suit, should not be tempted 
ever to propose again, a more effectual method 
of accomplishing that end can hardly be de- 
vised. The flame of that dramatic passion 
must be very strong, which the prompter's 
extinguisher, thus applied^ canfiot put out: 
but if an easy intercourse between parties, mu- 
. tually interested to serve one common cause, 
ought in all good policy to be furthered, every 
thing that can give disgust and irritation 
should with caution be avoided ; for in every 
pursuit, where ambition is praise-worthy, at* 
tempts should be encouraged. 

Conducted as the business now is, the ruler 
of a theatre may well complain of the burden 
of his office : but if a judicious and respectable 
person was sought out and specially appointed 
for the purpose of receiving, reading and re- 
porting upon dramatic compositions, tendered 
for acceptance, all cause of complaint on the 
part of the genus irritabile would be remove'd, 
and there would be no accumulation of the 
obnoxious mass of manuscripts, that occasion 
so much trouble to the holders, and give such 
matter of complaint to the authors, who are 
destined to he tantalized by long expectations^ 


and at length dismissed by short answers* 
This person, if duly qualified for his office^ 
will readily distinguish such performances as 
are evidently inadmissible, and in the disposal 
of these nothing more will be required than 
expedition and a courteous manner of declin- 
ing the offer ; whereas now, when manuscripts 
of this description are suffered to lie upon the 
shelf, though they have no titje to be accepted, 
their owners have still just reason to complain 
of inattention and delay. 

There will of course be other tenders made 
with more respectable pretensions, but which 
nevertheless upon the whole it may be judged 
expedient to decline ; in these cases I should 
conceive it right to qualify their rejection 
with such general observations and remarks, 
as may not only soften disappointment, but 
convey instruction : candour of this sort 
would inspire ambition, and if there was a spark 
of genius in the writer of a piece so treated, it 
would cherish and improve it. 

When a drama shall be judged worthy of 
acceptance, it must still from the nature of all 
human compositions be found capable of im- 
provement : how many novelties are improvi- 

39$ 11JE,BR0<H18 Qf 


d^^itly brought fqiwwd* whQse/^^ti^ral pierlt 
i& &a glaringly defsfced bj^ obyiaus errpx^, or ^tir 
fled by dUgustful ^.nd upp^tuxjJ ea^cxe(^^enci?s^ 
w]juch i^ th^ir passage tq the 5.1;agi? ^^ght aad 
cHigbt to have been coiTected wul lo^t qff 1 
It U then, if the author i^ x^oX 4eaf tp «U &fi- 
yic^ w4 unphscrv^^t af efffpjt,, t^^^ in th^ 
course of the pehcarsl^l$ he i»2^ give the finish- 
ing (ouche$ to hi^ pFOfiiK^tioi;^ find how much 
4^pends upon the proper eqpd^ct and enforce*^ 
ment of those rehearsals I p*pd flpt oh^rye ; 
th^y pertainly (|eipand aiitention, apd I susp^t 
they peed reform ; for w|wt between the af- 
fected cdpelessness of some perfoTiners, ^pd 
the real jndolence of others^ the p|ay is in part 
l^p( out of the aut|ipr'^ ^^gbt^ who is told 
thstt such 4p4 9^^^ ^ ^ctpr Avill he perfect ^t 
Tepfesentation, or in other words tl^at he will 
get hi^ p^rt when he c^n .^o longer put it by» 
a,nd speak out to his audience in self-defi^ce^ 
though he lias muttered and slurred it over to 
his author at rehearsal through mere laf:ine$$ 
or self^conqeit. But neither the^e, nor any 
other remarks how apposite soever, can be 
%aid to be in place, whilst the stage is ao pre- 
occupied by spectacle !-rr-As a gaudy equipage 


Will aftract notice, though it shall' carry a drill 
c^onipaiiy withihside of it, so will fine sc6neiy 
and rich dressds lii^e the nakedni^ss of ubn* 
^ense, and sweet nrielodies inipart a grate evfea 
to the lamest and nibsit wretched metre. 

Tf naturis can barely be upheld by ^n. 
Jordan, or Shakespere by Mr. iCem'ble, ivhat 
author in his senses will attempt a cdftiedy 
'more legitimate than The "Forty Thieves, or a 
tragedy more serious than Tom Thumb ? 

"Whilst I pause *here, death has struck down 
"an illustrious victim m the person of Mr. 
Fbx« The time is marked with awful visita- 
Vibns, ^r. Pitt is taken from us, arid now 
"the other luminary of our state, and senate 
is extinct: in thie moment when his great abi- 
lities were drawn out by grieat occasions into 
full exertion we have lost him. His amiable 
qualities, his steacly friendships, his brilliant 
'talents witl he long recorded in the hearts of 
'tKo&e,'whoTovlBd him arid admired him ; their 
"^sorrow will be 'proportionable ; but it is to be 
^oped they will avoid that extravagance in 
their eulogies, 'which oversteps discretion, ndf 
mingle that despondency with their bewailings, 
m \yhicb there is no wisdom, policy or com- 



mon sense. We should tccollect that it iS 
upon the general spirit of our countrymen 
that we rest our confidence; when Nelson 
breathed his last, he ,breathed out nothing 
but his own brav6 soul; our fleets are not 
become less terrible to our enemies because he 
no longer lives to command them : if it were 
so, it were time indeed to withdraw from the 
contest, for there is one at no great distance 
from us, who is fearfully and anxiously alert to 
watch our waverings, and engraft his own ad- 
vantages upon them; but as the courage of 
our soldiers has recently chastised his arro* 
gance, so I trust that the harmony of our 
councils will disappoint his artifice, and enable 
our nation to maintain that attitude, which 
alone is worthy of its character, and consistent 
with its security. 

As I now find myself once more under the 
hospitable roof of my old friend Mr. Higgs^ 
I am likely to wind Up this supplement of my 
Memoirs in the very spot, where fifteen years 
ago I concluded my poem of Calvary. This 
companion of my youth, though far advanced 
into the vale of years, is still enjoying the re- 
ward of temperance, a sound mind in a health- 



ful body. He performs all the duties of a 
parish-priest in an exemplary manner, exe- 
cutes the laborious office of an acting justice 
of the peace with that of a director of the poor- 
bouse, established at Nacton in this county of 
Suffolk, an institution of such striking use and 
benefit, and productive of so great i public 
saving in the article of poor-rates, that it is 
matter of astonishment why it has not been 
more generally adopted. When I fell ill at 
Kamsgate, and he was made acquainted witlr 
my situation, he wrote a letter, that convinced 
me his affection had suffered no abatement by 
the lapse of years since I had seen him, and 
he took a journey of a hundred and forty mil^s 
to visit me in my convalescence. He was of the 
same year with me at Trinity, and we have 
not a senior to us in the College now living. 

To the candid reviewers of the first edition 
of my Memoirs I have already paid my ac- 
knowledgments, and If in this octavo re-pub- 
lication I have omitted to avail myself of some 
remarks upon a few verbal iiiaccuracies, which 
had escaped my notice, I must beg them to 
believe it is not that I am obstinate against 
correctioi^ but because I hold it a point of 

400 «!£««) tftS OF 

•honour tolearre that'copy untoached, irbich 
my first purchasers iare in possession of, 'pfe- 
fenttig to acknowledge my faults and ask par^ 
don of the puhlic, tather than make this se« 
cond copy better hy the amendment erf a sitr^ 
word than that which they have bought* at 
twice the price. Perhaps i may refine teo 
' much in this *paitrculaT, bnt it is my idea c^f 
fair deating, and there are objects in my eafti- 
msltion infinitely more worthy my considera* 
tion and altterrticm, than any thing, which 
cian Only rfffect my reputation as a writer. 

When this manuscript was going 'to the 
press 1 was informed 'by my publisher Difr. 
Lackington, that he had been told 1 Mras not 
correct in isftating thit the West Indian, when 
first produced, had no after-piece attached to 
it. If thiB \^s a mis-statement, 1 trust I need 
not say that it tms perfectly involuntary. 

. Whilst I was employed upon my Memoirs 
I was irihabiting a'furiiisht house at Ramsgate, 
where I was literally provided with nothing 
but the mere materidb for writing, having 
teft my books and papers in their packages stt 
Tunbridge Wells, where they still remain. 
This I hope will in some degree apblogizefor 


my mistake in retorting upon Bishop Lowth 
1^ raying I had traced his quotation against 
Doctor Bentley up to its source in one of tlie 
most uncleanly samples in Catullus: it is a 
palpable error, of which I am very properly re- 
minded, and I thank my kind reviewer in the 
British Critic for giving me this opportunity 
of ackno\f ledging it. 

At th# same time that I was writing without 
books, I was living without any literary 
friend or neighbour to resort 'to, till the arrival 
of Sir William Pepys at Ramsgate gave me an 
opportunity of renewing my acquaintance with 
one of the best classical scholars of his time, 
and who, together with his learning, pos« 
sessed a correct taste and admirable judgment 
When I lived with Johnson, Garrick, Doding- 
tpn, Jenyns, and the • wits of that period ; I 
had the happiness abo of living with Sir Wil- 
liam Pepys. No man had a better right to be 
present wherever men of talents held thdt 
meetings; for with a very quick comprehen- 
sion, a ready elocution, and a fund of erudi- 
tion, this gentleman has a grace and suavity 
of manners, not always to be. found in contact 

VOL. II. p D 


with a superior understanding. There are few 
now left, who can be heard with equal profit 
upon literary topics, for his opinions are de-; 
liveVed with peculiar clearness and a marked 
precision; they are not such as can puzzle 
and entangle ;• they must either confirm or 
confute. He attached himself very zealously 
to Samuel Johnson, for he. admired the man, 
and wa3 more solicitous to elicit his talents 
than to display his own; on many subjects 
I have known him follow where he might ' 
have led ; for if the orbit, in which Johnson's 
mighty genius rolled, was wider than his, or 
probably than any other man's of his time, still 
on all points, where classical authorities were 
to be appealed to, and somebody was to be 
appointed as expounder of those authorities, 
I should conceive there could be none more 
fit than hmi^of whom I am speaking. When 
I had him within a few doors of me, though 
much the greater part of my work had passed 
the press, I did not fail to solicit his revision of 
the few concluding sheets, which I had yet in 
manuscript; to this request he most kindly 
stccorded, and I must ever regret, not less for 


the sake of my readers than for myself, that I 
had so limited an opportunity of availing my- 
self of his judgment. 

In the winter season I produced with Mr. 
Harris's permission a comedy in five acts, 
which I entitled A Hint to Husbands. It 
was originally engaged to take its fate .upon 
the stage of Drury, and was calculated to suit 
the cast of certain performers belonging to that 
theatre, particularly Mr. Johnstone, so justly 
admired for his excellent display of Irish cha-^ 
racters. If I had done right T should have 
prevailed upon Mr. Harris not to risque his 
expectations and property upon it, when both 
Mr. Kemble and Mr. Lewis thought proper 
to reject the parts, which they were solicited 
to undertake: he was too generous however 
to let their scruples divert him from his pro* 
tection of the play, and brought it on his stage, 
where, after the flattering reception of a first 
night, it languished through a chilling course 
of five successive snowy evenings, severe 
enough to have starved a healthier babe than 
mine. This play has been published, and they, 
who are pleased to patronize it in their closets, 
will perceive that I have persisted in making 

D D 2 


no sacrifice to the ruling fasbion of the times, 
nor studied to contrive any situations, which 
the favourers of farce are likely to be amused 
with ; if it may aspire to any merit, it will be 
» found where I would wish to place it, in the 
moral: the whole is written in five-footed 
verse, and perhaps some passages may recom- 
mend themselves to the reader as not unworthy 
of the British stage. ' - 

I have now concluded the account I under- 
took to give of a long life, not often occupied 
in interesting and important pursuits, but cer- 
tainly comprising very few periods of indolence 
and inaction. What further time may be aU 
lotted to me I shall devote to the works, 
which I have noticed in this supplement, ajnd I 
hope the publication of this edition will be 
speedily followed by that of the first part of 
The Exodiad. But I apprehend we are fast 
approaching towards an awful crisis when the 
minds of men will be too much occupied to 
spare a thought for literary objects. Perhaps 
the Destroyer, who has been sent on earth 
for the chastisement of the nations, has already 
reached the summit of his power, and like 
Apoleon, shadowed out in the Apostle's vi* 


3ion, is verging towards extinction, together 
with those symbolical locusts^ who have him 
m a king over them^ and on their heads as it 
were crowns like gold ; and I doubt not but 
it will be the destiny of* oui* brave countrymen 
to convince the rescued world, that these ver- 
min are not invincible. 

It is a delicate and arduous task I have had 
in hand, and I trust that now, as heretofore, I 
shall be read and judged with candour, I have 
not knowingly transgressed, or even strained, 
tl» truths to which I pledged myself; but 
fairly and sincerely stated how I have employed 
my faculties, what I have been and what I am. 
Man hath no need, no right, no interest to 
know of man more than I have enabled every 
one to know of me, I have no undivulged 
evil in my heart ; but with unabated affection 
for my friends, and good will towards my fel- 
low creatures, I remain the reader^s most de- 
voted servant — 

Richard Cumberland. 



Abel famishes the orerture for the author's drama entitled 
the Summer's Tale, I * 249. 

Abington, the original Charlotte Rusport, in the West In. 
dian, 294. — plays Letitia, in the Choleric Man, in a 
style of great excellence, and speaks the epilogue to- that 
play, written by Gar rick, 380. 

Abraham Abrahams in the Obserrer — the author takes icrc- 

dit for this character as being written upon principle— 

. seconded his appeal to the charity of mankind by the 

character of She? a, which he copied from this of Abra* 

hams, II. 202. 

Academical Exercises, their extreme usefulness, as com- 
pleting all the purposes of an unirersity education, 1. 107. 
11. 192. — in every art, station, or conditioi> in life they 
apply and come in aid with profit and advantage, 1. 108. 
— equally adapted to qualify for the pulpit^ the bar, or 
the senate, ib. 

Act, at Cambridge, particulars of keeping' one, 98. 

Actors, modern, their excellence — the author's regard for 
them — stage produces very few of distinguished merit in 
the tragic line, II. 387. — have produced no writer from 
amongst themselves equal to the author of the Careless 
Husband, id. — why comedy has been always better 
filled up, in its lower characters, than tragedy, 389.— 

* The volume is distinguished from the page by Roman nume^ 
rals, and to prevent unnecessary repetition, the nuinber of the vo- 
lume will stand for all the articles under it in the same vol. unless 
any article in another vol. should intervene, when the distinguish- 
ing Roman cliaracter I. or If. will be inserted ; so that tlie speci- 
fic volume containing any particular article, will be pointed out by 
iho Roman numeral annexed to the iirst subject* 


INDEX; 407 

their professioh laborious m the extreme, IJ. SBQ, — liTing 
can do justice to liying authors, let them write as well 
as they can,' 391. — no time can be named within upwards 
of half a century past, when Drury Lane and Covent Gar. 
den have been better furnished with comic actors than at 
the present hour, 392. 
.Adaga, a yery romantic river in Spain, wandering through a 
vast tract of vineyards without fences, 146. 

Administration, upon the death of the kingi takes a new 
shape, and the Earl of Bute becomes sole dispenser and 
awarder of favours and promotions, I. 206. 

Affectation, fugitive lines upon, by the author, II. 283. 

Age, character of the present — its frivolities — pantomimical 
pleasures-^of its fashionable votaries — their dinners os- 
tentatiously steam along the columns of our daily prints, 
362. — their suppers and assemblies dazzle and suffocate, 

Aickiik, plays one of the Brothers, in the author's comedy 
of the Choleric Man, I. 380. 

Alaba, a district of Spain, a portion of the delightful pro- 
vince of Biscay, 11. IS*/. \ 

Alcantara, account of the acqueduct of, 9. 

Alcibiades, tiearly the whole of this part, in the author^s 
play of Timon of Athens, original — extrsScts from that 
play, I. 385. 
' Aldca Gallega, description of the passage thither, II. 21. 

Almedo, a remarkable place in Spain, being surrounded 
with a monkish wall, and towers of very tolerable pre- 
servation, has also a fine convent and an handsome 
church, 146. 
*Altamira, the great Spanish grandee — description of a 

D D 4 

408 IND£X. 

kone belonging to him, bat afterwtrdi glren to the au- 
thor by Count Kaanitz, II. 96. 

Altamont, in the Fair Penitent, played by Ryan when the 
author first saw Garrick in Lothario, I. 80. 

Altar-piece, in the priyate chapel of the Escnrial, a beau- 
- tiful painting by Coello, II. 80. See Escurial. 

AWa, a certain duke of, about a centttry ago, the most 
popular man in Spsun, I. 321, — whimsical cause of this 
popularit}!^ 322. — a contrast to the above character, 

Amelia, theauthor^s play called the Sumner's Tale, reduced 
to an after-piece, and presented under that naaie, $55. 

Amelia, Princess, lines addressed to her when residing at 
Worthing for the benefit of her health, 11. 396. 

Ameriiim, effecis of the conflict upon the mind of Lord 
George Germain, I. 398. 

American Loyalists resort to Lord George Germain. Dif- 
ficulties of the authcnr in managing this business, II. 174 

Amherst, Lord, interposes to prevent Lord Sackrille from 
inroWlng himself in a duel, IL 177. 

Ancestors of the authoi^ their literary character and res« 
pectability. See Bentley, Cumberland, &C« 

Anderson, Mrs. who kept the British coffee house— 4aS0- 
ciatediiterary characters who frequented that i^ce. See 
Foote, Reynolds, Fitzherbert, Goldsmith, Garrick, 
Macpherson, Dr. Carfisle, Robinson, Beattk, Caleb 
Whttefoord, and others, I. S43| 344. 

Anecdotes. See the several articles Beckford, Bentley, 
Surges, Burke, Dodington, Fawkener, Fitaherbert, 
Foote, Garrick, Germain, Goldsmith, Henderson, Je- 
iiyns, Johnson, Kinsman, Mansfield, SaekviUe, Tawli- 
shend, Reynolds, Ricb^ Romney, &c. &c. 

IKDEX. 409 

Aneedotei of enlne&t paint«« in Spaiiii wiila «i catbeBtic 

catalogue of the paiotisgs In tbe rojal palace at Madrid^ 

an interesting and curions work, by the author^ II. 

IST.-'-extnct from that work, l^S. 
Animated natar6, Goldsmith's, shewn to the author, excites 

the »tgh to see genius compelled to prostitute itself for 

bread, to subjects unworthj of its notice, I. 353. 
Apothegma Holy, initllled into the aathor by his aant| %U 

— doubts whether the practice of impressing them on 

immature and infantine minds is beneficial, ib. 
Arab, a tragedy written by the aathor for the benefit of 

Henderson, who performed the principal character, IL 

d07.*«-^pil(^ne to that tragedy, spoken by Miss Yonagy 

late Mrs. Pope, i^. 
Aranjnez, a town in Spain, wh^e the aitbor meets the 

Abbe Hnssey, upon his mission to Spain* See Cnmber* 

land, Hnssey, &c« II. 34, 
Archbishop of Canterbury, the late — the author sends him 

a copy of his pamphlet, entitled A few plain Reasons 

for belieting in Christian Revelation, 275. 
Ard», a young man of genius, associated with the author 

and his young friends in their scenic' exhibitions in 

Northamptonshire, I. 166. 
Arebalo, a town in Spain of respectable appearsmce, II. 146. 
Ai^uments launched at random, I. 109. See table convert 

Aristophanes^ reaisTons why the author has not translated 

the whc^ of his plays as well as the Clouds, II. 206.-- 

bis play of the Plutns the only one which the author 

could be tempted to translate, 207. 
Aristotle, referred to the lUtas Minor and Margitesi as mo* 


410 iKbtJc* 

dels for eoniedjr, but those models lost — comic poett 
hare neither precept nor example to instract them, L 

Armourer, a comic Opera^ by the author, account of it, 
II. 278. 

Ame and Arnold, Drs. supply some original compositions 
for the Summer's Tale, I. 949. 

ArrajolaSy a town in Portugal, where there are the remains 
of apparently a Moorish construction, II. 23. 

Arundel, a novel, by the author of these Menioirs, II. 256. 
— remarks upon the characters, 257. 

Ashbiy, Waring, Esq. of Quenby Hall, Leicester, married 
one of the daughters of Richard Cumberland, the author'! 
paternal grandfather, who died in child-birth, I. 26. — 
George, of Haselbeach, in Northamptonshire, son of the/ 
abote, ib. — Edward, Esq. elder brother of Waring, re- 
ceives the author to board at his house in Peter-Street, 
Westminster, 78. — Account of his family and the placid 
indifference of his character, 79. 

Asturias, Prince of, now reigning monarch of Spain, 11. 
8 1 . — his condescension and delicate apology to the au- 
thor, 82. — his matchless bodily strength and dexterity in 
the exercise of horsemanship, 83.— magnificent decora- 
tions of his pavilion, and furniture, &c. &c. ib, — conde- 

' scends to ask the author's opinion, and changes the far- 
piture of one apartment precisely according to the sugges- 
tion communicated, 84. — the Princess of, now Queen of 

' Spain, admits the author's wife and daughters to a private 
audience, 92. — shews theni her jewels, and requests pat- 
terns of their riding habits, ib. 

Athenian Stage, its history under the review of the literary 
age of Greece, in the Observer, 204. 

IKDEX. 411 

Authors, dead and liyiDg unfairly estimated, II. 305. — ^how 
appreciated bj the Resurrection critics, of whom an 
author never can become the hero until he becomes a 
skeleton. See Resurrection Critics, 306. 

Ayarice, a little fugitire poem upon, written by the author, 
at Holt, near Winchester, 285. 

Azara, extracts from his publication on painting, relatire 
to Mengs and Sir Joshua Reynolds, 188. 


Bach supplies some original compositions for the author's 
drama entitled the Summer's Tale, I. 249. 

Backhouse, Rer. Mr. the author's tutor at college, 92. 

Badajoz, a town in Spain, but contains nothing to engage 
a traveller, II. 27. 

Badcock, William, Esq. husband of the author's second 
daughter Sophia, 339. — dies in the prime of life, a victim 
to excess, ib, — an amateur actor upon the model of ' 
Kemble, ib. — his character, t6. — leaves ii'H^ children 
awarded to the author's care by the court of chancery, 
who intends \a divide them as he did his four sons, viz. 
between the fleet and army, 340. 

Balmerino, Lord, beheaded upon Tower-hill ; elegance of 
his person, and sympathy excited for his fate, I. 74. 

Banishment of Cicero, the author's first legitimate drama, 
rejected by Garrick ; extract from, and critique upon, 

Barnes, Joshua, Dr. Bentley's estimate of his knqwledge 
of Greek, 40. 

Barrington, Lord, one of tha iatimate friends of Lord 
Halifax, 160. 

Bftrry pliiys the put of Timon ia €ke author^ play tf 
Timon of Athens, and his wifsi £?aiitke| I. 384.— ez^ 
tremely desirous to play tha Irish major ia the West Ii^ 
dian, 293. 

Bath and Wells, Bp« of, witty inscriptioB for his alms- 
houses for 25 poor women, proposed by Ld. Mansfield. 
II. 359. 

Battle in Hearen, in Milton's Paradise Lost, upon a single 
text of Scripture, described in a manner tremendously 
sublime, II. 266. 

Battle of Hastings, brought out at Drury Lane, under Mr. 
Sheridan, I. 391.*— the part of Edgar Atheling played by 
Henderson, not with the happiest effect, id. — perhaps, in 
the public judgment, this play may be better «ri//efi 
than pianned^-**to which the author readily submits, not 
only with respect to this play, but to seteral others, ib^ 

Battle of the Books, Dr. Bcntley^s name improperly 
foisted into that mlgar publication, by Swift, 8« 

Bayle, ^ Rev. Mr. SackTille, II. 1253. 

Bayonne, the author arriyes there, and puts himsdf under 
the care of Dr. Vidal, a Huguenot physician, l60i-^ 
whHst the author lay here ill and ioseasable, the sime . 
monk who had been so troublesome at Elvas fecund his 
way into the chamber, aad waa forced out, ]6d« 

Beard, manager of the suamer theatre when the author's 
play of the Summer's Tate was bronght out, L 349. 

Beckford, Mr. Alderman, his daihing loquacity, 190* 

Bedel, Bishop, the author's father buried near his gruTe at 
Clonfert, in Ireland, 37«* 

Benedictine Saints, if not the most rigid, ara indiftpntably 
the rkbest mder of religions in Spain, II. 14&, 

Benson, the Rey. Martin, preacher at Toftbridge Wells, 
332.^-^his unblemished character, ib. 

INDEX* 419 

Bentinck, Lady, daughter df the author, mamed to Lord 
Edward Bentinck, II. 331.— the Observer dedicated by 
^'the author to this ladjr, ib. 

Bentley, Dr. Richard, the author's maternal grandfather^ 
his image and words stamped upon the author's munory^ 
I. 7. — his character described and Tindloated from the 
petulant aspersions of Swift and Pope, 8. — refvtatibn of 
the ridiculous story of Dr. Walker and the hat, ib» — the 
patron and promoter of all the childish sports of the aa<* 
thor and his sister-^— excites infantine curiosity, by shew* 
ing picture books, &c. 10.«*-his character the reverse of 
that of a cynic, ib. — his mild and amiable manners 
should soften those who know him, only, as a controi 
versialist and a critic^ 11. — ^bis gentle rebuke for making 
a noise oyer his library, 1 1 . — his narratiTe of his school* 
boy days, ib. — ^his observations upon the punishment he 
unjustly received for being Inattentive to his task^ t^.-— 
ills judicious recommendations to parents with respect to 
children, id. — observation to the author's mother upon 
the argument of the latter that he never slept, 12.*^ 
Bishop Lowth's inconsiderate appellation of him, tft.— - 
his style of conversation lofty, but his candour and ten- 
derness of heart always conspicnons, 13.*<*h]S peculiaf 
sensibility, i'^. — his liberal condaiit to diffident caiidi* 
dates, when holding examinations for fellowships, 14.«— 
anecdote of the thief who stole his }date, but whoni, 
though guilty, he order^ to be set at liberty, 15.-<-his - 
seeret, delicate, and liberal assistance to Collins, the ia^ 
fidel, 16. — his jndidons and faithful adherence to frieiM- 
ships, 16. — intimate with Sir Isaac Newton, Drs. Mead 
l^nd Wallis, of Stamferd, Baron Spanhewi^ the lamented 


414 INDEX*' 

Roger Cotes, kc. I. l6.-^the pnblicatioii of the Prineipi« 
resolyed upon through his importunity with Sir Isaac 
Newton, ib. — bequeaths the. portraits of Dr. Riehard 
Camberland, the author^s grandfather, and Baron Span* 
heim, to Trinity college, Cambridge, 17.*^— his beautiful 
and pathetic epitaph on the celebrated Roger Cotes, ib. 
letters to him, from Sir Isaac Newton, presented by the 
author to Trinity College, Cambridge, ib. — his domestic 
habits, 18. — particularly amused with the character of Sir 
Roger de Coverly in the Spectator, 19.— hts humorous 
apology for devoting his time and talents to criticism, in 
preference to original composition, ib. — bis carelessness 
of pecuniary affairs, 20. — respectability of, and affluence 
and hospitality of his table, t^.-^^superiotended by Mrs. 
Bentley, ib. — anecdote of, exhibiting his opinion of 
Joshna Barnes, Pope, and Warburton, 40. — his death — 
buried in Trinity College chapel, a^.-r- his valuable libra- 
ry, which he had bequeathed to his nephew, sold by 
auction in Leicestershire, 95. 

^ntfeey, Mrs. wife of Dr. Richard Bentley, I. 20. — allied 
to the Cromwells and Saint Johns, ib, — her pious cha- 
racter and death, ib. — her family, ib. 

Ben (ley, Richard; eldest son of Dr. Richard Bentley, and 
uncle to the author, his accomplishments various and 
considerable, 22.>— his careless and eccentric character, 
ti^.^— his connexion with Mr. Horace Walpole, la^te Lord 
Off Old, ib. — comparison between them, 2d;*-^whimsica) 
caricature of himself and Gray, ib» — projector of Gothic 
embellishments for Strawberry Hill, i^.-r-designs draw- 
. ings to ornament Gray's Odes — libels both his poet and 
patron, ib* — is patronized by Lord Bi^ei^ with whom^^as 

INDEX. 415 

n literary character, he stands first in favoar, f. 211. — ^re. 
ceiyes a pension of j8.bQ0 for his own life, and that of 
his widow, ib*- — attacks the pppodtion in one of th« 
keenest and wittiest satires extant, the merit of which 
was candidly acknowledged by Churchill, then consider- 
ed as the British Dryden, 21^.-->-write8 the eccentric 
drama of The Wishes, 213. — his rery elegant poem, ad- 
dressed as an epistle to Ldrd Mc]combe, 215. — ^his manu- 
scripts, t6.-r-his tragedy of Pbiloderans, panegyrised by 
Gray, 216. 

Ccntley, Dr. Rich, rector of Nailstone, nephew of the au- 
thor's grandfather, whose library is bequeathed to him, 
94. — presents the author with a raluable parcel of those 
Jbooks, Tiz. Letlers from Sir Isaac Newton, Notes to 
Lucan's Pharsalia, Greek and Latin books, with most 
valuable MS. marginal notes, &c. 95. — an accurate col. 
later, and, for his judgment in editions much resorted to 
by Dr. Mead, 96. — his library at his death, sold by auc- 
tion in Leicestershire, ih^ 

Pentley, Elizabeth, eldest daughter of Dr. Richard Bentley, 
the author's affection for, 24. — to whom married, i^.— 
inherits all the virtues and benignity of her mother, with 
habits more adapted to the fashions of the world, ib. 

Bentley, Joanna, younger daughter of Dr. Bentley, ib: — 
thePhcebe of Byron's pastoral, and mother of the author, 
*ib. —her mental faculties, ib, — happy art of relating in- 
cidents, 25. — her quick perception of the ridiculous, ib. 
r— her excellent moral character, 26.-— the author's deep 
obligations to her for the instruction he receiv'ed from 
hfir, ib. — for more particulars relative to this amiable and 
j9Ccompli$lied lady, to the period of her dissolution, se^ 

416 INDEX. 

' the articles, Cmnberiand — tfaeRar* Dendioii and Rlcbard, 

Berkelej, Mr. Narboone, ona of Lord Halifax's Tisitorsat 
HorUmy I. 160. 

Betty, Master, a rerolation has taken place, upon his ap« 

. pearanoe, as ridtculons as extraordinary, and a general 
writ <^ superannuation has gone forth against erery mala 
performer that has a beard^ II. 220.— married by Smith 
of Bury to Melpomene, with the ring of G2u*rick — ridi« 
eulous example of the Rosdus Mania!! Is wafted to 
rehearsal in a Tehicle bearing a ducal coronet, 222. 

Bickerstaff, Isaac, his Tirulent and unfair attack upon tha 
author and his play, I. 251.^— the author's liberal conduct 
towards him — eonfesses to Garrick that hit attack had 
keen unfair, and that he should not repeat it against the 
author or his productions, 253. 

Birch, colonel of the first regiment of city Tolnnteeis, vin- 
dicated from the pointless sarcasm thrown out agahist 
hhn in the house of commons, II. 203. * 

Bland Burges, Sr James, an intimate friend of the author's, 
of studious character, and Tarious knowledge, II. 3G0« 
educated in Scotland, afterwards at Westminster, 361.--^ 
at Oxford, a pupil of Sir W. Scott.-«-deTotes himself to 
the study of the law, t6.*-<-serye8 in parliament, character 
of his Richard Coeur de lion, ib. — ^now concerned upon 
a long and arduous work, 362.-*-has^ writt^ some dramss, 
ib, — plans a new poem on the life of Moses, to be jointly 
executed by him and the author, called theExodiad, 37Sk 

Blondel, Rer. Dixie, chaplain to the lord mayor of Dub« 
lin, promoted by the author's father to a benefice, 1.290. 

Bladworth, Mrs. of Holt, near Winchester, we of Mr, 


[KP£X> 417 


CamberboS's ino«t intimate friendS| pny^ her nn aaiiwl 

Tisit, composes ^ome staoxas there upon dilferent snb- 

jects, II. 289. 
Board of Trade, disposal of, 178.— dismbsed under the 

regulations of Mr. Burke's hill, i>. 8^ Halifax, Hamil- 
ton, Cumberland, Hichard. 
Book-Room, the author's, at Tunbridge Wells, turned into 

a bed-room, 204. 
Boswell, his conTiTi;|l powers, good humour, and his happj 

talent for detailing a conversation in the tone, style, and 

character of the parties, 328. 
Bourne* See Vincent Bourne* 
Bourdeaux, from this magnificent town the author proceeds 

through Tours, Blois, and Orleans, to Paris, II. 101. 
Boyle and Bentley, controTcrsy l^tween, I. 1 14. 
Boyne, Lord Viscount, commands the yeomen caralry at 

Tuflbridge Wells, 11. 289. 
Box Lobby Challenge, a drama by the author, 279. 
Braythwaite, Mr. Daniel, 215, 229. 
Braham, his excellence in singing, I. 401. 
Breton, Sir William, privy purse to the king, one of the 

associates of Mr. Dodington, 181. 
Breviesca, a tolerably good Spanish town, II. 156. 
Bristol, the late Earl of, form-fellow with the author at 

Westminster school, I. 66. 
British Seamen, a party of in Spain released by the author, 

conveyed to Bayonne, and consigned to commodore 

Johnstone, at Lisbon, II. 164. — cavalry, commanded 

by Lord George Germain at the battle of Minden, 248. 
Brothers, this play brought out by the author at Covent 

Garden, I. 263.— success of this play, and cast of the 

characters, 264. 

E I 


418 INDEX. 

Brntos, Letters of, in Greeks a corioas MS. in the Escuriaf, 

bearing decided e?idence of imposition, II. 76. 
Brutus, the Elder, a tragedy bj the author j observations on, 

Brydone, tbo author of travels through Sicily and Malta, 
frequently met the author at the table of Mr. Dilly, the 
bookseller, 227. 

Buckinghamshire, the late earl of, form-fellow with tbe 
author at Westminster school, 1. 66. 

Buckinghamshire, the present earl of, his sister married to 
the author's eldest son, Richard, II. 293. 

Bury St. Edmunds, account of the school there, under the 
Rev. Arthur Kinsman, 1. 31. — the author sent there at six 
years of age. ib, 

Burke, the Right Honourable Edmund, connected with 
G. W. Hamilton, the Irish secretary, 218. — sepa- 
rates himself from him and his politics for ever, 219.—' 
brilliancy of his reflections upon the French reyolution, 
which combine elegance with splendour, and dignity with 
magnificence, II. 271. — ^his letter to the author, 272. — 
his eminence as a writer, 274.- -declined all claims to at* 
tention when any loud-tongued talker was in compauy, 
I. 340. 

Burgos, a town in Spain, on the banks of the river Relan- 
con, description of the country, 11.153. — cathedral 
church of, paintings, &c. ib. 

Burgoyne, Lady Frances, sister to Lord Halifax, tbe an* 
thor, at her request, undertakes the defence of Robert 
Perrean, I. 403. 

Burnaby, William, captain of the Milford frigate, 417. 

Bute, Earl of, upon the death of the king^ becomes panu 

INDEX. 419 

naonnt in the adniDistration, I. 906. — possessed the dis- 
position ef a Mecaenas, and patronizes men of talents 
wherever they could be sought out, 212. 
Bntier, then a young man, newly returned from Italy, 
where he had studied under Piccini, ai^d giren e^rly 
proofs of his genius for music, 400. — the opera of Ga* 
lypso written to bring him forward, t6. — ^his musical 
compositions in this opera exquisitely beautiful, 40S. — 
long since settled at Edinburgh, ^s a teacher and writer 
of music, and well known to professors and admirers of 
that art, ib, — composes the songs in the author's opera^ 
called the Widow of Delphi, or the Descent of the Dei- 
ties, ib. 


Calasseros, Spanish, their rude and unaceommodatmg ob<< 
stinacy, II. 148. 

Calyary, a poem in blank verse, by the author, 263.— 
brought it to a consistency by reading Milton's Paradise 
Lost studiously and completely through, 264. — dated 
from a point of time the most awful, and fraught with 
grand and interesting events, most impressively described 
by the inspired historians, 267* — rescued from obscurity 
by Dr. Drake, tiince which it has attained to the highest 
celebrity, 376. — this poem completed at the house of the 
author's friend Higgs, fifteen years ago, 398. 

Calypso, an opera by the author, 1. 400. — music composed 
hy Mr. Butler, t6.^broaght out at Coven t Garden theatre, 
401. — the characters of Telemachus and Proteus played 
hy Mrs. Kcnnedyand Mr. Leoni, 16.— nnore beautiful and 



420 index; 

or^iil conpositioBS neter produced by a mtiTe masUr, 
than lUs opera contains, 1. 401. — ^beiag supported onlj 
by Leoni and Mrs. Kennedy, it did not meet success pro* 
poftionate to its merit, t6. — perbapt upon the same stage^ 
with tiie powerful support of Afabam^ Incledoo, and 
Storaee, k might hare been remed with brilliant effect, 
ib. — ^to be lamented that music ao exf uisiteiy beautiful 
shotid be consigaed to obiivion, 402* 

Cumls, Thomas, a trusty serraUt of the author's^ II. 18£« 
— eultiTates the author's flower garden, ifr. 

Cdmpo, the Marquis del,sub-mitusler of Spain, the author's 
letter io^ I4a. 

Caractacus, an entire drama, with chorus of bards and 
druids, in the manner of Mason's Elfri^a, written bj 
the author, 1. 117 — the author's character of that drama, 

Camiellle, a tragedy by the author, II. 319. — excellent 
acting of Mrs. Siddons, and Mr. KemUe, in this play, ib. 

Careless Husband, actors hare produced no author equal 


to the writer of this play, 387. 

Ciirlos III. a pedestrian statue of, iik Valladolid, 147. 

Castile, Old, the country of Spain here begins to change for 
the better, II. 144. — hapjMness of its inhabitants, 160. 

Castile and Catalonia, reason assigned for the strong con- 
trast between the inhabitants — ^separated only by a nar- 
row stream, ib. 

Cato, the Tragedy of, got up alone at the boarding houses, 
and acted by the boys at Bury school, I. 46. — humorous 
description of the wardrobe and performance, 47. — tra- 
gical result to some of the dramatis personie, particularly 
Ihe^Tirtuous Marcio and the author, t^. — rehearsal, on 
the following morning, before Kinsman in the school, ib» 

INDEX. 481 

<>hair*eter9 tort of^ alwsiirs a strikfog mcideiit ia ibt oon- 
ilnotiag of 4hc douna, I, ^6d. 

Clinlfliiic Man, ike «m#or't f<MiHh covedy, rehearsed and 
brought out by Mr. Garrick, when the author was ab- 
sent at Batii, 97li.-^sacG«ttd8 to the iit«oi^ of Oie other's 
tvMies, 1^.— ej^lof ae to this comedj, wnttea by Gfir- 
rick, a&d spoken by Mrs. Abiogton, who also played 
Letitia in a style of great eaodience, 3$0.***-cast of cha* 
racters in this play, ib, — strong effect depends upon 
contrast of chafact^, fl6.*-critiqne upon this |^y, the 
fourth produced in four succeeding seasons, j^.-^-oae of 
the most promioent comedies in the author's dranadc 
eoUeetion^ ib. — ^consigncd to the shelf since the death of 
Wetfton, who piayed Jack Night^ade with inimitsyble 
hamouT, SSl.-p^mottofirom Fiautus prefixed to this play, 

Cbristiaii ReveiatieB, a religious traot written by the au. 
ihor on the, f I. 375. 

Christ, death of, advantages the author possessed in taking 
this subject for his poem of Calrary^ 267. 

Cibber, Mrs. t^e author's aceount of her pia^ring CaJfet^i 
in tke Fair Penitent, I. 80. 

Cicero, parallel between, and the Right Honemrable W. 

• fMtt, II. 315. — the banishment of, see Banishment. 

Cintra, description of, its charming and romantic ^ospects, 
'6. — its rock, oork convent, and Micient palace, ^•— 
tiie view from the palace, a most superb and Interesting 
scene, ib. > 

Clerk, Mr. of Edinburgh, supposed to have.had communi* 
cations with Admiral Rodney, 374. 

Clonfert, its^piseopal vesidenoe, by cenrftesy oaHed fAlaee) 



4Sfl INPEX. 

and its charcb, by custom called cathedral, I. t67 
description of the country, ib. — ^the author's dramatic 
sketches of the Irish character were here first studied, 

Clouds, the author's translation of, incorporated into a 
new edition of the Observer, II. 300. — this traus- 
lation cost the author much time and trouble, 206. 

Colman, in the under school at Westminster in the au- 
thor's time, 1. 66. 

Coionna, the Nuncio Cardinal elect, pays some attentioni 
to the author in Spain, II. 101. 

Colubriad, the treatment of three kittens in the, ,309. 

Collingwood, his meritorious senrices constitute a claims 
hardly secondary to his commanding admiral, 333. 

Comicorum Graecorum Fragmenta quaedam. Mr Walpole'i 
compliment to the author in that book, 305. 

Comedy, no statute laws for it, 1. 303.— ^an only be refer- 

■ able to the unwritten law of the heart, which is na- 
ture, t6. — natural, and legitimate, are therefore consi- 
dered as synonimous, 304. 

Congrere, Farquhar, and .others, censurable in point of 
morality for haYing made Tice and yillainy so playfiil 
and amusing, 373. 

Controrersy, skirmishers in, their quirks and quibbles, 110. 
Sea also Table Conrersation. 

Cookery, Spanish, Tery rude, II. 151. — a better correctire 
for fastidiousness and false delicacy than all that Seneca 
or Epictetus can administer, ib. 

Corpus Christi, description of that festival in Portugal, 

Correctors of names and dates, effect in marring a good 

INDEX, 428 

•torjr, I. 335^ — how any of these gentlemen ^£re 
treated by Sir Joshua RejnokU, Dr. Johnson, and 
Soame Jenyns, 336. ' 

Co«mogonies, the Pho&oician> ai|d Egyptian, the author be. 
gins with contrasting these in his pla^i of an Universal 
History, 115. 
Costello, Stephen, hnmorous anecdote of, 288« . 
Cotes, Roger, one of the intimate friends of Dr. Bentley, 
16. — what Sir Isaac Newtop pronounced of him, 17» 
— beautiful and pathetic epitaph upon, by Dr. Beatley, 
ib. - 

Country Attorney, a comedy by the author* brought out 

at the Hay market Theatre,, 11. ^7S. 
Cow per the poet, as described by Mr. Hayley, 311* 
Crane, the Rer. Dr. chaplain to the Earl of Halifax, !• 
, 132. — his first appearance that of a man with a clear 
head but cold heart, 133.r-'placed at the head of Lord 
Halifax's chaplains, upon being appointed Lord Lieute* 
nant of Ireland, 207* — developes a character eminently 
excellent, 227 > — dies of a cancer in his f<ice, which h^ 
bears with exemplary fortitude and patience, ib. 
Cracherode, the learned collector, and munificent bene, 
factor to the British Museum, was in the head election 
at Westminster school in the author's time, 66. — his ex- 
cellent character, beloved by many, and esteemed by 
all, t^. 
Crucifix, a very fine one, cut in ivory, offered as a present 

to the author, II. 73. 
Cruelty to animals execrated, 184. 
Crutchley, Mr. of Clifibrd's Inn, 343. 
Cumberland, the Rer. Dr. Richard, Bishop of Peterb^- 

E s4 


424 iNt)EX. 

rougli, tbe autlior'd gt«at grandflither^ I. 3. — aatiidr of 
the work entitled De Legibui Naturae, ib. — kanis his 
promotion from a newspaper, ib, — resists all offers of 
translation, 4. — his inoral and Ktefeary character, ib.— 
his hnmility, disinterestedness, a)id hos{^taIity, ib,-^ 
observations upon his works in the Sanconiatho, by Arch- 
deacon Payne, d.'— educated at St. PanPs school, admitted 
of Magdalen college Cambridge, of which he was elected 
fellow, 6.--^copy of his portrait presented to the above 
college by theatith6r, 7. — his book De Legibus Natvraj 
interleared and amended by Dr. Bentley, presented by the 
author to the library at Trinity college, Cambridge^ ib. 
17. — his tranquil death, 6. — skilled in the oriental lan- 
guages and mathematics, and deeply learned in anatomy, 
7. — his portrait, by Sir James Thbrnhill, now in the mu^ 
ter*s lodge of Trinity, wis presented by Dr. Bentley, 17. 

Cumberland, the Rer. Archdeacon Richard, son of Bishop 
Cumberland, the author's paternal grandfather, 26.— 
Rector of Peakirk and Archdeacon of Northampton, ib, 

Cumberland, Richard, eldest ion of the Archdeacon, died 
unmarried, ib, 

Cumberland, the Rer. DenSson, the author's father, f^.*-^ 
educated at Westminster, ib. — admitted fellow comraotier 
of Trinity college, Cambridge, 57. — prevailed upon to 
accept the rectory of Stanwick in Northamptonshire, 
to" which he is presented by Lord Chancellor King, id. 
— married in the 2^d year t)f his age — ^his charao 
tcr^ ib. — an exemplary parish priest, inheriting. all the 
amiable rirtues of his grandiather, i6. — his improrements 
. and additions to Stanwick chui^ch, 51. — receives a steaU 

prebend in the church of Lincoln, given by his vmek 

RsifKip Re^nofldS) ib. —iinA in ^e bearts of his pa- 
t^shioners and tlie cftteem of his ndghboors, t& a 
magfetr&te mere actire in the recoacilement of parties 
than hi the coramltmeiit of their persons, 53. — his loyal- 
ty and exertions la nosing uteii upon the approach of 
^e rebels to Derby> 76.^— raises two compaaieS) of 100 
men each, ^for the Earl of Haiti's regtttient then €n. 
rolling) with which he marches to Northampton, and is 
graciotisly recdr^ by tiie Earl, who confers the com- 
mand of one lif the companies npoa his son the aathor, 
77. — many of these soldiers losit their liTes at the^iege 
ti Carlisle, ^tid others by the small pox, ib, — gtrei a 
^ery active though uasttccessftt! support to the Whig 
Interest in the contested election f(»r Northampton, 
l>etween Kviightly and Uanbtiry, 118. — this second 
istriking instance of his p<^piilai4ty occasions offers to be 
pressed upon him by the Earl of Halifax, whidi he 
declities persobally, bnt lends an ear to iattering situa- 
tions pointdl out for tire author, i6.— exclusion to York, 
ib. — hH table, «elhirs, ser?ant6, &c. maiu^ed by the au- 
thor's mother, without unbecoming parade, or unsnita- 
%letohis f6rhine, 1 6l .-exchanges the living of S«aa« 
wkk for that of Fulham, 178.^-48 prompted by Lord 
Halif^ to the s«e of Clonfdrt, 287.— Iiis modest, calm, 
^nd d2gnifi£d obset^aitions, upon l»etng informed of this 
intended promotion by the author, 2dS. — ^pon his no- 
tnioation to <fie tuishopric of Clonfert, arranges his affairs 
*nd pTep»resf6r Ms departure, Wl. — takes possession of ' 
his s€^, 257.«-encoufage8 the English ln<sde of agriculture 
by jadidons rewards, ^624-*^s one <of tiieuiembersof the 
linen trade, inh*^udtes a number of spinning wheels, and 
in#ch grxid li^^en made in consequence, ^is 4aiproving 

426 INDEX^ 

manufacture an interestiiig oceapation to the autitor'i 
mother, and flourished under her care, 363. — presents 
a poor catholic priest with a horse and provender, 285. 
•—receives the freedom of Dublin^ presented by the cor- 
poration in a gold box, an honour never before observed 
towards any person below the rank of their chief go- 
▼ernor, 289. — the great respectability of his character, 
and his disinterested protection of the Irish clergy, were 
the motives assigned in the deed which accompanied the 
box, 200. — is translated from Clonfert to the see of Ril- 
more, 374. — his death, and soon after, that of the au- 
thor's mother, is tommunieated to him by Primate Ro- 
binson, 375. — ^his injunction relative to his burial in the 
Words of the old prophet of Bethel, 376. — buried at 
Kilmore beside the grave of the venerable and exemplary 
Bishop Bedel, ib. — and the author's mother is buried By 
hi6 side, #&. — his patronage at Kilmore considerable, 
which he strictly bestowed upon the clergy of his die 
case, 377. — his liberal and disibterested conduct in leav- 
ing the see much better than he found it, of Which bis 
successors derived the benefit, ib. 
Cumberland,' Richard, Esq. only son of the preceding, 
the author of these Memoirs, born in February, 
1732, in the master's lodge at Trinity college. Cam- 
bridge, 27. — preliminary observations upon the task 
of becoming his own biographer, 28. — pledges himself 
to execute that task with strict truth and impartiality, ib, 
— and exacts only from posterity what is strictly doe, 
20. — reflection upon the lot of life he is cast upon, whieh 
is neither congenial to his character, nor friendly to his 
peace, ib. — his backwardness in learning when an in- 
ff^ntj and inferiority to his sister Joanna, 30. — ^mntiniei 

jXDEx. 487 

agsiiiBt all the powers of the alphabet^ 10.— -revolting 
ideas on reading about the Heathen idols, described ia 
the 1 15th psalm, as contrarieties r^ugnant tQ an infant 
mind, «&,-^sent at six years of age to school at Barjr St. 
Edmunds, then under the mastership of the Rererend 
\ Arthur Kinsman, 31, 32« — anecdote of Mr. Kinsman^ 
ivhen risited by some of the goTernors whilst the author 
was reading Juvenal, 32. — roused from his backward* 
aessby the spirit of emulation, 35. — his illness, visited 
hj his mother, recovers and regains his lost ground, 35, 
36.-Tgeneral])r passed his holidays at Cambridge, with 
Dr. Bentley, and treasures up all his sayings, 37. — ^his 
indescribable gratification* at those delightful seasons, ib. 
— Tlsit to his grandfather from his old roaster Kinsman, 
38. — humorous anecdote of Dr. Bentley, 39. — Dr. Bent- 
ley's death communicated to him by Mr. Kinsman, 41* 
rises rapidly to the head of his class, ib, — in his progress 
through the upper school, never once lost his place as 
head boy, though daily challenged by those anxious to 
dislodge him, ib, — description of the tasks of a school- 
boy, 44.-^betrayed into grammatical inaccuracies in hit 
exercises, although they wtre not devoid of imagination, 
ib. — blunders commented upon with extreme severity by 
Mr. Kinsman, 45. — severely reprehended for an exercise 
of Phalaris's Bull, and threatened to be degraded from 
his station at the head of his form-fellows, td. — poig- 
nancy of the inflictions of discouragement to the feelings, 
and which operates only to destroy what it is the object 
of the master to improve, 46. — ^acts the part of Juba in 
Cato, 47. — rehearses the part on the following morning 
Jiefore Mr. Kinsman in the school, by whom he is sen- 

tcMed to vtedute ihe 10th satire of larval ta a fiae, I. 
47.'— his first attempt at*£ngli8h verse, t6.-^poetical de- 
Bcriptioii ef Ibe doc)cs at Portsmoatk, and the races at 
Vinches^er, made vpon a sammer excursion thither 
with his fomfly, 46.-*-4wo iirtrodttCtory conplet^ to this 
poem, the first the author erer wrote, ib, — ^his poem, 
Which consisted nearly of one hundred lines, highly ap- 
' )[n*oted by his fkther, who frequently recited it to his in- 
timates, ib. — anotlier couplet of this poem frequently 
quoted upon htm by his mother, as a specimen of the art 
of sinking, 49.-7passes as his own an epigram picked up 
among Ms school-fellows, i&.-^his sincere contrition for 
the abote, the only fallacy he eter practised upon his 
fother, and the reasons why the mistake was not correct- 
ed, 50. — ^his happiness and most indescribably detightful 
tensations, when spending the holidays with bis parents 
at Stanwick, 53.— his adroitness in athletic e^eerdses, t6. 
in swiftness of foot not to be matched by any boy in 
Bury- school, ib» — a general challenge for rumilng to all 
the collegians, decided in Trinity Walks in his favour, 
«6.— enjoys the sports of the field in perfection, tiirough 
the indulgence of his father, whom he accompanies in 
hunting, f6.— his taste and ear for ^poetry formed by his 
mother, by whom he is employed to read to her in the 
evenings of the holidays, 54. — tihese readings, with few 
exceptions, confined to Shakespeare, ib. — ^her judgment 
and discriminating taste in pointing out the peculiar ex- 
cellence of that unrivaYled poet, in the oonsistency and 
preservation of his characters, and prerenting him 
from being dazzled by the glitter of the period and false 
fublime, Sr5. — effect of these readings in his attempts to* 


wards the dFrama, I. d6.-<-coiapU«s a dramatio piece of ont 
act, caUed Shakespeare in tlfe Shades, at which time he 
was 12 yeiirs of age, head boy at Barj-school, aod not 
▼ery slightly grounded in the Greek and Latio clagsics, 
t6. — description of and extracts from thattlrama, with 
the author's reasons for iaserting them, 64. — transplaiited 
by his father from Bury-school to Westminster, 65» — 
examined in Homer and Horace by the master, who 
passes an encomiam npon the boys educated under Mr. 
Kinsman, i6.— examined next day for form's sake at ih% 
table, and placed in the shell, a6. — names of the masters 
and scholars who were his coteroporaries at Westminster, 
60. — precluded, as being in the shell, from challenging 
for places, he applies with ardour to school business and 
to his private studies, 70. — acquires the approbation of 
the masters and confidence in himself by his first exercise 
In Latin verse, ib, — reported by the monitor for escaping 
out of the abbey during divine service, and joining a 
party of his school-fellows in intruding themselves upon 
a Quaker's meeting, 72. — is called before the master, 
who, seeing his contrition, sends him back to his seat un« 
punished, ib, — gives in a Latin exercise istolen from Du- 
port, which passes inspection without discovery, 73. — 
confesses this piracy to Dr. Nicholls, «6.— receives a 
commission for one of the companies raised by his father 
against the rebels, but being too young,, another officer 
is appointed to act in his place, 77. — remains at West- 
minster school half a year in the shefll, and one year in 
the sixth form, ib, — his self-satisfaction at the improve- 
ment of his time in this school, 78. — upon his return to 
Westminster, is taken as a boarder into the family of 

43d IXDEX. 

£diDand Ashby Esq. elder brother of Waring, vhd had 
been married to the author's father's sister, I. 78«— is 
permitted to go ooce or twice to the play under proper 
coDToy, 80. — treated for the first time with a sight of 
Garrick in Lothario, t6. — description of the dress and 
manner of Quin, and critique upon Mrs. Gibber, Mrs. 
Pritchard, and Ryan, t^.— his impressions of delight at 
tile first appearance of Garrick, 81. — ^aTails himself of 
the priracy and solitude at Mr. Ashby's, to press his 
priTate studies, 82. — extract of his translation from 
YirgiPs Georgics, Book 3. begin nitig Terse 478, beauti- 
ful description of the Plague amongst the Cattle, 83. — 
his sister Joanna dies of the small pox, her fine parts and 
amiable character, 88. — ^is remo?ed on account of 
tKat event, and admitted in his fourteenth year of 
Trinity College, Cambridge, 89.— assisted in his studies 
during the vacation by the Rct. Thomas Strong, 00. — 
accompanied by his father to college, and put under the 
care of Dr. Morgan, a senior fellow, and an old friend of 
the family, tb. — is left by his tutor, with Mr. Rudd, a 
youth of fine talents, and a well-grounded scholar, to 
pursue their studies as they think proper, 91.' — trans- 
ferred to Dr. Philip Young, professor of oratory, and 
afterwards bishop of Norwich, t6.---commences soph in 
the last year of his under-graduate, 92. — ^appointed to an 
opponency in the first act given out for the mathematical 
schools, when he had not read a line of Euclid, ib, — it 
turned over to Mr. Backhouse, the Westminst^ tutor, 
who ably and conscientiously fulfils hi^ duties, s6. — bit 
name is withdrawn from the act, ib. — is sent for by Dr. 
Smith, the author of the celebrated treatises upon bar- 

INDEX. 431 

monies and optics, who reprobates the neglect of hU 
formel- tutors, and adyises him to apply to his academical 
studies for the remainder of the year, I. 92. — his exempla- 
ry prudence and regularity when at college, 93. — ^looks 
back upon this period of his life with a tranquil con- 
science, ib. — laments the loss of those important advan- 
tages he might have deriyed from the assistance of a 
tutor, who would have systematized and arranged his 
studies, 94. — his course of reading, from his admission, 
to his commencing soph, 95.— receiyes from Dr. Richard 
Bentiey a valuable parcel of his grandfather's books and 
papers, containing his correspondence upon points of 
criticism ; notes for Lucan's Pharsalia, and sundry 
Greek and Latin books, &c. by him collated and filled 
with marginal notes, t^.-y-inuch assisted by these in the 
Observers, on the Greek writers, iA.— kindly distinguish- 
ed by Dr. Richard Walker, 96. — contributes some elegiac 
verses to the university volume, on the death of the 
Prince of Wales, 97. — pays more attention to his Latin 
declamations, recited publicly in chapel every Saturday 
after evening prayers, ib. — commences a severe course of 
study, living almost entirely upon milk, using the cold 
bath, and allowing himself only six hours sleep, 98. — 
makes himself master of mechanics, optics, and hydro- 
statics, ib. — works all his propositions, forms all his mi- 
nutcs, and even his thoughts, in Latin, whereby he ac- 
quired a facility of expounding, solving, and arguing in 
that language, 98. — the best of his contemporaries in 
public disputation, sensible of the advantages thereby 
acquired, ib: — appointed to keep an act, 9§, — humour- 
ous constrast between him and a black bearded philoso* 

433 INDBX. 

ptiery his opponeut, descriptioo of i)U argument) bU tnc* 
eeasy !• 100. — i^f ology to the re^4^i'» cap^Qur^ 4ii4 t&l^ 
sons assigned for a loqg tal^^ tald in bis al4 i^e^ of the 
first triwppb of his youth, 10$. — passes four times through 
these scholastic ei^erci^^s, in the Utter of ^hich th^ de- 
. dacticms wore so artfi^ly drawn, that they could neither 
be parried by the gcntleipan who kept the act, Mt» 
Backhouse^ nor the moderator, lOS, — dispnte with the 
moderator, ijrhich, by the statutes of the qniversity, is 
decided in his faTour, ib. — bis first opponent nominated 
by the moderator to oppose him in this act, 104. — ^feels 
his frame es^tremely debilitated, in consequence of intepse 
application, and is led between two friends and fellow 
collegians to the schoob,. in a very feeble state, ib. — dis- 
missed with a speech by the moderator, en a plea of sad- 
den indisposition, ik, — pays more attention to his health, 
105.— cited to the senate, to be examined for his batche- 
lor's degree, ifr. — during that interval enjoys no respite, 
but kept perpetually at the table, under the process of 
question and answer, |6.*— his constitution just holds up 
to the expiration of the scrutiny, when he hastens home 
to his parents, ib» — attacked and confined by a rheuma- 
tic feTcr, which keeps him six months hovering between 
life and death, ib. — recovers under the care of Dr. WaU 
lis, of Stamford, s^."*— receives agreeable intelligence from 
Cambridge, of the high station which had been adjudged 
to him amongst the wranglers of his year, t^.- — considera- 
bly indebted for this to the Rev. Mr. Ray, the moderator 
whom he had thwarted in his questions, 106. — finds him- 
self in a station of ease and credit in his native college, had 
changed his under graduate's gown, and obtained his de« 

INDEX. 438 

^ree of B. A. Vitli bonaurs hardly earned, 1. 106.— y-rea- 
sons for haTiug been so minute in traciag his particular 
progress through his exercises at Cambridge, 107* — 
sketches of the friyolitj of modern tabl^ conversationfii il- 
lustrations ofy and the causes, 109. See this more tnittuie» 
h/ under Table conoersaiion, — conceiires himself destined 
for the church) and has good reason .to expect a fellow- 
^hip, with the degree of M. A. 114. — these views per* 
fectly faited to his natural disposition, and he dwells 
upon them with entire content^ ih, — puts bis thoughts. 
npoa paper, and begins to form a kind of collectanba of 
his studieS) t^.-^-eaumeratlon of the particulars of this 
CpllQctancd, llS.^—reTiews^ in this process, all the ley^ral 
SjrstemB of the heMhen philoso|^ws, and discusses at large. 
the t^ne^ti and opinions maintained, and professed by their 
xespectife schools and academies, »6w-*rCompelLed iocbalk 
Ofitfor himself a settled plan Of reading^ J^jl6.-^compQses 
gn entire drama^ entitled Caractacus, 11 7. SeeCaiac* 
taons*'— accompanies his family upon an excursion to the 
cityofYorky 119. — resides at the house of Mrs. Foster, a 
^idow, amd niece. to I>r. fientley$ and passes half a j^At 
in the society and amusements of that place, t6.<^--^mploy« 
vient of his time^ l^O.^-^trings nonsensical stanzas, in 
jbnitation of Spenser's F^iry Queen, which h^ is shamed 
from persisting in by his paother, ih. — hi^^pocm in imjta. 
tioa of one wiitten t^ JLady Sus^^ dai^htf r of the Earl 
at Galloway, ldl.-«~-a«iuseshiuiself by cpmposing short 
elegies, in th^ manner ^f Hamrnbnd^.ld^^'^^Hreprimanded 
. by his mother — ^bis farewel Un^ to Haipm/and, written 
dmeat extempore^ 1^6.^-^r^turns home from York, and 
HOOD after to coUi^fc^ )g7»-^nTited to.Jhe master's 


434 iKDkX'. 

• * • • • 

Icdge^ who approres his past exertiods, andf imparfil tf 
n^w arrangement, by annulling some of the articles rela- 
t!te to fellowships, and rccomtnends him to take hit 
chance as a candidate, I. 127. — prepares for his exami- 
nation, 128. — receives a summons to assume the situation 
of private confidential secretary to the £arl of Ha- 
lifax, 129. — ^his reflections upon this new scene of life, 
which eficcts a revolution in his former tranquil and 
congenial prospects, f^.— ^description of his feelings and 
disposition, 1 30.-<— character aitd literary attainments of 
Lord Flalifax, and state of his family, 131. — ^g6es to 
town, attended by Anthony Fletcher, a steady and in- 
telligenrt servant of his father's, 133.— lodgings taken 
for him in Downing Street, by order of Lord Halifax, ib. 
messes with Mr. Pownall, acting secretary to the board 
of trade, over which Lord Halifax presided, 1 34.^^18 
•ompletely out of his element in his new situation, id. — 
l^eing desired to inform himself about the colonies, he 
travels through a mass of folios, commencing with the 

^ discoveries of America, 137. — these volumes furftish 
tfotne plots for tragedies, dumb -shows, and dances, but 
afford very meagre information upon the then existing 
•tate of the colonies, i6. — employed in Copying privattf 
letters ^o governors and civil officers abroad, 139. — ' 
removes to an apartment in Mount Street, near Lord 
Halifax's Itouf e, where he atteffded -every morning for 
commands, and dined two or three times in the week, ib. 

^ — ^is introduced by his lordship to the Dnke of Newcas- 
tle, at Newcastle house, t6i— accompanies Lord Halifax, 
at the reeess, to Horton in: Nbrthamptonshire, from 

' wiTence he proceeds to Gnabi^dfe, ki pursuit of hi9feU 

INDEXk 435 

ioWship^ I. 139. — ^finds six racaticies — description of the 
candidates, ib. — goes his rounds on the day- of exatnina- 
tion to the electing seniors, 140. — ^his reception and exa- 
mination bj Dr. Charles Mason, 141^ — Do. by Dr. Samuel 
Hooper, 142.-^a8signed to execute a Greek translation 
as an exercise in the very room in which he was born, 
144. — is chosen for a fellowship with Mr. John Orde, 
now one of the masters in chancery^ 146. — ^his reception 
by Dr. Mason, when waiting upon the electing seniors, 
to return thanks, 147. — returns home to Stanwick, and 
from thence pays his duty in a »hort visit to Lord Hali- 
fax, ib, — favourable moment for returning into the line 
of life he had stept out of, i^.— ^returns to town, where 
be lives sequestered from the world, 148. — deficient ^in 
the requisites for public life, 149. — makes his first offer- ^ 
ing to the press in a poem, entitled St. Mark's Eve, and 
published by Dodsley, ib, — ^his negative merits, 154. — 
solves an eni^atical question for Mr. Charles .Towns- 
hend, 155. — entrusted to revise and remark upon a 
very elaborate report, drawn up by Mr. Townshend, 
«then one of the Lords of Trade, f2>. — his translation in 
verse from the Troades of Seneca, 1 58. — ^his intimacy 
-with Mr. Isted, at Ecton, and amiable character of that ^ 
gentleman, 162. — forms an agreeable intimacy with the 
sons of the Rev. Mr. Ekins, one of whom, Jefifery, late 
deceased, was dean of Carlisle, and rector of Morpeth, 
and the younger now dean of Salisbury, 164. — lines 
upon Mr. Ekins's poem on dreams, 166. — en) ployed in 
collecting materials from the History of India, for a 
poem in heroic verse, 168.- — extract from that poem, i)n 
the discoveries of the Portuguese, 169. — Pays a visil^of 

F f2 

^onddlence to Lord Halifax at Horton, upon the d«itk 
of his lady, I. ITT.^^retnotes to town for the winter 
season, and resumes his solitary lodgings in Mount 
Stieet, derilTes all his resources from books which h« 
reads, and studies incessantly in absolute solttnde, hut 
for the yisits of his friend Htggs, ib. — ^becomes a fre- 
quent guest with Mr. Dodington at la Trappe, 182.— « 
pays a Tisit to Mr. Dodington at Eastbury, 188.^^-ot}- 
tains a lay fellowship, 195. — ^writes lyts ^rst legitimate 
drama, entitled the Banishment of Cicero, 1Q6. — -his first 
mterview with Garrick, 203.^— marries Miss Ridge, 206. 
' — upon Lord Halifax'^s being made Lord Lieutenant of 
Ireland, he accompanies him thither, and resides at Dsb- 
/in Castle, as Ulster secretary, 208.— superintends ths 
private finances of Lord Halifax, and puts his green 
cloth upon a liberal bat regulated establishment, 209.-^ 
publishes his tragedy «f the Banishment of Cicero, 
which is pirated by George Faulknei" of Dublin, 210. — 
addresses a poem to the king, upon his accession to the 
throne, ib. — attends the Lord Lieutenant to Ireland, 
with his wife and family, except two infant children, 
who are left with their grandmother Ridge, 217^ — ^his 
disinterestedness in never having been betrayed to accept 
any thing which delicacy could possibly interpret as a 
(gratuity, 222.- — returns from Ireland perfectly clean- 
handed, not having profited his small fortune a single 
shilling, but from the fair income of office, ib. — is offered 
by Lord Halifax the rank of a Baronet, which he respect* 
fully declines, 223.-^finas Mrs. Cumberland in the crisis 
t)f a fever, exhausted, and scarcely alive, but she sar- 
fives the shock, 2S6.-^Temove», with hfs family^ to 

XNDKX* 437 

Tyriiigbam) I. ^36. — tenders bis services to Lord Ha* 
Jifax, when Secretary of State, but reeeifes a cool and 
repoIsiTe answer, 242.— a place of £,W0 per. anaum^ 
his sole profit after eleven years attendance, and Mra^ C.'s 
fortune of is^.SOOO,, reduced to a ?ery small balance, af- 
ter repaying bis father, for eipences in supporting bim 
in a style of life very different from that in which he was 
found^ 244<-<-his interesting interview with Lord Hali- 
fax, 245.-^tenders bis services to the Earl of Hillsbo^ 
rongh, in Mr. Sedgewick's place, which are accepted, 
^48.'r~w rites the Summer's Tale, which excites the jea- 
lousy of Bickerstaff, 249. — ^his liberal conduct to Bick- 
erstaff upon that occasion, 251. — turns his sole attention 
to comedy, to which he is persuaded by Mr. Smith of 
Covent Garden tbeatr0, in whose . liberal hospitality 
he frequently shared 253*~-^bi8 dramatic sketches of 
the Irish character first studied at Clonfert, 258.-— > 
resumes his situation at the Board of Trade, and brings 
out his play of the Brothers at Covent Garden theatre, 
963. — ^becomes acquainted with Garrick in consequence 
of some complimentary lines in the epilogue to the Bi^o- 
t]|ers, 266.— ruever wrote a single line to puff or praise 
bimself, or to decry a brother dramatist, 270. — nor dis- 
graced his colours, by abandoning the cause of legiti- 
mate comedy, in whose 8er?ice he is sworn ^ and in whose 
defence he has kept the field for nearly half a century, 
till at last be has survired all national taste, 95<— 
returns io Clonfert, where he plans the West Indian, 
971. — refutes the calumny of his endeavouring to cavil 
iwd decry the School for Scandal, by positively proving 
^n alibi at Bath, i6ir-^bis ambition in writing for the 

t f3 

458 INDEX. 

stage, to produce something that might outlire him, I. 
273, — characters of the heroes of his drama, 274, — 
makes an excursion to Mount Talbot, and in a hermit- 
age in the pleasure grounds writes some scene^s of the 
West Indian, 279. — makes excursions on the Shannon 
'with Lord Eyre, ib. — whimsical anecdote in one of those 
excursions, which furnishes another trait for the sketch 

of Major O'Flaherty, ib accompanies Lord Eyre to a 

cock fight — whimsical occurrence at that meeting, 281* 
— receives the honorary grant of the degree of LL. D. 
from the university of Dublin, 290. — his intimacy with 
Mr. Garrick, with whom he enters into an engagement 
to bring out the West Indian, 291. — avails himself of his 
advice ftnd remarks, ai)d introduces a preparatory scene, 
292. — fiomplimented by Garrick on the West Indian, in 
the St. 'James's evening paper, 297. — enters the lists of 
controversy, and vindicates the insulted character of his 
grandfather Dr. Bcntley, 30S.-*-account and title of the 
controversial pamphlet, against Dr. Lowth, in favour of 
Dr. Bentley, which went through two full editions, 312. 
— ^his letter to Mr, Commissary Greaves, 314. — ^notice to 
Mr. Hay ley, on his merciless and unciril sport withiDr. 
Bentley's character, 315. — copy of Mr. Hayley's verses, 
316, — has a house in Queen Anne Street West-.-'Mr. 
Fitzherbert lived in the same street, and Mr. Burke 
nearly opposite, 323 — visit from the Rev. Dr. Decimus 
Reynolds, who unexpectedly makes his will, and ap- 
points him his heir, ib. — his liberal and disinterested 
conduct upon that occasion, 325.-^called upon by the 
nephew of Dr. Reynolds, demanding him to render back 
the title deeds, 327. — ^letter to Dr. Reynolds upon this 



I ■ 

! «oca8iony and reasons for haTing been so nmiate in the 


detail of tbesie transactions, I. 330 — number and disci- 
pline of his little familj^ 332. — always studied the assort- 
inent of his company, so as nerer to bring uncongenial 
humours into contact, 334.-^begins to frame the cha- 
jacter of Colin Madeod, 345. — writes the Fashionable 
LoTer — his critique upon that plaj, 346. — called by 
(Warrick the man without a skin, 347. — first meeting 
mith Dr. Goldsmith, 350. — alines upon Dr. Johnson, 
363. — writes a small poem in the style of Goldsmith *s 
, Retaliation, assimiilating ih& different guests to different 
. kinds of Uqupr, 371.-rnagain visits Ireland, with part of 
l^B family, and passes his summer recess at Kilmore, 374. 
-r— recei?es the melancholy i^ews of bis father's death, 
which b speedily succeeded by the death of his mother, 375. 
.. — his drama entitled the Choleric Man, 378.-r-its success, 
i5.— dedicated to Detraction, 379.: — ^makes a tour with the 
^arl of Warwick to the lakes, accompanied by Mr. 
Smith, well known for his elegant designs after nature, in 
Switzerland)389.-^r~ode addressed .to the sun, and another 
Juascribe^ to Dr. James^ 383. — his Timpn of Athens, al- 
tered from Shakespeare, 384. — extracts from that trage- 
dy, 385. — ^Iiis dramatic sketch of the Note of Hand, or 
a Trip to Newmarket, 388. — uses, but unsucQessfuUy^, 
)iis interest with Garrick, to obtain an engagement for 
Henderson at Drury Lane, 389. — his tragedj of the 
Battle of Hastings, 3^1. — gives eTidence before Lord 
Mansfield,, relative to the last illness of Lord Halifax, 392* 
; — reflections upon hjs death, 393.-r-pays his respects to 
JjQvd. George Germain, upon his taking the seals of thtt 
.calo^ial department^ ib.-^in negociation with Mr. Pow- 

F f4 

446 INDEX. 

nail for the secretaryship, I. 394.-r-inTited to visit Lord 
George Germain at Stoneland, near Tonbridge WelIS| 
396. — succeeds Mr. Pownall in his secretaryship, 897;—! 
occasions during the .conflict with America irhen his 
zeal was not unprofitably exerted for his friend and pa- 
tron, 399. — quits Tyringham, and takes a house at Tet- 
worth in Bedfordshire, to be near Lady Frances Bur- 
goyne, sister to Lord Halifax, 400, — writes the opera of 
Calypso, ib. — applied to for the defence of Dr. Dodd, 
403. — which is undehaken by Dr. Johnson, 404. — ac 
cepts a commission to undertake a secret ncgociatJon 
with the court of Spain, 415. — ^his accuracy and reracity 
in detailing the circumstances of this negociation, ib, — 
occasion of this mission, 416. — embarks on board the 
Milford Frigate, commanded by Sir W. Bnnbnry, 418< 
dangers of the voyage, from a storm and engagement 
with the enemy, 419. — fortitude of Mrs. Cumberland, 
420. — experiments upon the credulity and superstition 
of seamen, 4^3. — account of the action, and naval anec- 
dotes, 424. — ^song by the author upon this occasion, 
429. — chased by a French line of battle ship ttom 
Toumay's squadron, 431. — lands at Belcm Castle, fmds 
there the Romney and Cormorant, Captains Home atid 
Payne, under Commodore Johnstone, ib. — Purchase!^ a 
large stock of oranges for the refreshment of the ship's 
crew, ib. — takes apartments in Mrs. Duer's Hotel, 
Buenos Ayres, for himself and family, 432. — exchanges 
visits with Commodore Johnstone at Belem, and Captains 
Home and Payne, ib. — is informed by Mr. Hussey, who 
had promised to be extremely precise and correct in' his 
report, that the Spanish ambassador Count Fernan Pfa- 

«ez, had toiouiitted himself to « cometmtHiim, fMm which 
Mt. Hossef drew verj proniisiiig expectalioiiSy Y^. II. 
d. — extraet of dispatches h> Lord Hillsborough, 4. — 
Tisked At Buenos Ayi^s bj* our. minister Mr. Walpole, 
Commodore Johnstone^ Sir John Hort^ Captain Payne, 
and other gentlemen of the factory, 6* — applies to Mr. 
Walpole, British minister at Lbbon, 11. — ^foBows the 
advice of Mr. Hussey to give the negociation a fhir 
4diance«-hi8 dispaUfaet to Lord HillsbonMigh) stating his 
reasons for this conduct, 13. — departs from Aldea 6al« 
lega, in company vidi Captain P^ynd-^asses Yento 
Noras, K.—- attacked in a very mysterions manner at 
Elf as, by an Irish benedictine monk, M. — eecorled 
through the barriers by a guard q( Portngaese dragoons, 
^6. — ^arrives at BadajoK, and is received by the garrisoa 
with military honours, 96. — proceeds from thence to 
Miajada, 37. — passes through Truxillo, Yenta del Lugar 
Nuevo, and La Calzada toTalarera la Rcina, where 'he 
receives a letter from Mr. Hussey, 30, 90. — arrives at 
Aranjues, and is affectionately welcomed by Mr. Hns. 
«ey, 34.— visited by the sub-minister Campo, Anduaga, 
and EJMsarano, also by the Duke'd' Almodovar, Abbe 
Curtis and others, and on that evening had his first in- 
terview with the Count Florida Blanca, 35. — receives 
dismaying accounts of the riots in London, t6.— believes 
that he ))houid have advanced the preliminaries had not 
the fa^l news of those riots arrived, on the very day ap- 
pointed by the Spanish minister for the foir discussion of 
the terms, 37. — compelled osi account of these esagge- 
rated rumours to suspend his operations, 38.*-«oon after 
Informed by Hscafano^hai th# riote» were quelled^ and 

44t fNDEX. 

Lord George Gordon comaiitted to the Tower, II. 59.^-. 
ATftilB himsolf of this intelligemce, bat inefiectaalij, to 
bring back the Degociiktum to its former forwardness, 
i^. — completes bis dispatches, in which he giyes a lull 
and circumstaatial account of all his proceedings, ^0. — > 
extracts from those dispatches, id, — ^removes with his fa- 
mily to Madrid, 4% — the court removes to St. IkiefoBSo, 
where Count d' Estaing arrived speciaUy commissioned to 
traverse his negociations, M.**4iiactiTit7 of the Britidi 
fleet ttDder Admirals Gearj and Derby*---capture of our 
great £ast and West India fleets and coavoj hy the 
Spanish squadron, t^.*— by the alluring promises of D* 
. £atoing, and the interested counsels of Gralvez, minister 
. of the Indies, the Spiwish minister is for a continuance of 
ihe war-T«^his situation becomes extremely critical, and 
bis house is beset with ^ies, 45. — proscribed frtfmall 
bis aoenstemed friends and visitors, except Count Kau- 
ottz, and a few religious, t6.--»-attadies to his seryice cer- 
tain confidential agents, by whose means be is enabled to 
expose and eflectually traverse sereral insidious man<Bu- 
vres, 46. — ^receives the long expected answer to his first 
dispatch, t^.— ^the covering letter to which contained a 
more than half reproof for having written to the Spanish 
minister on the subject of the riots — extracts from tbis 
letter, containing an examiuatioa of this charge and jus- 
« tsficatiou' of the author^s eondoet, 47. -r— inconsistently 
arratgoed for giving credit to sincerity where it did exist, 
and being doubtful where it wavered, 51. — attends again 
vpon Florida Blanca at Sui lldefonso — D' Estaing thert 
in high fiavoor and much caressed, t^.-*— conference with 
Florida Blanea^ i^.-p«-4eparts, and returns to Madrid, 

IN1>EX« 443 

leftTing Mr. Hnssey to fettle terms uritfa the minister, 
and the day following D' Estaiog set out for his command 
at Cadiz, II. 58.— rsuffers yerj much from the unskilfulness 
of the surgeons, having received a very serious injury 
by a fall from one of his mules, 68. — at length relieved 
by an artist, who, under the sign of a brass bason, prac 
tised conjointly the sister arts of surgery knd shaving, t6. 
— ^parting interview with Abbe Curtis**— receives a most 
courteous invitation from the ministef, in answer to a 
solicitation for a conference, 75. — these conferences se- 
parate Mr. Hussey from the author, who sends him home 
with those propositions which the author's instructions 
did not allow him to discuss, 76. — vbits the Escnrid]. 
See Escurial. — upon the court's removal to that palace, 
the author is invited to bring his family thither, which 
he accepts, 80. — gracious condescension of the King of 
Spain, ib. — accident that had nearly occurred to tiie 
Prince of Asturias, when met by him, S^.-^^^popularity 
of his wife and daughters, 93. — adapts his mode of life 
to his circumstances and uitdcfined character, 94. — ^his 
house the . rendezvous of fashion, ib» — his stud, 95.—* 
returns to Madrid, where he finds his mansion in the 
naked dignity of bjrick-floors and white walls-^^node of 
passing his time there with his family and friends, t6.^— 
conveys his dispatches by Count Pailavicioi, 110.— 4iis 
dispatches embracoil much matter, containing particulars 
of important information which proved to be correct, 
ib, — discovers an important intrigue, 111. — ^recalled by 
the Earl of Hillsborough, 112. — sends another dispatch 
to the Earl of Hillsborou^ relative to the Spanish 
horses, }15.'— no longer any hope of bringing SpatA into 


444 INDEX. 

H separate tr«aty, II. 1^1.-— fstracb from several of bis 
dispatches, which terminate in hisrecaH, 127. — commeats 
upon this letter, 128. — Count Kaanitz reports totheBri- 
tish court, the roost farounible impressions of the author's 
coodoct, 131 .<.->went abroad to find friendship and protec- 
tion, and came hometomeet injustice ami oppression, id, 
«^8 offered indemnification for his eitpenccs bj the King 
of Spain, which he refuses, ISS. — at the commencement 
of the nndertaling bad J^.IOOO, beyond which his pri. 
Tate credit supplied erery want, 135 — ^writes to the 
Earl of Hillsborough, and the minister Campo, 130, 140.' 
' quits Madrid, 142. — ^his compan|r and trayelling equi. 
page, 143. — particulars of his travelling through Spain, 
&c* 144. — arrives in Portland Place, 162. — anecdote of 
the mysterioQS monk, ib» — cautioned against poisoned 
snuff, 163. — his memorial to Lord North, 172. — ^which 
produces no compensation, ib, — upon the dissolution of 
the Board of Trade, fixes himself at Tonbridge Wells, 
178. — eulogy on that place, 179. — ^habits of life, 180. 
—-description of his house there, J 81. — ^his books and 
pen his best associates, 186. — ^his study matured by age 
and experience, 187. — ^vindicates himself from the charge 
of depreciating Sir Joshua Reynolds, 189. — extracts 
from his anecdotes of Spanish painters, relative to Mengs, 
ib, — ditto relative to Velasquez, 192. — part of Father 
SuUivto, in the Walloons, had no reference to Abbe 
Hussey, but expressly written for Henderson at his own 
request, ] 93 continues to amuse his fancy with dra- 
matic compositions — ^his chief attention bestowed on Ute 
original essays in the Observer, 1 99. — is charged with 
•oMposing with great rapidity, 203. — ^answer to ih^ 

charge, 11.205. — ep^oguetoOke Arab, 2D8;--^rcmMr of 
tliediaractefs of Joknsoo and Garriek, 310.— ^Sir Joskua 
Reynolds, t6.< — Romiiey, 211.-'>-^Becdote of the Mt^r 
and Garrick, 213. — ^ptibliBhes an account of ike death of 
Romney in a magaztne, !215. — 9ine« compUmeotary of 
Romney and Sir Joshua Reynolds, t6. - has wriMcft fifty 
dratnas, published and unpublished, 9] S.* — amongst fthe 
latter are some better than most whkh have yet aeen the 
light~«-account of the Elder Brutus, i^.-^^e- Carmelite^ 
919. — revoiution occamotied hy 'tiie introdneMon of 
Master Betty, '^lO.^^-observations upon the Roscius 
Mania, 321, 333.-^*«tf the theatres persist in tiiese pueri« 
lities, they will be in the same predicaoioit with an in* 
genious artist in the days of Rich, 333.-«-^tory of this 
attfet, »6.-*»*«a partUig word to hiss brethren iti ^be iif aina« 
tic Kne, M4. — controversy irUii the Bishop of LlaadafiT 
upon his proposal for ^qnaileing the rercnoes of the hie« 
rarchy, 225.-*-<itows himielf the author of Curtius tes* 
cned from the Gulph, 9M.-*^the subject 6f which ivas 
started at one of Mr. Dllly's literary dinners, t6. — ac- 
knowledges the great and freifvent gratifications which 
lie received upon those occasions, 927. — ^literary eha« 
racters who associated there, «'&. — ^the idea of. writing 
these memoirs firet si^gested to him by Mr. Sharps — 
lines to that gentleman, S30»*-^evotes the task of ar« 
ranging bis posthumous works to that gentleman, Mr. 
Rogers, and Sir James Bland Surges, 233. — compliments 
the Countess of Derby (late Miss Fsrrea) upon her per* 
formance of Lady Paragon in the Natural Son, ^36. — a . 
«liort sketch of Lord SackTlUe's character, 237. — Hedi* 
<atM that sketch to the Earl of Dorchester, aepkew' to 

446 IND£5C« 

-Lord ^ackrille, 11/255. — ^renews his plea for pardoA tot 
errors in the dates of his prodactionis, 256. — ^labours to 
effect a simple, clear, and harmonious style, 262. — > 
quotation from Pliny,, tfr. — ^his partiality to heroic verse. 
See Calvary. — considers Tristram Shandy as the most ec- 
' centric work of his time, and Junius as the most acri- 
monious, 269. — letter from Mr« Edmund Burke, 274. — 
a few plain reasons for belicTing in the evidences of the 
christian revelation, 275. — Poetical Translation from 
the Old Testament, 276. — FugitiTe compositions written 
at Mrs. Bludworth's, Holt, near Winchester, 282. — 
loses his eldest son, and soon after Mrs. Cumberland, 
293.-**-his grateful domestic comforts, ib, — ^his verses 
presented to the Princess Amelia, by his daughter Lady 
Albinia Cumberland, 29^. — numbers nineteen grand- 
children, 294. — appointed major commandant of two 
companies of Tolunteer infantry — discipline of this corps, 
SdO.-"— presented by his corps with a sword, as a tribute 
of esteem, ' 291. — ^vindicates the volunteer system 
292. — ^Summary AeeouBt of thes6 Memoirs, 299. — filial 
and pleasing duties of his youngor daughter, to whom 
this work is consecrated, 301. — Supplement^ 302. — rea- 
•ons for adding one, viz. — ^to fill up the chasm of what 
passed subsequent to his return from Spain, 303 — ^mueh 
more active as a literary man, since he has ceased to be 
busied as an official one, 304.-*-a multiplicity of his un- 
published productions since his retarn from Spain, which 
will evince his industry, 305. — character of the Resur- 
rection Critics, ib. — their posthumous justice, ib. — criti- 
cal strictures on Mr, Hayley's Life of Cowper, 308. — 
Tiadkates Dr. Bentiey and himself from Mr. Hayley's 

IKDEX-. 447 

Intcctites^ 31 1*.— comparison between Mr. Pitt and Cice- 
ro, 315. — ^writes three letters to Mr. Fiity batrecelfes no 
answer, 319. — delineation of his character, «6.— lines to 
his memory, 320. — meritorious services of Lords !Nlelson 
and Collingwood — impromptu on the former, spoken bjr 
Mr. WrOtighton of Drury Lane, ib, — composes the melo- 
dramatic piece represented on the third night foHowing, 
for which hel^celTes the present of a gold snuff box, id. — 
writes a piece upon «the same subject, forCoTen't-6arden| 
unaccountably suppressed by the Lord Chamberlain, 394. 
•^-—feiFourable reception of these memoirs, t6.-— grateful ac- 
knowledgments to Mr. Sharon Turner, the Earl of Dor- 
chester, and the writers of the reyiews-— leTies contribu- 
tions on his brains, though in his 75th year, 326. — ^malc- 
Tolent personaHttes which formerly distinguished the 
idiumal prints, td.-^more just' and manly princi{>let 
now prerail upon the face of them — rrejoices at this re- 
▼olutfOH, ib. — ^their tantalizing with reports of magnifi- 
cent dinners, 327. — recommends one grand a)id sweep- 
ing remove of the whole of this erroneous practice, ib,^ — 
iiyes in the same house at Tunbridge Wells upwards of 
twenty years, 330. — ^domestic felicity, 331. — takes an 
actlye part in promoting the interests of his neighbours 
in Tunbridge Wells — exemplary character of Mr. Benson 
the minister, 332. — culogium on the men of Kent, 334. 
credit to the loyalty of Tunbridge Wells, 335. — supports 
the yolunteer system, ib. — ^was a captain of infantry in 
the year 1747, and at this time perhaps the most aged 
^eld officer of yoluntcers in the kingdom, 337. — his loss 
of friends and relatiyes, 338.--^his kindness and solici- 
tude for Mr. Badebck and his family^ 340. — ^fkyourablt 

449 iVDBlL. 

inentionof Mri Henrj Fry, II. 34l. — coBTivial hours of 

Lord Mansfield, 344, 346. — contersation sketches of 

Charles Townsheod, Fitzherbert, Johnson, Dr. Bentlej, 

344, 345.^~^Lord North, 348. — compared with Doding- 

ion, 350. — descriptioti of the political print called the 

Motion, 331. — ^Lord North kept his own hands dean 

and empty, 353. — ^his happy quotation, t^. — biographi. 

cal sketches of Lotd Primate RobiDson, and his dder 

brother Sir William, 354, 356,— Archbishop Moore^ 

Dr. Moss, Sir James Bland Burges, 360. — ^frivolities of 

. the age, 362. — its fashionable notaries lite in aeonti- 

. m9^ display of scenery, i6. — Mr. Moorp, a writer of 

. lote songs too highly coloured, 365.— Hlaocing chancellor, 

»6.-^-^lo4nence of St. Step^n's chapel eompared to Mother 

. Goose's Tal(ss~*a.jui)to of ncurthern periodical critics 

have taken the author's works into their laundry, and 

put them through the usual process of manglwg^ 370« — 

. hopes ibcse acrimonious North Qritons will diseorer 

.• the. error of their ambition, the misapplication^ of their 

talents, and that their combinations to undo others, is, in 

' fact, a conspiracy against themselves, 372. — explanation 

. to the Edinburgh reviewers relative to Admiral Rodney^ 

373. — attends the Haymarket theatre with Mr. Smith, 

to see the performanc;e of Mr. Rae, S$S. — ^enlargement 

• of the stage at Druty-Lane, dSj.-^-difficulties and in<« 

creased . efforts of modern actors in conseguence, t&. — 

eulogium on living actors, 391. — 'the stage pre-octupied 

by spectacle, 396. — death of Mr. Fox, 397.--*-thanks a 

reviewer in the British Critic for ^ reminding him of an 

error« 401 . — renews his acquaintance with Sir William 

. Pepys at Ramsgate, 40X«-^^haracter of that gentleman, 

kiB elftsfiSci! ktiowleifr, Set* ib.^^hiUbat to HvuhimdM 
Intended for Drury^IjBUie* 403.^'-cOIldnsiol^ 404. 

¥&r a more partktihir aeconnt of tho s«tbor's works, 
8^ th6 9eteral artkl^fi in the following catalognez £nc — 
Calvary, Bkodia^.^^DiiABiA'riC'^Arab) Banishment of 
Cicero, Battle of Hastings^ Brutus the Elder, Box Lol»by 
Challenge, Brother^, Choleric Man, Coontry Attorney^ 
Calypso, Caractac«#5 Carmetite, Clouds, from the 6r«ek 
of Aristophanes, Dependant, Days of Yore, Don Pedro, 
Eccentric Lorer, Fashionable Lover, False Denetrius, 
False impressions, F^irst Love, Hint to Husbands, Impose 
tor, Jew, Lastof the Panrily, Mysterious Husband, Natu*. 
ral Son, Note of Hand, Sailor's Daughter, Shakespeare 
in the Shades, Timon of Athens, Torrendel, Walloons^ 
Wat Tyler, West Indian, Wheel of Fortune, Widow of 
lOelphi, Word for Nature.— Fuowitb FiE€ies«--AfKec. 
tation, Amelia Princess, Lines to, Atarks, Dreams, Envy, 
Epilogue to the Ara!>, Fragment, Hamlet, Hammond, 
Humility, Jodge^ James Dr., MansfieI'd, Nefcon, Ode to 
the Sun, Pitt, Pride, Pradery, Prince of Wales, Romney 
the Painter, St. Mark's Eve, Troades, Viig«.— Paosa— 
Curtius Rescued from the Gulph, Evidences of the 
Christian Re^etatMn, Controversial, L&wth.-^ 
)72ot;s-—-An<dcdeles of eminent Painters in Spmn^ Cata* 

. l<^e of Paintings in the King of Spain's Pala<fe, Seranons, 
Observer, Translation of the P^lms. — Novbls — ^Arnn. 
dd, and Henry 

Cumberland) Riehavd, the author's eldest son, goes dirongh 
Westminster school w^h the r«pntati«n of an excellent 
scholar — admitted of Trinity Coltege^Csmbridge-^volin- 
teers in a erniae with 8fv Charltfi Hardy, then cnmnuMder 


450 INZ>£X» 

of the chanael fleet, I. 399*— enters himself as an ensign 
in the first regiment of foot guards, 400.' — ^marries^ the 
eldest daughter of the late Earl of Buckinghamshire, and 
sister of the present — died at Tobago, where he went to 
qualify himself for a civil employment in that Island, 
II. 293. ' 

Cumberland) George, the author's second son, takes to the 
sea, and sails for America, I. 400. — killed at the siege 
of Charlestown on the Tery day after he had been ap- 
pointed to the command of an armed vessel, 422. 

Cumberland, Charles, the author's third son, enrols him- 
self an ensign in the lOth regiment, 400, — marries tlie 
daughter of General Matthew, II. 294. 

Cumberland, William, the author's youngest son, embarks 
in the sea service, and sails for America with Sir Richard 
Hughes 1. 400. — married Eliza, daughter of Mrs. Burt — 
commands the fine frigate La Pique in the West Indies, the 
command of which he is compelled to forfeit, from being 
seized with the yellow fever at St/ Domingo, IL 295- — 
commands the Fly Sloop of War, stationed at Worthing, 
at the time the Princess Amelist was residing there for the 
benefit of the sea and air, now a post-captain in the navy 
— ^his whiuisical and humane mode of correction, 306. 

Cumberland, Frances Marianne, born in Spun, to whom 
these Memoirs are dedicated as a sincere and well-merjted 
tribute of gratitude, 300. 

Curtis, Abbe, an Irishman, settled in Spain aboTe half a 
century-r— domestic priest' and occasionally preceptor t^ 
three successive Dukes of Osuna — ^founder of the for- 
tunes of the premier Florida Blanca, 69. — ^his excel- 
lent character, i6, — his attachment to the author when 

IND£X. 451 

^apposed past r^overy-^his agany of grief — administers 
the sacrameat, thoagh himself a cafliolic, according 
ta the protestant forms, II. 70. — ^his strong attachment 
to the author — ^from 6 in the afternoon till 10 at night 
neyer failed to occupy the chair next to the author in his 
eTening circle, TI; ' 
Curtius rescued from the Gulf-^-origin of this pamphlet^ 


Dalrymple, Sir John, informs the author of a curious ma« 

nuscript in the Escurial, II. 76. 
De Corerley, Sir Roger, Dr. Bentley's attachment to this 
• character, I. Id.-^his behariour at church similar to 

that of Lord Sackville, 11^ 240. 
i)el Campo, sub-minister of Spain, the author's letter to, 
. 74. ■ . . • 

Darner, the Honourable George, now Earl of Dorchester, 

the author dedicates to him his account of Lord Sack- 

Tille's death, 255. 
Dancer^ Mrs. the actress, eomes over from Dublin, I. 234. 
DaTenant, Lord ; this character in the Mysterious Husband 

was conceiTed by the author for Henderson, II. 1Q4. 
DaTenant, Lady, the best female character the author 

ever tendered to the stage, 199.*— played by the late 

Mrs. Pope, ib. 
]>ays of Yore, a drama, by the author, brought out at 

CoTent Garden, 281. 
Deborah, an old serrant to Dr. Walker, of Trinity, and for- 
merly bed-maker to Sir Isaac Newton, I. 97. 
De Legibus Naturae, written by Dr. R. Cumberland, cor- 

• g2 

4t5Q XKfi»x« 

reotei hf Dr. Beatle^, tiid presented bjr the nEtbortoF 
tlta libtarf of Trinity eoHege, CaAibrldge, L 7. 

Deflcriptife writlAg^ fnroperly 8o dittmgo&hed,- very apt 
to describe notiiHig, II. d59.*^--»^land8eape6 vpoa pi^er 
OBly create eenfbsion, H, 

Depehdance, its painful restraints, I. lI8. 

Dependant, a drma by the anthor^ brought out ait Drary-* 
Lane, II. 381. 

D' Estaing, arriyes at Madrid — ^his intrigues with the Spa- 
nish court, 44.-^--sets out for his command at Cadiz^ 

• 68. — ^wbere bo aoon loses all tiie interest he bad gained 
at court, t6.-^puts to sea against the protests oi the Spa- 
niak admird, t6w 

Destroyer, thei, sent on earth for the diastisenient of na-^ 
tions, like Apoleon is now perhaps verf^g to extinction, 

I)iscouragement in education, baneful effects of, I. 46» 

Billy^ Mr. late hookselkr in the Pottltry^«>-4repx3iiits a neit 

. edition of the Observer ib § tolosoes, II. 2OOi-f^hJ0 hospi- 
tality, 327.-^literary dinners, i^.^^his observaiion upon 
quotations, i&»-«^hi8 taUo open to the pfttrono and par- 
sners of literatnre, SS7.-«^-«ad alirays so adminkrteced ai 
to draw ti^ether tbe best dudes, t^^'^^-^cfaosacters wha 
here associated, ibm 

Dodd, the unfortnoale Dtf. hie defense written by Ik-. John- 
son^ 404. 

DodingtoQ, late Lord Melcombe, one of Lord HaliluK's y\^ 
sitors, 160. — bis splendid yilla cidled La Trappe, at 
Humoeramith, 181.--deec^ption of his domestic party, 
ih. — ^his whiinsicaik dMuracteraideceeDtricities^-^clfaracter 
^ Dr. TiMaspson^ his body physiciaifr, i6,<«H4iis happy act 

i^DEXt 453 

0t iBiVagiiig hk rovemie, L 184.«--in«igiuSc«iit deconu 
tions of his town house, i6.-<r-his Vardrobo^ dress, &c. &c. 
ii^^^^is teste not adequate to such loafiiificeiice — esti* 
«dates pictures tmly by their cost-description of the 
gaudy finer)^ of his state bed, &c, 187.<^^whimsical 
eii<etches of bis character, 18S.< — his uraate respect for 
titles, ISD.r^he £arl of Bpte the god »f his idolatry, 
vho rewards his bowi9g head with a coronet, 190, — 
his powers of irony, whimsical readings from Shakes- 
peare and Jonathan Wild, with which he entertains the 
Ladies Harvey and Stafford, IPS.r-^-his poetry, 194. — 
his diary, ib»w^iB niiscellaneous collection of hon mots, 
&c, «6. ^ 

))on Pedro, a drama by the author, produced at the Hay» 
market, II. 278. 

Dorchester, the Ear! of, his flattering letter to the author 
of these Memoirs, 325. 

Douglas, Sir Charles, captain of the fleet, I. 409. — averse 
to Admiral Rodney's plan of breaking the line, ib. — his 
conduct during the action^-nlisclaims all share in the 
masterly manasnyres of that glorioas day — often a%med 
this, and afterwards to the author, II. 375. 

Douro, a pleasant riyer in Spain, IdS.' — its capriciouf 
course, 1 6.. 

Dowton, the performer, the author's play of the Jew h^ 
formed a stepping-stone to the stage for, 280. — ^ranki 
among the highest of his profession, ih^ 

Drake, Dr. the author's acknowledgments io^ for his can* 
did criticism, 376. 

Drama, Tragic, may. be called an epic poem of compressed 

a o 3 

454 INDEX. 

Dramatic writers^ respectfaHy admonished, 11. 3M*- 
repulsed with radeness, 994. 

Draper, Sir. W. baffles Jnniiis in some of bis assertions, 
369. — ^if he had kept hb name out of sight, might hare 
held up the cause of candour with success, ib^ 

Drury Lane, Old, the discriminating taste of the actor 
might then be traced in his countenance — ^from the en- 
larged scale of the modem theatre, many of the finest 
touches of the art must necessarily fall short, 385« 

Drummend, Adam, one of the party to support Gold- 
smith's comedy, I. 368. — ^his sonorous and .contagious 
laugh, ib. — confesses his want of discernment, ib. — a 
flapper assigned him, ib* — several of hiis bursts mal-a- 
propos, ib. 

Dublin Journal, whimsical reconcUeroent of cross partners 
in an erratum there, II. 242.^ '»- 

Due de Coigny, French privateer captured by the Milford 
frigate, Capt. Sir W. Burnaby, I. 424. — account of the 
action, fb. — Mignionet, her commander, killed, and fifty 
men killed and wounded, ib. 

Duelling, occasioned by the laws not being equally 
strong for the redress of insults as for the redress of 
injuries, II. 177. 

Duenas, a town in Spun, description of, 148. 

Dunning, retained as counsel for the unfortunate Robert 
Perreau, I. 403, 


Eastbury, the seat of Mr. Dodington, description of the 
visitors there, 183. — constructed by Yaobri^li in isMta* 

INDEX. 455 

• ■ > 

tieo of fiienkeim, 1. 184«-^-tiie genius of Vol<»ire honoured 
this place with a yisit, 194.-«— here the Muse of Yonng 
dictated the Revenge, here also GloTer conrted inspira* 
tion, and Thomson oanght it, ib* 

£aton, Jatoes, strnck dead by a splinter, in the engage. - 
ment on board the Milford, 427* 

Eatoff, the Rot. Henry, ^icouraged in the midst of his 
sermon by Lord Sackyiile, II. 241. 

£bro, a river in Spain, which forms the boundary of Old 
Castile, 157* 

£ece Homo, an excellent one, by £1 Diyino Morales, pre- 
sented to tiie author by the Abbe Curtis, 73. 

Eccentric Lover, a drama, produced by the author, 381. 

£cton House, the hospitalities of, I. 168. 

fidinbargh Review, its character and principles examined, 
II. 370; 

Epigram, palmed upon the author's father as his own, I. 

£|»sode8, or stories within stories, in novel writing, the 
author's decided, objections to, 11. 259. 

Ekins, the Reverend Mr. his hosj^tality, I. 164. 

Ekins, Mr. JeiTery, the author's most intimate friend and 
companion, t^.^— composes an allegorical drama, entitled 
Florio, or the Pursuit of Happiness, and a poem upon 
dreams, 105. 

Eliot, Sir John, the physician, anecdote of his attending 
Henderson, II. 105. 

Elvas, the frontier town of Portugal — description of this 
town, with its fortifications and public walks, projected 
by Count La Lippe, 23. — singular occurrence to the au« 
^r here, with r<»pect to an Irish Benedictine^ 24. 


4^6 INDB)^. 

SpUfl^a^ to the Arab, writtea bj tk9 tufltoVf m4 fi^kflia 
by Miss Yonng, IL 90&. 

£rskine, Lord) neglect/ul of ^qnett^) in retwmw^ na 
answer to the author's letter, 343* 

Sscurial, one of the mo^t ivQii4eroaft maowent^ diat 
bigotry has ever dedicated to the Culfilment of aTo«r» 78. 
^-^ww its power of striU^ iQ tke iviitienalty of iU 
mass — description of it^ and tho aavage $ceaery which 
9urjro«Bdis it) i&.**<^oiiUif)S abundaat food for ouriosity, 
^ in paintings, books, and consecrated treasures, eicoed- 
ing all descrlpt|oD> ^«* — ^ ^^t ^^i inestimable calke- 
tion of picturQS| by Ra{rfiael» TiUmr fUbees, VehNqaes, 
aad Coelloy td. 

Essay on the Th^ircy a traot fontkeHy ill some degree of 

estimatioQ, and porting its obfienration at the mithot'a 

play of the Fashionable Lovers, I. 379* — ^^ & rolort upon 

this, the author prefixes ^ hli comedy of the Choleric 

^ Man a dedication to Detraction, ib, 

Estremadura, a profince in Spjuun, the whole of which is 
extremely barren, aad the iiame disconsolate aspeet pre- 
vailed in the tie^it^tage to TruxiHo, II. 37. 
l^n School, its discipline and good order not benefited 
by the vicinity of Windtor Castle, I. 78.**^^ee^n of 
scholars from this college, to King's in Cambtidge, consi- 
dered as a bar greatly in their disfavour, as not aubjecting 
them to the same process for obtaining their degrees-Hfcha 
study of mathematics not compulsory, but optional, US. 
^clid, extract from the author*s Aneodotea of Spanish 
Painters — she.\^ing the importaiK^ of these Elements in 
preparing the mind in every art and science^ II. 19% 
— the above extract in$erte4 to «hew thjil tbia aetbor'i 

IBTDEX. 437 

ppbton of an academical edtteatba was aa fsbr^ng at tliia 
period of life, as he has ex^pressed it in the former part 
itf tiiese MemoiM, II. IM. 
£Fans, Mr. treasurer of Dniry Laoe theatre, his didaite- 
ftslit^tn COL biioging tl|e receipts of the West Indiaiiy 

Ejre, Lord, of Ejra Court, in Ireland,^— lires wd the 

$tyl€ of the coontrj,' with more hospitalltj than dit- 
•gwce, 979.p-^)m mode of liTiag, 279. — takes the author 
in his pleas nre-boat, upon an aquatic excursion, ^.-« 
incident which occurred oa ame of these excursions, 980. 
•— lus attachment to cock«>fightlag, ^; — ^humorous anec- 
dote at a drinking-honse^relatiTte to the Immortal Me. 
mory, 28 U * - 

Snodmd, an epic poem, preparifig for the press by the au* 
. thor of these Memoirs, and Sir James Bland Burges, XL 
377, 404. 

£sperience of grey hairs vainly exposed against the preju« 
dices of green heads, 224. 

Ezekiei Daw, in the author's npTol of Henry — ^tbe author^s 
best services devoted to the d^ineiition of this character, 
II. 261. 


t, their nightly visits to Clonfert — ^liberal mode adopt* 
ed by the author's father to stop their depredations, I. 


Fairy Queen has more of the knightly prance in its stanzas, 
than the proud march of heroic verse, II. 255. 

False Demetrius, a drama, founded upon the story of the, 
written hy the author, 219. « 


438 IKDKX. 

False Impressions^ a comedy written by the antWr, II, 

FaodangO) extraordinary attachment of < the Spaniards to 
that national tone and dance, 34. 

Fane, Mr. Francis, generally passed his Christmas at Hor^ 
ton, with Lord Halifax, 1. 160. 

Fashion of the Age, its frivolities, 11. 363. 

Farren, late Miss, now Cpnntess of Derby, her excellent 
acting in Lady Paraxon, in the author's comedy of the 
Natural Son, 236. 

Fariiionable LoTer, critiqae upon that comedy, 1. 346.-— 
Garrick's opinion of it coincided with that of the author, 
ti^.-*-extract from the advertisement pr^xed to it, 348. 

Faulkner, George, the Irish printer, 231. — his solemn 
intrepidity of egotism baffled even the mimicry of Foote, 
ib, — ^his character and buffooneries, 23^. — prosecvtes 
Foote for lampooning him on the stage in Dublin, ^3. 
— compared by his counsd to Socrates, i6.-^-^nade an. al- 
derman, 934. 

Fellowship, one handsomely offered to the author, 127. 

Fielding. See Toin Jones. 

First Love, a comedy by the author, played at Drarj 
Lane, II. 281. -^-its powerful support and success, ib, 

Fitzherbert, Father of Lord St. Helen, one of the author's 
intimate friends, I. 266. — deliyers a message from Gar- 
rick, i6.-T^necdote of him and Mr. Charles Towbs- 
hend, II. 34d. 

Farell, the Rer. Dr. master of Trinity College, Cambridge, 
1. 24. — ^married to the author's aunt, t^. 

Fletcher, Anthony, accompanies the author as a servant 
to town, upon his appointment as piiTate secretary to 

Lord Hal^ax, U ISS.-^-^iiif presoit affluent and creditable 
sitnation acquired by a series of good' conduct and good 
fortune, ib* 

Fletcher, Sir Robert, his res^tment at bdng taken off bj 
Foote, and repartee, 341. 

Florida Blanca, Count, the Spanish minister, his fluctu* 
ating and feeble mind — submits himself to the interested 
eoundls of Gralvez, minister of the Indies, but the crea# 
tere of France, II. 44,-'— his Tersatility and intrigues, ib» 
lays himself open by his irritability, 53. — his deelaratk>ny 
56* — his origin and adyancement, 69.— rallies the author 
upon his popularity, and charges him ^ith haTing prac* 
tised upon ike heir apparent of Spain with lore powder, 
85.-*Toffevs the author indemnification, 133. 

Fontenoy, bravery of Lord Sackville in this battle, 24& 

Forty Thieres, more bilUiant as a spectacle than elegant 
in its diction, 363. 

Foote, Murphy, and O'Brien, joint conductors of the 
summer theatre, when they brought out the Wishes, I. 
314.-^fea8ts, flatters, and lampoons, at la Trappe, 315. 
— ^his awkward situation in having taken off Sir Robert 
Fletcher-^this business amiably adjusted by Garrick, 

Fox, Mr. H^py, his character, 190. 

FoXy Right Honourable Charles James, death of that 
great luminary, 11. 30T. 

Fragment of a poem by the author, in heroic verse, relative 
to the discoveries of the Portuguese, I. '169« 

Fry, Mr. John, master of the Sussex tavern, at Tunbridge 
Wells, II. 181. 

Fry^ Mf . Henry, acknowMgment of thp author's obliga- 

460 XNPEJKf 

^ tioii to, n. 341 — letter writtoi in h\M Mtalf t« L&rd 
Ciidnoettor fcakjne, 343« 


fi. Goutttesa of. s diM'Mrter to tke tutbor'H nofd of 

' Amiidel) 357. 

fisiYex, 'tk0 Spanbb rainisif r^ tb^ lQdiefi»-<tlie craMwrt of 

. ' Francci^aefulres an ftsoetttency or^f Uie.miiiUtor Count 
Florida. BUnca — ^raitfid to hit bffiea front the bumble 

. iiitnationofa pettyadrocaie, 4J« 

Garfick, David, Esq. first seen by tbe aotbor is Lotlttrio, 
L 81.-r4inpre8tt<m mlide bj bis superior acting, t^.^the 
author's first interiiew tritb, accoiapaAied by Lord Bali-* 
hSXf 2(X3.-*^gfeeably surprised at the metpeetod con- 
fdiinent paid bim by the avlftor, 9fi6.-^»c«ltiTates the 
author's acquaintance from that period, 2$7,n--«ngagesto 
bring forward the West IndiiiO, t9 1 .^-t^uggests somealteiw 
ations in this play, 2912.«-^ton$es tbe autbiur's little Ituaily, 
by ttimicling the turkeys^ wator*wag;tajis, &c« 333. — 
fte excelleMce oi his beaart, iii^««-»tbe bfilfiant vivadty of 
bis charaeter subject to be clouded, and aoqki i^redson 
' necessary with respect to the company to be introdaced 
to him at table, 339» — calls with the author itponFoote^ 
340* — anecdote of the Mack boy ai»d the titkay cocl^ 
339. — writes the epilogues to the Choleric Ma* and ths 
l¥est Indian, 380, — ^d«cUn«s engaging Henderson, who 
had been recommended by tie anlbor, 3^. — causes for 
dropping the negotiation for^ thie engagement, fff.-^hb 
conduct upon this occasion not credital^ to bis diseern- 
taent, 390. — his exqoisUe powoQi tS wit^ and social piet- 

9tai%'y9 1. 90O.*^W raptiiroHs pvaiie» of the acithoi^s 44> 
fence of Robert Perreaa, and erroneous predidiknf, 403« 
-'--inipeticy of a naaa^ in prsusing an anthof, 404.^^ 
buried in Westminster Abbey, II. 20O.>-4iis baarse at- 
toided hf ^ long ertended train of friends^ UtaBtfiou* 
f^ tbeir rank and genius, tft. 

Ct^eddes, Dr. late principal of the Scotisk college at Valla* 
doJid, 147. 

Genoese Conspif ady, a drama, written bf Mr. Bentlej, L 

firermaiA, L6r4 Geor^^ succeeds to tiie seaJe fer the ee- 
loniid department, 9&^ — bis character for decision 
and dispaltfk of bnsiness, dg4.'-^aracter of hfan by 
'Will%Hii Gerard Hamilton, t6.-^intites the anther to 
pass some days with him at Stoneiand, near Tuebridge 
Wells^ SM.-^hii warm reeeptidn of the anijier nfon 
his arrival, t6«<-- sigtrifies the king's pleasure thaA Mr« 
PownaH^ resigiei6oB of the secretaryship was- acG(^p(ed, 
and that fbe author should suee^ed him in fall enyey- 

' inent of the place, wttheuft any compensation wbatsoerer, 
391" .•'-'^^Is answer te SB affieious gentleman, who i«iiuii*)»ed 
the degree of iaiueace which the anther seenedi to^Have 
^ith him, 406.-^is ft'iendship for it% auther u^ttabatcd 
^ntilthe day (^ hie death, II. 174.'-^Mipen resigning the 
ieals, b caiied up ta the house of peers, by the title of 
TflicountSaokTiile, 175. For ftirther details, seeSackWIIe. 

Oerstoi^ Coont, ite SttKOn minister, freqnentiyc of ike au« 
tb#r's evening parties at Madrid, 10l« 

Oiusti, Signor, secretary to the Italian embassy, one of 
tfteee who conftanily graced the author's CToaiog drela 
ai Hiiadcid, 9^ 

462 IKD£X< 

6l6ri6iix, Freilch man of War, her gaUant defence in ike 
battle of the 12th of April, I. 409. 

Glover, the author of Leonidas, one of the associates of Mr^ 
Dodlngton at La Trappe, 181 • 

Gold snttff-boz, one presented to the author, for his dnu 
ma and lines at Drurj-Lane, commemoratiTe of Lord 
Nelson, IL 323. 

Goldsmith, Oliver, is first met by the author at the Brijtish 
Coffee House, L Sd^.'-^his table talk was, as Garrick 
aptly compared it, like that of a parrot, whilst he wrote 
like Apollo, t&.^-^haracter of his prose, 35 1.-*— the paui* 
city of his verses does not allow him to be ranked in 
that high station, where hts genius might have carried him 
352.'— his animated nature, ib.-^( he had been rich, 
query if the world would not have lost all the treasuresof 
his genius and the contributions of his pen, 353« — -his first 
comedy of the 6ood.>naturcd Man, applauded by EA^ 
raund Burke, 364.^— to be lamented that he did not 
turn his genius to dramatic composition at an eu'lier pe- 
riod, t6.->^-character of this comedy, 365»— ^produces a 
•econd comedjr, ib. — ^upon a consultation relative to its 
title, it is called. She Stoop» to Conquer, ib, — ^hia reply to 
the author upon the different motives for their writing, 
the one for fame, the other for mcmey, t^.-^his comedy 
twice protested against by Cefanan, 366«-^humorous ac- 
eoifnt of the first performanee of this play, 367.--'-origui 
of his poem of Retaliation, 369* — dies at his chambers in 
the Temple, 372.— anecdote of him, told the author by 
Dr. Johnson, ib^ 

Grammar, whether it if considered by its teachers to boys 
of an early age as a I^Ody of comprehensible rules, or 
nisrely as an exercise of the memory, 1. 36. 

, INDEX. 463 

Gtaiidison) Sir Cimrlet, readers might be puzzled fo decULe 
whether they were most edified by his morality, or dis« 
gasted with his pedantry, IL ^56. 

Gray, the most cestiye of poets, I. i3.— his poems splea« 
didly ornamented by Richard Bentley's designs^ t6» 
— his elaborate critique npon Beatley's drama entitled 
Philodemas, 316. 

Great iSf an, who has not the wisdom to hold his tongue, 
must be allowed the priyilege of talking, 153,^-miist 
have parasites according to his Tarions propensities, viz. 
dull fellows to Ibten, clerer fellows to help him oat of 
. embarrassment, witty rogues to make him laiigfa, aj'^*—^ 
sad rogues to make longifaces when he would be sorrow, 
ful, and hardy raacals to swear he is always ia the 
right, ib. — ^his relaxations^ i6. — when most accessible^ 

Greaves, Mr. Commissary, the author's letter to, I. S14* 

.Greek comic poets. See Athenian stage. 

Guadarama, the author agreeably surprised by meeting 
there Count Kaunitz, and Pietra Santa, 11. 144. 


Habitudes of study, their beneficial resi|ks, I. 116. 

Halifax, Earl of. Lord Lieutenant of Northamptonshirsfe^ 
commands a regiment raised against the rebels, 76. — be- 
stows the command of one of the companies raised by the au- 
tiior^s father, upon the author, t^. — appoints the author 
his confidential private secretary, 199. — ^educated at Eton 
and Trinity collie Cambridge, where he gave proof, ia 
his public exercises, of his classical acquirements, t^«-*~ 
i|uoted copiously from the best authors, but chiefly Ho- 

' lace, ib,r-^jerf fond of Engiith poetry, bat partidibffiy 
•f Prior, whick ke recited after tiie maufner of Qua, hf 
whom he had been taoght^ i6»-^^marrHsd to aa etemplarj 
hidj of consideralile fortune, from whom Ik took tfad 
naoMf of Dunk, and was made a citizen ai London^ 132. 
state of his lordship's family at the tkne of fhe am&or'i 
appointment, 133. — wrote all his own dispatches^ 154^ 
«<-4iis diristmas parties at Hortdn, IM.^^npoa a IHeactl 
witt tke Dnke of Newcastle, throws np his office of First 
Lord of Trade and Phwtations, 183.-— canse of tills 
bteacb, i^^-^presents the antkor's piaj called The Ba« 
irishment of Cicero to Garrick, 303*-«~-apon some slight 
concessiotts from theDnkeofNewGa»dc,re8nBies his office 
of First Lord of Trade Ac S00.--4s made Lord Lieate- 
nnnt of Ireland, t^.^^^'eets out after t&e coronation iritk a 
nnmerous catalcade for Ireland, 216. — character of his 
speech, and tha deliterj of, it npon tiie opening of the? 
sessions, 217* — snliaiis the' project and> ron^ copjrto 
Secretary Hamtiton aiid tke author, t^.-^^-his ncd»le and 
disinterested cendnct in accepting the vote for incr«ising 
the reTenne for his saccessors, but renotiacing it for him-> 
self, 219. — establishment of his patronage and popnlaritj 
by this high-milled proceediag^ i6.--^tate of kis finances^ 
I6l--^hi6 patronage at that period very mneh drcttBi-« 
ncnhed except in the army and chnrch d90.«-^nits t}ie go- 
Ternment of irelaad, and is succeeded by the Duke of Nor^ 
thitaiberlaBd, 937.— -receives the seals of Secretary of State, 
and nominates Mr. Sedgewseke^ his mmAtt of the horse, his 
nader secretary, 941.-*M2cath andamfaible character of bis 
lady, 174. — ^kai own death, 391. — no man's life wdvld fur- 
nish a more striking BM>hd^ and wamte tragical catotrophe 
tiian his, 392. 



T ■ 

HftmUtoD, William Gerard, Esq^ negodates kimself into tha 
ol&ce of secretary tt> Lord Halifax, bat not cordially 
acceptable, !• 208.-^his great efforts to ^graft his own 
pecpliar style upoh the draft of Lord Halifax's speech, 
ib, — his peculiarity of style, strongly reaembling that of 
Junius, 218. — ^his character and talents, 2^5. 

Harley, the late Right Honourable Thomas, one of the an* 
thofiB farm«>fellows at Westminster, 66. 

fittings, Walrren, £^. a contemporary with the author at 
Westminster, ib. 

Hayley, Mr. his uncivii spoilt irith Dr. Bentley's character, 

315*.«~-Mrhom he, as a scholar of the h^best class, ought 

not to have treated with flippancy and derision, 516. 

— ^his complimentary verses to the author, ib, — stops 

. the press of his supplement* to Cowper's Life, merely to 
shew the world that he can be ai^ry without cause, IL 
307.-^the author's appeal to the judgment of the public 

. on the case, 308. — ^seeming contrsurieties in his character of 
Cowper, 3 10.*— again stigmatizes the character of Bent- 
ley, 311. — ^and, in a vauntiugand inveterate paragraph, 
meditates still '^ to pay hk respects" to him in the same 
way, in his forthcoming preface to Cowper's Milton^ 
312. — his arrogance temperately reproved, 31 3. 

Heberden, Dr. then a young physician at Cambridge, attends 
Dr. Bentley in his last illness,!. 40. 

Henderson, the actor, hki success and reputation at Bath, 
38S.-— the author uses his influence with Garrick to pro- 
mote his engagement at Drnry-Lane, 389. — particulars 
of this negociation, and supposed cause of its failnrie, ib. 
— this negociation in all its. parts not creditable to Grar« 
rick, and left impressions on Henderseit's mind, that did 
▼OL, w.. n p 

4/66 INDEX^ 



iM speediif wter out, !• SpO«**H»iiiet to the HaytnatlLOt 
with hit genius all npon the al^rt, <§• — ^neii of tirient 
fleck aromid him^ ib — perfonas Edgtir Athdhig in the 
Mthoir's tngtdj of the BattHo of Sas^ngs, SOI.— did 

^ Bot possess the requisite ease and gfaoeftilDess of de* 
portment for tiiat character, t (.*--*etliifoils a xaost intmi*- 
.tabic specimea of his pbwecs id the character Of Father 
SalliTan, in the aathor's play of the WatloOM, II. 195. 
—pats the a«t]|CHropoB that chaitieter in itnitatioa of 
Congreve's Double Dealer, 194. — the aathor etpretely 
draw^ for him the character of Loid DaTeaaiit in the 
Mysterious Hasbaad, ibi — an actor of uocoibbiob pow- 
ers and of the brightest intelledt, t6.-— from spedmens 
of his Terses he lught also hare established a rery 
high reputation as a poet^ tK*^his sareasol bpon Sir Joha 
Eliot, his physician, 195»'— <his prodigioas memory, 197* 
«— hiB private character and filial attachment to hts mo* 
ther, iU4 — coocemed in a coarse of readlnp with the ei- . 
der 6h^ridaB-->4iis recitations from Tristtatti SHiandy, ib. 
—-compared to Foote, 198.-— harried tb the gttte m the 
meridian of his tidents and hii fame, 207* 

Qeniy, the author ia tins novel and the Obsenrer, has at- 
tempted a smsiple, cleatf, and harmonious style, 263.^in 
haqd twofuU ye4r% and mens polishasd correttion bestow- 
ed on it than on any Of his other Works, ^fiS.-^— If in this 
aovel tb^ aalhov, m his aeaJi to exhibit virtae triamphant 
over ?ice, has painted those attnrements in ttfo vidd co- 
lours, he asks pardon of all these who thought tiie mend 
did not heai the mischief, W2^ 

Heroic Verse, much more easy «f twmpoeitioa to the aaftor 
than pros^ 36^, 

tvr&iBiX. 467 

tietf^^ ladj Dd^rager^ oA& 44 Sir. Didlii|toD's tiiMfMv 
atEastbury, I. 19^. 

Rggs^ ^e Reteraid Ml*, wetor «f Gftndiitmr^, ki Sofl 
fotk^ 140«-^ofie^ tli« atill^p*^ Kiost ioHmate frietfds, 
and most cordially recolIecM^ tyT'.-^-Hiiifdbr his fool Oal» 
▼ajry 9 slnd tiie Supf^eaieat to tlvese Mtmoirs, ir«f wvflto*^ 
II. 998.— -his txemf^y cburaclor as a magistrate «odt di- 
rector of the poor-house, 399. 

Wf^ Br. of mightf faoM, his decease* as aii aa4li0ry Mtti 
resfrrrecfion, voki&f ihe eharacator o€ HaMsb Gius»^ L 

Biffii%feFfb«igh, Earf «f, oti« df Lori Halifiii's Mnate 

friends ttttd CMstmas nM^n^ ). lOC-nmececds him ia 

' Ifis apfMHtttment, 183. — appoints* Ihe author to^siioeeed 

Mr. 'Se^geir4cfee in his $i>t»ation at the Boai>d of Trade^ 


JShcklMk^ a sfAoIatr at Westn^nstf^^, cotitempcoraty with 
ifar atithoi', aflei'wat^s matstef «f Wiestayiastet^ mastier of 
Trtffky college, aiH! Bf^iop of Peterbwou^ 67.— 
to irhatcafose this prom^ttoa n to h«! a^Mftuted, jft, 

Hhif io Husbiinds, a comedy Iff the aulfhor, pevfopme^at 
Coretit Garden- ^atre^ II. 40^.---^ (Comedy ongbitAlj 
fntenrded fof IkMty Lane, sad suited to> the c«st of esir- 
' tmn performers, purtfenliirly ^Mmetoiie, Ik*— 'Mesgrs^ 
SemMe and Lewis' reject tlMlfr parts' nr it--^itss flatttering 
r^eption on thb* ilrst night ^pkyed only fire liAies^ #&« 
-^^pdblished, 404. 

Honest man, whottfay B(^ so ^onsideroij f. 15l« 

Hooper, Dr. ^nrae!, 14!^.<^*^s gentle and engaging num- 
ners endearing Urn to ai, A.-^his dettlfr, 4b^ 


Horatio, in the Fair PeniteDty Quints dress and style at 
acting in this part, I. 80. 

Horses, Spanish, presents from the King of Spain U 
his present majesty, IL $<$.-^reniafkable instance of the 
nobleness of tlietr nature, 8S. 

Hontingdon, the Earl of, at the head of the Town Boys at 
Westminster in the author's time, I. 66. — his accom- 
plished character, ib. 

Hussey, the Abbe, chaplain to his catholic majesty, intrigaes 
to retotn home, II. 54.— manocarrod into a mission not 
unacceptable, 59. — dragged from his conyent ef La 

• Trappe, by the emancipating power of the Pope himself^ 
60. — his person and character, ib* — ^the high-sounding 
titles and dignities showered on him by the court of Spain, 
although but feathers, outweighed in his balance English 
guineas, 62. — professes candour and liberality almost 
bordering upon protestantism, ib. — although in his heart 
as high a priest as Thomas a Becket, and as stiff a catho- 
lic as ever kissed the cross, t6.«-wonld hare headed any 
revalution that would have overturned the established 
church of Ireland, and enthroned himself Primate in the 
cathedral at Armagh, 63. — rery assiduous in his homage 

. to the Archbishop of Toledo — and in the closest intima- 
cy and communication with the Minister of the Elector 
of TreTes, ib, — his singular, sudden, and capricious coo- 

. duct to the anthor and his family, of wJiieh he was an in* 
mate, 64. — demands his passports, ib» — writes to Lord 
Hillsborough demanding leave to letarn, 65. — is prevent'^ 
ed f rom sending, by the anthor, . t6.>--ra most profound 
casuist, and a .confessor of the highest celebrity, 66, 

I. and J.- 

Jeoyns, Soame, cooTiTialitj of his efaaraeter-^whimsical 
dress and persoB^ I. 33fi.-^wrote on dancing and on the 
origin of evil, 337.--^charjn of ererj pleasant circle, f>. 

Impostor, a comedy, by ^the author, IL 256* 

Insolts, the law for redressing, not so strong as that ffirre- 
dressing injuries, ITT.^—'Occasionft duelling, i&. . 

Jnteiligeace, of a veiy important nature, celaiire to the 

' intrigues of France,- and other foreign codrts, obtaioed 
by the author, lit. 

Joanna, the author's eldest sist^r-rarriTes ia London, and 
dieS' oMfteimaH po«, i.>68. — her cbaraeter,* ib,. < 

Jiohnson, Dr. Samuel, 4iis mode of treating a ibud^tongued 
talker, 340. — a front-rank soldier in the fields of Hiune, 
driven on to gb>ry'w«fthl. the bayonet of sharp necessity- 
pointed at his back, 3d4.— ^character of his style, 355. 
— subsisted •himself for a consideraUe time upon the 

' scanty pHftanee of four •pence halfpenny per day^ 356.-r 
Jiis behaviour at the teattable and style of diiess, 357.^— 
tea-table aneodotii^ his- veply to Sir Joshua Reynolds^ 
and observation, 3d8.-^cliaracter of his conversatiDn, 
3M.-— his reply, to a gentleman irho over-acfted his part, 
s^.— his reply to the author, upon his obsemng to him 
that he had been too sharp upon ^e Scotch, 360.^-^his 

' liighrauk as a general schcriar, 361. — his candid acknow- 
ledgment upon being eo'nsiftlted upon certain points, 
^whcn making Greek colfections for the Observer, ib. — 
his translation of Juvenal gained him the applause of 
f%pe^ 86%. — his character as an essayist, a tragic poet, 
and a critic, 362. — lines upon him by the author, f^.i— 




character of his Lires of the Po^ts, and Rassdas, L $6^3. 

— takes the chair at the Shakspeare Tayem, at the bead 

0{ the BntkM^ Sb J* R^DDlds, tim iautbor^ fee. 49 ^np^ 

tpovtGohinmitk'B plajr of £h«.8toopB Jbo Gooqneii!, 367,-: 

filan of phuulib preconcartody JSS.'-^-taikes a domprnpus 

seat in a side box, hU huigk a tfigmil 4o tkeq^rHflMttt^if 

itko oBdience, 8§B.*^aiawivs ike ilefeMfie c( ib^ wMx^ 

nate Dr. DoM, 4(>4<«-«8md ky ^he auAor «Aitko tonh<^ 

^ktfkfpoane, iMrtked in ieara, at Crardck's iweral, Jl( 

fttO.-^his ilsatk, i^.*-*-hi8 ova abroog i»k pfiioM 4 tjEpn* 

script of his mind, more durable than .nMiri#Q'9r |)ie lani< 

guage lie 'laboured to perpataiato^ #• 

Johnson, Dr. afterwards SMiop.ef WMoeptory mcmi 

tt^ater at Westninter sdkool I* Jboaiitfvtfls ^m^ k 

Jokostaaiei Coi.. Jamas, mantod Lady G^ssioti^i^ii^ of 

tfie'Earlofllaiifaz, IfiO. 
Johnstope, CommodoBi, atationei tit JU^boff) $«Hti|lr 
Ireland, wxetekiedaeeoniinodaliMi nrf tka foiisftti^r^i ^0199* 

ihing simiiar to 4inTcftllag in Simh, I» «i«. . . . 
IriA 4:haraaiB«8,* bow ths^ f kovid be .4iwra ff<^r.^ ^tstf e, 
. fii76.««>^ tdrair ane-iiomMy^ wkiist a^:w.^qjsh ^ 

with jex]if assions ib^ fowato il»i|gl^lQr9 y^a mu&t gwft 

Ikam iifMmjaeBtkDisiMbs that <dm^e^pVH^«e, Ab» . 
Irish, tins jbqijms asid jm^wlinf p^qp)^^ wh0 a^e not .often 

^undiNratood hy Ihosf wh9 piH>fe9s jto miipic ^eipi), 'Ulna* 

tsated hj charaDtoiisfio MfHsd^tes, ^$(9.; 
' Isidore, « iiaii«t mrjiom-tiie SpMiA nnouk^iay^l^e for raiH) 

11. liO. 

« « 

r*-cniiq«e Iqr Mr. Kmsman on thai jporforraaiicei L 47. 
Judges, chap. 5. poetical tr^BBlMibn of^ by tbci ftnthor, 

Jumosy tiie mast aeitocHUov pub&aiiaii of IhQ Umei 9^9. 
Juvewl, te^h ttitire of, ioflkted Qppn thA author to tr4Ps. 

late, as a pQiiis)imoiit» by Mr. Kiii9qift«, I. 47. 
JarmiflQ wri^V9» Umte to^ 304. 


Kannitz, Coant, imperial ambfts^or i^ the court of Ma- 

diid, IL 4i5.-Hfli9e{l94Nlbt7 ^ttache^ to thi^ author, ik<^ 

his apology for a Spanish actor not being in the pr^iper 

. «ostoae^ Q7«^^pffso»t# t)|e ^Hthpr ^i& a pQrtrait of hif 

father, ih. — his elegant accomplislmi^nts, talents, and 

ieosibiHty, AS.t— bis «tts(fiblieiit to th^ i^^thor's ^^ughteri 

accompanies her and her &.QiUy QiC) d^y's jo^rn^y oa 

her return Uvm 8p^ and thim Mkes kpya for oiF^r^ ib^ 

f^dc^ncd aad di<sd at Burodon^ i6. 

Kemble^ Mr. John, plays MQntgomerl m th^ auth^^r's 

tragedy of the Canaetite, II, ^lOt-r-his proijusipg o^erit 

and ^«gaiit figure^ i^^^fiis Ulne«s during the Btss^us 

mania biQieoiMl> 993*--d^cUnes plftying in the amtii9r't 

cMoedy of a Hint to HiislHindi, 403. 

iu9naedy, Mra. pi#y& the ehara^^ of T^emaplms^ \^, (ho 

litiithor's opera of CUJypfiiO) I. 4P1. 
XiBBt, man of, thdir distjogj^i^hi^g cast pf bumour, ^d ' 
dignity of mini? Wp ISQ.-^rif c^|3d QvX into actual s^r« 
Tioe, will n9?«r disgmoe their ch^acter, i|Of tiriifish (he 
. proud traphy inscribed upPQ their co^purs, 292. — have 
H pdnt of kanouri pf wftich tKey Jire aptcpcuely ^e^loiii^ 

472 'INDEX. 

irhlcli renders them impatient of mvpicion^ S34.— the 
author's iatimate knowledge of their character as feHow 
soldiers and fellow citizens, ib» 

Killbeggan, the author and his family pass the night there, 
where Sir Thomas Cufie, knighted by Lord Townshend, 
keeps the inn, I. 387.— whimsical anecdote there of 
Thomas O'Ronrke and Mr. Geoghegan, t^. 

Kildare, the Bishop of, the author's friendship for, and in« 
timacj with, 230. 

KilmarDock, the rebeji Lord, beheaded upon Tower^Hill/ 
74. — his elegant person, t^. 

Rilmore,. the see of, Bishop Cumberland translated to^ 

Kindness and bumainity of the present times compared witl^ 
the former, I. 349. 

King, Mr. Thomas, the original Belconr in the author's 
play of the West Indian, 294. 

King of Spain, his gracious condescension and liberality to 
the author, II. 80. — ^the author surprises him in his bed- 
chamber, just arisen from his devotions — shews- the author 
some Tery carious South American deer, 16.— a most 
beautiful little green monkey, ib, — ^various species of 
game, &c. — his plain and humble lodging, 81.«^his 
wardrobe for the chace, in which he indulges himself 
daily, ib, — his magnificent present of horses from the 
royal stud, conyeyed by the author to his present majes- 
ty, 86.-— orders a catalogue to be made of the superb 
collection of paintings at Madrid, 91. — munificently 
offers any English artists the privilege of copying the 
pictures in his collection, and to maintain them, in the 
mean time, at free cost, t^.^^also blocks or slabs of mar- 

IKD£X. 473 

' liioy Tor building or ornamenting any of the royal palaces 
4>f England, t3. — presents the author with som^ Vlguna 
cloth, ib. — and offers him the chdce of Spanish pointers 
from the royal collection, 92. 
Kinsman, th^ Rev. Arthur, master of the school at Borj 
St. Edmunds, I. 31* — formed his scholars upon the sys. 
tem of Westminster, i6. — his character as a master and a 
scholar, ib, — ^school anecdote, and his apposite quotation 
from Jurenal,. when visited by . the governors, 33.' — 
anecdote of him and Dr. Bentley, ib. — his severe reproof 
of the author for indolence, .34. — account of his visit 
to the author's grandfather, Dr. Bentley, 37. — ^his 
social character, 38. — communicates to the author the 
death of his grandfather Dr. Bentley, 41. — ^his kind« 
ness upon that occasion, ib, — his hospitality, holds 
a gala day every Wednesday, his conduct on that 
day, 43. — his partiality for Juvenal, ib. — cites a passage, 
which he d'efied all the writers of the Augustan age to 
equal, ib. — comments severely upon one of the author's 
exercises on Phalaris's Bull, 45. — injudicious conduct of 
masters, in reprehending with unnecessary severity, 46. 

Knightly and Hanbury contest the election for Northamp- 
ton, 117. 

Last of the Family, a drama, by the author, brought out 

at Dmry Lane, IL 281. 
La Loire frigate, commanded by Captain Maitland, 341; 
Language, >our native, the author has laboured as much as 

possible to correct, 269. 
fiavinia, in the Fair Penitent, played by Mrs. Pritchard^ 

I. 80. 

474 xirpsx. ^ 

IfwdiMk^o AdiMnw^ Mf 9«rliiip> tte bmi effidcnt mode 
of instruction^ 273. 

hnui^, ik» Kftrqt^ gm^mtxjt ut Ytttotia, Im polkramf 

|4^p4ini4t» Com^dj) sj^Apimpfis^ m^c^rdiiig to tke uvUior's 
. i^M^^ ^nA wlt^f^ X> 304,^^HqM7 «eiiun«nd speela- 
i^W^ ^ for 9^ properly tpc^ivW, 4>.-prbiit if it mato its 
4(irvipgf99id i<» nu^tr^fl^ it dlfg0Q(i)iNb«6 i^^ 

IffPoif tJie jp9f«r, pl9f#d 010 iHift «f IV^Imiy in tke ao- 

tfi^r'» ^j^m pf Caiype^y 401 • 
Ii94f]»uig9 vh^tli^ imainabU in conn^df , 900, 
liJun^affi Qisbep^, ipfip0i#d (y tlid «ut]iaf ia liis pnijiBct 

itoT^d i^l^wivids fpcpwi m vtsftf vii ms^ of tli« fporih 
fofO) a^ Wtffttminstar, In il»«ti«ie (of tki^ »utiu9F, I, $§.-- 
te tiiQ uff4or s«b<»Q) ^ Wf«ti|Wt^» IR t])0 author^ time, 

Liinisli, sjnlrojiQftl Qf Ap<rfQ<iiij cpiupp^ t« tlie oawly 

London lodgings and London hours, not the mo^t aqgW<* 

modating for study, L 138. 
Lothario, in the Fair Penitent, mode of joying it by 6ar« 

rick, %U 
Lowth, Bishop, his attack on Dr. Qepij^f) 308r 
Lupwi Mv< p¥r«e? of the Mgfi^cc^ 49j|.<-^s iti^MliJ 9^ 

fhw^p ^heotiAg, 436« 
Luxury, modern, described and ri^i^ol^ U, 3l$4. 

herty's listening behind the screen, an inddent^ 4n. hit 
. hof^\H^4)^im^ IM^raiwiMe ju^raiofUic M]^p(]^tio». 
|. 30Q«--nC#ror«(i9»atppa ; b^tv.fw fai» Lord^iip And th« 
author upon this objection, at Mrs. M^^tii^iii^^^liifrt 


M«cle«i9 CaUoy t)iis otorfirte^ i^^m iip g f3 t fd> 34Jk>, 

MadaiV See Sjpieius^ir M«dap. . 

Madoiud^i Vm% w ^^Hifiite i^tiof bjr {tfi9h«e|,II« 


Madrid described, 143.< — ^rerj scantily ptqufi^^ vith 
pUces of jtinvus^jyeilt, X04. 

Mansfield, W. Earl of, 198.-«-endowed ^rith ih^ ^xt ot 
pUchiJJ^ h«i mce ^ poffeotipD, i6.-^artl4mltr;^ i4 Vfi 
last ao4 f^^ctiBg ioterTiefr vitii ImA SacJ^yUM^ :^5yOU— < 
his condescension in lending a ready^eiir Jo e^^^^^m- 

; ^fmjf ^ii^^^^^wh hjf shares of ^ouU t^l^ with die l^i4i^Sf 

Wth ^ucb-^ji^ni^^ i6^7--jpiosses64Bd a^i abnnd^fH J^ra 

of anecdfO^Sf wjueh ^ JtpM cpirreptiy dratbierAh^a-amis- 

~ioifli?« ■347.T:^;his ffo nfcff f n pt lof an^^nvinaiis deiainsnu 

lyi^iihetti, S^|;^uor^ a Sicili^ai a^fimpaj^Ms the «Mthor 
throughojMtt his |purjBej f/Qoai M^rid, lO^^^^is Itl^e- 
T^'^y ia kndHvgthe autboir a sum of Atiooejr^ 1^0* 
Mark's Ere, St. Hnes by the autfior upon, I^ H8f 
MdfQOy jQr. Cartas, .9Ae<:dote ^, lAl^T-weim9m» 4b9. 
.9>iithor for ^ f^xrsbim i^^-^bis tcaiuUi} iqq^j t» Jthe 
author's complimeBts, 147* 

M»ter Dak>r4>sii^Titjiw, U. a>l. 

Mathematics, great ^poitj^ni^ ^ tbf^^ ifiti^dien^ h lOfi^ 
lit 192, 


47^ iNDEi. 

Head, Dr.on^ of the infimate' friends of Dr. Bentlef, 

1. 16. ' 

Medesi, a tragedj-, by Gloter, brotiglit ont upon tile stage 

bj Mrs. Yates, who played in It with her accastomed 

excellence, 192. 
Melcombe, Lord, how carioMared in a political print called 

the Motion, II. 351. See Dodington. 
Memoirs, the present, not intended to have seen the light 

until the author's death, * bnt something, paramount 

* ■ 

to prudence and propriety, wrested them from him, 
138. — the copy-right of them produced the sum (d 

Mengs, the Spanish painter,* the author's critique upon 

him, 190. 
Mexican Ring, consecrated by the Patriarch of the Indies, 
an amulet against thunder — offered to the author by the 
Abbe Cartis, 72. 

Milford Frigate, the author and his family embark on board 
her for Spain, I. 417. — storm, 410.— engages and cap- 
tures the Dnc de Coigny French prirateer, 424. 

Mills, Sir Thomas, his address in collecting around him a 
considerable resort of men of wit and learning, 343.-— 
introduces the author into a rery pleasant literary so* 
ciety, who met at the British Coffee House, ib, 

Milton, difGicuIties in his Paradise Lost, which nothing but 
his genius could hare surmounted, II. 265. 

Minden, Battle of, an interesting conversation between the 
author and Lord George Sackyille relatite to this me- 
morable battle, 245. 

Miranda, a town in Sp^n, on the rirer Ebro which forms 
the boundary of Old Castile, II. 157. 



Misanthrope, this story in the Observer entirely of the au- 
thor's original invention, II. 202. 

MondiagQne, a conviiry in Spain, of andescribahle hean^, 

Monk, an Irish Benedictine^ stngnlar and mysterioiis oon- 
dact of one at ElvaiS, 24. — the same, 1 62. i 

Montemor, a town in Portugal, seated npoa a bea«tif|il 
eminence, 23. . . * 

Moody, the original Major O'Flaherty, in the Westiln- 
dian, I. 293.-^from the exodlence of hi&jieting becomes 
the established performer of Irish characters, 388. — so- 
licits the author to write him another .Hibernian upon a 
smaller scale, which theauthor complies with by writing 
the entertainment of the Note of Hand, i6. 

J^oore, Archbishop, in high estimation for his mild and 
condescending manners, II. 358. 

Moore, Thomas, Esq. critique upon his writings, J6fi.-r- 
recomm^ded to.snbmit them to. the correction ot Mr. 

. Rogers, or Mr. Spencer, 366* 

Morality, excellent, in a journey through Spain, 151« 

Morthike, his argument, upon duelling, in the au&or's 
novel of Arundel, 257* 

Moss, Dr. Bishop of Bath and WeUs, 35^, 350. 

Mother Goose's Tales, their quaint conceits not adapted 
^ to St. Stephen's Chj4>e], 369. 

Motion, description of that poUtieal caricajtxire, 351< 

Mnrillo, a Spanish painter, his. exquisite pajoitiiigs in the 
Dominican conrent, at Vittoria, 158. 

iMysterions Husband, pee DaTenant and Henderson. 


4:^ mibtt. 

of Lady Paragon sketched for Miss Farren, tft«-*-her 
M^ttiilte s^ooCactbig tMseh«raotor, i6«-««Kedtofit act- 
ing of Mn J^bii PakMr, t^. — ttigni««iiil pcvsecation 
tririeb tfiii play raaeitefit ff7^ 

Nelson, Lord, his Tictorioas death, 3tl. — li » p tO M p t n 
Iff tie atthor opoft, spaken kjr Mr. Wronghtwi^ at 
Drofy Luia, 939* — ^nMdo«4lraaMlle pieee «p«ii the 
same sabpaotbjr the author^ perforiietf MV^uhl tiades at 
Drary Laat, iud a ple0» 4f tw» aets^ In te&dM for Co^ 
teat OatAm^ wUch waa iartenikted hj the Lori €%am« 
berlain, 324* 

Ntv#ciait]«^ Dyktf of, hie reoepiloti of tile aiotlior wheft in* 
trodaced by Lord HaRlax, at Ninr«istk^Ho«ie, 1. 138. 

Newton, Sir Isaae, one of the hitiiaattf friendi ol Dr^ Bent- 
ley, the aathev'a Aatermil gvaaitfatier, lO«*-resolres 
upon the publication of the Prilidpia, tbrotgh Dr« Bent- 
ley's importimity, M. 

Nein^pers, lertterly distftigiflshfed if taale^olenl person- 
alities, II. 3^6. — now charae^rlzed by moi^ j««t and 
manly prituSplis, tA.-^^beir fontalizittg reports of mag^ 

' niieeni ^imers^ 3S7^-^^ae gvaAd and sweeping remow 
reeommended of the whole of tM ertdneovd praotfce, t6. 

Nichole, Dr. MMef of WMifiliks€er S^ool, irbem the an- 
tbftr wae inttldiiiltleS'al a Mitrfat, l.#5'— the antiior 
examined by hun and plueed • iA the Shell, t^.-'-^ompIi- 
ment»' Mr. KinsiMii, of Bifry Sehool, «pon the node hi 
which he found his boys grounded in their business, ib,^^ 
difference between his mode of education and that of 

Mr» SimaAJni^ 1. 7 1 .-- bad the iirt of tfaktog hfe M^hdlani 
g«Btle^eti^ t6»^kk( BtMBo^e npoft s b«)r contieM of aji 
o^itaeei i6A-^Ua ccrnddct towai^a tli# awilior for dj^f^od- 
«ig Mmsdf iBio a quakers ineding^ 79. — d«. for im|)os» 
iDg ttpoD him an exercise in Latin Terse, piraled i^om 
Dapof t, i^. 

NiQalas Pedrows in the ObMiwt^ dkarged upda the tilthor 

. a« a iM^V^Jy batedtlrdj df bit origittal inrdneiM,' IL 

NoUUtj^ their faduanafala tisila^ 3M.--Dohility, iVH'ta. 
gnese, see P. 

Nmauise^ of men of wU and nndMtandiDg, la th^ hottr of 
rdaxation, is of th« Ttiy finest eaMUSo ol 4UM¥M0Mfy L 

North, Lord, the aothor's mtmotial to, II« t%r-*-kk hii 
retirement, i73-^i8 geniui, hof|nlalil7,aiad B6ckl qua- 
lities, 349. — compared with Dodington, 350.— kept hii 
own hands ckA^ wad empty^ 353«*^^l haj^jr q^ota* 
tionj^ ib» 

Northampton^ contested deotion for^ between the rif at 
parties of Knightiy and Hanbury, I* liS. 

;^ote of Hand^ or Trip to NewBMirlQ^ tiM Uft pifty of tb# 
author's wntiog before Mr. Qdrrkkleftth^tfaige, MS. 

Novel Writing, rales for the guidance of, prepOaei bjr thf 

. author, IL d^i)!. 
Nunez, Captain, a Spanish naval officer^ hil Iil8i» te^ti 
Qf the treatment of SpteMi pristaeft. hi tinciattd, Itl 


Observer, materlab for, when the emllMr fiMi began i04^ 
' Icctthem^ IL 187.— whea first brought out, ]99.^at. 

480 tliDKX. 

Cached to the Biitisli Essayists, 200. *-wit! reoiidn d mi^ 
nament of his iadusCry in coliectiog materials, and cor- 
rectness in di^^osing them, 205— this work compliments 
ed by the author of the Comko rum Grmcorum Frogmen" 

Oie to the Son, written by the autkor at •Keswick-'ex- 
tracts from this ode-^which iit'ith one addressed to I>r. 
Robert James, was published by Robson, New. Bond 
Street, in 1776, I. 383. — causes which suggested the 
ode to Dr. James— *short extract from it, descriptire 
of death, t^.-— the above odes dedicated by the' an* 
thor to Mr. George Romney, then lately returned from 
pursuing bis studies at Rome, 384« 

Office, a great man in, like a whale in the ocean, 1 51 .—.there 

* will be a sword fish and a thresher, a Junius atnd John 
Wilkes, eTer in their wake, and aiming to attack them, 

O'Flaherty, Major, in the West Indian, why this character 
was given to Moody in preference to Barry, 2d3. 

Old Driiry^ the stage of j compared with tiiat of modern 
Drury. See Theatres. 

Old Testatoent, seteral passages t^f, selected by the author 
and turned into Terse, IL 275^-> specimen of these trans. 

. lations, 976. 

Olias, a village in Spain—hospitality andagility of the Old 

, ^cayde o£, IL 33. • . 

O^Moore,* Colonel of tite 'Walloons; one in the constant 
visitors of the author's friendly evening parties at'Ma« 
drid, 102. 

OtAg^ Mr. Johii, imhp one of the masters ia chancery, is 

4n£>sx« 481 

' Admitted Wit^ tlie author one of the fellows of Ttinitj 

college, Cambridge, I. 146. 
O'Ronrke, tiiree brothers, labourers, sapposing themselves 

regulariy descended from thd Kihgs of Counaught/^6. 

— the jottoger brother throws himself out of a tree for 

joy at the return of the audioir's father \o Clonfert, %h. 

-^Thomas, whimsi^l anecdote' of, ih. 
Osana, Dake of, the establishment of the Spanish actressy 

Tiranna, defrayed ont of his coiTers, although he had 
* never seen the lady, H. 108^ — ^his curio^Cy once roused 

to pay her a risit, but falfing asleep when he arrived at 

her door, the state coach is dnven back without having 

accomplished his object; 10{), 110. 
Oswald, James, tnttmate with Lord Halifax, I. 160. 
Oswald, Dr. made one of Lotd Ilillifto's chaplains on 
' being appointed Ldrd Lfeutraaat of Ireland^ 207. 


Pallavicihi, General Count, surprised a fortress and mad# 
the garrison prisoners, il. 99.— ^sent to the court of 
Spain upon a military to^r ; admitted to Gibniltar 
through the medium of the author, who obtains his in- 
troduction to General Elliot ; his noble character, and 
HDomic humour— continues hii a^Tectionate correspondence 
with the author — ^tnms out against the Turks^ and is 
kitted in the very arms of victory, 100. 

{^ttcorvo, a Spanish town at the foot of a steep range of 
rocky mauntainsf 157. 

Patents, lapsed, a numl>er that had laid dormant In the 
Secretary's Offii^ to the Lord Lirateojuit of .Ireland; 



discoTered by the author's under secretary, Mr. Rosein 
grave, I. 220. 

Patron, a plaj, by Foote, upon what founded, 315. 

Payne, Archdeacon, marries a daughter of Dr. Richard 
Cumberland, the author's grandfather, 5. — ^his cha- 
racter of Dr. Cumberland, from the Sai^choniatho, ib» 

Parr, Dr. the author's attack upon, in Curtius rescued 
from the Gnlph, II. 226. 

Pepys, Sir William, the author renews his acquaintance 
with him at Ramsgate, 401 . — his natural talents and 
erudition, grace and suavity of manners, ib. 

Perla, a painting by Raphael, in the Escurial, 79. 

Perreau, the unfortunate Robert, his defence undertake! 
by the author at the solicitation of Lady Frances Bur* 
goyne, I. 403. — this defence underwent the revision of 
]\Ir. Dunning, his counsel, who did not change a syllable^ 
and was read by the prisoner at the bar, ib. — ^for obser- 
vations upon this defence, see Garrick. 

Phllodamus, a drama by Mr* Richard Bentley, principal 
character performed by Henderson, 215. — ^brought.ont 
under the management of Mr. Harris, ib, — critiques 
npon it by the author, and Gray the poet, UQ* 

Pietra Santa, Count, Lieutenant Colonel of the Italian body 
guard, the author's most dear aiid intimate friend, H. 
103 — exhibited the rare example of a faultless character, 
104. — ^introduces the Tiranna to the author, 1Q7. — ^per- 
suades the Duke. of Osuna to ?risit that actcess, 108.--* 
passes the night with the author and his family at Guada- 
rama, on their return from Spain, 144* 

Pitt, the late Righl Honorable William, compared with Ci- 

IND£X. 483 

tero^ IL 3 15. — returns no aoswets to three letter^ 
addressed to him by the author, 317. — ^lioed commemo- 
rati?e of his talents and applicable as an inscription foi^ 
his monument, 320. 

Hittjr, quotation from, 263. 

Pl|itus, the only comedy by Aristophai&es whith the anthor 
could be tempted to translate, ^07* * 

Boet, a trite one, knows, that unless he can produce works 
that will outlive him^ he will outlire both his works and 
his fame, I. 273. — one magnificent whole must be ac- 
complished before the poet can justly be pronounced 
% n9i'n'nisy 352. — this title never earned by Pope, by any 
work of magnitude, but his Homer, which, being a trans^ 
lation, only constituted him an accomplished rersifier,. ib. 

Pope, his Homer considered by Dr. Bentley as an elegant 
poem, but no translation, 40. 

Portugal, mode of trarelllDg there, dirt and loathsomeness 


.at every baiting-place, II. 21. 

Portuguese, their discoveries in India, lines from an et>ic 
poem by the author upon, I. 169. — ndiiUity, their ar- 
rogance, II. 7. . / 

Portuguese, brought before the laquisitidn^ this nairra* 
tive, in the Observer, the entire invention of the author^ 

Pride, sonnet by the author upott, 286» , 

Prince of Wales, father of his pres^it Majesty, lines upon 
his death by the anthor when at Cambridge, L 97. 

Pownall, Mr. John, acting secretary to the Board of 
Trade, his reception of the anthor at Whitehall, 134.-— 
superseded in his situation by the author, through the 
interest of Lord Sackville, 397. 


4S4 IKbeX^ 

Psalms of David, fifty of them rendered into J^itsli mettt 

hj the author, II. 274* 
Prisoners, fdiglish, in Spaia^ liberated through the author'i 

intercession, and conducted out of the country, 165. 
)Pritchard, Mrs* the author's account of her playing IiStI< 

nia in the Fair Penitent, I. 81. 
Prudery, a sonnet by the anthor, II. 28& 
Punctuality, a most endearing grace in great characteit, 

QueluK, palace at, description of, 8. 

Quio, account of his dress and acting in (he part of EoH^ 

tio, in the Fair Penitent,' I. 80. 
Quotations, mode of obtaining them chea]^1y, tl. 226. 


llae, Mr. his performsince at the Haymarket theatr^, 383< 
&aillery, of all weapons, the most dangerous and two- 
edged-^eonsequently ought only to be hafidled by a gen« 
tleman, I. 335. 
Raphael, his paintings in the Escurial, IL 79* 
Raunds, church at, anecdote of a young artist, employed 

to fix a weathercock upon that spire,^ I. 307* * 
Resurrection Critics, their partiality to dead men's works, 
II. 304«*— their character — carry thdr eyes like a hare, 
and 4li8coTer nothing but what is behwd them, td.'^thtf 
temple of their praise reared with dry bones and skulls, 
300; — ^no man their hero until he becomes a skeleton, ib, 
-^more generous in this respect^ than the legislature^ 
who hare giren so short a date to the teAurt of eopy^ 

light) II. S05. — cokisolatory inflections of anthors upon 
this kind of posthumous justice, f6. 

Retaliation^ a poem by Goldsmith, upon what oceasioii 
written, I. 869. — at a meeting held at the author's house, 
it was determined to publish this poem, and to erect, bj 
subscription, a. monument to the author in Westminster 
Abbey^ 372. 

ReTendan, the Danish ambassador, seldom failed attending 
the author's parties at Madrid, IT. 101. — ^his great partmli. 
ty for the author and his family, 102. — his family an4 
character, ib. 

Reviewers, Edinburgh, admonished and reviewed, 37^ 

Reynolds, Sir Joshua, Tcry kind to Gdkismith, from 
whom he caught the subject of his famous Ugolino, I. 
351. — his support to Goldsmith's play of She stoops td 
Conqner, 367.-«--his character and talents as a paiater, 
II. 211. — ^introduced in the autiior's anecdotes of Spanish 
painters, 189. — the author vindicates himsdf from the 
imputation that such passage was intended to be inju. 
rious to Sir Joshua's reputation, ib^ 

Rejmolds, Richard, son of Dr. George, once the anthor's 
most sincere friend,!. 1(17. — ^accompanied the Earl of 
Sandwich to the congress at Aiz La Ghapelle, t6.— ^nits 
the unquiet track of public life, and is now resident with 
his family at Paxton in Huntingdonshire, ib» 

Reynolds, the Reverend Decimus, makes his will, and ap^ 
points the author his heir, 323. — author's letter to, on 
the revocation of this gift, S28. 

Rich, story of an ingenious artist or manufacturer of ser.- 
pents in his time, II« 223. 

II 3 

486 INDEX. 

Richmond, the late Duke of, one of the author's con tempos 
raries at Westminster school, I. 66. 

Ridge, Captain W. brother of Mrs. Cumberland, who had 
served with distinguished honour in America, and 
wounded at Ticonderago, is put upon the staff of aids-de- 
camp to Lord Halifax, 208. 

Robinson, John, Esq. secretary to the Treasury — the aa- 
thor's letter to^ relative to replacing the bills he had 
drawn upon his mission to Spain, II. 134. 

Robinson, Lord Primate, his character, 353.-^his conduct 
to the officiating clergy at Kilmore, 355. 

Robinson, Sir William, brother to th Lord Primate, his 
mild and amiable manners, 356.->— his regimen, 357.-^ 
dress, &c. ib. 

Rodney, Sir George Brydges, had been known to the au- 
thor in early life, who, whilst residing in France, spared no 
pains to serve his interest and pave the way for his return 
to England, I. 404. — a memorial of his services accom- 
panied by a petition for emplpyment, t6.-- ^comes home 
at the risk of his liberty, and effectually and honourably 
refutes some malicious imputations, which had been 
4l^lanced at his character, 405. -^writes a letter to the 
king, offering to volunteer his services under a junior 
admiral, ib. — ^his claim for service and employ so success- 
fully put in train by the author, that, through the imme- 
diate application of Lord George, taking all the respon-t 
sibility upon, himself, he obtains the command of that 
squadron which captured the Spanish fleet bound for the 
Carracas, t^.— ^gratification of the author at this victory,, 
406, — ^was in company with the ^buthpr at the table q( 

INDEX. 487 

Lord George Germain, ^hea the thought first seemed to " 
occur to him of breaking the Fi:ench line, 1. 407. — demon- 
strates this manceuvre by the arrangement of cherry 
stones, which he placed as two fleets drawn up in line of 
battle, ib. — determines so to pierce the enemy's line, if 
ever it should be his good fortune to bring them to ac 
tion, 407.—- proceeds in m^anoeuTring his cherry stones, 
and concludes his process by swearing he would lay the 
French admiral's flag at his sovereign's feety 408. — 
pledges himi^elf for the performance of this promise to 
his majesty in his closet, which he faithfully and gloriously 
performed, t6. — the^nierit of this manoeurre entirely hisT 
own. Sir Charles Douglas, captain of the fleet, confessing 
himself averse to it, 409.— anecdotes of him during th« 
action of the 12th of April, 410— his excellent 
maxim that naval officers have nothing to do with 
parties or politics, 411. — elegant tribute to this ad^ 
miral, introduced in lines written to Lord Mansfield by 

•' the anthor, ib. 

Romney, his character as a painter," II. 212.---eager to 
begin, but so slow in finishing, that, from so many of hH 
sitters being killed ofl^, his stock accumulated very ra- 
pidly, 212. — retired to the north of England, his natiit 
country, where he died, ib. 

Rosslyn, Earl, then Mr. Wedderburne, under the protec^^ 
tion of the Earl of Bute, attends the first rehearsal of 
the Wishes at la Trappe, I. 212. 

Rogers, Mr. Samuel, the justly admired author of the Plea*' 
sures of Memory, II. 229. — combines, with the brightest 
genius, elegance of manners, and excellence of heart, ib^ 
•--^his Pleasures of • Memory one of the most beautiful 


488 IKDEX. 


and harmonionspoeiDS in the English latigaage, XL 229,-^ 
exhorted by the author to publish some other poera^ great- 
er in substance, and more sublime in dignitj, 330. — ^asso- 
ciated with Mr. Sharpe and Sir James Bland Bnrges^ to 
arrange and edit the author's posthumous works, 233. — 
Mr. Moore recommended t6 subject his com^sitioss io 
his judicious friend Rogers's judgihent, 366. 
Ryan, the actor, account of his performances of Altlmont 
in the Fair Penitent, 1. 80. 


SackTiUc, Lord George, his constitution begins to gfTO 
way under the stone, II. 237.-^his fortitude in Suffering, 
ib, — his regularity — solicitude and kindness to the 
poor, 239. — buys his servants' cast-off livieries, which 
he distributes amongst the old and Worn out labourers, 
240.«-*hi8 strict attention to religious duties, ib* — anec- 
dotes of his excentricity and genierosity, 241, 242. — ^his 
interesting codTcrsation with the author relative to the 
battle of Minden, 245. — ^hb conduct in that battle and 
Fontenoy, 248. — attends parliament, and retjurns, as he 
predicts, a dying man — ^his last ihtcrTiew with Lord 
Mansfield, 249. — his sincere derotion when receiyihg the 
sacrament, 254. — ^his last words to the author, ib* 

Sackrille, Sir Edward^ an aiicestor of Lord Sackrille, 176^ 

S^lor's Daughter, a play, brought out by the author at 
Drury Lane, 281. 

Samson, Mary, a faithful' sek^ant of the atithor, l60* 
— -her solicitous attention during his illness, ib. 

San Chidrian, a poor little Tillage in Spain, 145. 

Sanchoaiatho, by Bishop Cumberlabd — Dr. Payne's cha* 
racter of its author, in his edition of that work, L 5* 

f^n Ildefbnso, the author attends there upon Count £lo. 
rida Kanc% II. 5.1. 

Sedgewicke, Master of the Horse to the Ear} of Halifitt, 
appointed und^r secretary to that nobleman^ I. 241. 

Shadwell, his comedy Uttle better than a brothel, 272. 

l^harp, Richard) Esq^. of Mark Lane, II. 230. — first sng.^ 
^ests to the author to write these Memoirs-^nes ad« 
dressed to hint) ib, — one of the gentlemen who has con* 
seated tpedit the author's ^pK^sthnrnpus works, 233. 

Shakspeare in the Shades, ^ drama^ written by the author 
at twelve years of age, I. 56. — extracts from, and descrip- 
tion of, that drama, t6. . . 

She stoops to Co^qtter, a coimedy by . Goldsmith, 3$5.-4» 
(for patticulars relatire to its first representation, ^et 
Drummond, Goldsmith, Johnson, &c.) 

$kerIock, Sishop, Is visited by the author and his father 
in the palace^ 180. — his lady a truly respectable woman, 
much of 'iFhose society the author's mother enjoyed^ 
until the death of the Bishop, ib. 

$he?a, in the author's play 6f the Jew, written upon th« 
model of Abraham Abrahams^ in the Observer, II. 302. 
-^that part admirably played by Mr. Bannister, 279- — 
has served also as a stepping stone to Mr. Dowton, 280. 

Siddons, Mrs. the excellence of her acting in the author't 
tragedy of the Carmelite^ 219. 

^mith, a contemporary with the author at Westopunster 
school, and afterwards master, I« &?• 

Smith, Jh, author of the learned treatises upon optics, &Ct 
- 145* — description of his person- — the contour of his coun- 
tenance Resembling the eagle's, ib. 

Smith, Mr. late of Covent Garden theatre, adviset ^e 

490 IKD£^. 

aatbor to turn his sole attention to comedy, I. 253,—^ 

marries Master Betty to Melpomene with the ring of 

'Garrick, II. 222. — the author's sincere apology to him, 

383. — accompanies the author to the Haymarket theatre, 

to see Mr* Rae, a promising young actor, ib. 
Smith, Anthony, an Englishman, taken by the author into 

his serrice at Madrid, 119. — seized by the criminal judge, 

ib. — ^liberated on the following day, 120. 
Spain and Portugal, the dirt and loathsomeness which 

erery baiting place, with IRtle ▼ariaiion, there presents, 

91. ' 

Spun, King of. See Ring of Spain. 
Spain, description of the country and the inhabitants, 145. 

For a particular description, see Madrid, Valladolid, 

&c. &c. 
Spanheim, Baron, one of the intimate friends of Dr. Bent^.^ 

ley, 1. 16. — ^his portrait, by Sir Jan>es Thornhill, in the 

master's lodge or Trinity, bequeathed by Dr. Bentley, 

Spanish horses. See King of Spain. 
Spanish jadies, difference in their mode of riding from that 

of the English, II. 93. 
Spanish painters, the author's anecdotes of, 187, 192. 
Spanish pointers, their superior properties, 92. 
Spectacle, ridiculous taste for, 384. 
Spencer Madan, now Bishop of Peterborough, his leara-^ 

ing and accomplishments, I. 139* 
Spencer, the Re?. Mr. attached to the family of Lord Ha« 

lifax, and associated with his Christmas parties, 160. 
Spencer, Mr. William, recommended to Mr. Moore as a 

reviewer of bis poems, II. 360. 

IND£X« 491 

Spenser's Fairy Queen, stanzas bj the author, in. imita- 
tion of, I. 120. — knightly prance of its stanza, II. 

Stafford, i>owtLger Lady, makes part of the domestic so- 
ciety at Mr. Dodington's seat at Eastbury, I. I92. 

Stage, its present enlargement unfaToarable to the actor, 
II. 385. 

Stanley, Mr. Bans, generally passed his Christmas with 
Lord Halifax at Horton, I. 160. 

Stanwick, near Higham Ferrers, in Northamptonshire, de* 
scription of the parsonage- house there, 50. — the spire of 
the church deemed one of the most beautiful models of 
that style of architecture, 51 » — improvements and addi- 
tions there by the author's father, ib. 

Stoneland, the residence of Lord Sackrille, II. 185. 

Strong, Rer. F. resides at his father's house and assists the 
author in his studies, I. 90. — married and resided on his 
living at Hargraye, uniyersally respected by the neigh* 
bourhood, and particularly by the author, ib. 

Stuart, Mr. Andrew, his character, II. 348. — ^would haye 
been glad to haye drawn Lord Mansfield into the fair 
field of controversy, f 6. 

Style, a simple, clear and harmonious one, laboured to be 
effected by the author in his novel of Henry, and essays 
in the Obseryer, 269. 

Sulliyan, Father, this character in the Walloons had no re- 
ference to Abbe Hussey, but was drawn purposely for 
Henderson, at his request, 103. 

Summer's Tale, an opera by the author — character of 
it, 1. 249.— the receipts of the ninth night appropriated 
hy tl>e author to the Covent-Garden fund for decayed 

4^2 iNPf;x» 

actor9| It 250.<"--th€ jealovf 7 of Bickentaif, H, —some 
iceow of it tolerably concdredy and {^easing for tlidr 
simplicity, wherefore this opera was cat down to an af- 
ter.piece of two acts, under the title of Amelia, 255. 
Sword, one presented to the andior by hk corps as a tri. 
bate of their esteem for their beloted commander, li; 

Table ConfersalioBS, crude opinions^ wild and wanderin|( 
arguments, I. 109. — OTincc that the talkers have ac^uir. 
ed fluency of words withoat the exercise Of thought, ih. 
--dissection of the characters of these superficial prat- 
tlers, 119. — supported by some, whose viracity of ima- 
f hiatioA, untramelled by syllogism, are for erer flying 
pff into' digression and dbplay, 1 1 1» — ^such persons would 
hare taken Archimedes for a fool, an4 Newton for a 
madman, ib. 

Table-talk of Olirer Goldsmith. See G<^bmith* 

Tables, Fashionable, their frivolities, II. SB9. 

Talbot, Mr. of Mount Talbot, the autiior makes an excor* 
sion to his rilla, accompanied by Lord Eyre, of Eyre 
Court, I. 377. — scmie of the scenes in the West Indian, 
written in a little hermkage in his pleasure grounds, 37S. 
— elegant compliment paid the author upon tliis occa.* 
sion, 270. 

Theatre, Spanish, die allowances which it can afford to 


make to its performers very moderate, IL 108. 
Theatres, modern, so extraTagantly enlarged in their di« 
menslons, as to be theatres for spectators, rather than 
playhouses for hearers, II. 384. — the scenes^ the dlTessei, 

INDEX*: 493 

* themaclnDist, and the music, Bnpersede tlie labours of th^ 
' poety II. 384. — liltle gratification in soeing the movements 

of the acter*s lips, when his words cannot be heard — 
but when the stage opens its recesses to the depth of' 

* loo feet far the procession, the most distant spectator 
can enjoy his shilling's worth of show, ib. — the poet's 
chance no bette^ than the parson's, if the mountebank 
were in the market place when the bells were chiming fbr 
church, 985. 

Theatres, managers of j regulations proposed with respect 
to their condnct towards authors, 393. — ^may well com- 
pl^ijn, as tile business is at present conducted, of the bur« 
den of their office, 394. — proposal for remedying this^ 

Thompson, Dr. a physician out of practice, one of Mr* 
Dodiugton's associates, and understood to be his be^y 
physician, I. 181. 

Thomhiit, Sir James, his portraits of Sir I. Newton, Bi* 
shop Cumberland, and Baron Spanheim^ in the meter's 
lodge of Trinity,' were bequeathed by Dr. Bentiey, 17 

Tlmon of Athens, altered by the author frQm Shakespeare^ 
brought out under the management of Mr. Gai'rick, 
334. — advertisement prefixed to that play, ib. — cast ot 
characters in this play, t6.-^extracts from the author's 
new matter in the second act, 38.5. 

Tiranna, the celebrated Spanish tragic acti^ess, 11. 105. — 

• descended from the gipsies, ib, — her beauty and cool- 
manding majesty of person, ib. — powers which nature 
lUid art had combined to give her — desires the author not 
to present himself in his box, unless he had notice from her 
to attend — receives that notice — in the course of the plot 



murders her children and exhibits them dead on the 
stage, II. 106. — personified snch a high wrought picture 
of hysteric phrenzy as placed her at the rery summit o( 
her art, ib. — the tumnltous effect occasioned by the sym* 
pathetic phrenzy caught by the audience in thb scene — 
the curtain dropped by authority, and a catastrophe, 
probably too strong for exhibition, not allowed to 
be completed, 107* — is introduced into the author's box 
by Ptetra Santa, i&*— her appearance awful and impres- 
' sire, something more than human, a sybil personified, f6« 

' demands the author's applause, t6.— her dress, and all 
other cxpences of her establishment, defrayed out qf the 
coffers of the Duke of Osuna, by whom, however, she 
u never visited, ib. 

Titian, his painting of the Last Supper, one of the best 
pictures in the Refectory of the Escurial, 79. 

Todd, Mr. speaks in very handsome terms of Sir J. B. 
Burges's poem of Richard the First, in his late edition 
of Spenser, 234. 

Tom Jones, taken by the author as the model for hia 
novel of Henry with respect to its distribution into chap- 
ters, &C. 358. 

Torre-Manzanares, the Marchioness of, her frolic, and pu- 
nishment, 145. 

Torrendal, a tragedy by the author, on a plot purely in- 
ventive, 210* 

Townshend, Mr. Charles, anecdote of him and Fitzherbert^ 

Tristram Shandy, the most eccentric publication of the au* 
thor's time, MO. 1 


Tunbridge Wells, its loyalty, II. 335.— the respectabiMty 

of its yisitors, 338. 
Turner, Sbaron, one of the best writers, the most learned 

antiquarians,' and enlightened scholars of the age — his 
' faroarable opinion of these Memoirs, 394. 


Valladolid, a town in Spain, where bigotry may be said to 
have established its head quarters, 146. — description 
of this town, its gate, pedestrian statue of Carlos III.—* 

, equestrian statae of the reigning king — one of the most 
gloomy, desolate, and dirty towns' that can be conceived 
— ^its convents — an English and Scotch college, the for- 
mer under the care of Dr. Shepherd, and Dr. Geddes 
late principal of the latter — Cathedral of the Benedictiaes 
— yaluable old paintings of the early Spanish masters 
hung up in its Sacristy, 147, 148. 

y aides tillas, k mean little town in Spain, 146. 

Vanity, sonnet to, by the author, 984. 

Velasquez, a Spanish painter, his beautiful painting of 
Joseph, 80. 

Vendas Noyas^ an unfurnished palace of the Qaeen of For- 
. tugal, 23. 

Venta de Lugar Nuovo, a mountainous and romantic tract 
' of country upon the banks of the Tagus, 29. 

Vicar of Wakefield, sold by Dr. Johnson for Goldsmith, 
the author, to Dodsley, for ten pounds, I. 379. 

Vidal, Dr. a Huguenot physician, attends the author at 
Bayonne, II. 160. ^ 

Vjguna cloth, a quantity of, from the royal manufactory 
presented to the author by the King of Spain, II. 9U 

496 INDEX. 

Villa Fraiica, a town id Spain, in a countiy aboondin; witV 
the most enchanting scenery, II. 159. 

Villa Rodrigo, a supper here is a better correctiTe of fastf- 
^ousncss^ than all that Seneca dr Eplctetas can adminis- 
ter, 151. 

Vincent Bonrne, distinguished for his elegant Latin rerses^ 
was usher of^the fifth form at Westminster Sc^hbol, at the 

' time of the anthdr, I. 66. 

Vincent, Dr. a cotemporary with the author at Westmiii. 
ster, afterwards < master of tliat school, and Dean of 
"Westminster, 68. — ^his character, t^.-^-^obsertations upod 
Ills unanswerable defence of public education, ^. 

Vittoria, in Spain, the capital of Alaba, II. 157. 

Volunteer infantry, the author appointed Major Comman- 
dant of, 2^0. 

Volunteer system, vindicated by the stuthor, 292: 

UgoHno, this subject caught by Sir Joshua Reynolds fronf 
Goldsmith, I. 351. 

Ulster secretary, the author in this capacity resides in the 
castle at Dublin, 208. 


"Walker, Dr. Richard, friend of the author's grandfather 
and yice master of the college, his kindness to the au- 
thor, 96.-^resides in the rooms formerly the residence of 
Sir Isaac Newton, every relic of whose studies and ex- 
periments were respectfully preserved to the minutest 
particular, ib.—ih old servafvt and companion Deborah,' 
formerly bed-maker to Sir Isaac Newton and Dr. Bent- 
ley, and afterwards to Dr. Walker, in whose serrict Ad 
died, 97. 

INDEX. 497 

WalUs, Dr. of Stamford, one of the intimate friends of Dr. 
Bentley, I. 16. — sent for in Dr. Bentley's last illness, but 
arrlTes too late, 41. -^attends the author in a dangerous 
rheumatic feyer, 105. 
Walloons, a play, by the author, brought out at Covent 
Garden, II. 193. — the part of Father SulliTau played 
by Henderson, ib. ' 

Walpole, Mr. Horace, afterwards Lord Orford, his cha« 
racter and writings, I. S3. — the mysterious consequence 
of the Strawberry Hill press, ib. — comparison betweeM 
him and Mr. Richard Bentley, iB. 
Walpole, Mr. British resident at Lisbon, II. 1 1. 
Warburton, had a voracious appetite for knowledge, but 
Dr. Bentley doubted whether he had a good digestion, 
I. 40. — ^Warburton, Bishop, his complimentary letter 
upon the Banishment of Cicero, 197. — ^Warburton and 
Lowth, their controversy, 309. 
Warwick, the Earl of, his skill in drawing, 38S.-^-«'the an* 

thor accompanies him on a tour to the lakes, ib, 
Warren, Bishop, and Dr. Richard Warren, the physician/ 
two amongst the most formidable of the author's form- 
fellows, at Bury school, 42. 
Wat Tyler, a comic opera, by the author, but, on account 
of its title being objected to by the Lord Chamberlain^ 
new modelled and produced under the title of the Ar- 
mourer, II. 278. 
Wentworth, the Honourable Mrs. grandmother of the late 
Marquis of Rockingham, when the rebels had advanced 
to Derby, fled for refuge and resided at the parsonage 
house atStanwick, 1. 75— character of this lady, ib.—gvieK 


498 ^ INDEX. 

the author a copy of the great Earl of Strafford's leUtn^ 
iQ two TOlumes, folio, L 75. 

West Indian, this comedy planned and written in a so. 
litary closet, with nothing to take off the author's at« 
tentioh but a turf stack, 974. — in no other period of 
the author's life have the same happy circumstances com* 
biaed to cheer his literary labours as when wntiBg this 
pkiy, 277. OP— the produce of it offered by the antboi td 
Oarrick, for a picture, a copy of the holy family of An- 
drea del Sarto — particulars of the first representattoa of 
this play, ^95. — its success — runs twcnty^ight nights, 
296.-— character of its moral and. dialogue, 297. — copj* 
light 'sold for df.IdO, to Griffin, who boasted c^f having 
sold tweWe thousand copies, 31^.— rLordLyttletoa's ob- 
jection to an incident in this play, and the passage adde4 
by the author in consequence, 302.— rcriticism by Lord 
Clare, that O'Flaherty's five wives were four too many 
for any honest man, d06.— remedied by putting in tht 
qualifier, en mliiaire^ ih» 

Westminster School, persons who were masters, nsher^, 

' and scholars, there iu the time of the author, .66.-^x« 
traordinary coincidence in three, boys there, Hinchlifie, 
Smith, and Vincent, who severally succeeded as head 
viasters, not by the deceaseof any of them, 67. — ^possesses 
a taste and character peculiar to itself and may indispii- 
tably claim from times, long past, that distinctioD of 
liartiig been, above all otiiers, the most favourable cradle 
. of the Muses, 78. 

Weston, the actor, played tiie part of Jack Nightshade, 
in the author^s comedy of the Brothers, inimitably, 380. 

Widow of Delphi, or the Descent of the Deities, a comit 

IND£X. 499 

ppettt^ brought out at CoTent Garden theatre, songs set 
hy Mr. Butler, I. 402. — frbm the frequent reylsi<ins amd 
corrections giren to the manuscript, the audior con- 
ceLres that this drama will be considered as ime of his 

* most classical and creditable productions, 409. 

Windham^ Mr. dne of the associates and relations of Mr. 
Dodington, 181. 

Windsor Gastle, its Ticinity no benefit to the discipline 
and good order of Eton school, 78. 

Wine, at Torrequemara, deposited in cayes hewn out of the 
rocks, II. 149k 

Wishes, a wittj but eccentric drama, written by Richard 
Ben^iey, the author's uncle, I. 213. — prWately re- 
hearsed at Lord Melcombe's villa of la Trappe, ib. — 
Foote and Murphy attended upon this occasion, ib. — 
ridiculous catastrophe of that drama, which terminates in. 
hanging Harlequin before th« affdienoe, 214. — receives a 
secoad chance from Mr. Harris, but unsuccessful, ib. — 
Foote founded his Patron upon a hint from this play, 
and the entertainment of la Trap()e, f6; 

Wit, a sonnet to, by the author, tl. 282. 

Word for Nature, a play by the author, brought out at 
Drury Lane, 281. 

Worldly qualities and accommodations, push their posses- 
sors into notice, and may be called the very nidus of 
good fortune, I. 149. — not much possessed by the an. 
thor in the early part of his life, ib> 

Writers, dramatic, a parting word to, II. 224. 

Writers, comic, have their instruments of vengeance, as well 
as tragic poets their weapons of death, I. !2^73.' — those 
who take for their subject the mere clack of the day. 

500 INDEX. 

and abandon all their claims upon posterity, are no true 
poets, ib, — in what cases the regulations of natural or le- 
gitimate comedy are violated, I. 304. — ^infinitely more 
charitable to write nonsense, and set it to good music, 
than to write ribaldry, and impose it upon good actors, 
S05. — the author bequeaths to his cetemporarles, free- 
ly and without reserve, all that his observation and long 
experience can suggest for tlyeir edification and ad van- 
tage, ib. 
Wroughton, Mr. of Drury Lane theatre, speaks an im- 
promptu, by the author, upon the death of Lord Nelson, 

n. 3M. 


Yates, Mr. the original Sir Benjamin Dove, in the author's 

comedy of the Brothers, 1. 264. 
York, the author's excursion to, lip- 


Zachary Caudle, the author devoted himself, con amore, to 
delineate this character in his novel of Henry, II. 261. 

Zoar — ^Little Zoar, Stanwick, from its situation, between 
the more populous and less correct parishes of Raunds 
and Higham Ferrers, appositely so called by the author^s 
iather, L 5% 


J. Wright, PrinUr, VO. 38, St. John^s Sqa^re.