125076
^i^^^^
\ 792 B51 v.2
This Volume is for
REFERENCE USE ONLY
RETROSPECTIONS
or
THE STAGE.
BY
THE LATE JOHN BERNARD,
NAGER OF THE AMERICAN THEATRES,
AND FORMERLY
SECRETARY TO THE BEEF-STEAK CLUB.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. II.
LONDON:
HENRY COLBURN AND RICHARD BENTLEY,
NEW BURLINGTON STREET.
1830.
I.CNDOJI!
P&IKTEU BV SAMUEL BEtfTLEY,
Dorset 8ti<et,Flee:Sireet.
CONTENTS
THE SECOND VOLUME.
CHAPTER I.
1784. Bristol. Tom Blanchard,, the "Child of Nature :"
his complacency. An example. Mr. Palmer's Coaches :
an overturn, and Blisset's comment. Weeks, the Inn-
keeper; David Ross, and George Barn well QukTs Cri-
ticism. Anecdotes of George Powell. Holland and Powell^
the Dramatic " Orestes and Pylades." Foote's joke. Billy
Bates, and his Benefit. Shuterand the ' Bristol Hogs."
Bath The Green-room. Meyler the Epigrammatist.
Doctor Harrington. Anecdote of Madame Mara. Mr.
Peach. Sir John Danvers : his eccentricities, his stockings,
coach, wine, library, &c Earl Conyngham : his recollection of
Garrick and Quin, and comparison. Model of my Lord
'Qgleby. Sir John Oldmixon, the " Bath Beau," and his
curls. Captain Stanley, the " Bath Bacchus," and his
nose .... Page 1
IV CONTENTS.
CHAPTER II.
1784-5 Anecdotes of the Institution of the "Bath Catch
Club/' Sir John Danvers, the proposer. Earl Conyngham,
Lord Cork, &c., Committee ; Meyler, Poet Laureate; Rauz-
zini. Musical Conductor; Dr. Harrington, Composer and
Physician. Jeu d'esprit. Its Rules and " Order." Ladies'
Night." Duchess of Devonshire. Incledon's de"but at Bath.
Rauzzini's contempt for English singing, his conversion.
His criticism on Incledon, &c. Incledon's mode of u recol-
lecting the words." Swansea, Blisset's reading in "Rue-
ful." Sir J. Danvers' generosity and attachment, the subject
of sarcasm.
1785-6. Bath. Mrs. Eston Anecdotes of Dr. Herschel,
Musician and Astronomer, when in the Bath Orchestra.
Sarcasms of his companions, and of mine, The absentee
Planet. A surprise. Mrs. Baddeley's beauty. Edwin's
Comment The Doctor's Generosity. Charles Dibdin and
Mrs. Harris. Debut of Miss Brunton, The friendship of an
Eccentric. Brighton. Royal patronage and compliment 34
CHAPTER III.
1786-7. Bath : Amateur Theatricals, Major Halliday
and his Companions. " Brabantio's" Address. Criticisms
on Cassio Captain Stanley and his comment. Anecdotes
of the early life of Sir Thomas Lawrence. Old Lawrence
the lt Reader," and Innkeeper, and Jonathan Payne. Lit.
tie TomV notoriety ; his taking Edwin's likeness ; his .rea-
dings. " Tom, don't touch Satan." Young Lawrence's $ra-
uaatic propensity s a Rehearsal and a Scene House-warming
at Frome. Handy and Captain Stanley. A Recipe for im-
proving Madeira. Incledon's volunteered Song, and encores :
CONTENTS. V
his Address. Miss Poole's d^but. Mrs. Dickons. An At-
tempt at Authorship. Meyler's hoax. Mr. Pettingall and
the Liar." Death of the Earl of Conyngham Death of
Jonathan Payne, and his Epitaph Engagement for Lon-
don. Brighton Interview with H. R. H. the Prince.
Major Hanger and Mrs. Johnson. Sheridan and Fox . 72
CHAPTER IV.
1787- London. Accident Honest Surgeon De"but in
Archer. London Green-rooms. The Talent of those times.
"Beef-steak Club:" its Members, Officers, &c.: its Port.
Admiral Shuldam's Pun. Comparison of the " Beef-steak"
and the " Catch Club," Wit and Music. Visit to Mack-
lin : his exaggerated Age ; his Manners ; his Mind favourite
Reply the terrific play of his Features. Anecdote of George
the Second, Macklin's Egotism Satirized by Foote at the
Hayraarket. Anecdote. Macklin's classic attainments : his
interview with Dr. Johnson.. The two Ursa Majors. Ply-
mouth. Commodore M 'Bride and the Bonny Pheasant
Sailors' attachment to Theatres Anecdote of the Commo-
dore and his Crew. A sailor's complacency and benevolence.
Anecdote. Mr. Prigmore and his Breeches . . 107
CHAPTER V.
1788-9. London. Bucks' Lodge. Assume the Secretary-
ship of the Beef-steak Club. -Scale of the Members* Quali-
ties. Anecdotes of Sheridan and Fox, Bannister, Miles
Peter Andrews, Delia Cruscan Merry, Bate Dudley, Bear-
croft, Woodfall, Major Arabin, and Barry the Hatter.
Lord Galway's Waggery "Peg Timber-toe." The three
46 Stage Gentlemen," Smith, Lewis, and Garrick. Ex-
change no robbery. Story of a Watch. Accession of
Characters. Edwin's Indisposition : its meaning. Dinner
vi CONTENTS.
of the "Marine Society" The Boys' Hit at the Spa-
nish Ambassador." Admiral Afflick's atrocity. The "Ana-
creontic Society." Stevens, Morris, and Hewardine. He-
wardine's "Literary Kidnapping," and detection of Bate
Dudley How to rememher a Story. Plymouth. Mr.
B. K. Haydon's first attraction of the public notice . 138
CHAPTER VI.
1789-90 London, The "Era of Clubs." The Come-
dian's Club Kelly, Dignum, and Sedgwick, the vocal tri-
umvirate. Sheridan's comments on the two latter, and reply
to John Palmer. Notes of a Club conversation, the " Beef-
steak. 5 ' Mr. Darley and his song Billy Upton, Manager
of Astley's Literary Department : his Songs, and Jack John-
son Macklin's return to the Stage. Frank Aiken's age.
Billy Bates' reply. Colman and Harris. Philip Lewis, the
fci Crying Philosopher ;" his remark to Webb ; and inter-
ruption to Anthony Pasquin : his impromptu on Garrick.
Rider and Rock. A (( Knife" with a point. Plymouth.
The three " Ubiquitarians." Captain Bell and Sir John
Jervis Sir John's favourite Boatswain. The Sailor afloat :
an example of coolness : his devotion to the service . 170
CHAPTER VII.
1790-1. London Holman on Cooke.The Science of
Story-telling. ~ Theatrical Story-tellers. Parker ; Wil-
kinson ; Tommy Hull ; Dodd and Pilon ; Suett ; IMack-
lin - r and Dr. Wolcou Aiken and Kemble's Duel. A cool
Reproof* Mr. Bradelle Gentleman Humphreys and the
Blacksmith. Lord Barrymore and the " Blue -bottle
Club;" or, the "Humbugs." Incledon's Humbug The
Hibernians. Anthony Pasquin, his Lordship's favourite
CONTENTS. VII
and secretary. Anecdote of a gentlemanly Dog. Lord
B.'s eccentricity and reply. " Going his rounds." A Lon-
don, Blood's ramble. The "Two o'Clock Club." The
Finish. Robin Hood. Mr. Bowden and his " nose."
Dublin , scepticism ; innocent revenge. Mrs. Abingdon
and her " teeth ;" a gallant controversy : her juvenility.
Edwin's death. Retirement from Coven t Garden . 199
CHAPTER VIII.
1791. Plymouth. Jefferson and the prawns. Lostwithiel
and the lace. Mrs. Canning : her character, and anecdote of
her great courage. A ghost story. Eccentricities of Becky
Wells : her royal attachment. Killing with kindness ; and
" Haven't you heard of a jolly young waterman ?" Siege of
Plymouth. Dover.
1J91-2. Charles Mate. Guernsey : my new Theatre.
Mr, Hargrave, Jemmy Fotterel andhis patrons Teignmouth.
John Emery's introduction to the Stage : symptoms of the
future Comedian. The patient Farmer. Lord Howth, and
the Landlady's mistake. Passage to Dover in the Pomona
Frjgate. Mr. Lee Sug and Captain Savage. Mr. and Mrs,
Fox. Dover.
1792-3 Debut of Mr. Hunn, and his legs. Anecdote of
'a spaniel Return to Covent Garden. Fracas at Plymouth.
G. L. Barret's last favour . . 232
CHAPTER IX.
1793-4. London. Club. Captain Clark, Macklin's
Goose, Merry, and my Lapsus. How to speak a Pro-
logue. Eccentricities, of Jemmy Wilde, with Cubit, with
Mrs. Mattocks, with a City Club The two John Ber-
nards, A Lawyer's munificence. The u Poor Sailor."
Mjunden's acting, Plymouth, John Emery and Dr. Gas-
Vlll CONTENTS.
kin. Mr. Prigmore. Comicalities of Billy Lewis. Lord
Edgecombe's Ale. The Dog-Coach, &c. The Comedian's
Recollections. A " Comical Dog." London. Beef-
steak" Members abroad. Curious circumstances of the
deaths of Colonels Boswell and Elde. The Elegy, and In-
cledon's ear, London Characters. " Barrington'* a judge
of Theatricals. Count Bibb : the original of " Jeremy
Diddler." Gentleman Harry. The Pickpocket of nigh
life. A singular Anecdote. Scene in a flash-house. Inci-
dent. Brighton . . . 269
CHAPTER X.
1795-6 Guernsey. Royal condescension and kindness.
, A Compliment. Anecdotes of Governor Small Royal
interference Sir Sydney Smith's Boatswain. Event at
the death, of Governor Small. General Dalryinple, and: my
Guernsey VaiHchaU. A " Double Entendre" on the opening
night. Reasons of its failure. Plymouth. Captain Clark.
Charles Mate Anthony Pasquin The public mistake.
Lord Barrymore's Advice. Rossignolle the Ventriloqu^t :
his powers : Adventure in a !Night Coach : his improVe-
ment of Joe Miller Anecdote of Quin and an Innkeeper
Falmouth. Mendoza and the Sailor. The Jack and
the Jew. Colonel George. Offer from America. Fare-
well to the tc Beef-steak." Manager and Friends.
Departure for the New World, 4th June 1797. A word to
the Reader 304
RETROSPECTIONS
THE STAGE.
CHAPTER I.
1784. Bristol. Tom Blanchard, the Child of Nature :"
his complacency. An example. Mr. Palmer's Coaches :
an overturn, and Blisset's comment Weeks, the Inn-
keeper ; David Ross, and George Barnwell. Quin's Cri-
" ticism. Anecdotes of George Powell. Holland and Powell
the Dramatic " Orestes and Pylades." Foote's joke Bil-
ly Bates, and his Benefit. Shuter and the "Bristol Hogs.'*
Bath. The Green-room Meyler the Epigrammatist.
Doctor Harrington. Anecdote of Madame Mara. Mr,
Peach. Sir John Danvers : his eccentricities, his stockings,
coach, wine, library >8tc. JEarl Conyngham : his recollection
of Garrick and Quin, and comparison. Model of my Lord
Ogleby. Sir JohnOldmixon, the "Bath Beau/* and his curls.
Captain Stanley. Oie Bath Bacchus,** and -his nose.
IN the summer of 1784, the Bath company
was playing at Bristol ; and thither I proceed-
. VOL. II. &
2 TOM BLANCHARD,
ed, embarking for Milford Haven in a lime
smack, which was driven by a tempest into Fish-
card, a fishing village on the Welsh coast, where
there was only one person that could speak
English, though (to use an old joke) the na-
tives pretty generally understood Spanish.
From Mr, Palmer I received a most cordial
welcome, and shook hands in his corps with
mostly old acquaintance; the new faces were
those of Jackson, Wordsworth, and Tom Blanch-
ard 5 the " Child of Nature/* who, with Edwin
and Weston, forms in my recollection a trium-
virate of actors that produced greater effects
from impulse, than others from the most skil-
ful preconcertment.
It is needless to say any thing of his public
merits : he came to London, where they were
duly appreciated ; but Blanchard, like Edwin
and Weston, was the comedian of private life
the originality of his ideas could only be
equalled by his mode of delivering them. What
amused me most, was his imperturbable com-
placency ; there seemed to be no circumstance
under heaven, serious Or ludicrous, that was ca-
THE "CHILD OF NATURE/' 3
pable of disturbing it ; whether on the stage, or
in the street, in encountering a creditor, or (from
some gross lapsus) the risible thunder of an
audience, never would a muscle of his counte-
nance relax, or any intelligence dwell about it,
to affirm that he was conscious of his situation.
Out of the abundance of proofs I received upon
this point, perhaps my reader will permit me to
lay one before him .
Bristol was the first engagement that brought
him into notice. Previously, he had served his
stage apprenticeship by strolling ; and it was in
one of the neighbouring villages Mr. Palmer
first observed him. Tom was well known in
Bristol ; and a few of his friends were in the
habit of paying him a weekly visit, to felicitate
him with the novelty of a supper, and by pa-
tronising his benefit, prevent it from becoming
bis temporary ruin.
Oa one occasion, these worthies had been dis-
comfiting the blue devils by the aid of a
potent force of white spirits, and entered the
boxes in a very hilarious and discriminative con-
dition. The play was "Macbeth," and Blanchard,
B 2
4 HIS COMPLACENCY.
by doubling Banquo, a Witch, and Macduff,was
laying claim to the theatric eulogy of being a
" host in him self. " Versatility was Garrick^s
distinction ; and presuming Tom played tragedy
badly, in this play he could not be the " first
murderer." His friends made their appearance at
the moment Macduff receives the news of his wife
and children's destruction ; every humane per-
son here, or at least every parent, has a sympa-
thetic thrill, and flies to snuff or pocket hand-
kerchief to disembogue his feelings. Tom had
no doubt worked himself up to throw half-a-
dozen matrons and milk-maids into hysterics;
but his companions, expecting to find him revel-
ling in some broad comedy character, were in-
capable of excitement : they listened to his
first burst of agony, (which might have been
moderately well given,) in a kind of stupid sur-
prise, but further attention was impossible.
Simultaneously, they rose up in their seats, cha-
racterised the whole thing as a -*- humbug;
and one of them having brought a bottle of
whisky in his pocket, publicly produced it
cursed Tom's wife and children,, and bade him
AN EXAMPLE. 5
leave off " howling there like a house-dog/'
and come and drink with them. Such a re-
quest, at such a moment, any one will allow,
was, to say the least of it, indecorous ; but, how-
ever Melpomene might frown, the actor feel, or
the prompter . stare, Blanchard instantly per-
ceived that, coming from such an influential
quarter, the request was not to be denied. His
presence of mind, on this trying occasion, would
have done honour to a life's instruction in the
schools. He politely bowed to his inviter, beg-
ged the messenger and gentlemen about him to
suspend their conversation for an instant, ap-
proached the box, took the bottle, drank, smack-
ed his lips, bowed again, returned to his place,
resumed his attitude, recollected his murdered
wife and children, and proceeded as if nothing-
had happened. His friends were now no longer
his foes, and Macduff triumphed alike over
usurper and spectator.
I believe I have noticed every one besides in
this company, worth noticing, on a former oc-
casion. Among the additions, Jackson was a
decent actor, and Wordsworth a pretty singer,
6 MR. PALMER'S COACHES.
but with little compass, which the ladies used to
forgive however, remarking that " he looked
all he could not express."
Mr. Palmer, whose coach-inventing faculty
was already notorious, had contrived two con-
veyances to transport the company from Bath
to Bristol; the one containing fifteen, the other,
twelve persons. He was now playing three
times a-week in Bristol, and once in Bath, till
the season of the latter came on, when this order
was reversed. This arrangement was very plea-
sant whilst the fine weather lasted, and created
a family-feeling in the company, who, living in
both places, would invite each other to beds and
breakfasts. But, when the season advanced,
returning nine miles at one o'clock in the
morning, after a long nighf s performance, was
any thing but desirable.
People, however, in this world will never re-*
gard evil in a comparative, but a positive light ;
and we on one of these latter occasions, beginning
to murmur, were instructed, by an unexpected
aggravation of our miseries.
The rain came down in torrents; the road
AN OVERTURN. 7
Was a sea of slush ; and the night was so diabo-
lically dark, that a man with a heavy conscience
might have imagined we were on the highway
to the capital of the infernal regions. Our
coachman was not to be execrated, therefore,
if, in nearing the hedge, one of the wheels
mounted a prostrate mile-stone, and turned the
long vehicle over into a sufficiently capacious
ditch. A minute previously there had been as
much discontent amongst us, as in the pit of a
theatre at a bad play : I don't know what the
latter effect could be compared to but the sud-
den alarm of fire ; such screeching and kicking,
tugging and tumbling, imprecating and depre-
cating, I have no power to describe. My rea-
der will be satisfied when I say, that no one
was seriously hurt, but that every one was tre-
mendously drenched. A night-coach luckily
coming up, afforded us assistance to right the
vehicle, and collect our scattered bundles of
properties, which had embellished the road with
wigs, roses, ruffles, swords, hats, and gloves.
This journey, which was begun in uproarious
dissatisfaction, concluded in the most silent
8 BLISSET'S COMMENT.
resignation ; we entered , and proceeded without
another syllable ; and the fear of another acci-
dent hung over us ever after, like the hair-sus-
pended sword mentioned in the classics. Blisset
made me laugh, however, in despite of all an-
noyances ; he was notedly of the crab-apple
kind, and but reflected in Jaques and Rueful his
natural temperament. The ditch had been his
physician with the others ; and as he shook the
muddy moisture from his garments, he fixed
his eye on me, and exclaimed, " Johnny, now I
can understand Shy lock : ' There be land rats,
and there be water rats. 1 "
The "Bush," at Bristol, was at this time
kept by Weeks, one of the most generous and
convivial of the ancient fraternity of hosts. He
had a great attachment to the stage ; indeed, he
was a clever actor, and seemed to have the sea-
son's success as much at heart as the manager ;
for ,no man could have laboured more to pro-
mote it. It will be supposed, that the sphere
of a principal innkeepers utility was not a con-
fined one. He as invariably put our bill into
the hands of a customer as his own ; and I be-
DAVID ROSS. 9
lieve the charge on our account was always
the greatest. An arrival from London was the
sure parent of a visit to us, till this nightly
reinforcement in our boxes began to be sted-
fastly looked to ; so that whenever we perceived,
about nine o'clock, the sudden influx of certain
muffed, cloaked, booted, and great-coated stran-
gers," the usual remark in the Green-room used
to be, " The London Coach is in I"
In his private little parlour, I frequently met
the veteran David Ross, a tragedian of a tole-
rably high as well as long standing at Covent
Garden. Ross was distinguished by being the
original George Barn well, but more particularly
by the circumstance of having checked and con-
verted a real Barn well, who one night entered
the theatre to lounge away an hour, before the
commission of his relative's murder : there con-
templating his counterpart, conscience freed
itself from the grasp of desperation, and drove
him home a penitent.
This anecdote Ross never failed to commu-
nicate to every new acquaintance, and, in rny
opinion, with great propriety: an old man's
B5
10 QUIN'S CRITICISM.
vanity was to be pardoned, where an event re-
dounded so greatly, not only to his own ho-
nour, but his profession's. For this exact il-
lustration of Shakspeare's words, " Guilty crea-
tures sitting at a play," &c. must be considered
an incontrovertible proof, that the Stage has
been, and ever may be, a medium of moral im-
provement.
Ross, in his later days, grew very portly,
and his face became so overloaded with fat,
as to defeat its expression, which necessarily lay
in the perception of the muscles. On the last oc-
casion on which he assumed his favourite charac-
ter, Quin was behind the scenes, and encountered
him. The satirist surveyed him all over for a
minute, and then exclaimed, " George Barn-
well, David ! George Barnwell, an Apprentice I
D m me if you don't look more like the Lord
Mayor of London !"
At Bristol I found a few of my old acquaint-
ance, who formed the members of the " Sport-
ing Club" ten years before, when, in the neigh-
bouring hamlet of Chew Magna, I made my
professional debut. Some of them were now
GEORGE POWELL, 11
members of a party who met yearly at the
"Bush/" to commemorate George Powell. Such
was the public and private esteem which, in
this place, this ill-fated genius commanded ; one
of the most striking examples of the class
termed " no one's enemies but their own," and
in dramatic records distinguished as the only
man who, in Garrick's days, played Lear, and
made the Roscius tremble for his laurels.
It is well known that, on some occasion when
b usiness or pleasure carried the latter to the Conti-
nent, Powell was put forward in his characters,
either as a forlorn hope in the absence of others,
or as a means of effectually "cutting his throat ;"
a piece of managerial duplicity which Garrick
was not the only one who stooped to. To the
wonder of the Green-room, not less than the de-
light of the town, Powell made a stand, and La-
cey instantly dispatched a bulletin to his partner
conveying the information, and concluding with
these words, " If you don't come back directly,
David, the public will have forgot you when
you do." It will be supposed that Garrick did
not treat this hint with contempt.
14 BILLY BATES.
narrowly escaped with life. The next morning,
when the circumstance was mentioned in the
Green-room, Foote exclaimed, u Well then,
Powell was burned?" Oh no!" "Why,
don't you say Holland was very near ?"
The Bristol Theatre was originally opened by
Powell and Holland ; the town having been pre-
viously visited by a strolling company under
the domination of Billy Bates, a subsequent
understrapper at Drury Lane. Bates had found
Bristol his most profitable resort; but, unable to
check the tide of public feeling when it set in
favour of a stationary theatre and respectable
performances, was glad to turn it, as far as possi-
ble, to his advantage, by making Holland engage
himself and family. Bates, as most acting-ma-
nagers are, was the commander of his company,
on the stage, and in the closet. He played all
the best parts, and thus laid claim to the cha-
racter of the " superior actor." On the present
occasion, however, his talents were somewhat un-
dervalued. A tragedy was the opening perform-
ance, in which Holland did a King at the head
THE "BRISTOL HOGS/' 15
of his army, and Bates was condemned to a piti-
ful messenger who gave him notice of the ene-
my's approach. This character comprehended
but one entrance and five lines of diction ; but
these five lines were precious ; and Bates, having
a throat like a speaking trumpet, rushed on at
rehearsal, and thundered them forth, taking at
the same time a stage-effective, but rather inde-
corous sweep of the boards from the fourth
wing to the floats.
" Mr. Bates P said Holland with a stare of
surprise, "you surely don't intend to deliver
that message in that manner at night ?" " Yes$
but I do, Mr. Holland." "You are too loud,
Sir!" "Loud, Sir! not at all, Sir; I'm only
energetic. I Ve got a benefit to make as well as
you, Mr. Holland !"
The citizens of Bristol^ from their seemingly
blunt and business-like manner, were impudently
nicknamed by travellers the "Bristol Hogs;"
and as the old adage avers, " an ill name never
wants wings," the appellation was familiar
through most, parts of the kingdom. In thea-
18 DOCTOR HARRINGTON.
To Meyler I was indebted for numerous in-
troductions to the dramatic dilletanti, at this
fountain-head of taste and criticism ; but per-
haps I was in no instance so truly obliged to
him as in forming the acquaintance of Doctor
Harrington .
If I am bound to consider Bath, at this pe-
riod, as the beginning of the summer of my
public and private enjoy ments, I am proud to
confess it was to the Doctor's society I owed
many of its fruits. With his talents as a physi-
cian or musician I have nothing to do ; the world
long ago formed its estimate of both ; perhaps
any remarks upon his personal character would
be equally needless, since it has been so often and
sufficiently dwelt upon, which is to say, eulo-
gized: but I must regret that, of the many
hours I passed at his table and enjoyed his
highly communicative spirit, these journals,
which have been so faithful in preserving many
trifling particulars, should present so little evi-
dence. One circumstance however is recorded,
which must apologize for the absence of others.
Previous to his residence in Bath, the Doctor
MADAME MARA. 19
lived at Wells ; and one day after dinner, whilst
entertaining a circle of musical friends, a German
family came under his window, of whom the
father played the flute, the mother a guitar, a
girl sung, and a boy carried round the hat. The
tones of the girl's voice, and her brilliant execu-
tion of a piece of music they were well ac-
quainted with, startled and delighted them.
The Doctor sent out to desire they would come
into the hall and repeat it : his family were now
made partakers of his surprise and gratification.
The Doctor, whose heart was as open to the cry
of necessity, as his ear to the finest harmonies of
Haydn, then inquired into the circumstances of
the family, and was informed that the father, a
Mr. Schemling, being disappointed of employ-
ment in London, whither he had proceeded from
the Continent, had been compelled to this itinerant
resource, as the only means of support. The
Doctor could do little for him at Wells, which
was not a musical place, but gave him letters to
some influential persons in Bath, as a means of
procuring patronage to undertake a morning con-
cert There, the girPs abilities did not fail to
20 BATH PATRONS.
divest the Doctor's recommendation of its appear-
ance of enthusiasm. She was heard, wondered at,
and talked of; some amateurs instantly tendered
their services to carry the father's project into
effect; bills were printed, tickets issued and
purchased; and the Doctor rode over to superin-
tend in person the musical arrangements. The
proceeds of this concert were sufficient to enable
the family to return to London and thence to
Germany, where their daughter, being placed
under proper masters, began to develope her
powers, grew up, married, and in a few years
after revisited England, and, with a comet lustre,
blazed upon its public as Madame Mara.
At the Doctor's residence I was brought in
contact with a brilliant assemblage of noble and
noted characters : Rauzzini was one to whom I
became indebted for many professional services,
Loder another, and Earl Conyngham, Sir
Charles Bampfylde, Lord Cork, and Captain
Baker, were of the number, who, on stretching
out their hands to me, never afterwards with-
drew them.
There were a few persons, however, who made
SIR JOHN DANVERS. 21
my acquaintance of their own accord : one was
Mr. Peach of Bownham House, Gloucestershire,
a truly estimable and generous gentleman, whose
wealth was thought sufficient to warrant the
jest, that " one Peach was worth three plums ;"
another was Sir John Oldmixon, the Bath
beau; a third, that celebrated eccentric, Sir
John Dangers.
The Eccentric stands out in relief to all his
kind, like a chaos of the mental elements, rather
than any peculiar arrangement of them ; and I
could never yet satisfy myself why these curiosi-
ties should come into the world, but on the sup-
position that Nature created them in one of her
desperate moments, to dissipate the ennui of
forming so many thousands alike.
Sir John was as well known in Bath as the
Mayor or the Pump-room ; his dress, his man-
ners, and his apothegms, were equally notorious $
and no man perhaps in England enjoyed so ex-
tensive an acquaintance ; the meanest and the
noblest were comprehended in his sphere, he
touched the zenith and the nadir of social inter-
course. I am not aware whether his life has
22 SIR JOHN'S PECULIARITIES.
been published ; but if so, there must be many
of the present day who never read it, and it will
answer my purpose to pen from memory a few of
his peculiarities.
He was of a tall and gaunt structure, with a
slight stoop, and an immense Roman nose, which
did not slightly resemble the beak of a condor.
He wore his wig on one side, with the tail flap-
ping over his ear, surmounted by a hat hardly
large enough to cover three of the curls. His
coat was of a cut and colour which must have
been fashionable about the time of the Revolu-
tion ; his breeches conformed to his coat, they
were of black velvet, spotted over, like the back
of a panther, with port wine. His waistcoat
was the only elegant habiliment he wore, and
the embroidery of this had long since faded
under the momentary showers of snuff it was
exposed to. But the most whimsical feature of
his dress was his stockings : he wore a white
one on one leg, and a black one on the other, in-
tending thereby, as he declared, to express his
political opinions. The white he termed the
SIR JOHN'S PECULIARITIES. 23
Tory, and the black, the Whig ; and his right
being the most venerable leg, the appearance of
either on his dexter shank signified his confi-
dence in the conduct of Mr. Pitt, or Mr. Fox.
This mode of telegraphing his tenets was uni-
versally admired.
To theatricals he was passionately attached ;
and two evenings out of the three were invaria-
bly passed in the stage-box. His appearance
there, however, would sometimes divide the
public attention with the stage. At a tragedy,
his sensibility was so great, he would blubber
/
like a child ; and in a comedy, he could never
contain his satisfaction, but would open his ca-
pacious jaws, (and when open, his mouth cer-
tainly bore the same proportion to his head, that
the sea does to the land, in a map of the world,)
and laugh out, and aloud, as if his heart was de-
termined to be heard. Then, if any thing oc-
curred in the gallery to disturb the progress of
a scene, up he would stretch his tall figure from
the box, and shake his stick at the elevated cri-
tics ; the effect of which may be presumed, as
24 SIR JOHN AT THE THEATRE.
well as of the conversations he would occasionally
hold with the people in the orchestra about their
wives and children.
The first notice he took of me was in Charles
Surface: when in the screen-scene I retreated
to the stage-door, and turned to retort upon
Sir Peter his eulogium on Joseph, his delight
was so great, that clapping and crying out
would not do, but he must needs poke me in the
ribs with his long stick and exclaim, " That's
right, you comical dog ! don't go away." In. an
instant, the audience released Sir Peter from his
misery, and began to laugh at me. I must con-
fess, when I went off, if I was not irritated, I
was considerably astonished, till the prompter
explained his character. The next morning (so
favourable the impression I had made) he
called at the theatre to see me, and learning I
was on the stage rehearsing, sent a card to me,
with these words * c When you have done
prayers, I shall be glad to see you in the lobby.
John Danvers, to Charles Surface.' 5
The wording of this invitation was a pretty
strong evidence of its author's character. I re-
SIR JOHN DANVERS. . %5
paired to him when my duties were concluded,
and he very cordially commenced my acquaint-
ance, by some flattering allusions to the past
night's performance, and a pressing request to
dine. It being a non-play day, I was under no
necessity to refuse ; and, in the interim, he pro-
posed taking a turn in the street. Chaining me
to his side by a tight grasp of the arm, away he
then darted, in a sort of half-trot, his other hand
clenching and swinging by the middle his long
staff of a stick. In the broad light I gained a
distinct view of his odd appearance ; and, ac-
customed as I had been to stand the fire of the
public gaze, I must confess, that on that occa-
sion I felt rather qualmish. I was then but
seven-and-twenty however, and wore a scarlet
coat.
When our promenade was over (during which
Sir John rambled very amusingly over a va-
riety of subjects), his coach came up, and we
got in. The vehicle was of a piece with him-
self : it was of a dark colour, slung on very
high straps, and large enough in a winter's day
for a man to have caught cold in. The pos-
VOL. II. C
26 SIR JOHN AT HOME.
tilion and coachman were a pair of sexagena-
rians, in a blackish livery; and the. four long-
bodied horses were black also, with flowing
manes, and graceful switch tails, and feet that
had been educated to pace over the stones at
the rate of about four miles an hour ; indeed,
they seemed to have a due idea of their dig-
nity ; and the whole affair might have been mis-
taken for an undertaker's.
The same spirit of peculiarity pervaded
things at home, where Sir John had a bill hang-
ing up, denoting his precise species of aliment
for the day. Monday, for instance, lamb and
cider ; Tuesday, beef and beer, &c. I found,
however, that the cook turned up his nose at
this code of regulations, when company came.
Our dinner was modern, plenteous, and excel-
lent. Sir John also retained a travelling chap-
lain, who said grace, read prayers, and took
care of his library. This was another curiosity ;
abounding with all the best works of the best
authors, there was not one volume perfect. So
eager had been Sir John in his pursuit of know-
ledge, that he had inspected each ; and when-
SIR JOHN DANVERS. &7
ever a passage pleased him, he tore out the leaf,
thrust it into his pocket, and then applied it to
other purposes. He had a taste also for paint-
ing, and had lumbered a room with old second-
hand portraits, which he touched up into ima-
ginary likenesses to Chatham, Chesterfield, the
King, &c.
Sir John lived well, as the gout in his left
leg testified. He usually took his three bottles,
which be called his three friends : the first, his
encourager; the second, his adviser; and the
third, his consoler. He had also a humorous
knack of bestowing upon wine a regal appel-
lation, and making its various species represent,
when placed upon the table, the sovereigns of
the countries that produced them : thus, a bottle
of port stood for the King of Portugal, cham-
paigne for that of France, Madeira for his Spa-
nish Majesty, whilst a bottle of porter, I believe,
represented our beloved Monarch. If we turn-
ed, therefore, from one wine to another, he
would exclaim, cc Now we have bled the King of
Spain to death, what if we decapitate the King
of France f
28 EAEL CONYNGHAM.
Sir John, however, claimed a noble distinc-
tion from his kindred in general he was nei-
ther penurious nor illiberal ; his purse and table
were ever open to the needy and neglected, and
the only reason he had not more dining ac-
quaintance was, because people magnified his
humours to a pitch beyond endurance. To
tradespeople he was particularly generous ; for,
wherever he noticed a new shop, he would go
in, purchase their commodities, however use-
less, or exorbitantly priced ; and when they were
sent home, refuse to take them in.
Earl Conyngham was one of my most dis-
tinguished patrons. He represented, in its most
extensive sense, the true old English nobleman.
He was a convivialist, in that most convivial
of English times, a wit, and a man of as much
refinement as observation ; one whose experience
had ripened all the buds of education into senti-
ments which did as much honour to his heart as
his head*
His Lordship was extremely gouty, and some-
what asthmatic, so as to occasion his continual
QUIN AND GARRICK. 29
sitting in a chair, which, by the turning of a
screw or crank, rose and fell in accommodation
to his position.
When no rehearsals interfered, his Lordship
honoured me by invitations to breakfast, over
which I would chat to him the nature of the
past night's performance, and the newspapers 1
novelties. Theatricals were a favourite theme
with him, and the glories of the stage engrossed
the greenest field of his remembrance. Quin
was his great actor, and he loved to pitch him
continually against Garrick in tragedy and co-
medy. Garrick could neither play Falstaff, nor
Sir John Brute, Cato, nor Othello ; two of which
being Shakspeare^s chef-<Fauvres, he considered
Quin (who was excellent in all) to have the
greatest genius. He remembered in his early
days seeing Garrick and Quin play Cassius
and Brutus, and he described the effect of the
" quarrel scene" by this powerful image. Quin
resembled a solid three-decker, lying quiet, and
scorning to fire; but with the evident power, if put
forth, of sending its antagonist to the bottom ;-r-
30 SIR JOHN OLDMIXON,
Garrick, a frigate running round it, attempt-
ing to grapple, and every moment threatening
an explosion that would destroy both.
His Lordship contributed to my public as
well as private advantages. He afforded me a
model for Lord Ogleby; a character which,
with any advantage to my fame, I played for
the first time in Bath. In a moral respect, cer-
tainly little or no resemblance existed between
this nobleman and Garrick's splendid concep-
tion. His Lordship was fonder of the society
of men than of women, and had no vanity but on
the score of his critical acumen. The nature of
Lord Ogleby, I readily perceived on the first
reading; but his manner was for a long time
a desideratum. Garrick intended him to repre-
sent not only a debilitated, but an elegant no-
bleman ; of such a person I had no picture in
my eye, till I saw his Lordship ; and ever after,
the suspicion never entered my head that my
original was to be improved.
It was during one of my morning calls that I
met Sir John Oldmixon, at his Lordship's ; and
the flattering introduction I then received, im-
THE BATH BEAU. 31
proved our previously distant street acquaint-
ance into a lasting intimacy. This gentleman,
from ,the refinement of his dress and manners,
bore the peculiar appellation of the " Bath Beau,"
and upon all points of good-breeding was looked
up' to as an oracle. This distinction, in the me-
tropolis of fashion, he was not slightly proud
of ; it acknowledged him as the legitimate suc-
cessor in the dynasty of Nash. Certainly, the
mechanism of his dress was a profound study,
and his science in manoeuvring a snuff-box and
a cane, was for many months, in my eyes, an
impenetrable mystery. I have been told that
Sir John was the original of Mrs. Cowley's Lord
Sparkle; he certainly was of mine, accident
having thrown me into his company on my first
visit to Bath. Whatever success I obtained in
.the fops and fine gentlemen, (which were the
characters I played mostly in London,) I am
willing to acknowledge that I owe it all to the
strong impressions I received from Sir John
Oldmixon. But this gentleman enjoyed the
additional celebrity of having founded an order
of his own, the " full curl" order, as it might
32 CAPTAIN STANLEY,
have been called, grateful to the memories of
the peruquiers of the past generation. Our
first performance of " Which is the Man ?" was
so successful, that in the course of the ensuing
week it was repeated. The next day, Sir John
met and stopped me in the street, saying, " Ber-
nard, I saw your < Sparkle,' last night ; they
say you imitate me !" " It is my object, Sir
John," I replied, " to imitate the manners of an
English nobleman !" " Ah, ah, true ; but
your dress was incorrect." cc In that respect,"
said I, " I must confess, Sir John, I did
design to imitate you." " Oh no, quite wrong ;
you had only twelve curls of a side ; I never wear
under sixteen P
Captain Stanley (the Pylades of Major Hal-
liday, the well-known amateur,) was a great lon-
vivant ; and from the rotundity of his figure,
and the roseate blush of his nose, bore the con-
vivial distinction of " The Bath Bacchus." He
was by no means a brilliant man in the street,
though one of the most agreeable to be met
with, even in those times, at table. The cause
was apparent, and he used to acknowledge it *
THE BATH BACCHUS. 33
his ideas were stranded in the day-time, and
required a bottle or two to float them to a con-
versational level.
He was a frequent visitor to our boxes ; but,
however great his gratification or sympathy, he
could not at all times command his senses, and
would fall asleep ; the result of which was, that
he would favour the audience with an original
melody (in a pretty high key) by his nose.
One evening, in the " Twelfth Night," Orsini
had repeated the lines . " Sing again, oh, it
comes o'er my ear like the sweet South, stealing
and giving odours ;" when the Captain, sud-
denly waking, replied with a shrill blast on his
nasal instrument, which disconcerted the actor,
and plunged the house in a convulsion of
merriment.
c 5
ANECDOTES OP THE
CHAPTER II,
1784-5. Anecdotes of the Institution of the " Bath Catch
Club." Sir JohnDanvers, the proposer. Earl Conyngham,
Lord Cork, &c., Committee ? Meyler, Poet Laureate; Rauz-
zini. Musical Conductor ; Dr. Harrington, Composer and
Physician. Jeud' esprit Its Rules and "Order." "La-
dies' Night." Duchess of Devonshire.Incledon's debut
at Bath. Rauzzini's contempt for English singing, and con-
version. His criticism on Incledon, &c Incledon's mode
of "recollecting the words." Swansea. Blisset's reading
in " Rueful." Sir J. Danvers' generosity and attach-
ment, the subject of sarcasm.
1785-6 Bath Mrs. Esten Anecdotes of Dr. Herschel,
Musician and Astronomer, when in the Bath Orchestra.
Sarcasms of his companions, and of mine. The absentee
Planet. A surprise. Mrs. Baddeley's beauty Edwin's
Comment The Doctor's Generosity. Charles Dibdin and
Mr. Harris. D6but of Miss Brunton. The friendship of
an Eccentric. Brighton. Royal Patronage and Compli-
ment.
THE first novelty of the season was Mrs.
Inchbald's comedy of " Such Things Are," in
which I played Twineall; and, for the first time,
"BATH CATCH CLUB/' 35
attracted the attention of the London managers.
Diamond was the Philanthropist; Blisset, Sir
Luke Tremor; Murray or Brunton, the Sul-
tan ; Mrs, Bernard, the Female Prisoner ; and
Mrs. Sheriff, Lady Tremor.
The first epoch in my private history was the
setting on foot of the Bath Catch Club ;" the
circumstances of which were as follow :
There was at this time in Bath but one mu-
sical meeting ; an old u Pipe and Pot Club,"
which had been established by the tradesmen,
some thirty years before; and, though distin-
guished by a good deal of harmony moral and
musical, but little frequented by any but actors
who wanted to make benefits. The reason of
this was, not that the members were trades-
men, (for convivialists in those days were not
so scrupulous for the titles as the talents of
their companions,) but because the worthy cits
had established this meeting as a private paint
of union, where they could assemble on a Satur-
day night, when the cares and accounts of the
week were over, to " smoke a pipe and sing a
song :" thus, it was no object with them to obtain
36 THE "BATH CATCH CLUB:'"*
visitors, although they were not averse to receive
them ; but the spirit of their original design
having perpetuated the laws, a man was obliged,
on " going to Rome" in this manner, to do as
Rome did. One of their most unpleasant regu-
lations was, that nothing should be drunk in
that society but malt liquor; another, per-
fectly barbarous, that every one present should
contribute to the harmony of the evening ; or,
in other words, sing, which was very frequently
contributing to its discord.
Thus they deprived themselves of the pre-
sence of many clever fellows who were desirable
talkers, but had no "voices in that city ;" whilst
others who could vocalize, kicked at the pecu-
liarity in their mode of sacrificing to Bacchus.
Convivialists of that period were independent
fellows; they were practically men of spirit,
and very few of them could " wind themselves
up" upon any thing but brandy. Such a state
of things in the most musical and sociable,
as well as the most fashionable, of all the
cities of the realm, was not to be borne ; and
ITS FOUNDERS. 31
the obvious relief was to set up another club
upon a liberal scale, to which the rank and ta-
lent of this gay depot might resort, unoppressed
by the tyranny of beer or bad arrangements.
The first person who proposed this, was Sir
John Danvers; than whom did not exist a
more stedfast devotee to the cause of merriment
and music. His summer months, he used to
say, were all passed at the table, and the frosty
and rainy weather came on when he had to at*
tend to his person or estate. Sir John had vi-
sited the " Old Club" once or twice, and, the
last time, in my company ; and though we both
petitioned hard to be relieved from malt liquor,
we found that the members did not more re-
semble the Persians in their addiction to pipes,
than the immutability of their laws.
Coming away, which was at an early hour,
our impressions were pretty much the same ;
a hint from Sir John was sufficient to reveal
the fact ; upon that, I spake : and he replied.
A simple suggestion begot a deliberate discus-
sion; and by the time we reached home, though
38 THE "BATH CATCH CLUB:"
we travelled in chairs, and had to talk out of
the windows, we had also arrived at some defi-
nite conclusions*
Briefly I proposed, under the sanction of Sir
John's name, to draw up the prospectus of a
Club which should contain from fifty to a hun-
dred members, meet weekly, be directed by
a committee with the regular officers, and em-
brace all the musical talent, amateur and pro-
fessional, in the city and neighbourhood, A
moderate sum would provide for its out-fits,
and a " Guinea Subscription, 1 ' with the fines of
rules properly established, would be sufficient to
meet every subsequent expense.
With my head and heart full of the design,
I went home at about two o^clock in the morn-
ing, and permitted my ferment to boil over on
about two sheets of paper : next morning, at
breakfast, I condensed the elaborate draught,
and carried it to Sir John ; he attached to it
his signature, and headed the subscription pa-
per with the pleasing sum of ten pounds. I
then commenced my operations by proceeding
to Dr. Harrington, whose delight at the pro
ITS COMMITTEE. 39
posal was not inferior to our own. He ac-
companied me to Rauzzini and Loder, as the
most eminent professionals in Bath, if not in
England; and ensuring their co-operation, we
gave the project a fair launch into publicity.
I then made a circuit of my noble patrons and
friends, and not only obtained their signatures,
but subscriptions, which varied from two to ten
pounds. The first twelve. Sir John proposed,
should form the committee, who would elect
their chairman, secretary, and treasurer, and
proceed to the concoction of the rules. These
twelve were the following : Sir John Danvers,
Earl Conyingham, Lord Cork, Sir Charles
Bampfylde, Sir Charles Asgill, Captain Baker,
Captain Tinker, Doctor Harrington, Rauz-
zini, Loder, Meyler, and Bernard; the lat-
ter of whom was elected permanent secretary
and treasurer, pro tern.
Meyler then placed a fair copy of the pro-
spectus and subscription on his table; and Sir
John accompanied me to the cc White Lion,"
kept by Arnold, to secure his large room, the
best in Bath, as the scene of our festivities*
42 RULES OF THE CLUB.
the world a generation too late, I will merely
notice a few of the rules and principles of an
institution which contributed so largely to the
diffusion of that " spirit" and pass on.
Our fines were for an oath, a shilling ; poli-
tics, two; religion, three; and a quarrel, or dis-
pute, a dozen of claret. Every member was
permitted to bring a friend, but, in so doing,
was obliged to send up to me the stranger's
card, with a mark upon its back, to say whe-
ther he could sing, and, if so, whether in glees
or solos: a certain number of pieces of music
were arranged to be sung nightly, the list of
which lay before me : five or ten minutes' in-
terval was allowed between each for conversa-
tion, during which I successively sent the cards
round to their owners, bearing on their backs a
request that they would favour the company at
the conclusion of the next piece of music the
announcement of the name being a sufficient sig-
nal: their replies enabled me to fuel the flame
without exciting the slightest notice ; and thus
the time, which at these meetings is usually
Jost from the colds or caprices, the inability or
43
disinclination of persons to sing, was effectually
saved, and devoted to the general enjoyment.
This " Order 11 was unequalled at any other
meeting, save the " Beefsteak ;" and, I may be
permitted to add, contributed in no small de-
gree to the elevation of the Catch Club so far
above its contemporaries. A month after the
commencement, our numbers were full. Of a
hundred members, the average attendance was
fifty, who, with their friends, amounted, nightly,
to about seventy persons. Order, in such as-
sembly, was synonymous with enjoyment, (since
it prevented its suspension,) and its noiseless
maintenance with the regular progression of the
performances, certainly surprised the stranger
as much as the rare merits of what he heard.
Every meeting went off with so much eclat,
that before the conclusion of the season, the
Bath "Catch Club" was all the rage, and we
had not only the men but the women petition-
ing for admission as visitors. This induced
the Committee to give what was termed " A
Ladies'* Night," for which we obtained from
the Mayor the use of the * c Town Hall," and
44 DUCHESS OF DEVONSHIRE.
performed a concert with our entire strength.
On this occasion, I felt myself placed in a novel
situation : there were fifty- seven titled females
on the list ; and it was my duty, as the " Master
of the Ceremonies," to lead them to their seats,
in the due order of their precedency. Never
having studied the Peerage, and always having
treated this point on the stage with some indif-
ference, I am afraid I should have committed
some serious blunders, had not Sir Charles
Bampfylde kindly furnished me with hints to
thread the mazes of etiquette securely. I came
off, however, with flying colours ; for, at the
end of the performance, on approaching the
Duchess of Devonshire, (who crowned the as-
sembly with her beauty and her breeding,) and
inquiring how she had been pleased, her musical
lips severed, and she answered, " IVe been
greatly pleased, Mr. Bernard, and not in the
least degree, with your attention,"
As I was sitting one morning at breakfast,
about a fortnight after our club commenced, a
rap came to the door, and two gentlemen were
shown up to me, in one of whom I recognised
CHARLES INCLEDON. 45
Charles Incledon, the other was a Mr. Durell,
and both were members of the Southampton
company, now playing at Winchester; from
which place they had walked to Bath.
When Incledon returned from sea, I was
playing at Exeter, (the winter previous to my
visit to Ireland,) and as we had been intimate
under Dr. Jackson's roof, he did not scruple to
call upon me and make known his dramatic
propensities. I accordingly introduced him to
Mr. Hughes, who, wanting a singer for Ply-
mouth that summer, engaged him. Some tri-
fling difference had sundered them, and he had
been wandering ever since, from one town to
another, undecided in his views, and displeased
with his managers. Hearing, at length, of my
popularity at Bath, he had undertaken this
visit, in the hopes that I might have as much
influence with Mr. Palmer as Mr. Hughes, I
was not more flattered than grieved by this ex-
pectation, knowing that Mr. Palmer, in common
with most managers, made it a rule to make no
engagements in the midst of a season. All I
could do, therefore, was to accompany him to
46 MR. PALMER'S INDIFFERENCE.
that gentleman, tell his story, and let him plead
his own case with a song. My recollection of
his powers was a very faint one, and I could
not conjecture what the result of this simple
specimen would be. Mr. Palmer received us
very pleasantly, and listened very attentively ;
but in reply arrayed the very objections to his
wishes I had premised. He was prevailed on,
however, to enter the theatre, and hear Incle-
don sing, who selected one of Dibdin's popular
ballads. I was enraptured ; but Mr. Palmer,
either from some defect in his auricular organ,
or a strong prejudice in favour of Wordsworth,
expressed a very milk-and-water sort of satisfac-
tion, and did nothing but reiterate his objections
with the usual regrets, (a managerial property,)
that, plum-like, enclose the pill of a refusal. In-
cledon's answer was that of his companion, and
both retired quite chop-fallen more particu-
larly as they had expended their last shilling in
reaching Bath. Having on my account been
induced to undertake this adventure, I felt
bound to assist them back again, and luckily I
then had the means; but I resolved, before
INCLEDON'S ENGAGEMENT. 47
Incledon quitted Bath, to make a few of my
friends participators in my gratification. That
being a non-play day, I was enabled to invite a
party of musicals to dine with me and meet the
young sailor ; among whom were Dr. Harring-
ton, Meyler, and Loder.
T shall not attempt to describe the sensation
his singing created then and there ; because I
believe there are so many thousands existing who
have felt that sensation themselves. Suffice it,
that the next morning Charles and his friend
mounted the roof of a coach, on their return to
Winchester ; and Dr. Harrington ran about the
Bath streets, stopping every one he knew, to
acquaint them with the " musical phenomenon^
he had heard. Mr. Palmer was now beset on
all sides with inquiries, petitions, and remon-
strances; and, rather in compliance with his
friends 7 than his own wishes, in about six weeks
afterwards, despatched Incledon the offer of an
engagement, which was accepted.
His appearance, at a time when the old Eng-
lish melodies were the prevailing taste, and sim-
plicity and sweetness were the synonymes of
48 RAUZZINl'S CONVERSION.
music, from the peasant to the peer, was, no
doubt, a most fortunate circumstance ; but he
was endowed by nature to carry the popular
enthusiasm to a pitch which no singer for the
next century must hope to rival.
From the stage it was an easy step to our
Catch Club, and the value of such an accession
was estimated by the members. However, the
obligation lay not altogether on the shoulders
of the society. Incledon there obtained his first
friends and patrons, who introduced him to the
distinguished circles of Bath, and procured for
him the countenance he met with on going to
London.
Rauzzini had a great contempt for English
singing; he had never heard any, he said,
which did not puzzle him to determine which
was worst, the tone or the taste. On the day
Incledon dined with me, he was absent, and all
Dr. Harrington's encomiums would not convert
him ; he believed the Doctor to be a man of
taste and judgment; but, on this point, feared
that he was prejudiced. The night of Incle-
don^s debut, it was with some difficulty, there-
AND CRITICISM. 4Q
fore, he could be prevailed on to attend. He
accompanied the Doctors party, but rather by
compulsion than persuasion; and, on entering
the box, turned his back to the stage, as was his
invariable custom on such occasions. Before
Incledon had got through three bars of his first
song, (as Edwin, in Robin Hood,) Rauzzini be-
gan to listen ; three more turned him round ;
another six convinced him, and, at the conclu-
sion of the verse, he joined loudly in the ap-
plause. When the opera was over, he went
behind the scenes, took Incledon by the hand,
and said, " Sare, I sank you for ze pleasure
you af give me ; you vas de fus Ingleesh singer
I have hear, vat can sing. Sare, you af got a
voice you af got a voice."
The next day, the topic of conversation was
not so much the merits of Incledon, as the cri-
ticisms of his admirer ; and the general inquiry
was not, " Have you heard the new singer ?"
but, " Have you heard what Mr. Rauzzini says
of the new singer?"
Incledon was undoubtedly a singer after Dr.
Harrington's own heart; but his triumph over
VOL. H. D
50 RAUZZINl'S COMPLIMENTS
Rauzzini was truly flattering. The latter did
not scruple to declare at the Club, on the ensu-
ing night, that he had never heard such power,
flexibility, sweetness, and fulness, with so rich
a falsetto, in any voice, of any country what-
ever. " Shentleman," said he, " it vas vat I
call one natural curioss"( ity.)
Rauzzini was now a nightly, instead of an oc-
casional, visitor at the theatre, where he would
establish himself in the right-hand stage-box,
planting his right ear towards the orchestra,
and, distending his eyes (during Incledon's
songs) as though the organs of sight were also
receptacles of sound. "*
Charles, at the conclusion of a favourite bal-
lad, one evening, made a beautiful run, in that
way which was altogether his own, roiling his
voice grandly up, like a surge of the sea, till,
touching the top-note, it gushed away in
sweetness. " Coot Cot !" cried Rauzzini, look-
ing up, " it vas vare lucky dere vas some roof
dere, or dat feller vould be hear by de ainshel
in feeVn.'" When he sang at Vauxhall, perhaps
my reader will say, this obstacle did not exist.
INCLEDON'S BAD MEMORY, 51
Incledon had always a bad memory for study,
and this was one reason why he was not a bet-
ter actor. 6 Without a man knows his author,"
Macklin used to say, " he does not know him-
self." In addition to this, he could never vamp,
to use a theatrical technical, which implies the
substitution of your own words and ideas when
the author's are forgotten. Vamping requires
some tact, if not talent ; and Incledon's recent
occupations had imparted to his manners that
genuine salt-water simplicity to which the ar-
tifices of acting were insurmountable difficul-
ties. With his little stage experience, at this
period, it will be supposed that he was more
open to a lapsus than subsequently ; and Mr.
Palmer, having noticed one or two, was so care-
ful for his fame, (nothing now could exceed the
manager's kindness,) that he came round to In-
cledon and cautioned him. The ktter pro-
mised to be more attentive ; but resolved, if he
again blundered or bog'd, to apologize in a
manner of his own.
An occasion was not long in arriving. The
next night, whilst playing a lover, in the midst
52 INCLEDON'S MODE OF
of a passionate address to his mistress, he stuck
as fast as though he had been up to his middle
in a Kilcobery slough. In vain the lady hemmed
and ha*d, the prompter whispered, or the au-
dience stared ; his agitation only increased at the
assistance that was given him, and in endeavour-
ing to recollect a little, he forgot more. All was
now at a stand-still, till Incledon suddenly ob-
served to the lady, that love having taken
away his language, perhaps she would permit
him to express what he felt in a favourite air.
He then broke into one of his ballads, and whilst
singing the first verse recollected the author;
a thunder of applause greeted this effusion, and
he proceeded with spirit, but on quitting the
stage met Mr. Palmer at the wings, who stared
at him like a statue. Incledon immediately ex-
plained : " Mr. Palmer, you have been exceed-
ingly kind and generous to me, and I wouldn't
offend you or the Bath audience for the world ;
there's no persons I respect more ; they treat me
like a prince and a gentleman at the c Catch
Club ;' but the truth is, Sir, I forgot my part,
RECOLLECTING THE WORDS. 53
and I could not take the cue. I assure you. Sir,
my agitation was so great, I could not take the
cue, and I introduced one verse of c Black-eyed
Susan,' in order to recollect the words."
Incledon, finding this plea sufficient, availed
himself of his resource on several subsequent
occasions, so that at length it became a remark
in the Green-room, whenever his voice was heard
on the stage, " Is he singing the music, or re-
collecting the words?"
This season concluded not more to the satis-
faction of Mr. Palmer than every member of his
company. My benefit was patronized by the
" Catch Club," (which was rendering my box-
leaf the " Bath Guide,") and I woke up from a
dream of eight months' uninterrupted enjoyment.
My views in the summer were directed to
Swansea, having received an invitation from va-
rious residents, who in the winter had visited
Bath and made my acquaintance. A company
not numerous but meritorious was desired ;
among whom, it was suggested, young Incledon
would prove attractive.
54 STORIES OF THE STAGE.
This was my first speculation in "manage-
ment," and it proved so successful, that, to the
last hour of my connection with the Stage, I
continued, directly or indirectly, to fish in its
troubled waters.
The only circumstance of the season that is
amusing to remember, happened on Blisset's be-
nefit. He was playing Rueful in the " Natural
Son," (a part which would have ensured him
the highest honours in London,) and at the mo-
ment he was about to make the disclosure to
Blushenly of his birth, a party came in, who,
being strangers, turned their attention to the
decorations of the house, and expressed their
admiration so loud as to drown every accent from
the stage. Blisset stared at them an instant, in-
dignantly and disconcerted; then taking his
companion by the arm, " Come along," said he,
"you can't hear me here, and I'll tell you all
about it in the next room ;" with which he went
off, and gave vent to his vexation.
During this summer, Sir John Danvers visited
Oxford, and, with the " Catch Club" engrossing
his past, present, and future, called on Dr.
SIR J. DANVERS' GIFT. 55
Hayes for advice in the purchase of an organ,
which we had experienced the want of> during
the past season, in the execution of many grand
pieces. It had been proposed at our last meet-
ing to subscribe for the above purpose, and
among a hundred members the expense would
not have been heavy ; but Sir John had thrown
dissuasives and obstacles in the way, with no
other view, as it now appeared, than that of sup-
plying the requisite himself. Having decided
on an instrument of a peculiarly fine tone, which
cost him five hundred pounds, he dispatched it
to Bath in a cart, with proper people to put it
up, and sent me a letter to this effect :
"DEAR BERNARD,
" I HAVE purchased an. organ (which I
have sent to Arnold's) for our next winters
meetings, and I beg your acceptance of the
same as a token of my esteem for your care and
industry in forming what I consider to be the
first society of the kind in the kingdom.
Your's truly,
"J. DANVERS."
56 BATH SARCASM.
This valuable present I never availed myself
of, for, on quitting Bath, I gave it to the Club,
and of its ultimate appropriation I am not aware ;
but if my reader is surprised at the generosity
of the act, as it relates to myself, he will be much
more so in learning Sir John's latter conduct,
which presented to it so striking a comparison.
At this period, the worthy Baronet certainly
felt for me an unfeigned esteem: whether it was
on purely personal grounds, or in the measure I
had contributed to his enjoyments by the insti-
tution of the Club, I cannnot say, but my name
was continually on his lips, and I felt grateful.
I knew his worth as well as his peculiarities, (for
he put me in mind of one of his own silver can-
dlesticks, a thing that was both valuable and
serviceable, though of ridiculous workmanship,)
and I was proud of the sarcasm of a Bath
banterer, who observed, "Another proof of
Sir John's eccentricity is his friendship for
Bernard !"
With the "Catch Club" I was continually
associated when absent, and this formed the one
topic of our conversation when together its plea-
MRS. ESTEN. -57
sures, its progress, its patronage, its farther im-
provement, and its future festivities ; and on
one occasion, I remember, when contemplating,
at the close of the winter, its comparative per-
fection, we looked back to its origin, he ob-
served with a smile, " Who would have thought,
Bernard, that such a society as this should have
grown out of a conversation you and I had,
when jogging home together one night, in two
chairs side by side, our heads bobbing out of the
windows, and hitting each other till they rung
again ?"
The season of 1785-6 rolled rapidly round,
and the Theatre and Club opened with equal
eclat ; the first novelty at the one was the debut
of Mrs. Esten, whose mother, Mrs. Bennet 5
lived on the Parade, and visited in genteel cir-
cles ; whilst our Club was strengthened by the
accession of Boyton a musician, under whom
Charles Dibdin acquired or completed his know-
ledge of thorough bass.
Dining one day at Dr. Harrington's, Boyton
reminded me of Dr. Herschel, who, on my first
visit to Bath, was Organist to the Octagon
D5
58 DR. HERSCHEL
Chapel, and played an instrument in the or-
chestra. At that period I should have alluded
to him, not only as I have something amusing to
say, but because I was indebted to him for my
first knowledge of music. A " compunctuous
visiting" of my conscience compels me now to
repair the neglect.
Owing to the production of various operas at
Bath, in which either serious or comic music was
allotted me, I felt myself awkwardly situated s
which the good-natured German observing, he
proffered his services to give me private instruc-
tion, upon terms which should be arranged at a
future period* This ofler I gratefully accepted,
and attended him twice a- week, at his own lodg-
ings, which then resembled an astronomer's much
more than a musician's, being heaped up with
globes, maps, telescopes, reflectors, &c. under
which his piano was hid, and the violoncello, like
a discarded favourite, skulked away in one
corner.
This was not the only evidence of Mr, Her-
scheFs astrological propensities, nor were they
a public secret; he had taken observations, and
AND HIS " ATLAS." 59
communicated with philosophical societies; the
consequence of which was, that he had been
quizzed by the fiddlers, and called by the charita-
bly disposed an eccentric. To his friends and
to myself he alluded to these studies without
embarrassment, and would modestly remark,
that " all men had their failings, and this was
his." When I came to him of an evening, and
caught him thus employed, he would tell me
with a laugh, to take care how I stepped over his
" new world," and didn't run foul of his " celestial
system ;" and when I helped him to put his ma-
chinery aside, he had a standing joke in calling
me his " Atlas," because I once carried the
globe on my shoulders. When the removal was
made, the fiddle was taken down, or the harpsi-
chord opened, without farther comment
Whether it was a presage of his future suc-
cess, or a constitutional complacency that for-
tified him so firmly against the battery of the
waggish, I cannot say, but certainly no man
bore a persecution of this kind with less marks
of suffering Nevertheless, I believe that his
condition, in comparison with mine, was para-
60 DR. HERSCHEL.
disical. When it was known that I attended
him privately, the actors swore that I was stu-
dying astronomy, which rendered me the butt
of the Green-room, and fair game for every
society I entered. I was gravely asked at table
whether I " advocated Tycho Brahe, or Coper-
nicus?" and what was my "opinion of Sir
Isaac Newton's Treatise on Fluxions ?" whilst
others stopped me in the street to inquire if
I " had calculated the period of the last comet's
return." Edwin, who was my intimate, said
the severest thing. "Bernard's got tired of
6 Earth,' and Herschel will carry him to Ve-
nus' and * Mercury/ "
Notwithstanding I was so familiar with his
pursuits, one evening he gave me a surprise.
The opera of " Lionel and Clarissa " was an-
nounced, in which I was given the part of Lord
Jessamy. His Lordship having a difficult song,
I went as usual to my clever friend to rehearse
it. It was cold and clear weather, but the sky
that night was rather cloudy, and the moon
peeped out only now and then from her veil.
Herschel had a fire in his back-apartment, and
THE ABSENTEE PLANET. 61
placed the music-stand near its window, which
I could not account for. He then procured his
violin, and commenced the song, playing over
the air twice or thrice to familiarize me with
its general idea; and then leading me note
by note to its thorough acquaintance. We
got through about five bars pretty well, till
of a sudden the sky began to clear up, and
his eye was unavoidably attracted by the celes-
tial bodies coming out, as it were, one by one
from their hiding-places : my eye, however, was
fixed on the book : and when he exclaimed,
Cfe Beautiful ! beautiful T squinting up at the
stars, I thought he alluded to the music. At
length^ the whole host threw aside their dra-
pery, and stood forth in naked loveliness:
the effect was sudden and subduing, u Beau-
tiful, beautiful, ' shouted Herschel, " there he
is at last !" dropping the fiddle, snatching a
telescope, throwing up the window, and (though
it was a night in January) beginning to survey
an absentee planet, whith he had been long
looking for.
My stone-like surprise, not to say mortifi-
62 DR. HERSCHEL.
cation, contrasted rather strongly with his rap-
turous expressions (which, by the by, seemed
to welcome the star back, as though he had
been an old human acquaintance), " Aha! how
do you do? I'm glad to see you,"
&c.; and I must confess that, for an in-
stant, I was of Lady Anne's humour, and
wished that some gentlemanly comet would
come by, and brush away the intruder with
his tail. The fit, however, was soon over, and
then we proceeded with the song.
Herschel, when in company, owing to the
above causes, was exceedingly abstracted, and
would frequently listen to a long story without
comprehending a word of it. This was very
mortifying to the person who had been endea-
vouring to entertain him ; and on subsequent
occasions, when this absence was perceived, it
grew to be a common remark with many,
" He 's in the clouds again, he 's star-gazing !
Nowhere more than at the theatre, in a long
musical rehearsal, was he given to this celes-
tial absorption of ideas, and nowhere so much
was he exposed to sarcasm, both from the stage
MRS, BADDELEY. 63
and the orchestra, whenever it was perceived.
At the time in question, Mrs. Baddeley came
down to Bath for a few nights, and when she
walked in as Polly, Herschel, who had never
seen her before, was so overpowered with her
beauty, that he dropped his fiddlestick and
stared at her. When this was mentioned in
the Green-room, Edwin quaintly remarked,
" Well, ' twas nothing strange ; he was star-
gazing. 1 '
Let me conclude these notices, as I would
always wish to do when I cannot praise the
talents, with a record to the virtues of this
individual. The point of terms, though I re-
peatedly pressed him to settle it, he invariably
deferred* saying he had not time then to talk
about " terms," he had only time to give me
a " lesson." At the end of the season, having
regularly received my two lessons a-week, I
waited on him to know what remuneration I
should make ; when he refused to receive a shil-
ling, saying, " He had undertaken to teach me,
because he thought I could not afford to pay
any one."
64 CHARLES DIBDIN.
Ten years after this, I met the Doctor in
London, where he was established as an astro-
nomer, and we renewed and continued our
acquaintance.
Calling at Meyler's one day, I learned that
Charles Dibdin was in Bath, and had been to
the theatre over-night to see " Robin Hood," in
which I played the Tinker. I resolved, there-
fore, to send him a card of invitation from the
Club; this being a permission which, as Secre-
tary, I enjoyed without limitation towards my
professional brethren.
At this time Dibdin was personally unknown
to me, and Boyton brought him the next club-
night, and introduced him generally ; but in my
transition from the Tinker to the Secretary, he
did not recognise me. I placed him at my right-
hand, in order to show him as much atten-
tion as possible, and then commenced our
convivialities with my constitutional song of,
" When the gamut I got of the Conjugal
State." At its conclusion, Dibdin turned to
Captain Baker, who sat next him, and observed,
"Mr. Bernard would make an excellent actor,"
MR. HARRIS'S OFFER. 65
in evident ignorance that he had seen rne the
night before. The Captain smiled, but was
silent, and at the close of the evening acquainted
me with what he had said.
The next day I met him in the street ; but
by this time he had identified me. After eulo-
gizing our meeting, as affording him five hours
of unmixed satisfaction, he surprised me by
observing that his business in Bath was prin-
cipally on my account ; Mr. Harris having de-
puted him to see me act, and sound me on my
views in regard to a London engagement. He
said that he was not only sufficiently pleased
to make a favourable report, but if I came to
terms with the manager, he would take my
measure for an original part in an opera he
was now writing.
This intelligence and promise were very flat-
tering, but at that time took little effect. I
had no aspirations for London : by no possible
combination of circumstances could I have been
more happily situated than r l was then at Bath.
With an income sufficient to support me, the
ruling favourite of the theatre, and in my
66 MISS BRUNTON'S DEBUT
private path freely admitted to a footing with
all the talent and title of the city, what more
could I desire or obtain ? My present posses-
sions were certainties, but London was an un-
tried and precarious ground, where, if it was
possible I could also become the centre of the
circle, a life's labour and miraculous good
fortune were the necessary means.
With these sentiments, Dibdin quitted me on
his return to London ; notwithstanding which,
I received a letter from Mr. Harris, who ima-
gined, I believe, that I was manoeuvring for
terms. He offered me six pounds a-week, and my
wife four, for four years, which I refused ; stat-
ing, however, as my plea, that my article to Mr.
Palmer did not expire till the ensuing season.
Shortly after this, Dibdin had a quarrel with
Mr. Harris, and withdrew his opera: whether
it was ever produced, and what became of my
" character," I know not.
This season was distinguished by the debut
of Miss Brunton in the " Grecian Daughter,"
a girl of about sixteen, her father playing Evan-
der. This was the most extraordinary evidence
AND EARLY GENIUS. 67
of genius I ever met with : till within a week of
the performance, her talents, and even incli-
nation for the stage, were unsuspected. I can
vouch for the fact, as I was so intimate with
the family. Her father had taught her to read
Shakspeare as a means of mental improve-
ment ; and her proposed employment was that
of a governess. Coming home from rehearsal
one day, he overheard her in her bed-room re-
citing Calista^s speech upon the unfortunate
condition of her sex, which surprised him so
much, that he pushed open the door, and asked
her if she intended it as a personality. He
was soon convinced, however, that she was igno-
rant of his presence, and made her repeat the
speech ; its effect led him to question her, when
he discovered that she was perfect in the part ;
and that not only, but Juliet, Belvidera, and
Euphrasia ; this was a strong symptom of the
cacoethes ludendi, and he summoned a consul-
tation of advisers ; among whom was Meyler
and myself, We were satisfied with a speech and
scene ; and Mr. Palmer was the next day added
to the number ; he was no shallow or inexpe-
68 GREAT EVIDENCE OF MISS B.'S GENIUS,
rienced critic, and it was not in compliance with
managerial interest that he remarked, u Here
will be another Siddons !" Briefly, these events
having occupied the Monday and Tuesday, on
the Wednesday the young lady was on the
stage rehearsing, and on the Monday follow-
ing she played Euphrasia at Bristol with the
most unqualified success. Her reception at Bath
confirmed the triumph of that performance; and
Mr. Harris, passing through Bristol on one of
her subsequent nights, engaged both father and
daughter for Co vent Garden.
The most surprising feature of this debut
(and which I considered as the most legitimate
proof of genius) was Miss B.'s extraordinary
self-possession, she moved and spoke like an
experienced stager ; and had I not known her
from her childhood as a secluded and domestic
girl, I should have sworn that she had passed
every night of her life before the eyes of the
public.
Sir John Danvers continued his kindness to
me till the close of this winter. He had given
me an organ, made me the daily occupant of his
BRIGHTON. 69
table, and even went so far as to offer me a
house on his own estate, (Sweetland Park,) with
an annuity at his death, if I would quit the
stage and live with him altogether. This, how-
ever, was rather too great a sacrifice for a young
and happy actor to make ; but I certainly pro-
mised to pass the ensuing summer at his country
seat.
At the season's end, however, I found that I
had indulged too liberally in its gaieties, for the
good of my health; dinner-parties on non-play
days, and supper-parties after the performance,
were a sort of social laudanum that excited me
for the time, to rack me for the future. I was
in fact severely debilitated, and Dr. Harrington
said that sea-bathing was the only thing to
restore me.
At this period, a good many Bath people were
going over to Brighton ; and Fox, its manager,
was advised to engage me. I was undecided
in my views, when I received his letter, contain-
ing very favourable terms for the "firm," as he
called Mrs. B. and myself. This spot, of all
others, proposed to combine the two objects of
70 AN ECCENTRIC'S FRIENDSHIP.
health and competence ; and I replied to him in
the affirmative, writing to Sir John, who was
now at Sweetland Park, and stating the above
circumstances as an apology for the non-ful-
filment of my promise.
His reply bewildered and grieved me. He
charged me with ingratitude, falsehood, and
meanness; swoie I had no more occasion to
bathe than he had ; knew that if I had pro-
mised any one else I should have kept my word ;
supposed my wife made a fool of me ; and, in
short, after ransacking the dictionary for a va-
riety of vituperatives I don't care to repeat, he
took an eternal farewell of me and the Club.
And he kept his word ; not once after that
did he visit the Society (at one time his only
source of enjoyment); and when we encountered
in the streets of Bath, he was stone-blind in an
instant, or wanted to speak to some one over
the way. This was the friendship of an
eccentric*
My first visit to Brighton merits a proud re-
cord in these pages, since it created an epoch
in my public history. It was there I not merely
ROYAL PATRONAGE. 71
re-established my health, but obtained the gra-
cious notice of His Royal Highness the Prince.
He was present at my debut in Belcour and
Young Wilding, and personally requested the
repetition of the performances.
I believe I can boast of being the first if not
the only actor who was honoured with an invi-
tation to the Pavilion.
After this, I began to think there was even
a higher state of enjoyment in store for me,
than what I had been afforded in the circles
of Bath.
His Royal Highness bespoke my benefit play,
which was " The Liar." Mr* Weltjie came to
take all the boxes, which occasioned the ele-
vation of the pit to the box-prices. I expressed
a hope that His Royal Highness would be pr-
sent, though I knew that that day he dined
with the Camp. That worthy gentleman replied,
that I might be sure he'd come, since he had
given his word: thePrince,he rejoined, "always
keeps his word, but he says you are the greatest
4 Liar' on the Stage."
72 BATH,
CHAPTER III.
1786-7- Bath : Amateur Theatricals. Major Halliday and
his Companions. u Brahantio's" Address. Criticisms on
Cassio. Captain Stanley and his comment. Anecdotes
of the early life of Sir Thomas Lawrence. Old Lawrence
the "Reader," and Innkeeper, and Jonathan Payne.
" Little Tom's" notoriety ; his taking Edwin's likeness ;
his readings. " Tom, don't touch Satan." Young Law-
rence's dramatic propensity : a Rehearsal and a Scene.
House-warming at Frome. Handy and Captain Stanley.
ARecipe for improving Madeira. Incledon's volunteered
Song, and encores : his Address. Miss Poole's dehut. Mrs,
Dickons. An attempt at Authorship. Meyler's hoax.
Mr. Pettingall and the < Liar. "Death of the Earl of
Conyngham. Death of Jonathan Payne, and his Epitaph.
Engagement for London. Brighton Interview with
H. R, H. the Prince. Major Hanger and Mrs. Johnson.
Sheridan and Fox.
THE winter of 1786-7 was my third and last
season at Bath. The " green-room" presented no
new faces ; and notwithstanding we had lost Sir
AMATEUR THEATRICALS. 73
John's at the Catch Club, we continued its
meetings with the usual hilarity.
During the summer, Major Halliday and
other members of our Club had set on foot
some amateur theatricals at Bristol, which, be-
ing in aid of the funds of charitable institutions,
had been well attended.
The Major wished to transfer the scene of
his triumphs and benevolence to Bath, and for
so laudable an object the theatre was obtained
on an " off-night/ 7 and the performance was got
up under the direction of the " Acting Com-
mittee." " Othello" was the play, the Major
sustaining his favourite character the Moor.
This was, with one or two exceptions, the best
piece of amateur acting I ever saw. It might,
however, have owed no small portion of its
brightness to the foils with which, in lago, Cas-
sio, Brabantio, and Roderigo, it was surrounded.
Many of these gentlemen seemed to justify the
remark of Dr, Johnson, who was once entrapped
to a similar exhibition. " I must confess I am
astonished that individuals, who pride them-
selves so much on their dignity and sense among
VOL. II. E
74 URABANTIO'S ADDRESS.
friends, should be tempted to make such fools
of themselves, for the amusement of strangers."
Desdemona and Emilia, with the minor cha-
racters, were supported by members of the com-
pany.
On this occasion I was generally requested
to officiate as prompter. I forget the gentle-
man's name who assumed Brabantio, but he
had to speak the address. Seeing me with the
paper in my hand, as the curtain was about to
rise for its delivery, he hinted that he had no
occasion for my services, having made himself
dead perfect, to encounter an encore ; I accord-
ingly laid down the MS. and he made his
bow. He had not delivered above ten lines,
out of sixty, when he " settled," and looked
round to me for assistance ; but some one had
taken up the neglected lines and carried them
to a lamp to read ; an outcry and bustle was
made to obtain them ; and the " public" being
present, placed Brabantio meanwhile in the
situation of the Eddy stone Light-house dur-
ing a tempest, though not so firm on his foun-
dation.
CAPTAIN STANLEY. 75
When the address was rescued, his agitation
(and the public's) was too great to permit his
hearing my whispers; and after floundering on
a little farther, about " British generosity,"
" orphans' tears/' " female tenderness/' " manly
dignity of this Green Isle," &c. a person took
pity on him in the pit, and said, " Well, my
good Sir, we've no doubt you mean very well,
but you only confuse us by attempting to
explain I"
This sentiment meeting the general appro-
bation of the house, dismissed Brabantio, with
about forty lines in arrear, whose vexation was
not slightly increased by my reminding him of
his own words, as the cause of the dilemma
that " he had made himself dead perfect, to en-
counter an encore."
Captain Stanley (the " Bath Bacchus") was.
the Cassio of the evening. The criticism that
the wags passed upon his performance was,
" That for a man who could sup so well, he
spouted very badly !" My reader may be in-
clined to say, that this was sad fun. Critically,
therefore, it was misapplied to the performance
E2
78 EARLY LIFE OF
receiving professional instructions, I believe, from
a Mr. Hoare, of Bath.*
On my first visit to Bath, I became acquaint-
ed with his father, who had formerly been an
actor, and was then an innkeeper at Devizes.
The stage, though a relinquished, was his fa-
vourite pursuit, and he came to Bath regularly
once a-week, to pass an evening in the Green-
room. Here he recounted his early adventures,
in connection with some member of the com-
pany, and criticized actors metropolitan and
provincial. I could not learn the measure of
his own talents, but he certainly deserved the
fame he enjoyed of being a most excellent rea-
der. He had a clear, full voice, and gave to
Milton and to Shakspeare all their dignity and
tenderness. Ability of any kind is seldom un-
* The following anecdotes are introduced in the Original
Manuscript, in their proper place, the year 1778, but were
subsequently expunged by the Autobiographer, in compliance
with the wishes of Sir Thomas, to whom, being on terms of
intimacy, he submitted the work. The death of the latter
gentleman frees the Editor from a restraint which was purely
personal, and permits him, by the above means, to give a
glimpse of the President's early history, which no publica-
tion has yet afforded* January 28th, 1830.
SIR THOMAS LAWRENCE. 79
accompanied with vanity ; it is the shadow which
is sure to be produced by the sunshine of pub-
lic favour.
Lawrence not only used to entertain his friends
at home (round a snug parlour fire) with his
" readings," but, whenever a new play was an-
nounced, would come over to Bath, and proffer
his services to the actors, to "read their parts ;*"
a kindness which some who intended to sponge
at his house would accept, but others of more
dignity declined.
The wag of the Bath Green-room (as indeed
he continued to be) was Jonathan Payne, an
actor of the true Joe Miller order more famous
for the good things he said off the stage than
on. Payne, however, was of that particular
species of humorist who is fond of a practical
joke ; and the worthy innkeeper presented a
notable means for the exercise of his genius.
* Rosina' was to be performed, in which Payne
was cast one of the rustics. - Meeting Lawrence
behind the scenes, he told him that he had to
play a new part the next night, and should feel
extremely obliged if Mr. Lawrence would read
78 EARLY LIFE OF
receiving professional instructions, I believe, from
a Mr. Hoare, of Bath.*
On my first visit to Bath, I became acquaint-
ed with his father, who had formerly been an
actor, and was then an innkeeper at Devizes.
The stage, though a relinquished, was his fa-
vourite pursuit, and he came to Bath regularly
once a-week, to pass an evening in the Green-
room. Here he recounted his early adventures,
in connection with some member of the com-
pany, and criticized actors metropolitan and
provincial. I could not learn the measure of
his own talents, but he certainly deserved the
fame he enjoyed of being a most excellent rea-
der. He had a clear, full voice, and gave to
Milton and to Shakspeare all their dignity and
tenderness. Ability of any kind is seldom un-
* The following anecdotes are introduced in the Original
Manuscript, in their proper place, the year 1778, but were
subsequently expunged by the Autobiographer, in compliance
with the wishes of Sir Thomas, to whom, being on terms of
intimacy, he submitted the work. The death of the latter
gentleman frees the Editor from a restraint which was purely
personal, and permits him, by the above means, to give a
glimpse of the President's early history, which no publica-
tion has yet afforded, January 28th, 1830.
SIR THOMAS LAWRENCE, 79
accompanied with vanity ; it is the shadow which
is sure to be produced by the sunshine of pub-
lic favour.
Lawrence not only used to entertain his friends
at home (round a snug parlour fire) with his
" readings/* but, whenever a new play was an-
nounced, would come over to Bath, and proffer
his services to the actors, to u read their parts ;""'
a kindness which some who intended to sponge
at his house would accept, but others of more
dignity declined.
The wag of the Bath Green-room (as indeed
he continued to be) was Jonathan Payne, an
actor of the true Joe Miller order more famous
for the good things he said off the stage than
on. Payne, however, was of that particular
species of humorist who is fond of a practical
joke; and the worthy innkeeper presented a
notable means for the exercise of his genius.
6 Rosina' was to be performed, in which Payne
was cast one of the rustics. Meeting Lawrence
behind the scenes, he told him that he had to
play a new part the next night, and should feel
extremely obliged if Mr, Lawrence would read
80 EARLY LIFE OF
it to him. Lawrence bustled up-stairs to his
dressing-room (which was that of a dozen
others) with the greatest alacrity, and Payne
very gravely handed him the part. Lawrence
put on his spectacles, and began to con it over.
" Act I. Scene I. Enter Rustic, O. P. ; at end
of the song, exit P. S., with groupe. Scene II.
Enter Rustic, P. S., with haymakers. Exit
Rustic, with ditto. Act II. Enter Rustic, O.P.
with rustics, on till the end,"
Lawrence, reading the above aloud with great
deliberation and emphasis, involved himself in a
mist of surprise, and his hearers in a roar of
laughter. Looking up, he then exclaimed, " Read
your part, Mr. Payne; I doo't perceive you
have a word to say." " No, Sir," said Payne ;
" for, if I had, I should not have asked you."
But Lawrence at this time owed all his noto-
riety to his son " Tom," a boy of about nine
years of age, who exhibited a wonderful preco-
city of talent in taking likenesses. His father,
however, had taught him to read Shakspeare
and Milton with considerable effect, and consi-
dered his ability in this respect (since it pro-
ceeded from himself) of a much higher order
SIR THOMAS LAWRENCE. 81
than the former, which was natural. Neverthe-
less, the distinction between the two was, that
as a reader " little Tom" was but little Tom
a very clever child, nine years of age, and, as a
sketcher of likenesses, he disclosed the rudi-
ments of the future powers of the President.
There was something about little Lawrence,
however, which excited the surprise of the most
casual observer. He was a perfect man in mi-
niature; his confidence and self-possession smack-
ed of one-and-twenty.
Lawrence frequently brought his boy to the
Green-room, and we would set him on a table,
and make him recite " Harnlefs directions to
the Players." On one of these occasions Hen-
derson was present, and expressed much grati-
fication. The little fellow, in return for our
civilities and flatteries, was desirous to take our
likenesses the first time we came to Devizes ;
and Edwin and myself afforded him an oppor-
tunity soon after, on one of our non-play-day
excursions.
After dinner, Lawrence proposed giving us a
" reading," as usual ; but Tom reminding him
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82 EARLY LIFE OF
of our promise, we preferred a specimen of his
talents, as being the most novel. The young
artist collected his materials very quickly, and
essayed my visage the first In about ten
minutes, he produced a faithful delineation in
crayon, which for many years I kept as a curio-
sity. He next attempted Edwin's, who, startled
at the boy^s ability, resolved (in his usual way)
to perplex him.
No man had a more flexible countenance
than Edwin ; it was not only well featured, but
well muscled, if I may be allowed the expression,
which enabled him to throw over its surface, as
on a moral prism, all the colours of expression,
minutely blending, or powerfully contrasting.
He accordingly commenced his sitting, by set-
tling his face into a sober and rather serious
aspect ; and when the young artist had taken
its outline and come to the eyes, he began- gra-
dually but imperceptibly to extend and change
it, raising his brows, compressing his lips, and
widening his mouth, till his _face wore the
expression of brightness and gaiety. Tom no
sooner perceived the change than he started in
SIR THOMAS LAWRENCE. 83
supreme wonder, attributing it to a defect in his
own vision. The first outline was accordingly
abandoned, and a second commenced. Tom
was now more particular, and watched him
narrowly ; but Edwin, feature by feature, and
muscle by muscle, so completely ran what
might have been called the gamut of his coun-
tenance, (as the various components of its har-
mony,) that the boy drew, and rubbed out, till
his hand fell by his side, and he stood silently
looking in Edwin's face, to discover, if possible,
its true expression. Edwin could not long
maintain his composure at this scrutiny, and
revealed the hoax with a burst of merriment
that mimicked thunder.
Little Tom could not take up Shakspeare or
Milton and read at random : he had been in-
structed in particular speeches, and to those he
referred. There was onein Milton (" Satan'sAd-
dress to the Sun,") he had been long wishing to
learn ; but his father, from an apprehension that
his mind was yet unequal to its grasp, had passed
it over. Tom had listened, nevertheless, when-
ever the former read it to a friend, and surprised
84 EARLY LIFE OF
his father not slightly with the news, that he
could imitate him. A family in Devizes, who
were well known to Lawrence, giving a party one
evening, requested the favour of his son's com-
pany for his readings. Lawrence consented, but
on condition that Tom was not requested to select
other than his own passages. He then caution-
ed his boy against attempting any thing in
which he was not perfect, and particularly this
Address of Satan. In the evening, Tom walked
to the house, with, Milton and Shakspeare under
his arms, and was shown into the company with
the utmost attention.
When the complimenting, &c. was over, he
was asked what recitation he preferred in Mil-
ton. He replied, " Satan's Address to the Sun ;"
but that his father would not permit him to
give it. For that reason, the}'' were particularly
eager to hear it, as they wished to discover
whether Tom was a mere parrot or a prodigy.
His dutiful scruples, however, were not to be
overcome till they had promised to obtain his
father's forgiveness. He then turned to the
forbidden page, and a written slip of paper
SIR THOMAS LAWRENCE. 85
dropped from it. A gentleman picked it up,
and read it aloud " Tom ! mind you don^t
touch Satan !"
My reader must conceive the effect which the
wording of this caution produced on the hearers.
Tom, however, did have dealings with Satan,
and handled him, as I was informed, with great
discretion.
As young Lawrence grew up, his Shak-
spearian readings, and his frequent visits to the
theatre, imbued him with a strong dramatic
propensity, and about his sixteenth year* he
had serious intentions of making the Stage his
profession.
I was now in Bath once more, but with a
wonderful improvement in my fame and for-
tunes. No man could be more favourably situ-
ated than myself, (combining private with pub-
lic advantages,) to give advice or assistance to an
aspirant ; and the young artist needed no intro-
duction in coming to me for both. I heard him
recite Jaffier ; and though private recitation, I
will admit, is at all times an imperfect cri-
* The winter, 1785.
86 EARLY LIFE OF
terion, I did not perceive, on this occasion, any
evidences of talent he could balance against
that which was acknowledged in his present
pursuit. I desired him, however, to call on me
again, and said that, in the interim, I would speak
to Mr. Palmer. In the interim I met his father,
and felt myself bound to disclose what had pass-
ed, Lawrence had failed in his business at
Devizes, and was looking forward to his son's
efforts for support. Knowing from experience
the precarious fortunes of an actor, and, by this
time, the value of his son's talents, he was ne-
cessarily alarmed at my intelligence, and beg-
ged I would use all my influence in dissuading
him from his design. I knew young Lawrence's
filial attachment, (which, among his acquaint-
ance, was indeed proverbial,) and I suggested
that the best plan would be, to achieve the de-
sired object by a surprise. I appointed Law-
rence, therefore, to come to my house the next
morning, about twelve, with some friends, and
sent word to his son to meet me there half an
hour after. I then went to Mr. Palmer, told
him the circumstance, and requested his co-
SIR THOMAS LAWRENCE. 87
operation. He promised it most freely, and
agreed to attend the rendezvous at the time
appointed.
By half-past twelve, the next day, all the
parties were assembled: old Lawrence and his
friends, in the back-parlour ; young Lawrence,
Mr. Palmer, and myself, in the front. The ma-
nager was no sooner introduced than, with great
adroitness, he desired a specimen of young Law-
rence's abilities, and took his seat at one end of
the room.
I proposed the opening scene between Priuli
and Jaffier, and one between JafBer and Belvi-
dera. We accordingly commenced : (I, Priuli; he,
Jaffier :) and he proceeded very perfectly, till, in
the well-known speech of "To me you owe her,"'
he came to the line,
" I brought her gave her to your despairing arms ;
Indeed, you thanked me ; but *'
but here Jaffier stammered, and became stationary.
I held the book, but would not assist him, and he
recommenced and stopped, reiterated, and hem-
med, till his father, who had heard him with
88 EARLY LIFE OP
growing impatience, could contain his vexation
no longer, but, pushing open the door, thrust in
his head, and prompted him to the sentence,
" a nobler gratitude
Hose in her soul, for from that hour she loved me,
Till for her life she paid me with herself;"
then added, " You play Jaffier, Tom ! D m
me if they'd suffer you to murder a conspi-
rator!"
The whole party now made their appearance,
and began to remonstrate ; when Mr. Palmer,
taking young Lawrence by the hand, assured
him, in the most friendly manner, that he would
do any thing to serve him; but that it was
his conviction the latter did not possess those
advantages which would render the Stage a safe
undertaking. . This address did not produce an
instantaneous effect. It was obvious that the
young artist entertained the reverse opinion : a
conversation now ensued, in which I, abusing
the life of an actor, and other friends paint-
ing the prospects of a painter, young Lawrence
at length became convinced, but remarked with
a sigh, " that if he could have gone on the
SIR THOMAS LAWRENCE. 89
stage, he might have assisted his family much
sooner than by his present employments."
My reader can appreciate the affection of this
sentiment ; but I am unable to describe its deli-
very, or the effect it took upon every person
present. Passing over, therefore, the scene which
ensued, I will only add, that young Lawrence
went away renouncing his intentions and re-
taining his friends.
It is certainly one of my pleasantest recollec-
tions, that, by thus lending my aid to check this
early propensity, (which," if encouraged, must
have led to a renouncement of the pencil,) I
was an agent, however humble or indirect, in
the furtherance of my worthy friend's ultimate
prosperity.
Handy, a tavern-keeper at Bath, was about
to open the principal inn at Frome, which being
the property of Lord Cork, various members
of the " Catch Club"" were invited to the house-
warming.
Captains Baker and Stanley, Sir Charles
Bampfylde, Incledon, and my self, went over in a
party.
90 A RECIPE FOR
The friends and tenants from his Lordship's
estate amounted to about forty, and the visi-
tors from Bath to as many more : the dinner-
tickets were half-a-guinea, exclusive of liquors.
When we were all assembled in the parlours
and before the door, shaking hands, and de-
ciding bets upon the time of each other's arrival,
Captain Stanley's head, running upon an object
more important, led him to enter the bar and
ascertain the quality of the wines to be imbibed.
Mrs. Handy drew the cork of a Madeira bottle,
and filled him a glass."
The epicure took it into his mouth and rolled
it deliberately about on the tip of his tongue,
but shook his head, and remarked, " That won't
do, Mrs. Handy, that won't do ; 'tis as weak
as tea!"
Mrs. Handy expressed her regret, said she
would speak to her husband the instant he came
in, and some other should be substituted. The
Captain then returned to the company.
I now took an opportunity .of going to the
bar to shake the worthy host's hand, who di-
rectly after made his appearance, and was in-
IMPROVING MADEIRA. 91
formed by his wife of the Captain's objection.
Handy smiled and gave me a glass from the
bottle, which I thought was very good. He
then drew a glass of brandy, poured it into the
undervalued liquid, and corked it up. The
Captain soon returned, his peace of mind being
essentially disturbed by the prospect of poor
Madeira. Handy instantly apologized for (what
he termed) his wife's mistake in giving a sample
from a bottle not designed for the dinner, and
begged the Captain's opinion upon another.
Producing and filling a glass from the same,
the Captain subjected it to his former ordeal,
bathing his tongue in it, and scouring the roof
of his mouth : an immediate eifect was percep-
tible in his countenance, which glooming the
instant before like the dead of night, lit up
with a spreading smile like the dawn of a
red sky in a dog-day morning. Concluding
the ceremony with a smack sharp and loud
as the pop of champagne, he exclaimed, " Ah,
that's something like, Handy; there's some
strength in that,- that 's what I call a glass of
good Madeira."
92 INCLEDON'S VOLUNTEERED SONG.
About nine o'clock Lord Cork vacated the
chair, and I was called to it. The country-
people were so astonished at our pleasantry and
music, that they began to get exhilarated at an
early hour; but, as this was overthrowing an
established habit of the Club, I proposed that
we should adjourn to the theatre, and return to
our glasses about eleven. This was agreed to
by two-thirds of the party, and we consequently
pretty well filled the front-boxes. The enter-
tainment was the " West Indian," in which
Dowton played Belcour, then a young member
of the profession, but with more than the usual
evidences of future eminence.
Incledon, recognizing some acquaintance in the
company, went behind the scenes, and directly
after volunteered a song ; this was a high treat to
the pit and gallery ; but the wags in the boxes
were bent on other amusement. They encored
him twice, and brought him on the stage for the
fourth time. He now perceived their intention,
and, making a low bow, addressed them as fol-
lows : " Gentlemen, I sang this song, for the
first time, to please my friends behind the
MISS POOLED DEBUT, 93
scenes; the second, to please the public; the
third, to please yourselves; but if I sing it
again, may I be P (stopping as if to meditate
a terrific oath.) " What ?" shouted a dozen voices.
" Why, I '11 whisper you. Gentlemen, when I
come round;" and with these words he returned
to the boxes. This was the cleverest thing I
ever knew Incledon to say or do.
During this winter, I was in some measure in-
strumental in bringing forward that musical pro-
digy Miss Poole, (afterwards Mrs. Dickons,) a
child of seven or eight years of age, who sung
and played some of Mrs, Billington's bravuras
with ease, precision, and comparative power. I
knew her father very well, and, through my
connection with the " Club, v was enabled to ob-
tain him a patronage for a morning concert.
This experiment not only relieved him from his
difficulties, but gave that surprising little crea-
ture a launch into publicity.
During this winter also, I made my first
attempt as an author, in a farce called " The
Whimsical Ladies." Boy ton composed its mu-
sic, and took a successful measure of Incledon,
94 AN ATTEMPT AT AUTHORSHIP.
Wordsworth, Blanchard, and Miss Wright for
songs ; Blanehard, in particular, made a hit in
the " wooing effusion of a Tailor :"
" My dearest love-,
My turtle-dove;
My suit I '11 lay before you.' 3
This production did some good to the trea-
sury, and Mr. Palmer gave Boyton and myself
a clear joint night at Bristol, by which I cleared
forty pounds, and the former (in conjunction with
the sale of the songs) above a hundred.
Mr. Colman was now in Bath, and did me the
favour of a call, to offer me eight guineas a-week
for the ensuing summer, saying that he did this
at the express wish of His Royal Highness the
Prince.
AHaymarket engagement, however, interfered
with the Bath and Bristol seasons, which per-
mitted merely an interval of seven weeks ; and
as I had made up my mind to renew my article
with Mr. Palmer, I was obliged to decline
Mr. Colman's tender ; assuring him, at the same
time, that on my next visit to Brighton I would
MEYLER'S HOAX. 95
properly acknowledge my Royal patron's con-
descension.
Meyler was as fond of a practical as a verbal
joke. There was at this time residing in Bath
a silk-mercer, by the name of Pettingall, who was
notorious for telling little pleasant impossibilities,
or, to be vulgarly laconic, lies. He would
deal them out as rapidly and good-humouredly
as his patterns.
The "Young Wilding" farce was to be
played, and two hours before the performance
Mrs* Bernard was taken ill, and could not sus-
tain her usual character of Miss Grantham. A
lady in the company proffered her services as a
substitute, on condition that she was given a
book. I had lost mine, did not know where to
find the prompters, and at length ran toMeyler's,
to procure a volume of the " British Drama."
The particular volume which contained the
piece was either out or mislaid,, and all Meyler
could do was to direct, me to some person who
might possess it. "Mr. Pettingall," said he,
the silk-mercer on the Parade, is a great lover
96 MR. PETTINGALL AND " THE LIAR."
of theatricals, and I Ve not the least doubt that
he '11 oblige you.''
*" Away I scampered to Mr. PettingalFs^ as no
time was to be lost, and found him behind his
counter attending to the wants of a dozen cus-
tomers. He knew me instantly, and desisted
from puffing a particular pattern, to hear my bu-
siness. " Your name," said I, " is Pettingall, I
believe ?" " Yes, Sir, and you are Mr. Ber-
nard ?" " The same : you must excuse the want
of ceremony in this call ; but, the fact is, we are
in desperate want of a book at the theatre, and
Mr. Meyler informed me that you were the most
likely man in Bath to assist us." " What play
is it, Mr. Bernard ?" " The Liar, Sir."
" The what, Sir?"" The Liar, Sir." In an
instant his previously placid countenance ruffled,
and grew as red as a moon in a melodrama.
D n ^ Si r \ ] le exclaimed violently, strik-
ing the counter, " do you mean to insult me ?" I
stared at him in amazement ; but the bystanders,
who perceived the joke, turned away to suppress
their laughter. " Insult! I don't know what
you mean, Sir," said I. " And I don't know
DEATH OF EARL CONYNGHAM. 97
what you mean, Mr. Bernard," said he. " Mr.
Meyler," I added** 6 Oh ! it was Mr. Meyler
that sent you : I 'm satisfied."
The truth was now elicited ; and, after proving
my innocence, and joining with him in condemn-
ing Meyler^s conduct as most ungentlemaniy, I
hastened back to the library, to be laughed at
by the hoaxer and a dozen of his companions.
Towards the close of this season, our Club sus-
tained a severe loss in the death of the Earl of
Conyngham, who had retired to Wells a few
weeks previously, to counteract a late alarming
change in his health. The Society lost an ele-
gant and intelligent director, and I, amongst
many, a sincere and truly serviceable friend.
Whilst equalling most in the mere ornaments of
character, his Lordship could boast of all its
laudable substances. He was the most perfect
example of a man who derives his own happi-
ness in the measure that he contributes to that
of those who are around him.
We sustained a loss also in the theatre, though
more among ourselves than with the public;
poor Jonathan Payne, the worthy and the
VOL. II. F
S DEATH OF JONATHAN PAYNE.
witty ! an actor of not much eminence, being
one of that order so often alluded to in these
pages " the comedian of private life."
He had been long in a decline ; but a cause
which accelerated his death was his rejection
by Miss Summers, a very pretty girl in the com-
pany, whose father was a Thespian of Payne's
standing. Miss Summers, on the above occa-
sion, was said not to have exercised a perfect
freedom of will, but to have sacrificed love to
duty. Her father was in the habit of declaring,
whenever the matter was mentioned, " If you
marry Jonathan Payne, Betsy, I '11 cut you off
with a shilling," which amused the Bath trades-
people, as Summers had been fifty pounds in
their books for the last five years.
Dr. Dart was the reverend gentleman who
attended Payne in his last moments, and per-
formed the funeral service ; and I penned the
epitaph which was inscribed on his stone, it
was as follows :
4C In autumn Payne withered, in winter Payne died,
For l Summer's' sweet sunshine to Payne was denied ;
A dart of grim Death enter'd Payne's honest breast,
And a ' Dart 1 of religion consigned him to rest."
INTERVIEW WITH MR. HARRIS. 99
As the season drew to a close, Mr. Harris
made his appearance in Bath, and was intro-
duced to me by Mr. Palmer, in the Green-
room. He renewed his offer to me of a Lon-
don engagement, but upon much higher terms,
with the flattering intelligence, that the Prince,
on learning my determination from Mr. Colman,
had written to him, to give me a winter-footing in
London. I reiterated my old objections to quit-
ting Bath, though I could by no means express
my sense of the honour which His Royal Highness
had done me, in this personal interference for my
advantage. I told Mr. Harris that I was more
happily situated then, than ever I had been be-
fore ; and so long as Mr. Palmer would give me an
engagement, I did not wish to change masters.
This drew a reply from the latter, who said,
ttf The fact is, Bernard, I am about to sell a
third of this property to c Keasberry and Di~
mond/ and to give up all active share in its
direction. Thus, if you continue here, you must
pass out of my hands, and you had better do so
to your own advantage. Mr. Harris, you are
aware, has been wanting you these two years,
P 2
100 ENGAGEMENT FOR LONDON.
and, till the present time, I never favoured his
views."
This gave a different aspect to the matter,
and I promised Mr. Harris an answer the next
day. The period of consideration, as my reader
will suppose, was passed in the company of my
wife. Watson and Jefferson, the Chelten-
ham and Plymouth managers, were in Bath at
this time, desirous that I should join them.
The one offered me a clear half of his property ;
the other a third, upon merely nominal terms ;
but the Liverpool Theatre was to let, and my
good friend Mr. Peach had stood forward to
say, that if I liked the speculation, he would
provide me with the means. Each of these ob-
jects had some attraction in the light of my fu-
ture home ; and consulting my own feelings if
it was imperative I should quit Bath, I certainly
preferred being a country manager to a Lon-
don actor; but my wife had been all her life
eager to reach London, and on my account only
had remained out of it so long. Her desire
was to close with Mr. Harris, if he treated for
us both, and select one of the above as a sum-
ENGAGEMENT FOR LONDON. 101
mer resort : her desires, as they generally did,
carried the question.
The next day I met Mr. Harris at Mr*
Palmer's with some friends, and we talked the
affair over. I told him of the other schemes
I had in view, and of the only condition upon
which I would go to London, that my wife
had an opening also. Mr. Harris replied, that
he was most willing to engage Mrs. Bernard,
but could not promise her specific business till
vacancies occurred ; he would however insert a
clause in her article, which should enable her to
break it at the end of the first season, if her si-
tuation was disagreeable. He then offered me
ten, eleven, twelve, and thirteen pounds for four
years, and Mrs. Bernard five, six, seven, and
eight This was four pounds more for myself
and two for my wife, than he had offered the
winter previous. Before agreeing to these
terms, however favourable, strict matrimonial
propriety required I should submit them to
Mrs. B., who, after some wincing and hesitation,
permitted me to carry back to the manager
her affirmative.
102 BRIGHTON.
As this book is the record of the events, and
not the feelings, of my life, I pass over the
struggles it cost me to quit that city in which
elapsed the three happiest winters of my ex-
istence. The Club honoured me with a farewell
dinner, (though I was afterwards to mingle
with many of its members in London,) and re-
cognised my claims to its public attention on
my benefit, which, with Mrs. Bernard's, pro-
duced me two hundred and fifty pounds. After
a short season at Bristol, my destination was
Brighton, where I was taught by Fox to ex-
pect a very favourable reception: but I had
more reasons for visiting it than one.
On arriving there, my first duty was to call
at the Pavilion, where I was received in the
most cordial manner by my patron, who ^as
pleased to reiterate the words of Mr. Harris,
that " if I quitted Bath, there was no place I
should go to but London." I told His Royal
Highness that I thought he condescended great-
ly in taking such an interest in my fortunes.
" Not at all, Bernard," he replied. If I con.
descended to enjoy your talents, I certainly
INTERVIEW WITH THE PRINCE. 103
may condescend to reward them : the fact is, I
consider myself in your debt for a certain sum
of gratification, and I wish to balance the ac-
count by doing you as much service as lies in
my power."
We then rambled into a conversation upon
the Catch Club and convivial society of Bath,
with its distinguishing characters ; and when we
touched upon London, he was pleased to sug-
gest that I should make my dkbut in either
Dashwood or Young Wilding, for the follow-
ing very flattering reason : " I like your Gen-
tlemen, Bernard, you do not fatigue the atten-
tion by running about, you can act when you
stand still ; and I must confess to your credit,
that you are the only f Stage Gentleman' that
has made me laugh heartily, without leading me
to think I had got into low company,*
The night after our opening, I was honoured
with an invitation to the Pavilion to meet Ma-
jor Hanger, Colonel Fitzpatrick, and other con-
vivial worthies, in connection with whom I must
mention the only amusing circumstance that
distinguished this summers trip.
104 MAJOR HANGER AND MRS. JOHNSON.
A " Lady Abbess," by the name of Johnson,
had come down to Brighton with half-a-dozen
" Nuns/' and took a very agreeable house on
the East Cliff. Shortly after our theatricals
commenced, one of the beauteous " Damiselas"
had eloped with a mysterious " inamorato," and
the amiable old lady, in this serious attack on
her resources, ran raving about to her acquaint-
ance for advice and assistance. The first ques-
tion to be decided was " Who is the gallant ?"
and, among others, she put it to the sympathiz-
ing Major Hanger.
The Major, after a little consideration, re-
plied that " he could fix his suspicions on no
one but Bernard the Bath actor.*" This wicked
surmise, in the fever heat of the worthy matron,
was easily converted into a conviction: away
rushed Mrs. Johnson to her lodgings, and
penned the following letter to the manager :
" SIR,
a IP you do not instantly discharge Ber-
nard the Bath actor, I shall withdraw my pa-
tronage ! ** I am yours,
THE BRIGHTON MANAGER. 105
Fox was so delighted with this epistle, that
he showed it to half his acquaintance before it
came to me (amongst others to the Major) ;
and had not my moral character stood fair both
with the town and Mrs. Bernard, I should have
experienced some uneasiness. Fox, however,
wrote a brief reply to Mrs. Johnson, that my
appearance on his boards was of more import-
ance than hers in his boxes : but the next day,
the beguiled fair one returning to the tender
shelter of this inestimable lady's roof, every
thing was cleared up to my honour and her
satisfaction.
Fox, the Brighton manager, was a very odd
character. He was a kind of Caleb Quotem
in real life : he could combine twenty occupa-
tions without being clever in one ; a pretty ge-
neral characteristic of country managers in those
days. He was actor, fiddler, painter, machinist,
and tailor, besides check-taker and bill-sticker
on occasions.
He prided himself more especially on his
talents as a painter. He had executed all his
own scenery, (as he executed all his own cha-
F 5
106 SHERIDAN.
racters,) and accomplished in person the em-
bellishments of the house.
Sheridan was down at Brighton one summer,
and Fox, desirous of showing him some civility,
took him all over the theatre, and exhibited its
beauties. " There, Mr. Sheridan," said he, " I
constructed this stage, I built and painted those
boxes, and I painted all these scenes." " Did
you ?" said Sheridan, surveying them rapidly ;
u well, I should not have known you were a
Fox by your brush
AN ACCIDENT. 107
CHAPTER IV.
1787- London. Accident. Honest Surgeon. Debut in
Archer. London Gj'een-rooms. The Talent of those
times. "Beef-steak Club:" its Members, Officers* &c.
its Port. Admiral Shuldam's Pun. Comparison of the
" Beef-steak*' and the " Catch Club." -Wit and Music.
Visit to Macklin : his exaggeratcdAge, hisManners, his Hind
favourite Reply the terrific play of his Features. Anec-
dote of George the Second. Macklin's Egotism satirized
by Foote at the Haymarket. Anecdote. Macklin's clas-
sic attainments : his interview with Dr. Johnson. The
two Ursa Majors Plymouth. Commodore M 'Bride and
the Bonny Pheasant Sailors' attachment to Theatres.
Anecdote of the Commodore and his Crew. A Sailors
complacency and benevolence Anecdote. Mr. Prigmore
and his Breeches.
AT the conclusion of the Bath season, I passed
three weeks at the seat of my friend Mr. Peach,
in Gloucestershire; and on proceeding from
thence to town in a gig, the horse stumbled in
descending a hill, snapped the shafts, pitched
108 AN HONEST SURGEON.
Mrs. Bernard into a hedge, and broke my shins.
The consequence of this was, that, on reaching
London, I was laid up with a pair of unavailable
legs, and could not contribute nay services on
the opening of the Theatre. A friend of my
wife's family, supposed to be a surgeon, attend- -
ed me, who, perceiving that I presented a fa-
vourable job, kept my wounds open, and phy-
sicked me upon the system of the doctors in
Footed farce of the " Devil on Two Sticks."
President. " What was the treatment yesterday ?"
Bolus, " We jalloped the right ward, and phlebotomized
the left"
PreMmt. u Then, jallop the kffc ward to-day, and phle-
botomize the right."
In this manner, I lay a month upon my sofa,
and had the satisfaction of reading in the papers
the success of other persons in characters writ-
ten for myself. My surgeon daily congratulated
me on an improvement which no one but he could
perceive, every morning varying his plaster*
each of which was to be a specific, that invaria-
bly failed, one day the green, the next the
white, with washes of all sorts, the sole effect of
AN HONEST SURGEON. 109
which was, to keep up inflammation, and che-
rish " proud flesh." Meanwhile, he completed
the catalogue of his Christian perfections by
preaching to me largely upon the virtue of pa-
tience. He chuckled over the job.
At length an old nurse visited me by stealth,
with a pot of bitter herbs, and fomented my
legs every morning, half an hour after the
" friend of the family" was gone. In two days
there was an obvious improvement ; the inflam-
mation was allayed, and the white flesh was
disappearing. The surgeon gazed upon this
effect (for I watched his features narrowly) with
profound astonishment his rascally plasters
were evidently playing him false, and curing
me against his wilL He was forced (the labour
was perceptible) to put a smile on his cheek,
and I enjoyed some revenge in the pain it cost
him to congratulate me now. If the roguery
had not been so repukive, the ridiculousness
would have been amusing, in his crying out,
" Well, Mr. Bernard, we've hit upon the plas-
ter at last ; that white dressing is invaluable."
In a week my wounds had closed, and in a
110 DlSBUT IN ARCHER.
fortnight from the old woman's first visit I was
enabled to draw on a pair of new boots, and
make my bow to a London audience in the
characters of Archer and Kecksey ; Mrs. Ber-
nard appearing with me in Mrs. Sullen and the
Irish Widow. The boxes, on that occasion,
presented so many well-known faces from Bath,
that our favourable reception was ensured, and
we repeated the characters.
My engagement with Mr. Harris was to sus-
tain the business of Lee Lewis, which was very
extensive, including all the fops and eccentric
gentlemen, with smart servants and feeble old
men ad inftwtum. The following were among
my principal characters : Young Mario w, Dash-
would, Captain Absolute, Duretete, Gratiano,
Puff, Sharp, Lissardo, Young Philpot, Flutter,
Clodio, Lord Trinket, Lord Sparkle, Sir Brilliant
Fashion, Sir Andrew Aguecheek, Verges, &c.,
with five characters, which were specified in my
article Lord Ogleby, Twineall, Michael Pe-
rez, Don John, and Young Wilding.
In all of these, my stand was such as to
LONDON GREEN-ROOMS. Ill
answer the expectations of my friends at Bath,
and my Royal patron at Brighton.
I have made it a practice to give the " green-
rooms" of every theatre I entered; but, on
reaching London, where the characters and
talents of every public favourite have been
so sufficiently known and recorded, I think this
duty is indispensable. I shall do no more,
therefore, than enumerate the dramatic (not the
vocal) forces of each house, for iny reader to
make his own comparisons,
At Covent Garden, the principals were Hoi-
man, Pope, Lewis, Brunton, Farren, Edwin,
Ryder, Quick, Wilson, Blanchard, and Ber-
nard ; Miss Brunton, Mrs. Mattocks, Mrs. Es-
ten, Mrs. Wells, and Mrs. Bernard.
At Drury Lane Kemble, Bensley, Palmer,
Wroughtoo, J. Baninster, King, Parsons, Suett,
Bodd, and Baddeley ; Mrs. Jordan, Miss Fat-
ren, Miss Pope, and Mrs. Siddoos.
Miss Brunton had superseded Miss Younge
at our house, and Miss Farren Mrs. Abingdon
at the other. Henderson's death, (the " dim-
112 DRAMATIC TALENT OF THE PERIOD.
ming of our Shining Star,") and Mrs. Siddons'
triumph at Drury Lane, gave to that house a
decided preeminence in tragedy ; but our comic
strength was more upon a par. Leaving this
point to my reader's decision, there is but
one I would wish to establish, that the col-
lective talent of the metropolis was greater in
those days than it has been since. It is ge-
nerally admitted, that the race of dramatists
has degenerated tremendously. We had then
Sheridan, Colman, sen., Colman, jun., Cumber-
land, Murphy, Holcroft, with O'Keeffe, Hoare,
Dibdin, Morton, and Reynolds ahout be-
ginning- I know of no names in the present
day that can be contrasted with even the
weakest of these in the composition of comedy,
opera, or farce : one thing is remarkable, that
the talent of that day was decidedly comic.
Jephson was the only one who wrote a tolerable
tragedy, and his memory has not been preserved
by the Stage. The tragic genius of England
descended into the tombs of Otway, Southerne,
and Howe.
Between the dramatist and the actor there
THE "BEEP-STEAK. CLUB." 113
seems to have been a peculiar sympathy both in
their talent and fate ; they have flourished and
faded in much the same manner. Particular
instances are cited, in the present day, of actors
whose excellence may vie with those I have
above recorded. This is true! but this is all!
Plays are now written and represented for these
c< particular instances" solely. It was the pecu-
liarity of that period, that a play should be con-
sidered unworthy of a Theatre Royal, unless it
contained at least six prominent characters;
and farther, that such play was unjustly dealt
with, if the meanest character was not as per-
fectly represented as the highest.
Blanchard and Mrs. Esten had made their
debut with me at Covent Garden. So that with
Pope and Edwin, who were intimates of old, I
found myself at home in the Green-room, I now-
thought of my letters of introduction, and by
their means began to make the circuit of the
convivial societies* My first visit was to the
u Beef-steak Club," where I had the distinction
of being proposed an honorary member the first
night. This was owing to my " Bath" noto-
114 MEMBERS OF THE CLUB.
riety: Kelly, Dignum, Sedgwick, and Suett,
those unrivalled glee singers, with Charles Ban-
nister, were the only other professionals enjoy-
ing the same privilege. Here I was introduced
to Sheridan, Selwyn, Woodfall, Topham, Bate
Dudley, Miles Andrews, Merry, Taylor, He-
wardine, Saville Carey, Stevens, Colonel Bos-
well, Major Arabin : that galaxy of table wits,
in whose lustre the Eoyal Brothers delighted to
sun themselves, and whose union formed an
epoch in the convivial history of London.
The society consisted of forty members, one-
third of whom were noblemen; of these, Lords
Townshend, Cavan, Galway, and Say and Sele,
were the most noted. Captain Morris was the
Secretary; Mr. Bearcroft, the Recorder; Ste-
vens, the Poet-laureate ; and Dr. Kennedy, the
Physician.
The cook and wine-keeper had salaries of fifty
pounds each, though the perquisites of the for-
mer, in the remains of meat, &c. doubled that
amount. Pork and mutton-chops were provided
for visitors who disliked the established viand ;
but they were seldom called for, the anti-
ADMIRAL SHULDAM'S PUN. 115
nationality of such a taste disgusted true-bora
Britons; and it was an impression with fo-
reigners, that unless they eat the ** beef-steak,"
they could not enter into the spirit of the Club.
Port was the established liquid: two pipes of
which were received yearly > one to be divided
into quarter casks for the four senior mem-
bers in rotation, the other to be put to nurse
in the cellar, three years in wood, and four in
bottle.
This wine rendered the meeting nearly as
famous as its wit ; its equal was not to be pro-
duced in England: all respectable bacchanals
swore by it; all tavern-keepers and Oporto
merchants thronged to taste it ; and it was able,
on one occasion, to seduce that sensible man
Admiral Shuldam to commit a pun. When
asked at the " Beef-steak" what season of the
year he preferred being at sea, he touched his
glass and replied, " When I can't be in Port T
The chairman, treasurer, and secretary of
this meeting wore a uniform which was pecu-
liar and pleasing : it was a blue coat, with a
red collar, and a golden gridiron suspended
116 A COMPARISON.
from a button-hole by a blue ribbon, black silk
indispensables, and stockings.
My first visit to the "Beef-steak" enabled me
to perceive how differently it was constituted
from the " Catch Club." If I could designate this
difference by a word, I should say tbat the one
was a talking and the other a singing society.
At the cc Beef -steak" there was less music ; be-
cause it was to be heard at so many other meet-
ings in comparative perfection, besides public
places, and because there was more talent in
the members to sustain long conversations.
Music was a relief to them ; but if it had ex-
ceeded a song or a glee, it would have proved
an interruption. Kelly, Dignum, and Sedgwick,
compassed all their desires ; and composers, con-
ductors, and instrumental performers, were got
rid of in toto. The members were all men of the
world, and (London being a large cauldron, in
which society is kept continually in a ferment,
and something new is hourly rising to the sur-
face,) they had well-stored heads to unburthen
on coining together. Thus the Club wore the
air more of a casual than a regular assembly.
WIT AND MUSIC. 117
At Bath, the case was contrary. There, the
members seemed to form but one family, Ifae
business of the Club their only employment,
the pleasures of the Club were certainly their
only excitement. They looked forward to them,
week after week, as their sure means of balancing
accounts with divers cares and disappointments.
This gave the Club a great refinement and se-
lectness; but as there was so little stirring in
the town, to furnish food for conversation, it
was necessary that, by previous arrangements, a
certain stock of amusement should be provided
in the music.
In point of patronage, these Clubs were much
upon a par: the talents of the two were of an op-
posite kind, private and professional : for wit,
the " Beef-steak," concentrating the rays of the
metropolis and the, age was above comparison ;
whilst for music, the " Catch Club ** would have
borne comparison with any similar institution
in the world.
One of my letters of introduction was from
Colonel Ware of Plymouth to Macklin, and I
took an early opportunity of delivering it
118 VISIT TO MACKLIN :
When I knocked at his door, I was shown into
his study, and found him seated at a table, sur-
rounded by a variety of unfinished dramas, that
had been designed and commenced in the matu-
rity of his powers, to be completed in their decay.
Every body knows that, in the year 1787, Mr.
Macklin was a gentleman considered to be about
ninety-five years of age, who was more generally
talked and written about than any other mem-
ber of his profession ; that he was styled the
Nestor, the Methusalem, and the Thomas Parr
of the Stage, the father and the wonder of the
dramatic world : the a wonder," with the critics,
was, justly, the strength and freshness of his men-
tal faculties ; but his uncertain and exaggerated
age was sufficient with the gallery amateurs ;
that his sun should have stood still when ahundred
others had set; that people's grandfathers re-
membered him a middle-aged man ; that no book
could tell his beginning, and no man prophesy
his end, for he had as little appearance of dying
now, as when the generation around him was at
nurse. I believe many old women suspected
that, from his connection with the Stage, he was
HIS PERSON AND MANNERS. 119
in possession of the elixir vita* (that being an
unlawful secret) ; and he told me, that in the
country a man once asked him "if he had not
come over with King Charles at the Restoration!"
Every body, also, I presume, must have had
some information respecting Macklm's person
and manners; that he was a broad-breasted,
bald-headed, shaggy-browed, hooked-nosed in-
dividual, as rough and husky as a cocoa-nut,
with a barking or grunting delivery more pecu-
liar than pleasing, which to musical ears made
him something like a * bore/ Any parti-
cular description would be therefore uninterest-
ing ; but I may be permitted a few remarks as
introductions to the anecdotes I shall tell of him.
If good manners are to be gleaned from a col-
lision with society, Macklin's were bad, because
throughout life he had been chiefly his OWE
company. His manners grew out of his mind,
which, being powerful and profound, cared not
for oil or ornament, so long as it could express
itself with vigour and conciseness.
Macklin's early education had been scant, and
his mind had taken a long while to grow. At
120 VISIT TO MACKLIN:
forty, he told me, he began to understand the
English grammar, and at sixty he was versed in
that of the Latin, Greek, French, and Italian
languages. Macklin had not read much ; but he
had digested what he had read, and reflected
upon what he had observed. From sixty to
ninety-five, he had been laying up his know-
ledge, which, as the fruit of experience, would
have been of the best kind had not prejudice
spoiled it, as heat mostly does grain. However,
he had two of the qualities of an instructive
companion, his information was extensive, and
his ideas were specific and practical ; but he was
taken very seldom with the fit of being enter-
taining. No man could be more arbitrary in
argument, or half so egotistical in familiar re-
collections. The chain of his conversation inva-
riably wound round that centre-pin himself;
his own fame, his own merits, his own admirers,
were the themes, which if you could listen to
and be amused with, you might command his
tongue for the day. But if, in the midst of a
favourite theory, you happened to demur or
start what appeared to be the symptom of a
HIS FAVOURITE REPLY.
contradiction, he stopped short, looked in your
face, as much as to warn you from your opi-
nion ; then flung aside detail for debate, and
put himself in the attitude of one who wanted to
eat, and so defeat you. A little opposition, how-
ever modest or rational, chafed him ; and when
excited, he grinned, glared, and barked at you
like a wolf-dog. Being determined to triumph,
(particularly with young men,) if his arguments
failed to convince, and the terrible play of his
features to confuse you, he had a corps de
reserve in one reply, which to few men of the
past century could be misdirected " Oh, you
think so, do you? well then, all I can say is, that
when you have lived in the world as long as I
have, you'll think differently,""
The terrific effect of his featuresy when under
excitation, has been recorded in his performance
of Shylock. The most amusing proof I Iiave
heard upon the point, was as follows :
When he had established his fame in that
character, George the Second went to see him ;
and the impression he received was so powerful,
that it deprived him of rest throughout the
VOL. II. G
ANECDOTE OF GEORGE THE SECOND.
night. In the morning, the premier (Sir Ro-
bert Walpole) waited on the King, to express his
fears that the Commons would oppose a certain
measure then in contemplation. " I wish, your
Majesty ," said Sir Robert, "it was possible
to find a recipe for frightening a House of
Commons T* "What do you think," replied the
King, " of sending them to the Theatre to see
that Irishman play Shylock P
Macklin's vanity, and introduction of the
letter /, to the discomfiture of every other
in the alphabet, was the sharpest thorn to his
friends, and readiest weapon of his enemies.
When Foote commenced his dramatic satires
at the Hay market, Macklin was beginning to get
popular as a teacher of elocution, and the hu-
morist resolved to give a whole-length of him,
among others.
He represented Macklin in his arm-chair,
examining a pupil in the classics, " Well, Sir,
did you ever hear of Aristophanes?"
"Yes, Sir, a Greek dramatist, who wrote"
"Ay, but I have got twenty comedies in
those drawers, worth his < Clouds 1 and stuff.
FOOTE AND MACKLIN. 123
Do you know any thing of Cicero ? n " A
celebrated orator of Rome, who, in the polished
and persuasive, is considered a master of his art 1 *
Cfc Yes, yes ; but 1 Tl be bound he could n^t
teach elocution P* " Perhaps not, Sir.^
" Perhaps, then, you have heard of one Roscius,
whom Cicero praised ?" " Certainly, Sir, a
very celebrated actor." "Stuff! he couldn't
have played Shy lock !"
This exhibition being laughed at, and talked
of greatly, it was very natural that, among
others, Macklin himself should go to see it.
To escape observation, he placed himself on
a back-seat in the boxes. The important scene
came on; and as Foote convulsed the house
with his successful mimicry, Macklin writhed
and muttered, not knowing whether to run out,
or upon the stage. Foote wound up this di&-
play with a kind of charge to his pupil. " Now,
Sir, remember ; I, Charles Macklin, tell you,
there are no good plays among the ancients, and
only one great one among the moderns, and
that 's the * Merchant of Venice;' and there 's
only one part in that, and only one man that
MACKLIN^S INTERVIEW
can play it ; now. Sir, as you have been very
attentive, I '11 tell you an anecdote of that play :
when a Royal Personage, who shall be nameless,
(but who doesn't live a hundred miles from
Buckingham House,) witnessed my performance
of the Jew, he sent for me to his box, and re-
marked, * Sir, if I were not the Prince ha
hum you understand I should wish to be
Mr. Macklin f Upon which I answered, * Royal
Sir, being Mr. Macklin, I do not desire to be
the : "
Macklin could no longer contain himself; but
starting up, he stretched his body forward, and
shouted, " No, 1 11 be d d if I did." In an in-
stant the audience turned and opened on him
like a pack of hounds : hunted from the boxes,
he speedily descended the stairs, and, in the
manner of Sir Anthony Absolute, took six steps
at a time.
The most whimsical anecdote of Macklin I
ever heard, was one in connection with Dr.
Johnson. The author and the actor were never
very intimate : being cast in much the same
mould of mind, they were noted for similar in-
WITH DR. JOHNSON. 125
firmities : they were equally rugged and positive,
imperious, and cynical. When Macklin grew into
notice as a man of letters, (a truth that Garrick,
not his greatest admirer, deposed to,) the Ursa
Major of literature paid the Ursa Major of
theatricals a visit, to ascertain the extent of
his pretensions. Macklin showed him his li*
brary, and seemed to have a sufficient knowledge
of every work it contained. They then sat
down to converse, and rambled over a variety
of subjects, upon all of which Macklin kept his
legs, to the Doctor's satisfaction. When grap-
pling upon the level ground of an equally well
understood question, their strength seemed to
be equal. The Doctor, nevertheless, was desi-
rous of overthrowing him before they parted,
and touched on the score of his classic attain-
ments. Greek and Latin the actor knew as in*
timately as French and Italian, and defended
himself grammatically and colloquially, from
every thrust of the lexicographer. Johnson,
growing more determined from the failure of
his attempts, at length addressed him with a
string of sounds perfectly unintelligible. " What'**
126 PLYMOUTH.
that, Sir ?" inquired Macklin. " Hebrew !" an-
swered Johnson. "And what do I know of He-
brew ?" "But a man of your understanding,
Mr. Macklin, ought to be acquainted with every
language ! n The Doctor's face glowed with a
smile of triumph. " Och neil en deigen vonsht
horn boge vaureen r exclaimed Macklin. John-
son was now dumb-founded, and inquired the
name of the lingua? "Irish, Sir !" "Irish P ex-
claimed the Doctor. " Do you think I ever stu-
died that ?"" But a man of your understand-
ing, Doctor Johnson, ought to be acquainted
with every language !"
During the winter, Jefferson, the veteran of
Drurv Lane, came to London, and made his old
proposal to me of joining him for the summer
at Plymouth. From the good character I
heard of this depot, I conceived that I could
not make a more favourable selection, and agreed
to purchase one-third from Jefferson, who held
two, for four hundred pounds; the other being
in the possession of a Mr. Wolf, who proved
to be one in sheep^s clothing.
To Plymouth I accordingly proceeded at the
COMMODORE MACBRJDE. 127
close of the season, where I was welcomed by
my friend Colonel Ware, and by him intro-
duced to Governor Campbell, and Mr.Wynn the
Mayor. It was my good fortune also to en-
counter two schoolmates. Lieutenants Ross and
Howe 5 whose respective ships were lying there
under the command of Admiral Innis and Com-
modore Macbride ; to these gentlemen, together
with Mr. Evan Nepean, secretary to Admiral
Milbank, they made me known, and enabled me
to secure for the Theatre their important pa-
tronage.
Our season opened, continued, and concluded
most successfully : blue uniforms thronged the
boxes, and there was a strong muster nightly,
in pit and gallery, of tarpaulin toppers, and
pigtails.
Commodore Macbride was our most service-
able friend ; he was nearly as fond of theatricals
as cock-fighting ; this latter propensity, how-
ever, was the more notorious. He had a farm
near Plymouth, where he reared his game fowls ;
they were distinguished throughout the West
of England, being half pheasants, by which mix-
128 SAILORS' ATTACHMENT
ture he had found the chicken to possess a
stronger beak, and, though smaller in size, to be
improved in its activity. It was owing to this,
that hfa ship, the " Bienfaisant," was rather hu-
morously Englished by the sailors " The Bonny
Pheasant !"
Sailors in general, I believe, are very fond of
playhouses : this may be partly because they
find their ships workhouses, and partly because
the former are the readiest places of amusement
they can visit when ashore. I remember, on my
first trip to Plymouth, I was rather startled at
observing the effect which acting took on them,
as also their mode of conducting themselves
during a performance. It was a common occur-
rence, when no officers were present, for a
tar in the gallery, who observed a messmate
in the pit that he wished to address, to sling
himself over and descend by the pillars, treading
on every stray finger and bill in the way. When
his communication was over, and before an of-
ficer could seize him, up again he went, like a
cat, aiid was speedily anchored by the side of
" Bet, sweet Blossom,"
TO THEATRES. 129
The pit they called the hold ; the gallery, up
aloft, or the maintop landing ; the boxes, the
cabin ; and the stage, the quarter-deck. Every
general and gentleman, they saluted as a skip-
per; every soldier was a jolly, or a lobster;
and the varieties of old and young men, who
were not " in command," were collectively de-
signated swabs. Jefferson, being the eldest, was
a Bear- Admiral, and I was a Commodore.
What they disliked the most in representa-
tion was a sea-fight; some blunder or defi-
ciency was sure to lay bare the artifice, and
put them out of temper : either our ships can-
tered over the seas, or they could perceive the
submarine Gullivers who were working them :
on such occasions, they were much more noisy
than the vessels. On the contrary, what most
delighted them was a laiid-figfat, particularly
if Richard or Macbeth took a good deal of
killing, they were all alive at a dying scene:
but they required the villain, whoever he was,
to roll about a few minutes, like a jolly-boat in
a tempest, in order to evince the pangs of his
G 5
180 COMMODORE MACBRIDE
conscience and his wounds, when a secundum
artem kick and shiver to conclude were the sure
precursors of their thunder.
They had, however, more gallantry than
patriotism, and preferred that the combat and
triumph should turn on the emancipation of
a female than a country. The ladies they
eulogized under the form of frigates, and their
stems and sterns. Stays, bend, bows, and
beam-ends sky-scrapers (their feathers) and
spankers (their trains), were severally sub-
jected to a critical observance. What touched
their feelings the most was a love-scene: the
tears of a young couple took them " all aback ;"
injustice to the girl called down audible mur-
murs " to belay ;" the desperate resolutions of
her lover, to requite her, were invariably
cheered, and the triumphant hug, when the
happy pair came together at the end of the
piece, was the full perfection of their dramatic
enjoyments.
A circumstance occurred during this first
managerial trip to Plymouth, which was rather
amusing. Intelligence having reached Govern-
AND HIS CREW. 131
merit that some Dutch privateers were cruizing
in the Channel, to the jeopardy of our coasting
vessels, Commodore Macbride received orders to
get his ship ready for sea with the utmost ex-
pedition. The Bienfaisant was at this time in
dock, and he set the whole crew to work on
her, promising them on the Monday, that if
they swam her by the Thursday following,
he would "treat them all to the play." The
tars " tumed-to " in the necessary manner
night and day, and by the specified time the
BienfaisaBt floated fit for the ocean. That
very evening, however, a breeze springing
up, the Admiral was obliged to disappoint his
men of their reward, and put to sea. The day
after, he encountered the enemy, sunk one, and
on the Saturday morning brought the other
into harbour T
When the Commodore*^ heart was filled with
the triumph of the actioa, and the townV
people were thronging on board to offer him
their congratulations, he perceived the boat-
swain and the crew collected in the forecastle
discussing some subject with unusual earnest-
A SAILOR'S COMPLACENCY
ness. The boatswain approaching him soon
after, he inquired what the men wanted " Not
their prize-money already?" " No, your Ho-
nour," answered Jack ; " they want to go to the
play, as your Honour promised last Thursday."
The Commodore smiled , and despatched a
note to me, expressive of his wishes. Bills
were immediately struck off, and dispersed
through the town ; and under the tclat of the
late triumph, our temple of Thespis was over-
flowed at the opening of the doors.
Two of the most genuine characteristics of
a Jack, I consider to be his complacency and
benevolence. This summer, at Plymouth, I
witnessed a curious display of both. A crowd
of people were surrounding, and endeavouring
to secure, a bull which had escaped from its
owner. The beast, exhausted with a chase
about the streets in one of the hottest days of
July, stood still and panted ; but, by his low
growl and significant position of the horn, be-
tokened he was not unprepared for his pursuers.
After many ineffectual attempts to seize him by
ropes* &c. an honest Jack came forward, and
AND BENEVOLENCE. 133
began to swear at them lustily, for their manner
of treating the national beast of Old England.
" Avast, you lubbers ! a turn," said he, " and
see how Til take him in tow I Here, Billy,
Billy, Billy ! There, don't you see how he
nods at me? Only treat him civilly, and like
a gentleman, he'll come-to directly." As he
said this, Jack, sure enough, approached the
brute, and, patting his forehead, threw one arm
over his neck, leant carelessly against him,
and, laughing at their fear% abused the mob
for their violence.
" See here !" said he ; " here have I laid my-
self quietly alongside, and Billy 's as gentle as a
young Marmselle. An't you a pretty set of
swabs, to treat a dumb hanymal in this way ?
Where 's a noose ? Splinter me, if I was his
howner, I 'd sarve you out. Poor Billy P
He had scarcely spoken these words, (making
a sign that they should throw him a rope,)
before the bull, slipping his horns from under
Jack's arm, thrust them between his legs, and
in an instant elevated him five feet above his
back. Jack lighted upon the hard pavement,
134 MR. PRIGMORE.
amidst the roars of the multitude. Rising up,
and rubbing the saluted part, he glanced his
eye at the bull, and exclaimed, with a mixture
of indignation and regret * Sheer off, you
bl y swab ! you bears malice ! w
Our company this season was more select
than numerous; Jefferson in the old men, se-
rious and comic, was a host. Wolf, my other
partner, was a respectable actor ; and Mrs.
Bernard and myself were established favourites
from the metropolis. Among the corps was a
Mr* Prigmore, a gentleman of some vanity and
little merit, whose opinion of himself was in an
inverse proportion to that of the public. One
of the peculiarities of this person was to sup-
pose (though he was neither handsome nor in-
sinuating) that every woman whom he saw,
through a mysterious fatality, fell in love with
him.
There was a very benevolent widow living in
Plymouth, in respectable circumstances, who
frequently came to the Theatre, and was kind
enough to inquire into the private situations
of various members of the company* Among
THE BENEVOLENT WIDOW. 135
others she asked about Prigmore, and was told
that he had but a small salary and made a
very poor appearance. Hearing this, she re-
membered that she had a pair of her late hus-
band's indispensables in the house,which she re-
solved to offer him. A servant was accordingly
dispatched to the object of her charity, who
meeting one of the actors, and partly disclosing
her business, he went in search of Prigmore, and
finding him exclaimed, " Prigmore, my boy,
here 's your fortune made at last ; here *s a rich
widow in the town has fallen in love with you,
and wants to see you."
Prigmore not suspecting his roguery, was led
to the servant, in a state of bewildered rapture,
and by the latter was informed that the
widow would be glad to see him any morning
it was convenient. He appointed the following,
and w6nt home to his lodgings to indulge ia a
day-dream of golden independence. His friend,
in the mean time, whispered the truth through
the Green-room, where there were two or three
others wicked enough to join in the conspiracy,
by walking to Prigmore's house to tender their
136 MR. PR1GMORE
congratulations. Prigmore, as will be supposed,
passed a sleepless night, and spent an extra
hour at his toilette the next morning, in adorn-
ing himself with a clean chin and neckcloth.
He then sallied forth, and, on reaching the
widow's, was shown into her parlour, where,
casting his eyes around on the substantial suf-
ficiency of its furniture, he began to felicitate
himself on the aspect of his future home.
The lady at lenglh appeared : she was upon
the verge of forty ; a very fashionable age at
that time, which resting on the shoulders of a
very comely-looking woman, seemed to be in
character with fyer very comfortable dwelling.
Prigmorefe satisfaction and her benevolence
operated equally in producing some confusion :
at length a conversation commenced. She ac-
quainted him that she had heard his situation
was not as agreeable as he could wish, that his
income was a confined one ; she was therefore
desirous to do him all the service that lay in her
power. Prigmore, considering this an express
declaration of her affection, was about to throw
himself at her feet, when she suddenly sum-
AND HIS BREECHES. 137
moned her servant and exclaimed, "Rachel,
bring the breeches I"
These words astounded him, and he stared
in her face like a block of marble ; the widow,
as suspicionless as himself of the hoax, could
not interpret his wonder ; but on receiving the
habiliment, folded them carefully up, and re-
marking that they were as good as new, (her
husband having caught his fatal cold in them
the first time he put them on,) begged Prigraore's
acceptance of the same.
"And was it for this you wanted me. Madam? 1 *
exclaimed Prigmore, rising from his chair ; his
tone and countenance bespeaking a mixture
of surprise and disappointment. u Yes, Sir.^
He put on his hat, and walked to the door
in silent indignation* The good woman, as
much astonished as himself, followed him, and
said, " Won't you take the breeches, Sir P
" No, Madam, 1 ' he replied, pausing at the door
to make some bitter remark " Wear them
yourself F
For the remainder of the season, his life was
far from being enviable.
138 BUCKS' LODGE
CHAPTER V.
1788-9 London Bucks' Lodge. Assume the Secretary-
ship of the Beef-steak Club. Scale of the Members' Quali-
ties. Anecdotes of Sheridan and Fox, Bannister, Miles,
Peter Andrews, Bella Cruscan Merry, Bate Dudley, Bear-
croft, Woodfall, Major Arabin, and Barry the Hatter.
Lord Gralway's Waggery. " Peg Timber-toe." The three
" Stage Gentlemen," Smith, Lewis, and Garrick. Ex-
change no robbery Story of a Watch. Accession of
Characters. Edwin's Indisposition : its meaning. Dinner
of the " Marine Society." The Boys' hit at the "Spa-
nish Ambassador/' Admiral Afflick's atrocity. The
" Anacreontic Society." Stevens, Morris, and Hewar-
dine. Hewardine's "Literary Kidnapping," and detec-
tion of Bate Dudley, How to remember a Story.
Plymouth. Mr. B. R. Haydon's first attraction of the
public notice.
1788-9 was my second winter in London, the
first event of which worthy to be recorded in
these pages was my becoming a member of the
<* Bucks* Lodge," Cateaton Street, a society
that, for the harmony and hilarity of its meet-.
SECRETARY TO BEEP-STEAK CLUB. 139
ings, had few superiors in the metropolis. The
anniversary ball and supper was given on a
scale of great elegance.
The next and more important circumstance^
was my becoming Secretary to the " Beef-steak
Club."
His Royal Highness the Prince had, this win-
ter, instituted a convivial meeting under his
own roof, to the secretaryship of which he ap-
pointed Captain Morris. The latter gfentleman,
being unable to fulfil the duties of two offices,
necessarily seceded from the Beef-steak, and for
the honours of the latter there were not a few
competitors. But the great proportion of our
visitors had either visited or belonged to the
Catch Club, (Captains Baker and Stanley in
particular,) and these gentlemen, whenever al-
luding to that society, were so much in the
habit of referring its prosperity to my exertions,
that the Committee were induced to tender me
the vacant chair. I was highly proud to accept
it, with some foundation for my pride, in having
obtained it unasked for.
It is unnecessary to allude to the duties of
14*0 SCALE OP MEMBERS' QUALITIES.
this office, (which were very similar to those at
Bath, though not quite so extensive,) as my
reader can only be interested by the event,
(though an epoch in my career,) in the propor-
tion that it increased my intimacy with those I
controlled. The fruits of this intimacy I will
give in as few words as possible first, by sub-
joining a sort of scale of the different qualities
of the most noted members, and then by relat-
ing as many little peculiarities and' original
anecdotes of each as I can recollect.
THE SCALE.
Good humour. Wit. Humour.
Sheridan ... 3
Selwyn ... 2 20
Andrews . . . 2 20
Merry ... 3 12
Topham . . 2 10
Woodfall 3 10
Bate Dudley 3 10
Taylor ... 3 13
Hewardine 3 13
Saville Carey 3 13
G. A. Stevens . .2 12
Major Arabin 3 13
Bearcroft ... 2 10
C. Bannister 3 23
MEMBERS. 141
I could extend this list; and in refraining
from so doing, must neglect many names of
merit and celebrity ; but it is sufficient to show-
in what proportions the elements of our club-
harmony consisted.
Of the above, the most constant in attendance
were Merry, Andrews, Topham, Woodfall,
Dudley, Arabin, Bannister, with Lords Galway
and Cavan.
* Stevens and Carey came whenever they were
in town. Taylor and Hewardine, belonging to
other clubs, could not give us an undivided
attention; but we had Cumberland, Colman,
Pilon, Peter Seguin, and a dozen other visitors,
to supply their places.
Sheridan and Selwyn, our most brilliant stars,
were the most eccentric and uncertain. The
latter, however, was getting aged and taciturn*
Sheridan sometimes brought Fox with him :
they were then another Damon and Pythias.
Of the comparisons that were instituted between
these gentlemen in public, I pretend to no opi-
nion ; but in society no two men could present
a greater contrast. The " Champion of the
142 ANECDOTES.
People" appeared to be the stupidest person
at the table, till he had imbibed his bottle ; and
he then woke up, to put the whole room to
silence with his laughter ; whilst Sheridan kept
firing and blazing away for the evening, like an
inexhaustible battery.
Fox had all the taste for this society, but not
the talents : no man could be more affable, or
more completely satisfied with his company. If
be did not throw fuel on the flame, he enjoyed
all its light and heat : if he spoke not till he was
spoken to, he evidently felt and understood
every good thing that was said, by the nature
of his applause, which was a lengthened roar, in
no bad imitation of thunder. From this latter
peculiarity, combined with the truly John Bull
characteristics of his face and figure, I should
certainly have taken him for an alderman of the
old school, had we not been introduced.
Sheridan, I observed, never exerted himself
so palpably as when Fox was present; there
was a perceptible effort on these occasions,
which implied he had a higher object in view
SHERIDAN AND FOX. 143
than that which the Society usually afforded,
It struck me, however, that his spontaneous
sallies were equally successful.
Sheridan was not, in the truest sense of the
word, a convivialist ; he had no bonhommie,
or what an Englishman understands by the word,
good humour ; he was a satirist, and fonder of
detecting the follies of his companions than
admiring their talents or virtues: in lieu of good
humour, he had great vanity. He went Into
society, not to sympathize with even clever men,
but to find an audience. He required to be the
centre of the circle ; he seldom laughed, but in
the manner of Sir Archy M'Sarcasm ; and he
could only talk, under the excitement of the ge-
neral attention ; so that he secured this attention.
I don't think he was particular as to the grade
of his companions (provided they were mt
fools) ; but his comparative coldness and indif-
ference to the general sources of merriment, his
evident absorption in himself, led me to think
that he did not come among us in the way of
other men, but rather to play a part, in which
ANECDOTES.
he concerted his startling brilliances, and de-
rived his gratification solely from the effect they
produced.
His wit, with all the effervescence and pop
of champagne, had undoubtedly too often the
sour sharpness of cyder. I have heard it
rather happily compared to a steel, which is po-
lished and pointed, and to an icicle, which is
pointed also, but cold and glittering. I think
that, personally, he bore the most resemblance
to a torpedo, which can electrify without being
electrified.
After Sheridan, Fox used to be most pleased
with Charles Bannister, whose quiet and sus-
tained humour contrasted strongly with the
sudden flashings of the manager's wit. It
was the difference of daylight and lightning.
One evening, I remember, Fox was seated be-
tween Sheridan and Bannister, and did nothing
but fill their glasses and listen to their conver-
sation ; whilst they, making his head a kind of
shuttlecock, hit it on each side with such admi-
rable repartees, that he roared aloud like a
bull
ANDREWS. 145
Andrews was a witty man, but his sayings
were like fireworks ; they startled you one
instant, to leave you in utter darkness the
next. You always admired what he said, and
yet you never could remember it. This might
have been owing to his mode of delivery.
We had four authors in the Club, and three
editors ; Andrews was one of the former ; he
was the pro and epilogue writer of the day,
having achieved five or six plays which had
failed, and about a hundred of the former com-
positions that were successful. He was not,
however, satisfied with this fame or his other
experience, and contemplated daily fresh at-
tempts at the drama. Mentioning this matter
to Sheridan one day, with the hope of getting
advised to proceed, the former replied, " I
tell you what, Andrews, you succeed very well
in the head and tail of a play, but you y d b#eafc
down in the main, depend on it."
In these " heads" and " tails," Andrews
contrived to satirize the follies of the day with
some effect, but laid himself open to the re-
taliation of the public by a peculiarity which
VOL. [I, H
146 ANECDOTES.
distinguished Foote a fondness for titled so-
ciety, and a propensity to laugh and lash at it
when he mixed in any other. He was noted
for his attentions to a certain nobleman, whose
deficiency of intellect and sufficiency of arro-
gance were equally unpleasing. " Why, An-
drews," said a friend to him, " every body says
you are Lord Lyttelton's shadow." "I donY
know how his Lordship can have a shadow,"
he replied, " when every body says they can
see through him."
One of the best things I can remember was
in connection with his employments. Some one
asked him " why he had never married;' 7 point-
ing out various favourable opportunities in fa-
milies that he visited. " I can't say ," he replied,
u but it 7 s natural for a gunpowder maker to be
afraid of a match."
Of all men in the Club, Merry had the greatest
proportion of that which, in my " Scale," I in-
tended by the term good-humour, that cheer-
ful, placid, and benevolent mould of mind which
can bear all its own peculiarities being laughed
at, without wishing to laugh at another's in
MERRY. 147
return. Never was a man's name a greater
echo to his character than Merry's. Mrs.
InchbalcTs vocabulary might have been chal-
lenged for so felicitous an instance. Merry
seemed to live in a perpetual spring; all was
sunshine and freshness with him, and his heart
overflowed with its happiness, like a sparkling
fountain.
He was not so witty as Andrews, or so origi-
nal ; but he was rather the pleasanter compa-
nion of the two, for he had more oil and less
vinegar. Their talents were very different. Mer-
ry couldn't write satire, (it was as little in his
head as his heart,) nor, being akin to it, a co-
medy ; but he had attempted some dozen reams
of tragedies. His chef-d'oeuvre he presented
to Mr. Harris, who returned it with this remark,
that ** it was a good cup of tea spoiled by too
much milk and sugar P Nothing could hare
more aptly characterized his writings, in which
the design was generally good ; but from the
universal amiability of the characters, and the
abundance of love scenes, a fatal insipidity was
idered. Merry would never acknowledge
H
148 ANECDOTES.
a villain for his acquaintance, even upon paper :
to balance this failure, he had succeeded very
greatly, as all the world knows, in the compo-
sition of a certain kind of poetry, called " The
Delia Cruscan." These effusions used to be
quizzed by the Club, who were more attach-
ed to the George Stevens, Tom Hewardine,
and Captain Morris school. TophanVs paper,
* c The World," was his favourite medium to
the public; and something appearing in it
which contained allusions to our meeting, a
dozen of us bought the paper, and brought
it to the room : its successive production round
the table raised a laugh and flattered Merry
greatly. It was then proposed by Topham,
that the lines should be read aloud by Mr.
Suett. Dicky required first to look over
them, and boggled a good deal in investigating
the sentiments ; at length he exclaimed <
<c Roses, posies, lilies, tulips ! why, you are
as jftoury 9 Mr. Merry, as a miller." " Then,"
observed Bannister, u he must be a poet in
Cumberland made the wittiest remark on
MERRY. 149
Merry's verses : he said, " they put him in
mind of a bouquet of artificial flowers ; they had
all the bloom, without the scents"
One of the most amusing circumstances of
Merry^s literary life was the following. Though
he had little wit, he had some humour, and
made nearly as good puns as poetry. Andrews
had written a comedy, in which he had sketched
all the genteel characters (as I was told) with
force and sprightliness, but found that they
wanted a stronger relief in the low comedy de-
partment than he could give. He therefore
applied to Merry to " spice"" his footmen and
butlers with a few jokes. The latter readily
undertook and completed the task.
On its representation, the comedy was re-
ceived with an attention that augured its proba-
ble success, till one of the " spiced " characters
came on, whose first joke put the bouse out of
temper ; a repetition of his offence drew forth a
verbal notice, and a persistance in this conduct
generated a whirlwind of hisses that blew away
the unfortunate play to the infernal abodes ; in
other words, it was d d, through Merry's
150 ANECDOTES.
assistance. After this, Andrews and he never
wrote in partnership.
Bate Dudley was a very quiet gentlemanly
man, who always laughed heartily, but spoke sel-
dom. He was built upon the scale of my friend
George Parker ; which is to say, he had a very
clerical appearance. He looked big, benevolent,,
and thoughtful, and by a stranger might have
been easily mistaken for a parson incog.
Dudley, as well as Topham and Woodfall,
edited a paper. With the public abilities of
these gentlemen, of course I have nothing to
do > but Andrews, who was a friend of Top-
ham, used to sneer at the former's qualifications,
with the remark, " That if he dealt for twenty
years in black and white, heM never produce
any thing that was read."
Dudley, hearing this, returned the compli-
ment, by saying, that " Andrews would never
make a noise in the world till he blew up his
own mills.*"
The cleverest thing I can remember of Dud-
ley was in connexion with his farce of The
Flitch of Bacon."
BEARCROFT. WOODPALL. 131
Lord Townshend, at the Club one night, was
in want of a relish with his steak, and cried out,
" 1 7 d give a hundred pounds for a slice of
ham ay, or lump of bacon." ec Sir, 1 " replied
Dudley, " you might have had a " flitch" the
other day for half the money !""
Mr. Bearcroft, our recorder, was another
quiet member, who always spoke pointedly,
with occasional gleamings of wit One of his
peculiarities was a small admiration for Sheri-
dan, who, he used to say, never got between
Burke and Fox in a debate, but they crushed
him to nothing, like a ship between icebergs-
Being asked his opinion upon one of Sheridan's
elegant appeals to the ministry, he said, " it put
him in mind of an indifferent pudding: there
was plenty of spice and sugar, and very few
reasons."
One of the intelligent men of the Club
was Woodfall, who, with little wit and less
humour, possessed the faculty of clothing the
most common-place subject with a degree of
interest. He gave you so much matter in so
few words, went so far below the surface of a
152 ANECDOTES.
question, and expressed himself so clearly and
forcibly, yet with such infinite modesty, that I
often heard it remarked by visitors, he was a
more agreeable companion for the night than
many others, whose transcending brilliancies
were succeeded by intervals of darkness. He
was at this time at the height of his reputation
as a reporter, which enabled him one night to
&ay a pleasant thing.
A certain nobleman was dead, who had been
noted for the feminine delicacy of his hands.
The circumstance being mentioned at the Club,
the members, with their usual waggery, began
looking at their digital extremities; and Merry
called for a show of hands, to decide the point
of who had the smallest, when Woodfall re-
marked, " It should be given in my favour,
Gentlemen ; I have more credit for my short-
hand) than any man in England."
Woodfall had a great originality in his ex-
pressions, and one evening shone upon us with
considerable wit* We were speaking of an ab-
sent nm&foer of the Club, who was also a mem-
ber of the House of Commons (one of the
MAJOR ARABIN.
** horizontals,' 51 as Sheridan once called the gen-
tlemen who stretch on the benches, in contra-
distinction to the " perpendiculars,"" those who
spoke). " Bob n s a good fellow^ said Andrews,
" and a good singer, but a d d bad speaker. 1 '
tc He's a convenient speaker,^ said Woodfall.
" What do you mean by convenient r^ * e Why,
when Pitt and Fox are on their legs, I am com-
pelled to lay my ear close, and fear to lose a
syllable ; but when Mr. M* rises, I can take out
a book, and understand two persons together."
There was some fun and much significance
in the following: Sheridan came to the Club
in great spirits, after one of his parliamentary
flashes, which for a day or two used to dazzle
the town, till a greater light broke forth and
absorbed it. Seeing Woodfall, he approached
him, rubbing his hands, and said, " Well,
Woodfall, did not I do last night, ehT ** The
* Diary** (Woodfall's paper) says so," replied
the latter, with a smile.
Last, not least, amongst this c< band of bro-
thers" was Major Arabin, the best amateur
comedian I ever saw, and the most extraor-
H 5
154 ANECDOTES.
dinary mimic, after Tate Wilkinson. Garrick
had seen him play in private some years pre-
vious, and was so impressed with his abilities as
to offer him ten pounds a- week, if he would
embrace the profession ; but this he declined,
on account of his military expectations; and
these he blasted by the indulgence of his talents.
Barry, the tall hatter, was a frequent visitor
to the Club. Having a cast in his eyes, he was
enabled to take off John Wilkes with great feli-
city. Major Arabin was equally successful in
assuming the peculiarities of the King; and
when Barry was present, they would give a
most ludicrous interview between the beloved
monarch and his ** political thorn/* of which
Kome ** d d good-natured friend' 1 carrying
an account to a high quarter, the Major ex-
piated his joke in a temporary but fatal loss
of his patronage.
Among our noble members, Lords Cavan and
Say and Sele were of the quiet and intelligent
order* Lord Townshend, in his undying hilarity
&tid constitutional support of the dignities of
Bacchus, would have out-bottled the heroes of
155
Londonderry, and Lord Galway exhibited no
contemptible pretensions to the character of a
wag. ,
During one of my Irish itinerancies, I stop-
ped at a village, where a marriage was cele-
brating between a man and woman, who were
individually possessed of one leg and one eye.
The oddity of this circumstance induced a
fit of poetical inspiration, and I composed seve-
ral verses on the occasion, which I entitled " Peg
Tiniber-toe, or the Irish Epithakmium.^ This
was ever after one of my choice comic songs,
and I sang it on the evening of my first assum-
ing the secretary's chair at the Beef-steak. Lord
Galway, among others, was so pleased with
this effusion, that, on going home, he told his
family that I had sung an old Irish air, of
great sweetness, which enraptured the room.
They naturally concluded it wa& from the
stock of Carolin the harper; and their love of
country filled them with a desire to hear it.
The Beef-steak, like the Catch Club, was in
the habit of giving " Ladies' nights,"" 1 and one
occurred in the ensuing week. On these occa-
156 LORD GALWAY'S
sions it was customary for a certain number of
songs to be sung by desire ; and among those
particularized by the ladies was Mr. Bernard's
" old Irish air." I could not comprehend them at
first ; and as soon as the members learnt it was
*' Peg Timber-toe," a universal shout of laughter
was the consequence. Certainly, no song pos-
sessed fewer of the attributes they had been led
to give it, (pathos and tenderness particularly ? )
and, for the first time in my life, I felt com-
pletely divested of self-command. The ladies
stared, the members roared, and it was only when
Lord Gal way (who, to increase my dilemma,
was m the chair) rose up, to join his request
to the ladies, that I suspected the cruel hoax
he was imposing on the fair ones and myself.
On such occasions, I have always found hu-
man nature to have very little compassion/ but
rather a propensity to enjoy another's wretched-
ness, even at the expense of decorum. The
members, who were not before acquainted with
his Lordship's waggery, now perceived it, and
raised a general murmur for the song, in the
full convktion I would never dare to sing it.
WAGGERY. 157
fixing their eyes on me to feast on my embar-
rassment, whilst his Lordship remarked, *' he
wondered where was my gallantry, to need
more than my first solicitation.^ In proportion
to my hesitation, the merriment increased ;
but during the last few minutes I had re-
covered myself sufficiently to consider the most
objectionable passages in the poetry, and to
project alterations. The instant I perceived
the song would be permissible, I rose, and, with
an acknowledgment of the honour they did me,
expressed my willingness to comply with their
wishes.
My reader must imagine, for I have no power
to describe, the transition which took place in
the faces of my companions; they stared in
terrible amazement. It was now my turn to
triumph, aud I relished the retaliation exceed-
ingly. ** Why, you are not goi&g to siug it ? 1T
whispered one. " You are joking what do you
mean? "said another; and then at a distance,
the members hemmed and coughed, and made
signs, to all of which, however, I paid a stern
disregard, and commenced my long-desired
158 THREE " STAGE GJiM'JLJbMJiJN :
song ; the singing of which, whilst it drew forth
a smile from all parties, I succeeded in adapting
to offend none.
Lord Gal way, after this, was one of my most
zealous friends ; at his house I occasionally met
William Smith, that most perfect adapter of
Lord Chesterfield to the English stage. Smith
was not a gentleman by nature (as I have seen
many) ; his ease and grace were the results of
the most industrious observation. He-read the
best books, and mixed in the best society, and
thus imparted to his expressions their unri-
valled tinge of refinement. This, it will be said,
redounded more to his credit, but this study
generated one ill effect : in subduing himself to
the quiet tone of high life, (with his consider-
able animal spirits,) there was an occasional
effort perceptible, and a coldness and tameness
at variance with the character, which strongly
contrasted with the vivacity of Lewis. Lewis, on
the other hand, was not the gentleman of the
higher orders, he was the Vapid and Parve of
the stage, but not the Lord Townley. Lewis had
all the edge and fashion of a Damascene blade.
SMITH, LEWIS, AND GARRICK. 159
but Smith 3 the polish and temper: their re-
spective errors could have been resolved into
this ; the one restrained his animal spirits too
much ; the other would not restrain them at all.
Stepping between both, and superior to either,
Grarrick was the only man I ever saw who
moved, looked, and spoke like a gentleman
from impulse. Sheridan's opinion of Smith,
however, awarded him a higher station than
either of these competitors ; and he eulogized
Smith's acting with his usual conciseness, in
reply to a person who asked him what he
thought of his Mirabel " Ad-mkable7
During this winter, I went to Drury Lane,
to see Kemble and Mrs. Siddons in " The Game-
ster." Standing up in the boxes between the
acts, I observed a tall, well-dressed man in
the pit bow to me ; but at the distance was
unable to recognise him. The next morning, a
rap came to my door, and a Mr. Davis, who
supplied my wife with stage-dresses, made his
appearance, as the above unknown, to request
the favour of my advice upon a strange occur-
rence of the past evening.
160 STORY OF A WATCH,
In the squeeze to get into the pit, he lost
his watch ; and, on taking his seat, found him-
self next a friend to whom he related his
misfortune* His friend informed him that the
man who sat before him was a pickpocket ; and
he had better whisper the son of Mercury softly,
that he suspected him of the robbery, and
would give him into the hands of an officer.
Mr. Davis did so; and as the curtain was about
to rise, the gentleman addressed reached his
hand behind him with a watch, which Mr. Davis
very eagerly grasped, and slipped into his fob
without inspecting.
On quitting the Theatre, he drew forth his re-
covered property, to perceive if it had sustain-
ed any damage, and to his surprise discovered
that he had not got his own watch, but one of
about five times its value. This good fortune
disquieted his mind, and having observed me in
the Theatre, he thought he would make me a
repository of the facts.
I advised him to read all the day's papers, to
ascertain if the watch was not advertised ; and if
not, to publish the whole affair on the morrow*
ACCESSION OF CHARACTERS- 161
as the owner would no doubt be glad to redeem
so valuable a property, at double the purchase
of the other. This, Mr. Davis did, but no ap-
plicant appearing, he kept the watch, and was
thus in pocket by his loss.
Owing to various circumstances this season,
my line of business was extended much more
than I had engaged for or wished.
Quick was beginning to play the old men, and
threw upon my shoulders his young ones ; and
Edwin, then at the height of his popularity,
not being forthcoming more than one evening
out of three (a singular mode of repaying pub-
lic favour), Rider, on such occasions, refused
to be his substitute (it was in his article, not
to be compelled to play when his name was
not announced), and I was the only one in
the house who could prevent the change of
entertainment As Edwin was then the ruling
favourite of London, such a duty was far from
being desirable ; and with me particularly, who
had established my reputation in the gentlemen,
and not the vulgarians, of the drama,
Lewis was always obliged to apologize for
162 EDWINS INDISPOSITION.
Edwin in person (an office which he grumbled
at as much as I did in playing for him), and
one evening, going forward with the usual for-
mula, that it was with the greatest regret he had
to inform the house Mr. Edwin was prevented
from appearing that evening, in consequence of
sudden indisposition. " Gradual indisposition,
you mean, Mr. Lewis," said a person in the pit;
" for I saw him ten minutes ago, getting drunk
under the Piazzas/'
Lewis received this rebuke for his official
tergiversation with becoming complacency ; and
observed, that the Piazzas should be instantly
searched ; but " that Mrs. Edwin had made
her husband ill, not himself." The Piazzas
were accordingly inspected, with every adjacent
house of celebrity; but no Edwin appearing,
I was compelled to give up the society of half a
dozen fellows from the " Beef-steak," put on a
red wig, and play " Darby" in " The Poor
Soldier."
Admiral Afflick, whom I had known both at
Ipswich and Plymouth, renewed my acquaint-
ance in London, and took me with him to the
DINNER OF THE " MARINE SOCIETY." 16$
anniversary dinner of the < Marine Society ? at
the " Crown and Anchorman institution which
had for its object the education of sailors^ chil-
dren to the avocation of their sires the forming
of incipient crews for the floating bulwarks cf
Old England. At that stormy period, this idea
had an extra degree of popularity.
The company that assembled was both nu-
merous and respectable ; and on the cloth's re-
moval, after some particulars had been read* in
regard to the state and system of the society,
we were gratified with the appearance of the in-
fant seamen, who marched in in blue jackets and
white trowsers, two by two, and went round the
table, singing the national air of "Rule Britan-
nia." The effect was beautiful, it was more it
was elevating ; it made every man, cockney, or
actor, feel another Benbow or Blake szttisg on
his deck, and surrounded by his unconquerable
companions; and as the plate was very pro-
perly sent round the instant after, I would
have defied the most Jacobinical rascal that ever
breathed to have refused his guinea.
As I did not recognise any faces in the com-
164? THE " SPANISH AMBASSADOR,"
pany, I was in hopes to have sat snug for the
evening, but some one presently espied me, and
requested a song. When my name was once an-
nounced, my acquaintance extended, and the
singing of the song became imperative.
Collinses ditty of " Good Queen Bess" was
then in great vogue ; and being the first that
came to mind, I commenced it ; but on coming
to the line,
u And bring you down a Spaniard as easy as a crow, sir,"
a loud hiss ran round the table, which I
could not account for ; till a gentleman next me
whispered, that the " Spanish Ambassador" sat
on the right-hand of the chair, I was a little
disconcerted by this unpleasant coincidence, and
as the hissing continued, broke off at the end of
the verse ; but some sensible person explaining
the circumstance properly, the noble individual
concerned rose up immediately, and said, " ETZ-
core"' This good-humoured interference allayed
the irritation of my hearers, and my embarrass-
ment "Bernard," whispered the Admiral, "now
" ANACREONTIC SOCIETY." 165
the geese are quiet, the swan can proceed/"* In
justice to his memory, I must add, that the Ad-
miral did not commit these things very often.
During this period, I went very frequently
to the " Anacreontic," the first musical meeting
of the metropolis ; where, with Bannister and
others, I was an honorary member.
Not having the instrumental performances of
the " Catch Club/' the above was in this respect
its inferior ; but I must admit that Its singing,
whether private or professional, placed it upon
a par.
Tom Hewardine was the principal song-writer
to the Club, a man of little wit, but wonderful
humour. In that species of composition called
c * Anacreontics," which in those days were de-
voted more to the praise of Bacchus than Venus,
Stevens, Morris, and Hewardine were the three
cleverest writers : their styles and talents were
very different. Stevens wrote with wit, and
a truly classical grace; Morris, with wit and
grace, but at times a confounded contamination
of indelicacy ; Hewardiue, with neither wit nor
166 ** LITERARY KIDNAPPING."
grace, but a rich and potent humour that sup-
plied the place of both.
Hewardine was by no means an original
talker, his talent lay rather in the delivery than
the invention of a thing ; and as it was a saving
of trouble, he preferred resuscitating jokes of
the previous century, points which had been
dead and buried with the past generation, to
producing, in the manner of Merry, his own
family. He had a most extensive acquaintance
with the offspring of that celebrated philosopher
and actor Joseph Miller, and possessed to an
eminent degree the faculty of stealing and giv-
ing them new dresses and habitations, and call-
ing them his own. His conscience, it appeared,
had no *' compunctious visi tings'" for this species
of " literary kidnapping," but was tenderly alive
to any other man's sinning in the same way ;
whilst he was so well acquainted with the fa-
mily, from the number of faces he had disfi-
gured, that he was able to detect an attempt
oa the instant.
Bate Dudley one evening had been telling
a story to the Club, which he purported to be
^ D^BUT. 167
entirely new, and which caused a good deal of
laughter. Hewardine then observed, that the
anecdote related by Mr. Dudley put him in
mind of another nearly as facetious. He then
repeated some venerable affair, which, whatever
its point, bore no more resemblance to Dud-
ley's, than a white egg to a black hen. When
it was concluded, Dudley turned to Hewardine
with a stare of surprise, and observed, " That
was a very humorous circumstance; but I can*t
see how my anecdote could remind you of it P 7 "
No ! " said Tom. " Why, I Tl tell you,
your story is at the top of the leaf, page 17,
Miller's old edition, and mine follows at the
bottom P
Among the debuts of this season was that of
Charles Incledon, who had been singing several
summers at VauxfaalL Mr. Harris had precisely
the same indifference to his merits a& Mr*
Palmer, and tried him with the same slight ex-
pectation of his success ; the world knows the
result it was the greatest dramatic triumph
of my observation. Incledon soon became not a
greater attraction at the Theatre than acquisition
168 PLYMOUTH.
to the Clubs, where the sentiments of his ballads
were always relished from the sweetness of their
sounds.
Covent Garden closed with its usual eclat,
and I procured from the Green-room Quick and
Holman's assistance to ensure Plymouth for the
next summer ; a little " star"4ight Over this
period I pass, from the truly " stage business"
character of its events : there was but one that
I can hope for a smile in relating.
One of my best and most active friends in
Plymouth was Benjamin Haydon the printer.
He was kind enough, during the winter, to be
my agent, communicating with me regularly
respecting the Theatre, and meeting Wolf and
Jefferson upon all local business.
His son, the present artist of celebrity, was
then a spirited, intelligent, little fellow about
ten years of age, who used to listen to my songs
and laugh heartily at my jokes, whenever I
dined at his father's. One evening I was play-
mg Sharp in " The Lying Valet," when he and
my friend Benjamin were in the stage-box ;
and on my repeating the words, " I had had
B. R. HAYDON. 169
nothing to eat since last Monday was a fort-
night!" little Haydon exclaimed, in a tone
audible to the whole house, " What a wopper!
Why, you dined at my father^ house this
afternoon !*
It was on this occasion, I believe, Mr. B. R.
Haydon first attracted the notice of the public.
VOL. II.
170 THE "ERA OF CLUBS."
CHAPTER VI.
1789-90 London. The "Era of Clubs." The Comedians'
Club. Kelly, Dignum, and Sedgwick> the vocal trium-
virate. Sheridan's comments on the two latter, and
reply to John Palmer. Notes of a Club conversation, the
" Beef-steak." Mr. Barley and his song. Billy Upton,
Manager of Astley's Literary Department : his Songs,
and Jack Johnson. Macklin's return to the Stage.
Frank A ik en's age. Billy Bates' reply, Colman and Har-
ris, RiIBp Lewis, the "Crying Philosopher;" his re-
mark to Webb ; and interruption to Anthony Pasquin ;
hi* impromptu on Garrick. Rider and Rock. A " Knife"
with a point. Plymouth.The three " Ubiquitarians."
Captain Bell and Sir John Jervis. Sir John's favourite
Boatswain. The Sailor afloat ; an example of coolness ;
hi* devotion to the service.
THE convivial spirit of England was certainly
never at a greater height than in the times of
which I am writing: they might have been
ca&d the " Era of Clubs." Whatever may be
the talents of the present generation to support
THE COMEDIANS* CLUB. 171
such institutions, it is evident that the dis-
position to set them on foot pervaded more
largely its predecessor. And this was entirely
disconnected with any political motives ; the
safety of the country was not at that j>eriod
threatened. It was the spirit of harmony and
fellowship which brought men together of all
kinds and classes to cement, once a week, the
pleasurable 6C chains of the heart."
The comedians being among the most soci-
able of his Majesty's subjects, (out of the the-
atre,) partook of the general sympathy, and in-
stituted, at the commencement of this winter,
1789-90, their Club, which they entitled " The
Strangers at Home;" an appellation that some
thought would have been more appropriate for
a meeting of travellers.
Charles Bannister, Edwin, Suett, Jack John-
son, Blanchard, Incledon, Kelly, Dignma, and
Sedgwick, (that perpetual triumvirate,) and my-
self, were among the founders,
O'Keeffe was our poet, and Dr. Kennedy our
physician, who, with all his skill and good-
nature, had he been compelled to have cured
I 2
172 KELLY, DIGNUM, AND SEDGWICK,
. some of the members' " indispositions," would
have had his time engrossed and his head
puzzled.
This Club was held at the Garrick^s Head,
in Bow Street, and had always an overflow of
visitors; for, though it attempted no rivalry
with the " Beef-steak" and " Anacreontic/* 1 in
their characteristic distinctions, no meeting was
pervaded by a more genuine spirit of humour
and harmony.
In one respect, it was peculiar : it had two
distinct sets of glee-singers ; Jncledon, Johnson,
and Bannister Kelly, Dignum, and Sedgwick.
As they seldom grappled on the same ground,
it was difficult to test their superiority ; but it
struck me that the first had the best voices, and
the latter the most science. From continually
going into company together, the latter were
most noted. Kelly was at all times a very
gentlemanly fellow and a pleasant companion.
Sedgwick was quiet and inoffensive, but his
voice was his solitary attraction. Sheridan used
to say, witfo Ms usual good-nature, that " he was
like a Christmas spectacle, lie had more sound
THE VOCAL TRIUMVIRATE. 173
than sense." Dignuni was equally quiet and
amiable, but with rather more vanity than
Sedgwick. He was desirous of a credit for his
intellect, and that people should attribute his
frequent fits of vacuity to profound mental ab-
straction. He was thus in the habit, in the
Green-room, and at the table occasionally, of
placing his finger to his forehead, in the man-
ner of Lawrence Sterne, as represented in his
portrait, and pretending to be unconscious of
what was passing around him, Among the ac-
tors, this demure hoax succeeded, but not with
the gentleman who wrote " The School for
Scandal." It was indeed one of Sheridan's
pastimes to analyze his company, and compare
them with the beings it was their business to
imitate. Some one observing Dignum in bis
usual meditative posture, remarked it to tbe
manager: u Look at Dignum! he's thinking
again ! n " No !" said Sheridan; u he thinks
he thinks P
One of the most inexplicable beings of Drury
Lane Green-room was John Palmer : his gene-
ral fluency upon conversational topics, and the
174? SHERIDAN AND JOHN PALMER.
modest insinuation of his opinions, led many to
place his mental attainments upon a par with
Kemble's, " a man who never talked but on the
stage ;" whilst his powers of persuasion, in de-
feating that tiger of human life a creditor,
have descended to the present day as prover-
bial Sheridan however solved him, with every
other dramatic problem of the day,
On Palmer's return to Drury Lane, after the
failure of his speculation at the Royalty The-
atre, the first evening he entered the Green-
room, he perceived the manager near the fire,
and approached him with his usual look and
air, and the most fervent declarations of regret
that any differences should have arisen between
them. "Come, come, John," said Sheridan,
cutting him short, " I wrote Joseph Surface,
remember!"
In approbation of my services, during the
first season of my secretaryship to the " Beef-
steak," the Club was pleased to have my por-
trait painted by Marshall, (that which faces
this work,) and hung up in the room. My
Royal patron, the Prince, on observing it, re-
CLUB CONVERSATION. 175
marked, that he had seen many better paint-
ings, but never a greater likeness.
We commenced and continued our meetings
as usual. This is saving every thing. It is
one of my greatest regrets, that, considering the
many evenings I passed at the Beef-steak, in
the converged brilliancy of all the lights then
shining, neither memory nor journals can enable
me to transfer to these pages the sources of my
gratification, that that is a dream to me now,
which was then one of the springs of ray exist-
ence. I was too much engrossed with enjoy-
ment at the time, to wish, or even conjecture,
the possibility of imparting my sensations to
others who were to follow me ; nor did I ever
but upon one occasion attempt to take notes of
what was passing, though, in my office as Secre-
tary, such a design was at all times permissible-
Those notes however, loose and unconnected
as they are, may prove acceptable to my reader ;
since, though affording no specimen of the ge-
neral cleverness of the conversation, they illus-
trate in some measure the different styles of
the members.
It6 CLUB CONVERSATION.
Topham. " Fox was very powerful last
night."
WoodfalL " His arguments were unusually
clear, and well connected. 11
Sheridan. " Yes ; his tongue 's like a time-
glass ; the longer it runs, the clearer it gets/' 1
Andrews. " Then, he *s not like a cask of
Madeira,""
Sheridan* " No, or he M have died long ago
by tapping."
Merry. " And yet he "s been tappM pretty
often."
SuetL " Talking of tapping, Gentlemen, I
had an aunt (Heaven rest her bones !) afflicted
with the dropsy, who was tapped seventy-five
times in one week. 11
A general laugh.
Copt. M. (An M.P.) " Suett, was your
father an actor ? ; '
Suett. u No ; he was a tailor."
Merry. "Then he did more for his cus-
tomers than the Captain will for the Constitu-
tion be mended their breaches."
CLUB CONVERSATION. 177
Suett. u To one thing, Gentlemen, may I
crave your attention? I know who was my
father."
Sheridan. " A wise child !"
Andrews. " And a true believer.""*
Bear craft. " We must take his word ; for
we can't produce evidence to the contrary .*"
* * *
Andrews. " Kemble played Hamlet with
great effect on Monday."
Topham. " Once or twice, I thought he
forgot himself."
Sheridan. u You mistake; he forgot his
audience."
Andrews. " He never forgets you, Sheridan.^
Sheridan. " Not on a Saturday."
* * *
Somebody. " Can't we have a glee ? Here *s
Dignum and Sedgwick, but not Kelly."**
Captain Baker. "I like Kelly; he's a so-
ciable, manly fellow."
Andrews. "I question his manhood ; he^s
inclined to Crouch."
* * *
15
178 CLUB CONVERSATION.
Somebody. " What could have induced
to blow his brains out ?"
Sheridan. " A desire to convict the world,
who said he never had any."
* * *
Topham. " Merry, you heard of 1J "s
elopement with C , and that her father
overtook them ?"
Merry. " Yes; Tom ran after a plum, and
the father after a pair."
Wood/all. " These Gretna Green marriages
are decidedly imprudent."
Merry. " They are on the border."
In my visits to the " Anacreontic," I became
acquainted with a Mr. Barley, a gentleman in
the City, possessed of a very strong and melo-
dious voice. All the non-professionals were in
the habit of getting songs written for them, or
writing them themselves, to ensure a peculiar
ground to each. Mr. Darley was a good singer
and a clever calculator, but no poet. Believing
that I was one, he asked -me to put him on a
level with his companions. "The Neglected
MR, DARLKY AND HIS SONG. 179
Tar" had been thrown aside some time, and
I wrote " The Neglected Female, 11 to the same
tune. He was much pleased with it, and so
was the Club ; it was adapted to their meridian,
being spiced with appeals to the honour and ge-
nerosity of the one sex, with panegyrics on the
virtue and loveliness of the other. Moreover,
it had a chorus ; and, in Mr. Darley^s opinion,
that was as necessary an appendage to a song in
a club-room as a tail to a kite.
The first night he sung it, I went with him,
and the first verse he got through with some
effect ; but, on coming to the chorus, whicli ran
thus
" Then guard and guide the British fair ;
'Tis your exalted duty :
May vengeance ne'er the villain spare,
Who scorns the chains of Beauty T
he, with stentorian lungs, converted the two
Vs into Ws, and a most roof-rending shout
was the consequence. On sitting down, he
said to me with a very grave face, "< My
friend John, do you know what they laughed
at ?" A fear of offending him made me refrain
180 BILLY UPTON AND
an answer ; but he was not to be satisfied with-
out one. I then replied, " Why, do you know,
in the chorus, you said, willin and wengence."
" And what do you say ?" cc Villain and ven-
geance." "Well, and I say willin and wen-
gence too."
My general acquaintance with the Clubs of
the metropolis, and tolerable reputation as a
club-singer, led at length to an important
consequence nothing less than an intimacy
with Billy Upton, of rhyme-writing memory,
whose long attachment to the Muses had at
length procured him the honour of wearing
their livery * e a coat out at elbows."
Upton derived his resources chiefly from old
Astley, to whom he was poet and interlude
writer : indeed, he managed the entire literary
department ; for he concocted the puffs, and in-
vented the playbills. These latter sciences, I
believe it has been generally admitted, were
never so thoroughly investigated and establish-
ed as by the genius of Upton. Whatever is
valuable or beautiful in the present systems, it
must be attributed to him, and this is no small
HIS SONGS. 181
praise, considering the high powers of judg-
ment and fancy they call into play.
Upton's prose was undoubtedly pure poetry ;
unluckily, the very converse of this subsisted also;
his poetry was pure prose. His songs were cer-
tain sentimental inventions, composed of lines
that, like Paddy ''s family, had the same number
of feet, and carried rhymes at their tails, which
jingled as merrily as the bells of a fly- waggon.
Astley's employments not affording Upton
subsistence throughout the year, he was com-
pelled to increase his resources by song^writiBg.
His practice was to make and fit some literary
texture to the back of some popular tune, then
obtain the aid of some popular singer, to intro-
duce to the public their old acquaintance in its
new habiliment, and then prevail on the pub-
lisher to give him a couple of guineas for Ms
product. Tjbese songs were generally of three
kinds patriotic, bacchanalian, and amatory.
The <c patriotic" usually indulged in the mistake
of supposing every hearer to be another Hamp-
den, and England to be the ** gem of the sea.*'
The " bacchanalian" turned mostly upon the
182 JACK JOHNSON.
point of that grey-headed gentleman, Care, being
drowned in a red goblet ; and the " amatory"
displayed considerable botanical research upon
the subject of flowers. Nevertheless, Upton was
so inoffensive, industrious, needy, and civil, that
every singer was his friend, and not even Jack
Johnson had the heart to refuse him.
There was a musical meeting about to be
established in the City, of which Upton wished
to become Poet Laureate; and hearing that
Johnson was a member, he importuned the lat-
ter to sing one of his songs on the opening
night, by way of recommendation to his claim.
Johnson consented, and Upton sent him what
he termed a " Pastoral Cantata," which he de-
sired Johnson to put a tune to, as it was en-
tirely original. This pastoral, however, hap-
pened to be so emblematic of the mountainous
part of Arcadia, so up hill and down dale in its
construction, so craggy and uneven, (written,
no doubt, with a view of electrifying Jack,)
that the rausic must have had the skill of a
Welsh goat to have gone over it Johnson
perused the composition several times ; but at
MACK UN'S RETURN TO THE STAGE. 183
length, completely bothered by its irregulari-
ties, returned it, saying, "Billy, my darling,
you have twisted these words out of shape
finely; but if you can't twist a tune into shape
with them, I \1 defy Matthew Locke, or John
Locke, to do it for you T
It was this season, I believe, that the veteran
Macklin attempted his last return to the Stage,
with the weight of a century on his shoulders*
The result is well known. Whilst his heart glowed
with all its early fires, his memory failed him,
and he found that even the language of Shak-
speare was not sacred to that great robber
Time.
Walking about the stage during rehearsal, he
kept flapping rather ostentatiously his original
part of Shylock, which was covered with a bill
of his first performance of that character in
Ireland.
The Lady who played Nerissa, was at that
time courted by Frank Aiken, who, by means
of a good wig, sound teeth, and a slim figure,
contrived to sink ten years of his age with-
out suspicion. On Macklin's bill, Fraak's
184 BILLY BATES.
name appeared for Bassanio; and Mrs. W.,
among other ladies, pressing round Macklin, to
read his precious vestige of antiquity, natu-
rally fixed her eye on her lover's letters ; then
glancing at the date of the bill, (some five-and-
thirty years back,) exclaimed with a mixture of
surprise and disbelief "Mr. Aiken! Mr.
Macklin, February the 8th, 1745, not Mr.
Francis Aiken ?" Macklin comprehended her ;
glaring with his great eyes, he gave a savagely
exulting chuckle, and replied, " Yes^ Mann,
that's Frank r
My reader may remember, in the first chapter
of this volume, the mention of a certain theatrical
peripatetic, Billy Bates by denomination.
When Mackiin played Macbeth at Drnry
Lane (the occasion which gave rise to the well-
known trial), Bates had given up his legitimate
propensity, and became stationary on the boards
of the Royal house. This ascension in circum-
stances was also a criterion of his powers. He
played the characters requiring the most genius
to make effective, those that the author had done
nothing for, together with the villains of the
COLMAN AN0 HARRIS. 185
executive department, and some of the heroes who
" looked more than they spoke."" But lacking
good things to say on the stage, Bates enjoyed
no trivial reputation for those he said off.
Macklin, in his usual ursa major manner, was
going round to the actors to stare them full in the
face, and then recollect their names ** Oh, oh,
you you are Mr. Holland, eh ? Macduff,
eh? and you you are Mr. Palmer Banquo,
Banquo ! and, and and you are the King ! and
you are Lennox! and, and and (coming to
Bates) you you are the first murderer, eh<F
" No, Sir,*" said Bates promptly, " you are ?"
Colman the elder, and Harris, had a quarrel
at Covent Garden one day, when Bates was
standing by. Colman, disdaining to vituperate,
walked out of the theatre ; and Harris, bouncing
about the stage, exclaimed, * c A little impudent
rascal ! I *d a good mind to double Mm up, and
put him in my pocket" ^Theu, 71 observed
Bates, " you ? d have had more in your pocket
than your head, a good deal."
Among my eccentric acquaintance at this pe-
riod was old Philip Lewis (uncle to the comedian),
186 PHILIP LEWIS, AND
who had obtained from his professional brethren
the title of " The Crying Philosopher. 1 ' He was
continually whimpering over the past and the
present ; and, though his nephew sheltered and
allowed him a comfortable income, looking for-
ward to conclude his days within the walls of a
workhouse. He considered, nay, he called thea-
trical gentlemen collectively, rogues and impos-
tors, and himself the most unfortunate and ill.
used being in the kingdom of England. It in-
volves no paradox to affirm, that Philip Lewis
took a pleasure in being miserable ; and the only
charitable mode of accounting for a humour
which was as ridiculous as ungrateful, (for he
murmured at even the good he had received from
its not coming in a greater proportion,) was the
referring it to a constitutional defect.
Philip had been an actor of considerable emi-
nence in his day at Dublin and Edinburgh ; and
the chief source of his misery was to remember
how many men who were then his inferiors were
now metropolitan favourites. He considered his
age (which was seventy-five) just as little
HIS REPLY TO WEBB. 187
as their talent. This peculiarity shut him out
from the Green-rooms, and indeed closed the
doors of most of his acquaintance.
Mr. and Mrs. Webb of Covent Garden had a
little cottage somewhere on the banks of the
Thames, and Philip, being one of their early
Provincial associates, was invited to spend a
Sunday with them.
Philip had been unusually good-tempered
throughout the day, expressing his satisfaction
at the snugness and convenience of the house,
the pleasantness of its situation, &c.; and Webb,
to wind up his comforts, produced after dinner
a bottle of excellent Madeira, filled his glass,
and asked his opinion of it. Philip put it to his
lips, smacked them, looked at Webb for an in-
stant, and then, instead of making a reply, burst
into one of his snivelling fitSj which distressed
his worthy host as much as it perplexed Mm.
"My dear Philip," said he, "what can be
the cause of this affliction? 1 " "The cause ?"
whimpered Lewis ; " why, to think, Dicky, that
such a blockhead as you should have your
188 HIS INTERRUPTION
country-house, and be able to drink this Ma-
deira, when I am forced to live in an attic, and
thank my nephew for scraps.""
Those who remember the excellent acting of
Mrs Webb cannot forget with what sufficiency
her voice used to fill the dome of Covent Gar-
den ; and on this occasion she beat such a tattoo
on the drums of Philip's ears, that the unthank-
ful cynic was glad to snatch his hat and fly from
the retributive infliction.
But his nephew, who could not close the door
on him, was subjected to the severest trials.
Philip always dined with the family, except-
ing Lewis had a party ; he was then restricted
to Ms room, and had his dinner sent up to him,
from the fear that, if he sat at table, he would in-
sult some of the company. Philip considered this
a greater piece of brutality than was to be found
in the inhuman records of Hottentot history.
He stigmatized his nephew publicly for his
unworthy pride ; and on one of these occasions
brooded on his ill-treatment, till the gall secreted
sufficiently to overflow his heart and send him
down-stairs. He reached the drawing-room
TO ANTHONY PASQUIN. 180
,door soon after the cloth had been removed, and
at the moment that one of Lewis's literary para-
sites, Anthony Pasquin, under the influence of
Lewis's Madeira, was beginning to flatter him in
that direct manner which, Glenalvon says, " sel-
dom disgusts.*"
" One thing, Lewis, that I esteem you more
for, than your talents (said the ingenuous and
fanciful author), is your attention to your uncle j
and you may rely on it, it goes a good way with
the public in general, to know that you cherish
and support his declining years, that you shelter
him from the storms of fortune and the blights
of care, from the winter of the world's forgetful-
ness, the cold hearts, and closed hands "^ " It's
a d d lie, Sir/* exclaimed Philip, thrusting
open the door with iiBcontainable vexation ; " be
doesn't even allow roe to sit at his table P
The scene that ensued must be imagined.
There were times, however, when wine could
calm Philip's troubles as oil is said to do the
oceans, when it could lock up his conscious-
ness of the present, and open to only what was
rare and beautiful in the past. He was the
190 HIS IMPROMPTU ON GARRICK.
only man besides Macklin, of my acquaintance,
who remembered the debut of Garrick ; and it
was on one of the above occasions, when sit-
ting at my table with Charles Bannister and
Merry, he uttered an impromptu I have since
heard attributed to others :
u 1 saw him rising in the East, in all his energetic glows :
I saw him sinking in the West, in greater splendour than
he rose."
The Benefits at Covent Garden this season
were numerous and well supported. Miss
Brunton took " The Trip to Scarborough," to
give her sister an opening in Miss Hoyden.
Rider on this occasion, to strengthen the
cast, consented to perform "Sir Tunbelly."
His comparative failure in London bad soured
his temper, without convincing his judgment.
He believed in the soundness of Dublin criti-
cism., and the existing vigour of his powers ; he
was rather consequential, therefore, whenever he
pkyed an infeiior part to oblige, being secured
from such an indignity in the regular business
by bis article.
Sir TmbeMy happens to be (even in the adap-
RIDER AND ROCK. 101
taticm of Sheridan) "one of the worst elderly
gentlemen on the stage,* that is, in a mental
not a moral respect ; in the theatrical vocabulary,
wit and goodness are synonymous.
Rider knew of old the stage villainy of this
character, and walked about during rehearsal
taking snuff and cursing Sir Tunbelly, as
though he had been a Saracen. " Here," said
he to Rock, his countryman, " here's a part to
put a leading comedian into! Why, Sir, there's
not the shadow, not the ghost of a good line in
it." <c True enough, my darling," replied Rock,
4 * the author hasn^t bothered his head about you ;
but sure, you can put in a good thing for your-
self !"_ In what place?" said Rider: "I see
none." " Oh yes, love your soul .' listen : when
you say to me (Rock played the priest), * Then,
you have really married this young couple?'
and I say *I have;' you must answer, (and by
the powers ! the author might have said it him-
self,) 4 Well then, d n me if ever you stick knife
in pudding of mine again f " <c Hum P said
Rider; "that might produce a laugh, sure
enough ; thank ye, Rock :" and he deliberately
A KNIFE WITH A POINT.
noted down this gratuitous good thing in the
margin of his part. But the shade of Vanbrugh
most likely had overheard this -wicked conspiracy
of the Irishmen to enrol among his legitimate wit-
ticisms this spurious offspring, and determined
to defeat the iniquitous attempt, yet nevertheless,
in doing so, produced the desired result.
At night, when they came to the situation,
Rider, who had been working himself to make
his solitary hit, bawled out with the utmost
power of his lungs, " Then, d me if ever you
stick pudding into knife of mine again !" This
blunder elicited an universal shout of laughter,
which was renewed and prolonged till the actors
were infected, and the scene stood still ; during
which, Rider, who (to enhance the joke) was ig-
norant of the true cause, turned to rne (pinioned
beside him as Lord Foppington), and observed,
" Well, John, my knife had a point to it ?"
On quitting the stage he was in perfect good
humour, but on explaining to him his mistake,
be soured directly ; he did not believe a word
thai we said ; called it pitiful envy at his success ;
and if the whole audience had come forward
THE THREE " UBIQUITARIANS."
with their united testimony, I think be woaW
have persisted in believing that it was the line
they laughed at, and not its perversion.
My Benefit sent me in spirits to Plymouth,
whither I carried a few new faces to meet my
old friends.
Amongst my nautical acquaintance, (with
whom I chiefly passed my convivial evenings,)
I this summer numbered Captain Hobbesof the
Marines.
Sailors, like soldiers and actors, are itine-
rants ; they are the three great professors and
inculcators of the " ubiquitarian" system, and
afford daily demonstrations of the truth of that
position, with which Corporal Trim enlightened
the whimpering servant-maids "Man is here
to-day, and gone to-morrow."" But, my reader
will say, What has Corporal Trim to da with
Captain Hobbes ?
At this gentleman's table I was introduced to
General Collins and Captain Bell,* and among
* The same that was afterwards lost in the ** Centaur, 1 *
when. Captain InglefieJd and the crew escaped in the long*
boat, and made good their return to England,
VOL. II. K.
194 CAPTAIN BELL AND
a variety of anecdotes that were circulated after
dinner, the latter favoured us with some amus-
ing notices of Sir John Jervis.
He and Sir John sailed in the cc Foudroyant,"
that celebrated ship which was built by the
French to be converted into one of the most
formidable defenders of British dominion. One
day, during a brisk gale, Sir John and the
Captain were playing " picquet" in the aft-ca-
bin, when the sea struck the ship with such vio-
lence as to carry away the larboard-quarter-gal-
lery, leaving an aperture behind, apparently
large enough to admit the next wave entire.
The shock nearly threw them from their seats :
when righted, Sir John eyed the mischief with
unconcern, threw his legs upon a chair to keep
them out of the wet, and, turning round, pro-
ceeded with his game as though nothing had
happened. "Tierce to your Queen, Captain. 17
The Captain^ though accustomed to dangers,
looked upon this with some uneasiness ; but it
would have been a species of insubordination
for Mm to have expressed fear when his Com-
mander did not As the game proceeded, the
SIR JOHN JKBVIS. 19-5
cabin floor swam with water, and, at its conclu-
sion, Sir John threw down his cards with a
smile, saying, u You don't play to-day with
your usual c good fortune^ Bell, or your usual
judgment." He then called the sentry at the
door, and bade him pass the word for the car-
penter.
Sir John had a favourite boatswain, one of
those broad-backed, limber-legged, leather-skin-
ned lovers of pigtail and shag, whose sayings and
doings have contributed to raise the character
of English seamen to the popularity it enjoys
on the stage and with the world. This Jack's
"jawing-tacks" slipped so easily, that he was
always employed on the u press-gang^ expedi-
tions, being able to seduce more men into the
" sarvice," than others to compel.
One of the unfortunates that fell into Ms
toils was a Metfaodistical tailor, **wfeo," to use
Merry's joke, " not being able to get his bread,
was willing to live upon water.** The first
morning he was afloat, an enemy hove in sight,
and all hands were piped ; all hands appeared
but the particular individual who is supposed
K 2
196 ANECDOTES OF
bv some to constitute a connecting link between
the two sexes. Jack instantly sprang down the
forecastle, and found the tailor in bis berth,
with no intention of rising, "Why, you swab T
exclaimed Jack, "what do you do there?"
" Thinking of my soul T murmured he. "Your
soul ! I tell 'e what. Jerry Thimble, if you
don't bouse up and rig away, afore we're called
to quarters, I '11 clap my knee upon your
breast-bone, and bark at your soul like a house-
dog!"
The engagement that ensued proved to be
both long and sanguinary ; dtaring which, the
boatswain was very active in cLotBg his own
duty and every body's else. He had been car-
rying a wounded officer below, and running up
the cabin-stairs, plunged his head into the sto-
mach of Sir John, who, covered with smoke and
perspiration, his face smutted, and his lace
trimmings tarnished, was running down. The
collision nearly carried the latter to the deck,
who, gasping for breath, roared out, "You
rascal ! what do you mean by that ?" The boat-
swain's eye was riveted by his commander's
HIS FAVOUJfclTB BOATSWAIN. 197
whimsical appearance, and bursting into a loud
laugh, he replied, u I beg your Honour's par-
don, but your Honour looks for all the world
like a chimney-sweep on May-day T
Sir John said that, considering the enemy's
fire was then strewing dead bodies about them,
this was the greatest specimen of coolness he
had ever witnessed.
The following was equally illustrative. Sir
John's crew had been paid off at Plymouth, aad
the ship put in dock ; but immediately after, he
received an order from the Admiralty to refit
for sea. Walking one day in the neighbourhood
of Plymouth, he encountered Jack with a lass
under his arm, and a large dog running before
him with a watch round his neck. Jack saluted
his Commander, and made Poll and the dog do
the same. Sir John then asked him if he would
go to sea with him again, stating tfae orders
he had received. Jack inquired the period Sir
John was given to refit. ** Only a fortnight,"
was the answer. " That "*3 unfortunate,^ said
Jack, "for Pve been kalkylating, your Honour,
that with Poll, and the dog, and the watch, my
198 DEVOTION TO THE SERVICE.
money will jist last me a month ; howsomever,
I can do this eer ? your honour (aside) I
can keep two marms, two dogs, and two
watches ; and then I shall have unloaded the
shiners in a fortnight, sure enough T
This was " devotion to his Majesty's service,"
with a vengeance.
LONDON. 199
CHAPTER VII.
1790-1. London. Holman on Cooke. -The Science oi
Story- telling. Theatrical Story-tellers Parte; Wil-
kinson; Tommy Hull j Bodd and Piloa ; Suett; Hadk-
lin ; and Dr. Wolcot. Aiken and Kemble's Dael,~A cool
Reproof. Mr. Bradelie. Gentleman Humphreys and the
Blacksmith. Lford Barrymore and the i Blue-bottle
Club;" or, the u Humbugs. M Indedon's Humbug The
Hibernians. Anthony Pasquin, his Lordship^s favourite
and secretary, Anecdote of a gentlemanly Dog. Lord
B.'s eccentricity and reply, " Going his rounds." A Lon-
don Blood's ramble, The "Two o'Clock Club," The
Finish. Robin Hood. Mr* Bowden and his rt nose/'
Dublin sceptfossm; innocent rereuge. Mrs. Afeingtoi
and her teeth ;" a gallant ccmtrwersy j her jmresilKty.
Edwin's deatlu Retirement from Orenfc Garden.
ON returning to town, one of the first per-
sons I encountered was George Holman, who
had been to Manchester. I inquired the ta-
lents of the company, and he answered, a There
was one clever man amongst them, a Mr.
200 STORY-TELLING.
Cooke, a good country actor, John, but he \1
never do in London P This was precisely
Garrick's opinion of Henderson.
It was at the " Beef-steak," this winter, I first
saw Dr. Wolcot, and had the gratification of
hearing how he could tell a story. It is rather
gratuitous for me to inform my reader, that
the telling of a story has often constituted the
worth of it ; he must be aware how frequently
the palest ground has received a brilliant co-
louring ; the merest " Master Slender " of an
outline has been embodied with the jovial suf-
ficiency of Sir John Falstaff. As, on the other
hand, the sharpest blade of wit has been often
blunted IE its manner of handling, and the most
effervescent of jokes become vapid in the mode
of uncorking and pouring out.
It is a different thing to tell a story, and an
anecdote. The latter depends but upon one
point, and, being short, may be cleverly deli-
vered by a common-place talker. The former
is made up of a number of points, each of
which requires to be so placed and connected,
that the whole may form a regular gradation to
PARKER AND WILKINSON. 201
the climax. Thus, as its effect depends on cer-
tain rules, story-telling ought to be numbered
among the elegant sciences, in which practice
alone can give a man proficiency. But a clever
story-teller must nevertheless possess certain
natural qualifications^ he must have a good
fund of humour, if not wit, with some powers
of mimicry, to give vitality to his dialogues.
Among the theatrical story-tellers of my
experience, George Parker must be mentioned
as the first, both in point of time and of excel-
lence ; but he had an advantage in his collection
of stories, which were altogether original ; any
one of them was a specific for the spleen, that
might have put to the blush half the grave
advice of the ** Materia Medica."
Next was Wilkinson : he was a better mimic
than Parker; but he made too many digres-
sions ; and by the time be had unravelled his
joke, he would sometimes have foi^ot what it
pertained to.
Then there was Hewardine ; whose practice I
have already .noticed, of drawing all his truth
from the well of Joseph Miller. The humour
K 5
202 TOMMY HULL.
of these relations used to consist in the grave
impudence of his referring their circumstances
to himself; in his avowing he had actually
seen, or performed every thing he told., though
all such were among the most cherished recol-
lections of his companions' childhood.
Tommy Hull (the well-known apologist of
Covent Garden) was very fond of story-telling,
but he was an intolerable drone. He would
divide the most insignificant circumstance into
as many heads as a methodist sermon, and
pause long enough between each, for a servant to
have run out and called a coach. HulTs age and
amiableness always procured him attention, but
this led him to presume. One evening at the
4 * Strangers at Home," he was dozing, as usual?
over one of his wearisome narratives, (one of
our established wet blankets,) which the Club
always applauded at the conclusion ; when Mer-
ry turned to Charles Bannister, and said, " Does
Hull think he ? s now telling a story ?" " No,"
replied Charles, " making an apology ?
Dodd and Pilon were terrible ramblers : the
first would begin to give an account of an elope-
S0BTT AND MACKLIN. 308
raent, at about nine in the evening, and by the
time the clock struck twelve, he had got the
happy couple as far as the first stage ; Pilon
would set out with a circumstance that oc-
curred in Covent Garden, and before he con-
cluded, would have passed through all the
principal towns in the three kingdoms.
Suett used to follow in the wake of Hewar-
dine. He would tumble on some vestige in
antiquity, which, with alterations and additions,
he was enabled to study and deliver like a part,
He had the modesty, certainly, not to relate it of
himself, but the bronze at all times to affirm
its modern occurrence. When the imposition
was discovered, (generally by two-thirds of the
room,) he would stare around him with the
most profound look of surprise, murmur his
Puck i*>te, " Oh la P and exclaim, " I thought
it was new P
Macklin was a drawler in the superlative
sense ; John Kemble tortured words ; Garrick,
ideas ; but Macklin, both ; and the worst of it
was, that however he lulled you, he would not
suffer you to sleep ; you were not permitted to
PARSONS AND DR. WOLCOT.
hear him and think of any thing else. He
grasped you by the arm or the button whilst he
was talking, and then lowered his shaggy brows,
and fixed his large eyes on you, like a tiger
peeping out of a bush.
Parsons could tell a story with some tact;
but no man perhaps was more amusing than
Bensley, who sat at table like the Ghost in
" Hamlet/' looking blue and sulphureous, and
relating jests with all the ease and smartness
that an elephant would perform the manoeuvres
of a fandango.
Equal if not superior to the cleverest of these
was Dr. Wolcot, whose judgment in husbanding
his points where the subject was luxuriant, I ad-
mired quite as much as his genius in inventing
where the groundwork was threadbare.
It was during this season Mr. James Aiken
of Drury Lane called out my friend John
Kemble, for some supposed insult extended
by the latter in his official capacity. John dis-
played in this affair his uniform coolness. The
challenge was given at rehearsal ; at night, the
two pkyed together; and on the morning, at an
AIKBN AND K EMBLEMS DUEL. 205
early hour, they met with pistols. On taking
their ground, Kemble said to Aiken, m he was
the aggrieved party, he should fire first; bat
the latter was disinclined ; and the seconds pro-
posed that they should discharge their pistols
together. This arrangement Kemble refused,
saying, * c He had come out for Mr. Aiken's
satisfaction." Aiken became unnerved at con-
duct so honourable, and raising his pistol
three times to take aim, trembled, and dropped
it. Kemble at length lost his patience, and ex-
claimed, " For God's sake ! Mr. Aiken, do you
intend to fire to-day ?" Aiken then fired, and
missed him. Kemble discharged his pistol in the
air, and asked him if he was satisfied ? " Per-
fectly." "Then I hope there is an end and
forgiveness to the matter?** said he, extcsudrng
his hand. Aiken grasped it in silent contietiofi
of his worthiness, and they returned to town
better friends than they had ever been before.
At parting, they promised to keep the
affair a secret ; but somehow it found its way
to the Theatre, and during the rehearsal was
buzzed about by the ladies particularly* A
206 GENTLEMAN HUMPHREYS
new play was on the stage, and Kemble "was
immersed in the consideration of its " business ;"
a delay at length occurring, one of the ladies,
not less noted for her nonchalance than her
presumed influence with the manager, tripped
up to him and said, " I hear, Mr. Kemble,
you did not discharge your pistol at Mr,
Aiken?" " No, Madam," he replied ; I have
brought it here in my pocket, to level at the
first person that interrupts me."
Among my acquaintance at this period, I
had the pleasure of numbering Mr. Bradelle, a
gentleman of some repute in the fashionable and
sporting circles of the day, at whose house I
encountered the gentleman-boxer Humphreys,
a man, not only in manners but ideas, far above
the generality of " Modern Gladiators." Mr.
Bradelle told me an anecdote of this person with
great animation*
In the village near his country-house lived
a blacksmith, who was not less distinguished for
his bodily strength, than his proficiency in the
art of cracking crowns, or, as it is classically
termed k the present phraseology, " Pugilism."
AND THE BLACKSMITH. 207
This blacksmith was a sore annoyance to all the
young men and women of the parish, as he
made it a point to tumble one sex and thump
the other, whenever an opportunity offered. To
Mr. Bradelle's family he had been particularly
unpleasant, and that gentleman was for some
time considering how he could give a check to
his insolence. Its secret was this : the blacksmith
had never yet been beaten ; the most probable
specific was, therefore, the novelty of a sound
thrashing. When Mr. B. next went to town,
he mentioned the matter to Humphreys, and
prevailed on him to visit his residence, with
the view of trying the experiment. The black-
smith's assistance was immediately required for
some trifling repairs ; and on passing through
the kitchen, he conducted himself as rudely as
usual towards the maids. Humphreys sat in
one corner of the room, dressed like a servant,
and called out to him in a broad Devonshire
dialect to " let xm alaune." John Forge turned
round on him in surprise, and inquired who he
was. The maids (who had been instructed)
said he was " Cousin Jemmy from Taunton,
208 " COUSIN JEMMY."
just come into service." Mr. Bradelle, during
this, had posted himself in a convenient situation
to witness the scene. The blacksmith surveying
Cousin Jemmy's slim figure with a smile of
contempt, asked him whether he would pre-
fer being placed on the mantelpiece, or thrown
out of the window, Humphreys played his part
admirably as a raw country lad; and by his
sneering reply irritated the smith to that degree,
that the latter struck him, though not violently.
In an instant Humphreys threw out, and by a
well-directed blow laid his gigantic antagonist
on the loor. The latter soon regained his legs,
and kicking chairs and tables aside, prepared to
attack and hammer "Cousin Jemmy,*" in the
manner of a horseshoe on his anvil. Humphreys,
to carry on the deception, stood awkwardly and
unconcerned, with his hands dangling beside him,
till the blacksmith approached ; when he again
knocked him down, and so continued to do
every time he got up, till Mr* Bradelle could
contain his satisfaction no longer, but laughed
aloud, and betrayed himself. John Forge, over-
whelmed with shame, caught up his basket of
LORD BAERYMORE. 20J)
tools directly, and limped away to bis work,
being perfectly satisfied with Cousin Jemmy's
acquaintance. This expedient had its desired
effect, at least as far as it concerned Mr. Bra-
delle^s family,
I know not in what particular place or on
what occasion I was honoured with an intro-
duction to Lord Barrymore, but we were thrown
together in various convivial societies; and fais
Lordship was pleased to express so much satis-
faction in my company, that I became a fre-
quent guest at his table.
His Lordship was the most eminent conoh
pound of contrarieties, the most singular mix-
ture of genius and folly, of personal endow-
ment and moral obliquity, which it has been
my lot in life to encounter. Alternating between
the gentleman and the blackguard, the refined
wit, and the most vulgar bully, he was equally
well known in St. Gileses and St. Jameses, and
well merited the appellation he received in nofaie
quarters, of the ** Modern Duke of Bucking-
ham," who was " every thing by turns, and
nothing long."
210 THE " BLUE-BOTTLE CLUB.'"
His Lordship could fence, dance, drive or
drink, box or bet, with any man in the kingdom.
He could discourse slang as tripplingly as
French; relish porter after port; and compliment
her Ladyship at a ball, with as much ease and
brilliance, as he could bespatter " a blood" in
a cider cellar. Had he lived some centuries
previous, there is no doubt he would have
been a prime favourite with Prince Hal, and
the " maddest wag" of Sir John Faltsaff's
acquaintance.
To keep around him a choice collection of
convivial and eccentric spirits* his Lordship
instituted the " Blue-Bottle Club," or, as it
was more commonly termed, " The Humbugs,"
which numbered Hanger, Morris, Arabin, Tay-
lor, Carey, Hewardine, and many others, and
was held at a tavern under the Piazzas.
The name of " Humbugs" was given it on
account of the manner in which every new mem-
ber was initiated. The system was to intro-
duce two candidates at a time, and to set them
quarrelling as soon as they were seated. It did
not signify in how trivial a point the difference
INCLEBON'S HUMBUG, 211
originated : the members, expert in roguery,
would, by taking opposite sides, aggravate the
matter till it assumed the aspect of insult ; and
the disputants were urged from arguments to
proceed to epithets, and from epithets to blows ;
when the noble supervisor of this farce inter-
fered, took the strangers by the hand, and told
them " they were both humbugged," and had
become members.
My reader can infer the spirit of a Club pos-
sessing this for one of its regulations* The most
whimsical effects I ever witnessed were pro-
duced by Charles Incledon^s introduction, who
had the honour of being proposed alone.
Barrymore was extremely pleased with In-
cledon's conversation as well as singing, and had
long wanted to enrol him among the members.
The * c Son of Song" expected therefore an un-
usual degree of attention when he came. He was
then extremely popular in the ballad of ** Black-
eyed Susan," for which the first call was unani-
mous; but he had not finished the first line,
before a member exclaimed, " Oh ! Charles,
Charles ! come, it J s too bad to fool us in this
INCLEDON'S HUMBUG.
way !" Incledoa stared, and asked what his
friend meant. The person beside him joined in
the inquiry : others however interposed, and
begged Indedon to proceed :
u All in the Downs the fleet was moor'd"
" Incledon, Incledon," cried a dozen voices,
" recollect, you are singing to gentlemen, not
the Coven t Garden gallery."
Incledon looked round in the utmost be-
wilderment : the manner of the members was so
judicious, that he could not suspect the motive ;
they were all good comedians at table not a
face betrayed a double meaning ; whilst a roar
of voices round him whelmed those of the mal-
contents. " It^s a d d shame Ungentle-
manly interruption Order, order P Sec. Sec.
At their request, Incledon was persuaded to
proceed again.
u All In the Downs the fleet was naoor'd" .
" Stuff, stuff (hiss) Incledon, Incledon, you're
drunk !" " Who says Fin drunk?" touted
lociedon. Twenty voices espoused his cause,
and twenty swelled the chorus of reprehension ;
INCLEDON'S HUMBUG.
whilst the cries of Order, order f tended only
to increase the confusion. * c 1 11 give any man
twenty pounds," said Incledon, " who 11 say I *m
drunk , or give ixie the lie."" "You "re drunk
you lie." In another instant Incledon had quitted
his seat, stripped his coat, and was offering to
fight any man in the room for the value of his
Benefit. Lord Barrymore had now his cue to
interferedand sufficient cause, for Incledon was
wrought up to the fury of a foaming bull, and
nothing under broken bones and bloody notes
appeared likely to satisfy him.
The instant, however, that his Lordship said
" he was humbugged,"' the Club, which before
presented a state of universal irritation, burst
into a roar of deafening laughter ; the rule was
then explained at large, and every member
came up to shake hands with him.
"Why, Incledon," said Barrymoie, " didn't
you know we were called the Humbugs ?**
" Humbugs," he replied, with a returning smile
6t J e % (using his favourite substitute for san-
guinary) Humbugs,"
This amicable result, however, did not always
THE HIBERNIANS.
ensue. Major Hanger one evening brought two
friends to be " humbugged,"" who were both
natives of the " Sister Isle," The members
succeeded in setting them at variance, as usual;
but the Hibernians, having been drinking pretty
freely before they came, were in that critical
condition when a slight thing will put a man
in the best humour in the world, or the worst.
The convivial feeling being therefore changed to
the pugnatory when the members explained
that they had been humbugged all this while ;
their indignation was excited in a tenfold de-
gree towards the Club for the liberty it had
taken. Vengeance was denounced on the whole
assembly, and a riot <J la Donny brook com-
menced, which involved every thing animated
and tangible in the room. Tables were upset,
bottles flew about in every direction, and tc such
method " had the strangers in their madness,
that in less than five minutes the apartment was
completely cleared. On the servants running
up, they found Lord Barrymore and one of the
Hibernians stripped to their shirts, to dispute
their respective prowess, the floor covered with
ANTHONY PASQUIN, 215
a mass of plates, fruits, and glasses, and Dicky
Suett in one corner of the room entrenched
under a table, ejaculating his everlasting
Oh, la J
On the evenings, however, that I paid these
laughing bacchanals a visit, nothing of this de-
scription occurred. I found every thing in the
greatest harmony when I went and so it con-
tinued ; and few such evenings as these have I
numbered. There was Barry more in his glory,
the grand luminary of the night, with all his
satellites and eccentric bodies shining about
him.
The secretary to this institution, for some
time, was Anthony Pasquin ; which was one of
the strongest evidences of the eccentricity of its
founder.
Anthony bad given up his itinerant pro-
fession of portrait painting, and now edited c * The
Star," which under him, it was justly said,
" began to twinkle." With talents for this
vocation, which were thus attested, Anthony
proved to be a disciple of the " Weathercock
Willow-tree School," who could challenge com-
ANTHONY PA.SQUIN-
pelition with all the statesmen of Europe. He
wore his conscience in his pocket, and wore
them both out together. Money was his only
principle ; and he fitted praise to the backs
either of ministers or actors, as he would have
done a coat, agreeably to price and order.
Passing over this unpleasant ground of no-
toriety, (which made its object walk continually
between the two fires of horsewhip and pillory,) in
his person he presented a greater. Daniel Dancer
himself was a clean and decent individual, com-
pared to Anthony Pasquin, He seemed to have
a passion for dirt and negligence. With suf-
ficient means to procure him luxuries (without
being addicted to gambling or drinking), he
always looked as if he had just been expelled
from a poor-house or a prison. His clothes
would have shamed Monmouth Street; his
shirt had always a particular mystery about it ;
and his face appeared as if it had not been
washed since he quitted his mothers knees.
I can give my reader an amusing proof on
this point. I was at that time in possession
of a very fine house-dog, which had formerly
A GENTLEMANLY DOG.
belonged to Covent Garden ; but for killing a
man accidentally in the dark, was discharged.
Pasquin came to my house one Saturday morn-
ing 3 to get " my bones ;" but Mrs. Bernard and
myself were out, to give the servants free do-
minion with their mops and buckets. The door
being open, Pasquin walked in, and intended to
enter the parlour ; but the dog was lying on the
mat before it, who, mistaking the former either
for the dustman or a coalheaver, rose on his
hind-legs, with a sense of the impropriety, and
placing his paws to the stranger's shoulders,
actually walked him back to the threshold,
where he dropped to the ground, and looked
him up in the face. The maid was descending
the stairs at this instant, and perceived the whole
affair. Now, this was not a more extraordinary
proof of the good-breeding of the dog, than the
unpleasantness of Pasquin's appearance ; here
was a gentlemanly dog turning out a dirty one.
Pasquin's powers of conversation were un-
questionably great ; he was well-informed upon
all subjects, and there was a tinct^/lre of wit and
the evidence of reflection in every thing he said.
VOL. II. L
LORD BARRYMORE'S ECCENTRICITY:
This might have been a sufficient inducement to
his Lordship, in making him his secretary, and
smuggling him in to his table ; but nothing but
the last stage of the disease called " eccentri-
city ,** could have induced any man to single out
such a person as his street-companion. Yet,
in the full blaze of fashion, down its most legiti-
mate channel, the pavement of Bond Street, did
his Lordship delight to lounge, arm in arm,
with his favourite, presenting the greatest pos-
sible contrast, in the splendour of his dress and
person, the eye of the caricaturist could have
wished to see.
His Lordship could say his original things at
all times ; but he found it convenient to have a
butt at table, like Pasquin, who, with a most
Christian-like absence of pride, submitted not
only to provoke his mirth, but to laugh at the
most cutting personalities his patron could level
at him.
One evening, Lord B. made a remark which
transported Anthony so much, that he vocife-
rated for writing materials^ to note it down.
The former called him to order, and asked
"GOING HIS ROUNDS."
what he wanted. "Ink ink ink, my Lord!"
he replied, striking his hand on the table.-
"Do you?" said his Lordship: "wash your
hands, then, and you 11 get a quart." 11
On the first occasion I paid a visit to the
" Humbugs," about midnight we were reduced
to a dozen persons ; and then, when I expected,
after passing a sociable evening, we should go
soberly home, his Lordship gave a signal, and
two members took my arm to the door, where I
perceived a dozen chairs in waiting. Into one
of these I was crammed willy-nilly, and then
informed his Lordship was " going his rounds."
Opposition was now useless, and I submitted to
become a " humbug" out of doors.
On this memorable night, or rather morning,
we stopped at a dozen different cellars and
houses, in the most secret and, seductive re-
cesses of St. Giles's and Drury Lane, his Lord-
ship acting as conductor to the fleet, and mani-
festing, by the ease and distinctness of his di-
rections, his familiarity with the navigation of
these regions obscure. Punch and mulled cla-
ret with eggs were our potations, and his
THE "TWO O'CLOCK CLUB."
Lordship made himself at home with the va-
rious barmaids and hostesses, smoking his pipe
meanwhile, and spouting " Bobadil " with good
effect
u The cabin is convenient, Master Matthew."
At about four in the morning, we had accom-
plished the circumference of this " lower world,"
in a tavern at the " Seven Dials/' where we
were obliged to disguise ourselves as much as
possible, give false names, and pay a " footing''"'
of sixpence each, to be admitted members of the
u Two o'Clock Club ;" a society which met at that
early hour every morning, and was composed, as
it appeared to me, of all the unemployed " artists
of the night," in London. Certainly, I had no
correct idea of a " Macheath's Gang," till on
that occasion. Having emptied my pockets,
however, I had nothing to fear, particularly as
his Lordship was installed in the chair for the
time he remained, with the greatest honours
and acclamations. I did not learn that he was
tfee founder of this meeting ; but, by an inspec-
tion of the u footing-book,"" I perceived that he
A SUDDEN EXIT.
was in the habit of supplying twice a-week two-
thirds of its visitors.
When the signal was at length given for our
departure, I, being an " uneducated" fellow,
expected it was to turn our steps homeward ;
but my companions kindly dispelled the mists
of my ignorance, by saying, that the orthodox
conclusion to every London nighf s ramble
was the u Finish," that being the established
point where all the " bloods" of the metro-
polis, after their respective courses, coagulated.
I was however as vulgar as uninformed, and
feared that this " finish" to my night might
prove one to my days. I accordingly made a
sudden exit at the door, dispensing with the
ceremony of a farewell ; but his Lordship was
bent on completing my experience; a pursuit
was instantly commenced, and " Stole away,
stole away !" was the cry, my companions run-
ning, yoicking and whooping, like a pack of
huntsmen after an unfortunate fox. The sounds,
66 stole away !" struck on the watchman's ears,
who, taking me for a pickpocket, stopped me
till my pursuers arrived ; and then, as I was
THE "FINISH."
about to " charge" the whole company, his
Lordship's presence elicited from the " guar-
dians of the night" a shout of welcome and ap-
plause. A few words explained my situation
and his intentions, and the remaining contents
of his purse secured from the aged traitors the
most cordial obedience. I was abandoned to
my fate ; and the chairs coming up, in spite of
entreaties or struggles, was thrust in again, and
carried off to the " Finish."
Upon the scene that presented itself here I
am not willing to dwell ; for if it were agree-
able, I should require the pen of a Fielding or
a Smollett to trace its lineaments with any truth.
The number of the depraved and dying that
lined the seats of this receptacle, the contrasts
of dress and countenance, the faded finery and
sunken eye of one, the inebriated madness of
another, and the still, settled aspect of despair
of a third, were sights I could not then, under
the combined powers of punch, claret, and
brandy, behold with indifference: to say no-
thing of the maniac medley of sounds, the
laughter^ crying, and imprecations of numerous
ROBIN HOOD.
beings in the most fearful state of excitement,
which gave the whole perhaps the closest re-
semblance to our ideas of the infernal regions.
Suffice it, that at about half-past six I effected
my escape, leaving Lord Barrymore in all his
glory y to go home for an hour's rest, and half
an hour's lecture from Mrs. Bernard.
The opera of " Robin Hood " was not less
successful at Covent Garden this season than on
its original production. Mrs. Billington would
have attracted the public in any entertainment.
Incledon had superseded Johnson in the " Her-
mit ;" Bowden, Charles Bannister, in " Robin;"
and, owing to Edwin's frequent indispositions
in public-houses and night cellars, I was put
forward, as his substitute, in the. "Tinker."
Bowden the singer was in some request at
this time ; but he did not maintain his standing.
Charles Bannister, being told of his success, re-
marked, "Ay, ay I it's 6 Robin Hood' this year;
but next, it will be robbing Harris," He had
a voice sufficiently pleasing for the generality
of an audience ; but he had little science and
less taste, whilst his figure and acting were
BOWDKN AND HIS NOSE.
equally mean ; and he had a face calculated for
no character in the drama but " Bardolph."
My reader may infer the commanding feature
of this face it was a nose, like which, either in
longitude or outline, the stage presented no paral-
lel ; it stood out from his head like the hanging
peak of Teneriffe : moreover, it was of the co-
lour of the best vermilion. In the day-time,
any physiologist would have called it a natural
curiosity ; at night, it looked artificial people
took it for a mask.
When Bowden went to Dublin, his nose,
strange to say, destroyed his voice ; the former
absorbed the public attention, and at night led
their eyes to suspend the use of their ears.
In characters where he could slouch a hat over
his face, (as in " Robin Hood/') this nasal pro-
montory was not so remarkable; but when inca-
pable of shading its red dimensions, the light of
the house seemed to converge upon its tip, as
did the eyes. The Smock Alley house was
loag and narrow, and whenever he came on, the
audience were in the habit of holding conversa-
tion from the opposite stage-boxes, as to the
DUBLIN SCEPTICISM.
authenticity of his great feature. " Captain
Flynn, Captain Flynn ! Mr. O'Grady, what is
it ? is that a nose ?" " A what ?" A nose !
to be sure."" No, by the powers ! it isn't." " It
is." " 1 11 bet you ten pounds it isn't ; there
never was such a nose !" Such an interruption,
in the midst of a sentimental song, must have
been vastly pleasant to the singer.
Bowden, like Sedgwick, had merely his voice
to recommend him : he was a dull companion ;
but, unlike Sedgwick, he had a bad temper ; he
was envious and fretful^ and with a second-rate
reputation, used to give himself first-rate airs.
One evening, in " Robin Hood," I was en-
cored in my song, and returned to the stage
just as Bowden and Mrs. Billington were about
to enter in their succeeding scene. The former,
on going into the Green-room, began to remark,
in a very contemptuous manner, the folly of
comedians singing their songs twice in an opera,
when the audience come to hear the singers
themselves.
I was told of this a few days afterwards; but,
in the mean time, very innocently retaliated.
L 5
INNOCENT REVENGE.
Charles Bannister and myself were invited to a
City dinner, and to a supper party the same
evening, in the same quarter ; and we determined
to visit both, for the good cheer of the one, and
the merriment of the other. On arriving at the
latter, we found the room very full, and were
smuggled into a corner by a party of " Beef-
steakers." The host was pleased to call upon
me for the first song ; and, as a favourite ditty,
I gave my " Panegyric on Noses,"" which elicit-
ed more than an usual degree of laughter, parti-
cularly its burthen
" For there 's nothing so grand as your nose that is long."
When it was about half over, a gentleman at
the other end of the room rose up and went
out; and at the conclusion, I was told this was
Mr. Bowden, to whom the company had been
applying my song throughout.
It was during this or the preceding season
that Mrs. Abingdon, previous to quitting the
stage, played a few nights at Covent Garden.
This event gave rise to a gallant controversy
at the Club.
MRS. ABINGDON AND HER TEETH. 227
One of the members, in admitting all her me-
rits, (which was to admit that she possessed all
the merit an actress could,) nevertheless found
a great defect in her having false teeth ; every
thing else, he allowed, was entirely her own.
Mrs. Abingdon had always been distinguished for
this particular feature ; yet now, being on the
border of sixty, it was not so much to be com-
plained of, if in this respect, as well as others,
she agreeably deceived the public. However,
she had some admirers in the Club, who espous-
ed the cause of the genuine condition of her
" ivories :" a wager was laid, and the decision
was referred to me. I was unprepared with an
opinion, (though, I confess, my ideas on this
point had always tended to scepticism,) and pro-
mised to give my friends an answer the succeed-
ing night.
For the first and second evening, though I
repeatedly engaged her in conversations, my ex-
periments failed. With her very brilliant eyes,
it was impossible that I could keep mine al-
ways fixed on her mouth ; yet, when I sat by
MRS. ABINGDON'S JUVENILITY.
her, and others attracted her attention, my mi-
nutest observation left me in a state of conscien-
tious indecision.
The third evening, I played c Dupely' to her
* Lady Bab Sardoon,' in General Burgoyne's
comedy of The Maid of the Oaks." Having
neglected the rehearsal, she requested me to run
over the words with her in the Green-room.
Leading her to a sofa for that purpose, I made
use of some predetermined witticism, either on
the play or the part, which induced Mrs. Ab-
ingdon to laugh heartily, and then (as Sterne
says) and then (looking her full in the face, or
rather the mouth) I was positively assured that
her teeth were her own.
This perpetuated evidence of youth was in
character with her person and her powers ; the
slimness of her figure, the fulness of her voice,
the freshness of her spirits, the sparkle of her
eye, and the elasticity of her limbs, savoured
alike of a juvenility that puzzled the mind,
whilst it pleased it : of her it was justly said, that
** she had been on the stage thirty years ; she
EDWIN'S DEATH.
was one-and-twenty when she came, and one-
and-twenty when she went f
This season died that eccentric child of ge-
nius, John Edwin, in his forty-fifth year ; the
most original actor of my remembrance in the
old world, or the new, a man that, if his prin-
ciples had but equalled his talents, might have
lived many years longer, and enjoyed the
world's esteem, with its munificence ; but dying
as he did, his fate created no sympathy, and his
name is now only recognised on the front leaf of
O'Keeffe's farces.
Pasquin soon after published his " Life and
Eccentricities, 11 for which I supplied him with
the chief materials.
At the close of this season, my article ex-
pired ; and Mr. Harris offered to renew it on
the terms I now received, with the choice of
Edwin's characters, in addition to my own. To
this very agreeable proposal, there was but one
obstacle but that was not contemptible, my
wife.
For the last two seasons, through the caprice
80 RETIREMENT FROM COVENT GARDEN.
or necessity of my manager, she had been laid
on the shelf; and, being a woman in the prime
of her powers, she could not content herself with
getting her salary for nothing. Such treatment
was not to be borne without murmuring ; and I,
being her husband, was the lawful object to
hear and alleviate her sorrows. Married women
that are not actresses, possibly may not sympa-
thize in Mrs. Bernard^ situation ; but all mar-
ried men are capable of estimating the extent of
my sufferings. In short, I was compelled to make
it a condition of my re-engagement at Covent
Garden, that Mrs. Bernard was permitted a
due share of business ; but as this was an
arrangement Mr. Harris was precluded from
making, I had no alternative, for the security of
my domestic peace, but to quit the Theatre till
circumstances permitted our return.
The struggle on this occasion was not to give
up the favour of a public with whom I was
firmly established ; against this, I balanced the
pleasures of country management: but it was
to surrender my office at the Club, and sunder
all the ties of my private connections. I certainly
THEATRICALS AT GUERNSEY.
did more than Antony on this occasion. AH
my world I gave up for love ; but being a hus-
band, I not only set a better example, but acted
in a more singular manner.
To form a circuit in addition to Plymouth, I
engaged the Dover Theatre, then to let for two
seasons ; and being advised to connect with it
another depot attainable by water, (in order to
lighten the dead weight of country schemes, the
expense of carriage,) I fixed on the island of
Guernsey. From my gracious patron the Duke
of Clarence I obtained a letter to General
Brown, and through his instrumentality pro-
cured leave to provide the island with the-
atricals.
PLYMOUTH.
CHAPTER VIII.
1791. Plymouth. Jefferson and the prawns. Lostwithiel
and the lace. Mrs. Canning : her character, and anecdote
of her great courage. A ghost story. Eccentricities of
Becky Wells : her royal attachment Balling with kind-
ness j and " Hav'n't you heard of a jolly young waterman ?"
Siege of Plymouth. Dover.
1791-2 Charles Mate. Guernsey: my new theatre. Mr.
Hargrave, Jemmy Fotterel, and his patrons. Teignmouth.
John Emery's introduction to the Stage: symptoms
of the future Comedian. The patient Farmer. Lord
Howth, and the Landlady's mistake Passage to Dover
in the Pomona Frigate. Mr. Lee Sug, and Captain Sa-
vage. Mr. and Mrs. Fox. Dover.
1792-3. De"but of Mr. Hunn, and his legs Anecdote of a
spaniel. Return to Covent Garden. Fracas at Plymouth.
G. H. Barret's last favour.
ON arriving at Plymouth, I found, to my
great surprise, the Company collected, but no
preparations for the opening of the Theatre.
Wolf and Jefferson were away on one of their
temporary schemes, and their precise point of
JEFFERSON AND THE PRAWNS.
destination I could not ascertain, till Jefferson
came over from the little town of Lostwithiel,
bringing with him the pleasing intelligence,
that the result of the speculation had placed all
our scenery and wardrobe in jeopardy. I agreed
to go back with him and play for his benefit,
taking with me our singer, a very pleasant fel-
low of the name of West.
On crossing the ferry, we bought a quantity
of prawns, which we agreed to reserve for a
snack at an inn, where Jefferson said there was
some of the finest ale in the county. West and
myself, however, could not resist our propen-
sities towards a dozen of the prawns, which
lying at the top, happened to be the largest, in the
manner of pottled strawberries, to cover a hun-
dred small ones. Coming to a hil! 5 West and
I jumped out of the coach to walk up, leaving
Jefferson to take care of the fish. We had just
reached the summit, when we heard a great
bawling behind us, and looking round, per-
ceived the coach standing still at the foot of the
ascent, and Jefferson leaning out of the window
and waving his hand. Imagining some accident
234 LOSTWITHIEL.
had happened, down we both ran at our utmost
speed, and inquired the matter. Jefferson held
up the handkerchief of diminutive prawns to our
view, and replied, " I wished to know if you
wouldn^t like a few of the large ones."
There was so much pleasantry in this re-
proof, that we could only look in each other's
face, laugh, and toil up the hill again.
We got into Lostwithiel scarcely in time for
the performance, which was " The Beaux Stra-
tagem/ 1 * As an evidence, I may be permitted
to record, of my popularity in the West of
England, the temple of Thespis in this place
was for once so beset with visitors, that the
gentlemen paid box prices to sit on the beams
over the stage, and the ladies were accommo-
dated with chairs and benches down its sides.
As its dimensions, however, did not exceed
those of a moderate-sized parlour, we were put
to some inconvenience in our business, to say
nothing of the novel effect this transition from
the wide space of Covent Garden produced
on my mind. Nevertheless, the effect was
pleasing : the proximity of so many beauteous
MRS. CANNING. 235
forms and faces led me to forget I was before
the public, but rather, contributing to the
amusement of a private circle of friends.
In my first scene with Aim well, I stood near a
young lady, who, with all the innocence of her
years, but curiosity of her sex, took up my
hand, and inspecting its ruffle, looked at a fair
friend, sitting opposite, and exclaimed, " Law !
Jemima, it's lace, I declare F
The lady that led our tragic business this
summer at Plymouth was my old friend Mrs.
Reddish, formerly Mrs. Canning, and now Mrs.
Hunn. On the decease of her second husband
(the tragedian of Drury Lane), she had mar-
ried a respectable merchant of Plymouth, and
retired from the stage; but the latter gentle-
man's misfortunes in business threw her again
on the profession as her only resource.
As an actress, the efforts of Mrs. Hunn
were more characterised by judgment than ge-
nius ; but Nature had gifted her in several re-
spects to sustain the matrons. As a friend and
a companion, she possessed all the intelligence,
with the accomplishment to be desired in a
86 CHARACTER OP MRS. CANNING.
woman, surrounding her talents with the halo
of her becoming principles. It was at all times
in her domestic, rather than her public charac-
ter, that Mrs. Hunn secured the public admi-
ration, and met with a patronage which talent
might not have obtained. I had peculiar op-
portunities of seeing this, as well as of noting
her great affection for her children, She had
two little girls with her, (the Miss Hunns,) and
a son, George Canning, then at Lincoln's-Inn,
I believe, preparing for the bar. Upon the latter
all her hopes rested for the ultimate recompense
of her struggles and disappointments; hopes that
were singularly realized. I had the pleasure of
reading many of his letters to his mother, in
which, describing the progress of his studies and
his prospects, the enthusiasm of genius was lost
in the glow of filial tenderness : his acquirements
and his connections he valued only as the means
of enabling him to provide for a mother, who, in
his person, had made so many sacrifices to re-
vive the character of his father. These letters
Mrs* Hunn*s greatest treasures. She read
ANECDOTE OF HER COURAGE, 237
them going to bed, and carried them in her
bosom as amulets against the poison of care or
despondency.
But Mrs. Hunn was not more distinguished
by this maternal affection, than a moral courage
and a self-possession which are the usual con-
comitants of sterner and colder dispositions.
Upon this point I can give my reader a remark-
able proof.
Mrs, H., on reaching Plymouth, applied to
me to aid her in procuring lodgings, which she
required to be on a respectable but economic
scale. The only ones I knew of belonged to
Symmonds, our carpenter, which were near the
Theatre, and possessed many conveniences ; but
some person having reported that the house con-
tained a lodger already, a perturbed and peram-
bulating spirit, other occupants it had latterly
wanted. Symmonds, therefore, offered them
to Mrs. Hunn for a nominal rent, if she would
be the means of putting to silence this un-
founded and ruinous rumour. The latter was
happy to take them on such easy terms, and
238 A GHOST STORY.
said with a smile, that " it was not the first
time she had been concerned in the c Haunted*
House; 17
On the first evening of her entering these
lodgings, after her children were in bed and
the servant was dismissed, she resolved to sit
up a few hours, to ascertain whether any sounds
or noises were to be heard. What she antici-
pated in this attempt, I cannot say, but it would
have been excusable in the wisest of either sex,
if in the stillness of that time, and the loneli-
ness of her situation, (a book and a pair of can-
dles her only companions,) the powers of the
imagination received a stimulus to overthrow
those of the reason. The carpenter's shop, on
the ground-floor, comprehended the width of the
house, and was barred and bolted on the inside.
As the workmen made their exit at night
through a door which opened into the private
passage leading to Mrs. Hunn's apartments,
this door was usually left on the latch. About
half an hour after Mrs. H. sat down to her
* Addison's.
A GHOST STORY. 239
book (between eleven and twelve), she actually
heard a low but quick noise in the room be-
neath, as if some one had taken up an extra-
sized plane and chipped off the entire side of
the carpenter's bench.
This was the sounding note to the diabolical
chorus to follow : the noise ceased, but soon re-
commenced, and rose up with an accompani-
ment of all the tools in the shop; a loud and
vigorous concert of machinery, from the vio-
loncello-movement of the saw, to the fife-
squeaking rasp of the file, kept in tune by the
time-beating thump of a heavy axe. It seemed
as if all the deceased artificers of the district
had assumed their places at the bench, and were
executing a piece of carpentry for his infernal
majesty. Mrs. Hunn no sooner received this
auricular, than she determined to have ocular
evidence of the fact. Few women in such a si-
tuation would have been troubled with their
sex's common feeling (or failing) curiosity ;
and fewer would have possessed the courage,
equally uncommon, to have attempted its satis-
faction. Laying down her book, and taking up
240 A GHOST STORY.
a candle, she opened the staircase-door and lis-
tened ; the sounds were still audible, and pro-
ceeding from the same quarter. Taking off her
shoes to prevent the slightest alarm, she lightly
and cautiously descended the stairs, and placed
her hand upon the latch of the shop-door. She
assured me that at this moment she heard the
sounds as distinctly as in her own apartment,
and felt convinced they were produced by hu-
man agency. In a second, the latch was lifted
the door thrust open, and her head and can-
dle thrust in ; when, lo ! all was still and
stationary ; not a tool was out of its place, and
not a carpenter to be seen, spiritual or material.
To be assured of the truth, she even entered
the shop, walked round the benches, and exa-
mined the fastenings of the doors and windows ;
every thing appeared in order and security. She
then returned to her room, doubting the reality
of her recollections, when the sounds recom-
menced, and continued for about half an hour,
till they ceased altogether ; she then retired to
re&L The next morning, her impressions of
the above were seemingly so monstrous, that
A GHOST STORY. 241
she resolved to say nothing, till the events of
another night either set aside or confirmed
them. Between eleven and twelve the same
noises occurred, and she repeated her experi-
ment, which resulted in the same manner. The
next day the landlord and myself were fully
acquainted with the matter, and invited to par-
take in her conviction. I was willing to take
her word, but the carpenter was not; he sat
up with her the ensuing evening; heard the
sounds, and when Mrs. H. prevailed on him to
descend the stairs with her, he was so fright-
ened, that, instead of entering the shop, he ran
out of the front-door. Mrs. H. was now given
the apartments rent-free, and continued to re-
side in them throughout the summer; the noises
occurred every night for about half an hour,
till at length they grew so familiar, that she
heard them with indifference. " Habit," she
said to me, "is second nature, Mr. Bernard :
if I didn't hear the carpenters at work every
night, I should begin to fear they were com-
ing up-stairs !"
These are the facts of this truly singular cir-
VOL. II. M
242 ECCENTRICITIES OF
cumstance ; they occurred in the knowledge of
a hundred persons besides myself; my reader,
upon this assurance, may account for them as
he pleases ; all I wish or care to establish, is
the courageous character of Mrs. Canning.
Among the number of pleasure-yachts that
sailed into Plymouth this summer, (1790,) was
one bearing that dramatic Cleopatra Becky
Wells; who, in the flying finery of her dress
and the buoyancy of her person, was no bad
emblem of the boat itself. She was attended
by a female friend tolerably old and ugly, as
an object of contrast, and whom she never per-
mitted to say more than monosyllables, in order
to prove agreeable company.
In the course of these recollections it has
been my necessity to speak very often of that
peculiar species of moral being, termed an ec-
centric ; obviously, because theatrical life more
abounds with it than any other. Eccen-
trics are plants that spring up all over the
world ; but the Stage is a hot-house, where we
see the greatest collection. Parker, Whiteiy,
BECKY WELLS.
Bowles, and some others, have been embalmed
in these pages, to the knowledge, I should
hope, of five generations to come; but if my
reader has conscientiously decided on the re-
spective claims of these worthies to preemi-
nence, Mrs. Wells must now walk into his ac-
quaintance, and bid them all hide their dimi-
nished heads,
I must admit, however, I have heard my own
*
opinion disputed, that eccentricity is any peculiar
constitution of the mind, but rather a disease ;
if so, as it is utterly impossible, either in a
moral or physiological manner, to give any ac-
count of its nature and origin, I shall do no
more than lay before my reader a few of its ef-
fects, as evidenced in the life of Mrs. Wells.
In doing this I propose ray reader's instruction as
well as amusement ; for I shall avail myself of
an old " Beef-steak 1 ' opinion, which corrected
Pope (not the actor) upon two points: First,
where he says, u An honest man 's the noblest
work of God !" deciding that it is rather " an
honest woman !" (that being the more wonder-
M 2
244 ECCENTRICITIES OF
ful), and next, that the " proper study of
mankind is" not "man," but " woman !" she
being the much more complicated machine of
the two.
I have already mentioned that my acquain-
tance with Mrs. Wells commenced at Exeter,
in 1776 ; where, being young and pretty, she
was playing the second-rate " walking ladies/'
or rather " jumping girls/' in the farces, who
have merely to say, " they love Charles dearly ;*
" they won't marry Mr. Higginbottom, and
don't mind being locked up/ 7 Taking " The
Author"' for my benefit, I selected her to play
Becky Cadwallader, who is a simpleton in the
superlative sense. She was rather afraid of the
undertaking, till I encouraged her by saying,
'* if she would merely put her thumb in her
mouth, and look as usual, she would fulfil
Foote's ideas to perfection." Her success in
this character obtained her an opening at the
Haymarket; where her performance of Becky
established her fame, and gave her a cognomen
for the rest of her days. Surrounded by a le-
gion of gallant editors, who, in those days, were
BECKY WELLS.
all Majors of the Guards, or Captains 'of Artil-
Iery 3 she was led to think that their efforts to
maintain her reputation would not tend to un-
dermine it, and put herself under the protection
of Topham, who, though a very worthy fellow,
rather too strenuously advocated the " Liberty
of the Press."
It was then her disease (if such it be ad-
mitted) began first to display itself. Becky
loved to oppose all the tastes and customs of
the world ; to wear furs in the summer, and
muslins in winter; to improve her health by
riding down to Oxford or Cambridge in Hack-
ney coaches, and to relieve the ferment of town
society, by incurring premeditated debts, and
getting into sponging-houses, where she might
enjoy her reflections undisturbed; of all of
which vagaries the gallant editor supplied the
means with his purse, and defended the pro-
priety with his pen. That amiable creature
Miss Pope, endeavouring one day to reason
with her, observed " Think, Mrs. Wells,
what the ' world' says of such conduct !" Becky's
head only ran upon Tophanr's " World ;" and
246 BECKY WELLS:
she answered, " I beg your pardon, Ma'am,
the "world" never abuses met"
Of all Becky's peculiarities, perhaps the
greatest was her imagining that every man
she saw or spoke to, fell in love with her.
As she visited the public places, the conse-
quence was, that she set down all his Majesty's
ministers, and half the nobility of the land, as
her dying innamoratos. But she went farther,
and wanted to make Topham call them all out
(six at a time, in the manner of Bobadil,) to
revenge the insulted dignity of her feelings.
But this depopulation of all the squares at the
West end, was a task he declined. Becky's ma-
lady reached its climax in her supposing that
our late beloved and most virtuous monarch
was among the number of her victims she
having been pointed out to him in the Park,
shortly after his recovery from his first mental
attack. When the Sovereign was advised to
try sea-air and water at Weymouth, Becky fol-
lowed him, hired a yacht at a guinea a-day
(for which Topham paid), and attended him
in all his excursions. This evidence of loyalty,
HER ROYAL ATTACHMENT. 247
when first observed, was grateful to the bosom
of the man who was indeed <c a father to his
people;" and he used to exclaim cc Mrs. Wells
Wells Wells ! Good Cowslip fond of the
water, eh ?" But the daily demonstration of
her attachment grew at length to be very
singular, if not serious. Whenever his Majesty
cast his eye over the blue element, there was
the bark of Becky careering in pursuit of
him ; the infatuated woman reposing on the
deck, in all the languor and sumptuousness of
Cleopatra. The Royal attendants now began to
suspect her motives ; and the Sovereign became
so annoyed at his eternal attendant, that, when-
ever he espied a sail, he inquired eagerly,
" It 'snot Wells, is it ?" or, on perceiving the
dreaded boat, " Charlotte, Charlotte, here's
Wells again !"
A few days before his Majesty visited Ply-
mouth, Mrs. Wells arrived as above mentioned,
and offered her services to the Theatre, which
were cordially accepted. We naturally expect-
ed, that on one or two nights the King would
honour his favourite amusement with attention
248 tc WELLS AGAIN ! "
here as well as elsewhere : knowing that such
nights would be overflows, we resolved to make
the most of this harvest, and went to the ex-
pense and trouble of enclosing the entire pit
as boxes. As soon as his Majesty arrived, I
penned an appropriate address, to which I ob-
tained the signatures of all the principals in
Plymouth. This address was received by Lady
Edgecombe, (one of my best patrons,) to be laid
before the Queen, who was pleased to express
a gracious approbation of my exertions, and to
inquire the entertainments I proposed. I enume-
rated the pieces, and (little suspecting the rock
I should split on) said, "that in addition to
the strength of the company, Mrs. Wells, of
Covent Garden, had volunteered her services I"
This was reported to his Majesty, who, congra-
tulating himself most likely on his escape from
her attentions, heard the name with surprise
and vexation : " Wells, Wells ! Wells, again !
* Cowslip's mad ! on sea, on land, haunts me
every where !"
Lady Edgecombe was then instructed to in-
HER HUSBAND. 49
form me that his Majesty would not visit the
Plymouth Theatre during his stay ; though the
cause I was left to surmise or glean elsewhere ;
our expenses were therefore thrown away, and
our expectations laughed at. Thus Mrs. Wells,
by her eccentricity, this summer cost me at
least a hundred pounds, and Topham two.
The last time I encountered this lady was
about a year after my return from America,
(1821,) in the street leading to "Westminster
Bridge: though old and faded, she was still
buoyant and loquacious : a young, rough-look-
ing male companion was with her, whom she
instantly quitted to welcome me home. After
about five minutes 1 conversation on past and
present times, I begged not to keep her from
her friend any longer. " Friend !" she replied,
putting a construction on the word which I by
no means intended " he's no friend ! he^s
my husband !" It was now my turn to stare;
and I inquired whether he was in the pro-
fession. She took him by the hand, and danc-
ing up to me, through the stream of coal-
M 5
$50 SIEGE OF PLYMOUTH.
heavers, porters, and men of business that were
passing, sang with great humour,
u And hav'n't you heard of the jolly young waterman,
That at Westminster Bridge used to ply ?" &c.
Vale Becky.
Governor Campbell, who had always held out
a very friendly hand to me, had by him a ma-
nuscript account of the Siege of Plymouth, dur-
ing the memorable conflicts of the Cavaliers and
Roundheads. He obliged me with a perusal of
the papers; and the incidents they detailed were
of so dramatic a character, that I obtained his
permission to adapt them for our boards. Ben-
net the organist, who was a pupil of Dr.
Jackson with Incledon and Davy, set the mu-
sic to this drama, (deserving of a worthier ve-
hicle,) and its attraction throughout the season
amply recompensed the undertaking.
From Plymouth we proceeded to Dover,
where Charles Mate, my stage-manager, had
got the house in readiness to receive us. Mate
was the Margate patentee, at that time a clever
actor, and at all times one of the worthiest and
GUERNSEY. 251
honestest men that have been mixed up in the
turmoil of theatricals. Major Arabin had fa-
voured me with a letter to Mr. Fector, a great
patron of the Drama, by whom I was intro-
duced to Dr. Mantel, Mr. Osborne, and other
influential persons.
The season proved highly successful from
the patronage thus obtained, and I chartered a
brig to carry the company, wardrobe, and some
scenery to Guernsey, where a theatre had been
reared during the past summer, for which I
supplied the entire funds, and had occasionally
inspected in flying visits from Plymouth.
Among the novelties of the company was a Mr.
Snow, under the name of Hargrave, who played
my principal tragedy with considerable talents.
He possessed a little independency, which se-
cured him from the personal submissions of the
Stage, and was one of those few instances where
an educated and refined man had chosen it as
his profession from a love of its genius. He
was thus the most calculated to elevate and
adorn it. On quitting me, I gave him a re-
JEMMY FOTTEREL
commendation to Daly, in Dublin, from whence
he went to Covent Garden, but soon after re-
tired from the Stage, and entered the Church.
My leave to perform in Guernsey was but
once in two years ; and at the fall of the curtain,
I let the house to a tobacconist, to be employed
ad interim as a warehouse. We then returned
to Plymouth, where I was joined by Johnny
Quick, and my old Belfast acquaintance, Jem-
my Fotterel.
Ten years had wrought no change in this
well-known itinerant : he was as great a hu-
morist as ever, and as bad an actor. Being
bent on taking a benefit, (though* totally un-
known in Plymouth,) I made the charges as
moderate as possible, and he gained about five
shillings by the experiment. With this, how-
ever, he contrived to make himself comfortable,
(which was making every one else very un-
comfortable,) and went round to the principal
houses to return thanks to his patrons who had
not been to the play. This was about two
e?dock in the morning. The first person he
waited upon was the Governor, at whose door
AND HIS PATRONS.
in the citadel he played such a thundering tune
with the knocker, that two or three servants
looked out of the upper windows together. He
desired them to inform their master, that a
gentleman was waiting without, who had busi-
ness to communicate of importance. The do-
mestics, not being able to glean it themselves* re-
tired with the conviction that, from his abrupt-
ness and mystery, he bore the news of an im-
portation of Parisian Jacobins. The Governor
soon after thrust his head from a window, and
demanded of Fotterel who he was, and what he
wanted.
" Good morning to your night-cap !" sung
Jemmy in reply. " Who are you ?" repeated the
Governor. " There 's a question !" replied he ;
" now, darling, if you had been to the play,
you would have known who I was!* Jemmy
Fotterel, to be sure." " And what the devil do
you want. Jemmy Fotterel ?" " Just to men-
tion to your honour that my benefit took place
at the Theatre last night, and there was but
a paltry ten pounds in the house, which was
just the expenses, and only five shillings over/'
54? JEMMY FOTTEREL.
" But what has that to do with me?" "Oh, be
asy, and you '11 find it *s a great deal. Now., if
your Excellency had taken your family to Jem-
my FottereTs benefit, as you ought to have
done, he would have had thirteen in the house,
and that would have been j ust three in his pocket ;
think of that F " And is that all you wanted T
said the Governor, closing the window with vex-
ation. " All I wanted !" iterated Jemmy in a
key which must have been audible in every
cranny of the citadel ; " by the powers ! it *s a
great deal more than I have got. I tell you
what, Mr. Alexander the Great ; if you don^t
know a good actor when you Ve got him, all
I can say is, you shan't patronize Jemmy Fot-
terel again, and so good-night to you !"
He then visited the domiciles of a dozen
principal families in Plymouth, and roused their
superiors in a manner equally whimsical ; but
was at length seized and brought up in the
morning to the Town-hall, to answer the charges
preferred against him. Mr. Winn, the Mayor,
was both diverted and puzzled at the circum-
stance, being unable to determine what punish-
JOHN EMERY. 255
ment was appropriate for an offence so novel.
Jemmy was at length dismissed, (through my
interference,) but not without a suitable ad-
monition.
The summer of 1792 was a short season at
Plymouth, and the company divided part of
it to go into Cornwall under the management
of Mrs. Bernard and Charles Mate, and the
other to Teignmouth with myself. On this oc-
casion I very unwittingly took uiy last embrace
of Mrs. Bernard, whom I had the misfortune
to lose a few weeks afterwards at Lostwithiel,
in the forty- third year of her age.
Mr. and Mrs. Emery were with me at this
period, and their son John, a lad of about seven-
teen, who played a fiddle in the orchestra, and
occasionally went on for small parts. This was
purely as a matter of convenience to me, and
not of inclination on the part of the parents.
One thought that he might make a-fiddler; but
both believed he would never be an actor.
It is therefore with some pride I recollect tha|
it was through my means John Emery owed his
introduction to the Stage ; I perceived the first
TEIGN MOUTH.
distinct marks of genius about him on the fol-
lowing occasion :
Our visitors at Teignraouth were in the habit
of walking on the sands during the fine summer
evenings till about nine o^clock, and then drop-
ping into the Theatre at half-price, by which
economical arrangement they proved to be like
a paste buckle, more brilliant than valuable.
We frequently commenced the performance with
half a dozen spectators, and by the fall of the
curtain had the house crowded. One evening,
"She Stoops to Conquer" was the fare; and
at the conclusion of the music a solitary indivi-
dual was before us, a broad-breasted, rosy-
faced fanner on the first bench in the pit. To
the public demands no man could be more
respectful than myself ; but I certainly indulged
in a doubt on this occasion, whether one man
constituted the public, though we sometimes
hear them spoken of in the singular number. I
could not turn our one auditor out, from my
assurance that others would eventually drop in ;
but it seemed to me a species of slavery, never-
theless, that a dozen persons should exert and
THE PATIENT FARMER. 257
excite themselves for the space of two hours to
please this solitary rosy-faced farmer. When
I had come to a determination, I saw John
Emery behind the scenes, dressed for Diggory,
and instructed him to deliver a message to the
aforesaid spectator. Peeping through the cur-
tain, to observe the result, I perceived a mani-
fest gleaming in John of the future comedian.
Entering from the stage-door in the dress,
and apparently in the character of Diggory, he
approached the farmer, " Zurvent, Zur," the
tone and manner of which appeared to be in-
stantly recognized ; " Measter ha' zent I,
to knau, if thee shouldst loike to ha' tha
mooney back again, and go whoam, or wilTt
zit a bit till the gentlevolks do coum in vrom
the town> and zo ha 1 the play zurved up to'ee
at once ?"
The farmer rose from his seat, and after
twirling his hat and scratching his ear, (those
invariable stimulants to the intellectual facul-
ties of a rustic,) he replied, " Why, make my
duty to your measter, young man, and zay as
how I be coam zome distance to zee all your do-
258 LORD HOWTH, AND
ings, but I ben't in no hurry ; and as I think
it would be unzivil in me to ha' all the play to
myzelf, I '11 zit down and wait a bit till the gen-
tlevolks coam." John now made a scrape and
his exit. The farmer " waited a bit," till it was
past nine, (with an occasional tune from the
orchestra,) and some company then assembling,
we commenced the comedy at its fourth act,
and by eleven o'clock sent our visitors home,
the farmer included, in good spirits.
My principal patron at Teignmouth was the
Earl of Howth, who had been a member of the
Bath " Catch Club." Of his convivial charac-
ter I have no occasion to speak. He was one
of the many noblemen of that period who
could give their guests a double entertainment.
Besides theatricals, his favourite amusement
was driving, and, with the office, he was addicted
to assume on the box the dress and manners of
his coachman. To be precise to a hair, he wore
even a wig, which was then especially confined
to the Jehus, as a constituent of their livery.
Arriving in Bath one season with his family,
he drove up to an hotel, and went, whip in
THE LANDLADY'S MISTAKE. 59
hand, to see some apartments on the parade,
which a friend had previously engaged. Knock-
ing at the door, the landlady made her appear-
ance; and he inquired if her principal floors were
not taken for Lord Howth. " Yes," she repli-
ed, " and I expected the honour of his Lord-
ship's company yesterday P " Well, let me
look at them." " You look at them ! Urnph,
clean your boots then, good man."
His Lordship complied with this request,
though somewhat surprised at its tone and
manner. Following her up into the drawing-
room, which was very elegant, he expressed his
satisfaction, but in terms of such coolness that
the lady stared. He then flung himself on the
sofa, boots and all, and desired her to fetch him
a gkss of water. " Fetch you a glass of water,
Mr. Whipcord!" said she, "get off of that sofa
directly, you dirty fellow ! and depend on't, his
Lordship shall know of your impertinence the
instant he arrives P
His Lordship related this mistake with infinite
humour.
#60 CAPTAIN SAVAGE AND
Mate having failed to make the Cornwall
scheme pay more than the salaries, I wrote
to him to strike his tents, and put the company
in motion for Plymouth, where I intended to
re-unite our forces, and ship the whole for
Dover. The day before we reached our des-
tination, the Pomona frigate came in, on board
of which was my schoolmate, Lieutenant Ross :
he introduced me to Captain Savage, his com-
mander, (a most gentlemanly and conversable
person,) and the latter, on ascertaining my
views, was kind enough to sav 5 that as he was
passing up the Channel, he would save me the
expense of hiring a sloop to Dover, if the com-
pany would put up with a few inconveniences.
The company were delighted at the idea of
going by this Government conveyance, and the
next day we were all shipped, human beings
and boxes, on board of the Pomona; the
wardrobe, Sec. proceeding by land.
This was an extremely pleasant sail part of
the way, and truly theatrical the whole. There
were some wags in the company, and one or two
good singers (Williamson of Covent Garden,
MR, LEE SUG. 61
for instance, the well-known " Bob of the mill").
Ross acted as Master of the Ceremonies; and
the Captain was so engrossed with the oddities
of his visitors, that he sometimes forgot the ship.
On passing Chichester, however, the weather
Jianged, and the vessel beginning to roll, the
company began to heave, which, though it
checked their mirth, afforded infinitely more
merriment to the sailors; our conveyance then,
to make the most of the wind, began to go
upon its side, and the larboard railings were
lined with the actors yielding over to Neptune
the good things they had received from the
captain. One of my worthies, a Mr. Lee Sug,
(since a well-known itinerant ventriloquist,) not
being provided with standing-room, would not
do that on the deck which he could not do on
the stage give way to nature, lest he should
have committed a breach of ship discipline, but
staggered up to the captain at the moment he
was giving a command, grasped him by the
arm, and said he should " feel particularly
obliged if the latter would bring him a bason f
On coming up to Dover, we found it impos-
MR. AND MRS. FOX.
sible to land, owing to the serious strife of those
warring deities JEolus and Neptune, and the
captain carried us on to Deal, where the beach
and the current afforded greater facilities. Here
a pilot-boat was hailed ; and in a few hours we
were all comfortably introduced to Mrs. Fox's
parlour, at the " Hoop and Griffin."
This lady and her husband presented a sin-
gular contrast to each other, not less in mind
than in person : she was a woman that could
have conducted herself with credit in the high-
est circles, such was the propriety of her feel-
ings and manners. He was a Cockney, but a
greater realization of the vulgar and brutish
than that word mostly implies. Their mar-
riage had been occasioned not by affection, but
obedience to a paternal agreement. Some noble
company having driven off, at the moment Fox
entered the door, Mrs, F. remonstrated with
him on his not being in the way to pay his re-
spects to their guests. This modern centaur,
half man and half horse, looked at her an
instant in stupid irritation, and then exclaimed,
" Vy, here *s a pretty rig ! vy, I vants to
DOVER. 63
know, marm : don't you make a nigger on me
at vonst."
At Dover, this season, John Emery played
my principal country boys (though his father
constantly asserted, that going on the stage
would be his ruin) ; a Mr. Mervin was my light
comedian (who afterwards made his appearance
in London) ; and I was joined by a Mr. Whit-
field, from Exeter, who told me a very hu-
morous story of my old friend Mr. Hunn.
I had known this gentleman for several years
in Plymouth, where he was a silk-mercer, car-
rying on business to a great extent : he had
received a good education, and could wield his
pen with nearly as great facility as his measure.
Being devotedly attached to theatricals, he as-
sumed the chair of criticism, praised Shak-
speare, advised me, and castigated the actors.
Soon after his marriage with Mrs. Canning, he
failed in business, and went on the stage ; but,
in doing so, discovered that there was a dif-
ference between the capability of appreciating
the merits of a dramatic picture, and the power
of producing one. It is a difficult thing for
64 DBUT OF MR. HUNN.
critics at all times to exemplify their precepts.
His debut was at Exeter, where, there being
some of the actors he had formerly satirized at
Plymouth, they resolved on revenge, and circu-
lated among their friends such reports of his
talents as to prejudice the town against him.
His opening character was u Marc Antony."
Though a well-made, handsome man from his
hip upward, he stood upon a pair of pedestals
even more delicate than those of the never-to-
be-forgotten Dicky Suett. These were the first
things to attract the public eye, and the sarcasm
of his enemies. His acting, unluckily, not
being of an order to array the favour of the
many against the pique of the few, so much dis-
pleasure was evinced, that he required the inter-
ference of his wife (a ruling favourite at Exe-
ter) to enable him to proceed. His efforts, how-
ever, tended only to produce another tumult,
and a second time his amiable partner came on
to entreat their indulgence, when a country-
man rose up in the pit, and in a broad dialect
replied, " I tell 'ee what, marm ; it doesn't zig-
nify talking, if Mr. Mark Antony doan't go
ANECDOTE OF A SPANIEL. 265
whoam directly, I '11 throw my hat at un, and
break both his legs I*
Harm, I believe, quitted soon after a pro-
fession for which he was so ill qualified,, and
entered the employ of some country merchant,
whose fortune he had been the means of making.
One morning, I was agreeably surprised by a
Folkstone fisherman bringing me a favourite
spaniel, that I had entrusted to the company
when they sailed from Dover to Guernsey, but
who had gnawed his rope* jumped overboard,
and swam to shore. Our servant girl (who was a
native of Folkstone) had been very kind to this
dog, and on his returning to our lodgings, he
found her preparing her bundle to go home.
Without her knowledge he followed her ; and
when she had proceeded about half-way across
the cliffs, she was met by a gentleman in dis-
tress, who demanded her bundle and money.
The girl screamed, and the villain (I must now
call him) proceeded to violence, when this little
spaniel, trotting behind, (who till then had ne-
ver been reputed for sufficient courage to attack
a rat,) flew at his leg, and bit it so severely,
VOL, II.
66 ANECDOTE OP A SPANIEL.
that the footpad was obliged to release the girl
to defend himself. She instantly bounded away,
screaming " Murder !" loud enough to have
been heard on board ship, till her lungs and
legs were exhausted, and she sank down on the
road* In a few minutes her little preserver ran
up to her, covered with the blood of her assail-
ant, whom he had most likely left rubbing his
shins under a hedge. The dog followed her
home, where her parents, in gratitude for thi s
service, built a kennel for him, and fed him like
an alderman. Hearing I was again in Dover,
they .returned him by the hands of their son.
The spaniel seemed pleased to recognise me,
remained at home, and took his dinner that day
very comfortably ; but by the evening he had
trotted off to Folkstone. He was again brought
back to me; but I, justly considering that he
had got well settled for life, and moreover was
not a proper dog for the profession, being em-
bued with no sound peregrinative principle, re-
solved not to make a vagabond of so domestic
an animal, and consigned him to his recent pos-
sessors for the rest of his days.
RETURN TO COVENT GARDEN. 267
Before the close of the season, I received an
offer from Mr. Harris to resume my post at
Covent Garden, upon a five years' article, and
my former terms, which (being now under no
restraints) I accepted. Taking a grateful fare-
well of Dover, remembering the many pleasant
hours I had spent in it, my ensuing summer
was as usual passed at Plymouth, where only
one circumstance occurred that demands an al-
lusion. Mr. Wolf, whose character correspond-
ed very strongly with his name, having by me
the previous summer been excluded from the
licence, took the liberty of seizing the Theatre,
on account of some scenery belonging to him,
(which he had formerly acknowledged was not
worth house-room,) and opened it with a com-
pany. As the verdict of a j ury was necessary to
eject him, I was compelled to erect a temporary
edifice, for which my good friends Major Haw-
ker, Dr. Gaskin, and Haydon, supplied me with
the ground and assistance.
Plymouth could never support two theatres ;
and mine, though the smallest and least conve-
nient, having the best company, and the best pa-<
N2
68 A LAST FAVOUR.
tronage, secured the best attendance. Wolf
involved himself considerably by this rash ex-
periment, being cast by the jury in the whole
amount of my expenses, besides those of the
Court.
One of his accomplices in this affair was a
Mr. G. L. Barret, who, when called on for his
defence, raised some laughter in the Court, by
saying that " he had had the pleasure of being
an old friend and companion of mine for many
years."
About fifteen years after this, he rode up to
my door in Boston (America) in a coach, and
asked me if I would do him a last favour. I
said, Yes." Well, then," he added, John,
I am dying ; when I am dead, put me under
the turf, and I will never trouble you again."
He kept his word, and I mine.
LONDON. 269
CHAPTER IX.
1793-4. London. Club Captain Clark, Macklin's Goose,
Merry, and my Lapsus. How to speak a Prologue.
Eccentricities of Jemmy Wilde, with Cubit, with. Mrs. Mat-
tocks, with a City Club. The two John Bernards. A
Lawyer's munificence. The " Poor Sailor." Munden's
acting. Plymouth. John Emery and Dr. Gaskin. Mr*
Prigmore. Comicalities of Billy Lewis, Lord Edgecombe's
Ale. The Dog-Coach, &c. The Comedian's Recollections.
A u Comical Dog." London. " Beef-steak" Members
abroad. Curious circumstances of the deaths of Colonels
Boswell and Elde. The Elegy and Incledon's ear. Lon-
don Characters.-" Barrington" a judge of Theatricals.
Count Bibb. -The original of " Jeremy Diddler." Gen-
tleman Harry. The Pickpocket of high life. A singular
Anecdote. Scene in a flash house. Incident. Brighton.
IN the autumn of 1793 I returned to Co-
vent Garden, and made my bow in cc Lord
Ogleby :" my reception led me to perceive that
by my old friends and patrons I was not for-
gotten.
The first club-night I paid a visit to the
270 MACKLIN'S GOOSE.
" Beef-steak/' which (to use Merry^s pun) had
not been cut by the public, and was reinstalled
in the secretaryship by the unanimous consent.
The duties of this office had been performed in
iny absence by various persons. I perceived
many new faces in the Club, and the absence of
many old ones ; but though no such enemy to
change as some of my companions, I cannot say
that in this case the change was for the better.
One of my most intimate acquaintance among
the " Beef-steakers" was a Captain Clark of the
Guards, a soldier and a bon-vivant of equally
high standing. He was many years older than
myself, but possessed a twin temper and taste,
and, being a bachelor, agreed to furnish a
house with me, near the Haymarket, that we
might pass the winter under the same roof.
This was the gentleman that hissed Macklin
in u Macbeth/' and was condemned to pay
700 for " his whistle," in the Court of King's
Bench. Macklin, my reader may remember,
waved acceptance of the sum, upon a trifling
condition, which induced Lord Mansfield to re-
mark, " I have always seen you play with merit,
MERRY, A.ND MY LAPSUS. 271
Mr. Macklin ; but you never acted so admira-
bly as you have done to-day."
Captain Clark had the candour to tell me the
whole affair, as on one occasion Macklin had the
vanity.
Among the early novelties of the season, a
comedy was produced, to which Merry wrote a
Prologue that I was to speak. In the piece
itself I was not concerned, and by some strange
lapsus, confounded the night of its production
with another performance. I was therefore
regaling at the Rainbow in King Street, with a
party of friends, when George Peirce (the vocal
amateur) happened to come in, who, staring at
me, took out his watch and said, " Bernard,
do they cut out the Prologue to-night ? it 's five
minutes to seven.*"
I made but two steps from the stairs to the
street, and about a dozen through the Piazzas
to the stage-door. The overture was over, and
my name was echoing behind the scenes, from a
dozen persons, besides Lewis and the call-boy.
Compunction at my neglect, and the bustle it
had occasioned, confused me so much, that on
reaching the first wing, the Prologue had eva~
HOW TO SPEAK A PROLOGUE.
porated, leaving an indistinct outline in my
memory, with one or two points, and half a
dozen rhymes. But the Stage was waiting, and
it was no time to pause. Luckily, I had made
up my mind that day to dine in breeches, and
my head and throat were consequently in order.
Snatching a hat from Holman, on I went, to the
infinite amusement of Wilde the prompter, who
had rung up the curtain directly, to increase
my embarrassment However, being now on my
mettle, I dashed into a dozen extempore coup-
lets, about wars and tars, fears and tears,
charms and alarms, beams and dreams^ cause
and applawe ; and by now recollecting a line of
the author, and then devising one of my own,
with a very animated manner and indistinct
voice, I was enabled to spin the Prologue out
to a tolerable length, and made my bow (will
it be believed ?) to a peal of applause. My
triumph over Wilde, Quick, Munden, and the
rest, who were watching" the result at the wings,
was nothing in comparison with that of the next
day. Merry ran up to me in the street, and
seizing my hand violently, said, "I was the
WILDE THE PROMPTER.
only man on the stage who knew how to speak
a prologue ; at least," he added, " you are the
only man, Bernard, that has done justice to
mine?
Among the wags of Covent Garden, Wilde
the prompter was unquestionably the greatest.
He could occasionally say good things ; but his
talent for practical jokes distanced all compe-
tition. A few proofs upon this point may
be amusing.
Cubit the singer was frequently teazing
Wilde, by mislaying his snuff-box or the
prompt-book ; and the latter concerted with
Johnny Quick (a willing agent in such ro-
gueries) a piece of revenge. He got the car-
penter to fix a bucket on a swivel, over the
stage-entrance of the Theatre, but so as to be
concealed from notice ; which was then filled
with water, and had a cord tied to its handle.
The next morning, Cubit had to attend re-
hearsal earlier than usual to superintend a cho-
rus, and found Quick and Wilde in the pas-
sage expecting his arrival ; the former with his
coat off jumping vigorously, but ineffectually,
N5
WILDE'S ECCENTRICITIES WITH
to grasp the suspended cord. " Cubit," said
Wilde, " I have bet Johnny Quick a beef-
steak and a bottle of porter, that he doesn't bite
the knot of that cord in five times." " In five
times !" replied Cubit, in surprise " why, I '11
bring one of my boys to do it the first time."
Quick desisted, saying he had lost his wager ;
and Wilde proposed to renew it with Cubit,
who, scorning a reply, put himself under the
cord immediately 5 to shame them with his superior
agility. His companions took this desired hint
to steal away a convenient distance, where there
were about twenty other spectators secreted.
Cubit jumped, clutched the cord, and succeeded
in drawing over him the entire contents of the
bucket.
His dismay and indignation must be imagin-
ed, as well as the sudden shout of the rascally
carpenters.
On another occasion, a comedy by Lady
Wallace being read in the Green-room, a num-
ber of her fashionable acquaintance attended
to hear it. The room was prepared with ap-
propriate attention, and the "company'" came in
CUBIT AND MRS. MATTOCKS. 75
full dress. Lewis read the piece, and I acted as
master of the ceremonies. At the end of the
first act, when the refreshments (which were
liberally supplied by Mr. Harris) were handed
round, a jelly to Lady This, and cake and noy-
eau to the Countess of That, a dirty little pot-
boy pushed open the door, and presenting a
pewter mug, exclaimed, " A pint of porter for
Mrs. Mattocks !" Mrs. M. shrieked better than
Belvidera in the mad-scene, and the cruel
laughter of the company, I thought, would never
have ceased. The young son of the spigot was
speedily kicked out, but not before he had com-
municated that " Mr. Wilde ordered it."
Jemmy expiated this offence, however, by a
persecution to which the only limit seemed to
be that of Mrs. Mattocks' days.
Wilde was once invited to a club in th&
City ; and the first evening he paid it a visit, by
mistaking the time, he found himself the only
person in the room. These convivialists com-
menced their proceedings always with a supper,
agreeably to the very sound notion, that the
rearing of a night's harmony is like that of a
276 A CITY CLUB
building, " you must lay a foundation before
you go upward ;" that is, " attend first to the
stomach, and then to the head."
The fare at this place was Welsh-rabbits,
which were served up plain, that the members
might pepper them to their liking. Wilde could
not restrain his passion, when so favourable an
opport unity offered. Taking up the pepper-
castor, he slipped off its top, emptied it into his
hand, and refilled it with the contents of his
snuff-box. To enhance his roguery, he secreted
the other castors in a closet. The company
soon after assembled, and sat down to the con-
sumption of their viand. There being but one
pepper-box on the table, that necessarily per-
formed its circuit, (missing Wilde's plate, who
on that occasion "never used pepper,") and the
snuff, being genuine " blackguard,* 1 so much re-
sembled its supposed nature, as to prevents us-
picion. By about the second mouthful, every
gentleman felt an unaccountable tickling in bis
throat, (no doubt the ground glass this mixture
is said to contain,) which called for as many
glasses of porter; but every swallow of the rabbit
AND WELSH-RABBITS. 277
increasing the irritation, the words " A d hot
pepper" ran about, " some more beer," &c. till
presently every throat was on fire ; liquid would
not cool them, and their mouths began to run,
as though in the extreme stage of a salivation.
Wilde pretended to be affected like the rest, to
avoid suspicion. The waiters were now sum-
moned, charged with having poisoned the Club,
and kicked down-stairs. The landlord then
made his appearance, and found his guests
" drinking, cursing, and spitting," with fearful
avidity. Showering him with oaths, they de-
manded to know what deleterious pungent he
had infused in the pepper. He declared his
innocence, inspected the castor, and discovered
the substitution. It was now evident the evil
one was among themselves. Mr. Wilde was a
stranger; but he expressing hiniself alarmed
ten minutes before, had run down tp the bar,
where paying for his rabbit and porter, the
" alarm" continued^ and he had gone home.
One morning^ on descending to breakfast, I
found a letter on my table, containing a cheque
for two thousand pounds it was from a noble
78 THE TWO BERNARDS.
Duke in the country, to his solicitor, a Mr. J.
Bernard, for the defrayal of expenses in repair-
ing his town-house. The mistake was occa-
sioned by my namesake living in the same
street, and the number having been carelessly
omitted in the superscription. Aware of the
above, I immediately dressed myself,, and called
on the solicitor, whom I found at home : the
production of the letter and the cheque (which
he had been some days anxiously expecting)
threw him into a fit of ecstatics, which I thought
would have prevented my departure for the
day. His last words were, " Depend on it, Mr.
Bernard, I shall return this call."
When I related this circumstance to my
friends, they were all of opinion that my
conduct (however I might conceive myself re-
munerated by my conscience) would procure
me important patronage from a new quarter.
On my benefit day, as I was finishing dinner,
Mr. Bernard returned my call; and, being
shown into the room, bustled up* to me with a
smiling face and extended hand, exclaiming,
" You see, Mr. Bernard, I have not forgotten
you: it 's your benefit to-night : I wantjfowr box-
A LAWYER'S MUNIFICENCE. 279
tickets for myself and family ; never mind seats.
Sir; we 11 take our chance." He then drew out
his purse, and with great formality tendered
me a guinea! (the box-tickets were then five
shillings a-piece). I looked at the gold an in-
stant, with a small selfish twinge of surprise, but
gave him his tickets, and then with equal for-
mality produced my purse, from which ex-
tracting a shilling, I offered it in return. Draw-
ing himself up with laughable ostentation ;
" No, my good friend," said he; " I must insist
on your keeping the shilling.'' 3 * c Indeed,
Sir," I replied, " I must insist on your accept-
ing it."
Piqued at my manner, which was tolerably
sarcastical, he looked in the faces of Bannister,
Brandon^ and others, who were sitting round
the table, and perceived in each a significant
smile. Seizing his hat, with the shilling, he
exclaimed, " I see how it is, Sir ; you are the
very man I supposed you to be Good day !" At
this opinion, my companions replied for me with
a shout, that seemed to blow the munificent
lawyer from the top of the stairs to the street,
he vanished instantaneously.
280 THE " POOR SAILOR."
During this season, I presented to Mr. Harris
a petit comic opera, called " The Poor Sailor ;
or. Little Bob and Little Ben;" which being
approved of, Atwood composed the music, with
much character and variety. Master Standen
and Miss Poole were allotted Bob and Ben.
Incledon in the " Poor Sailor," drew on the
coat I had cut for him ; and my friend Joseph
Munden played a sea-captain, in that genuine
spirit which perpetuated to a late day the ge-
nius of Shuter: in that rich and racy humour,
which (if there is any thing characteristic in
our Stage) may be said to constitute the national
comedy of England, Shuter, Parsons, and Mun-
den were a happy triumvirate, " whose like we
may not hope to look upon again."
Mate, my acting manager, had carried the
company to Cornwall, during the winter, in a
sharing scheme ; and as the summer advanced,
dropped down to Plymouth, where I joined him
with Incledon and Munden.
Old Emery and wife had quitted the com-
pany; but John remained, in his double capacity
of fiddler and actor. Soon after we opened, an
EMERY AND DR. GASKIN. 281
incident occurred which induced me to take
him from the orchestra altogether. A Mr.
Prigmore (already noticed in these pages), who
very candidly styled himself " a low comedian,"
had to play an old man in the last act of " He
would be a Soldier :" but at the time of per-
formance was nowhere to be found, having se-
creted himself on board of an American brig,
which was carrying out that provincial Garrick,
John Hodgkinson. Search having been made
for him in vain, I gave the part to John
Emery to read over, and get through as well
as he could. The latter retired to his dressing-
room, made himself master of the words ; then
carefully arrayed, and when his scene arrived,
went on, and played with such striking effect,
that Dr. Graskin came behind to inquire "who
was the new actor in the last act ? n " Young
Emery," said I, "the musician. " "You mean,"
replied the Doctor, " young Emery, the co-
median r ,
Mr. Prigmore above mentioned was a poor
man, and a very poor actor; and moreover
was some ten or twelve pounds in my debt, for
282 MR. PRIGMORE.
an affair at Guernsey : he had no doubt been
seduced to this act of desertion by the pros-
pects which America then held out, of making
the fame and fortune of every dramatic adven-
turer. But the captain of the brig, on disco-
vering him amongst the bales and boxes, not
dealing in human beings, and being a compunc-
tious man, came to me to explain the circum-
stance an hour before he sailed, and know
whether his departure would be a loss to me. I
had my ten pounds to sacrifice f but fearing, if
he stayed with me, the amount would be in-
creased, I presented the captain with the debt
in part payment of his passage ; and thus enti-
tled myself to the gratitude of all country ma-
nagers. I little thought, however, in thus ship-
ping him abroad, how soon it would be my own
lot to follow his example.
During this season, Billy Lewis and his wife
came down to Plymouth, on a visit to me ; and
it lay in my power to make their time pass
agreeably. I wrote a note to the Commissioner of
the dock-yard to obtain an entre for a party the
next morning ; and when we had surveyed its
LORD EDGECOMBE'S ALE. 283
various purposes and preparations, we crossed
the ferry to Edgecombe, ordered a dinner at the
tavern, and then passed on to Maker Tower,
from whence we had a view of an outward-
bound fleet of merchantmen ; and the Cornish
militia on the land, reviewing by their Colonel,
Lord Edgecombe. As we were returning to the
tavern, Jefferson proposed calling at the man-
sion to obtain Lewis a view of his Lordship^s
pictures, a favour that either my partner or
myself could have commanded. On reaching
the hall-door, however, his Lordship and attend-
ants rode up, and in a most cordial manner
begged we would sit down to dinner with him.
This pleasure our previous arrangement pre-
vented ; but in taking our leave, we were con-
strained to taste the family ale, for which
Mount Edgecombe enjoyed some celebrity. It
had been brewed on the birth-day of Lord Valle-
tort, and was not broached till he came of age :
it was more mild than the eulogised liquor of
Boniface, but equally potent. Jefferson incau-
tiously smacking his lips after emptying his
glass, induced his Lordship to fill it again ; and
284 THE DOG-COACH.
this being a precedent not to be overruled in
regard to ourselves, we all found it a difficult
matter to pursue our path to the tavern with
that due preservation of the perpendicular which
people usually maintain before dinner. The
dinner, however, we found to be spoiled from
the delay thus occasioned, and the flavour of the
wine undistinguishable from the ale. Never-
theless, we returned to Plymouth in very good
humour, and carrying Mrs. Lewis home in a
" dilly," turned it round, to pass our evening
in merriment, at a pre-appointed spot.
Half-way between Dock and Plymouth was a
small public-house kept by a man who, many
years previous, had gained some notoriety by a
" Dog-coach." He had trained six large mas-
tiffs to run in a chariot of an appropriate size,
harnessed like horses; and as the best substitute
for human beings, he had taught two apes to
act as coachman and postilion ; the former com-
bining the duties of footman, and both clothed
in correct costume: the one, in jockey-cap, buck-
skins> and boots ; the other, in coat, waistcoat,
breeches, cocked-hat, and wig.
COMICALITIES OF BILLY LEWIS. 285
With this establishment he travelled over the
kingdom, publishing hand-bills to the children,
whom he used to ride about agreeably to the
way and the weather, at so much per mile.
On mentioning this circumstance to Lewis as
we passed the inn in the morning, he said that
this equipage was in Dublin at the time he was
playing at the Smock Alley Theatre, where
a pantomime being in preparation, the manage-
ment engaged the " Dog-coach* 5 to appear in it.
In one of the scenes was an elopement to Gret-
na Green of the Harlequin and Columbine; and
this vehicle was employed as their means of
flight. It accordingly circuited the stage once
or twice, the Clown and Pantaloon pursuing,
and " contributed by its run/ 7 said Lewis, " to*
that of the pantomime.""
This tavern was the destination to which we
proceeded in the evening. Lewis entered the
house with Jefferson's three-cornered hat stuck
on one side of his head, and called for some
brandy and water. Billy was this evening ex-
tremely elate. His Lordship's ale had drawn
forth his humour to an extent which, in the
86 LEWIS'S EARLY DAYS.
perfection of his acting, I never saw surpassed.
He had all the exhilaration of Vapid, with the
quaintness of Petruchio. The host brought in
the liquor, who was himself an eccentric of no
contemptible quality. He attracted the prin-
cipal custom to his tap-room, by the whimsical
accounts he used to give of his peregrinations
about the kingdom. To this " stock" subject
Lewis immediately referred, and carrying him
to Dublin, inquired if he did not remember the
circumstance of the pantomime. A most whim-
sical dialogue now ensued, acquainting us that
Lewis had amused himself by playing all manner
of tricks with the dogs and monkeys, such as
tying crackers to the tip of the postilion's tail,
(permitted to poke out through a hole in his
buckskins,) which generally unhorsed him by
their startling explosion. Lewis was thoroughly
unknown to the landlord, till he alluded to
those circumstances; but the latter amused us
quite as much by pretending, in the manner of
Falstaff, that he recognised Lewis the moment
he saw him. When we were therefore roaring
at one of the above rogueries, the host clapped
THE COMEDIAN'S PHILOSOPHY: 287
his knuckles in his sides, rolled about his head,
and, with a truly Henderson significance of
smirk, exclaimed, " And do you think I didn't
know ye, Billy Dawson ?"*
As a more convivial beverage, we now called
for some punch, and round a three-legged table
in a tenebrious back-parlour, sat down to drink,
and recollect the most whimsical portions of our
lives. These happened to be with Jefferson,
Lewis, the dog-driver, and myself, those in
which we peripateticised, the times in which we
followed the example of our great founder, and
strolled and spouted in plenty and poverty,
under sunshine and cloud, content with the
day, never fearing the morrow, realizing of life
what philosophers have merely propounded,
that it was indeed a jest, and that he was the
most enviable whose laugh could last longest
* The name that Lewis then went by. His mother's second
husband was a Mr. Dawson, by whom she gave birth to
George Dawson, a comedian, that was the twin of Lewis- in
appearance, and, without hesitation I will add, in talent. Of
all the histrionic flowers that were <( born to blush unseen,"
in my recollection, George Dawson and Vandermere were the
most eminent instances.
288 CANINE COMEDIANS.
In this manner the evening rolled away, and
the " dilly" arrived at the time it was engaged,
but about six hours before it was wanted. We
then ordered another bowl, to seal up the above
recollections ; and whilst it was preparing, Lewis
rose from his chair, staggered into an adjoining
room which was used for shaving and dressing,
and laid himself at full length on the table,
where some wigs had been powdered in the
morning. When the punch was brought in,
we could find him nowhere, and every room in
the house was searched before the right one ; at
length we discovered and raised him from the
table, where having rolled about in his slumber,
he looked more completely and comically pow-
dered than Lawyer Endless when extricated
from the sack.
It was some sort of coincidence with the
above, that I should this summer have engaged
for one evening from an Italian a company of
dogs, who performed the ballet of " The De-
serter of Naples 11 in a most surprising manner.
The canine comedian that enacted " Skirmish"
was so full of characteristic fun> that I don't
" BEEF-STEAK" MEMBERS ABROAJD.
think iny old friend Vandermere, the richest
colourist of this part in the opera I ever wit-
nessed, could have looked at the ce Comical
dog," and sat with complacency.
The season concluded successfully, and making
arrangements with (my) Mate to carry the com-
pany to some towns in Cornwall, I returned to
my post at Covent G-arden.
The " Beef-steak" this winter lost several of its
valuable members. Lord Cavan, Colonel Bos-
well, and others, were abroad on service. We
frequently received letters from them, detailing
the private circjumstances of the campaign, which
on club-nights were read aloud to the company.
On one occasion, our recorder opened a packet
of two letters, the first of which was from Co-
lonel Elde, conveying the melancholy intelligence
that Colonel Boswell had been shot before the
walls of Valenciennes the morning previous;
and that the singular remark had dropped from
his lips, before proceeding to the attack, that
" he knew he should be the first to fall, as he
was a head taller than any man in his regiment,
and the enemy would take him for a mark 1"
VOL. II. O
90 THE ELEGY, AND
Colonel Elde concluded by observing, " Who
will communicate this to poor Mrs. Boswell?"
an amiable and beautiful woman, to whom the
Colonel had been united but a few days when
he quitted the country. The other letter, singu-
larly enough, was from another member of the
Club, who was also in the service, transmitting
the intelligence that Colonel Elde himself was
shot the day after Colonel Boswell, and that the
letter to the Club was found in his pocket.
These events naturally darkened for that
evening the gaiety of the meeting: we broke
up early, and in testimony of our respect for
the- gallant and the generous, whose presence
had so often illumined and gladdened our board,
we passed a resolution that an Elegy should be
written and composed, and sung on the ensuing
club-night. Merry, or Bearcroft, I forget which,
produced the poetry ; Shield set the music, and
Kelly, Dignurn, and Sedgwick, were appointed
to sing it. When the night came, the two latter
were in readiness, but Kelly did not attend ; it
was therefore presumable that we were to lose
our expected treat, (a mournful pleasure, it is
INCLEDON'S EAR. 291
true, but one that sincerely concentrated the
sympathies of the members,) when Incledon
started up and offered to supply Kelly's place,
if Dignum and Sedgwick would try over their
parts. This they accordingly did, and Incle-
don, without foreknowledge or even a present
sight of the music (being merely given a copy
of the words), by ear only, struck into the
inner part, and made it appear as correct and
beautiful as either of the others. This was
one of Incledon's every-day wonders.
Shortly after I came to town, I went to
Peel's Coffee-House to look over a file of coun-
try papers, and finding every box in the room
occupied but one, in which sat a very well-
dressed man taking some refreshment, I ac-
cordingly entered it, calling for what I wanted.
In a few minutes the stranger addressed me
by name, (claiming no more acquaintance, how-
ever, than every private individual holds with a
public character,) and entered into some re-
marks on the Theatres with equal spirit and
judgment.
On looking round, I recognised my friend
02
HARRINGTON THE PICKPOCKET.
George Pierce in the room, beckoning and nod-
ding to me with an earnestness I could not
account for, and in the interest of my com-
panion^ conversation did not attend to. Soon
after, the stranger rang the bell, paid for his
refreshment, and, politely wishing me good-
morning, took his departure. I now observed
I was the stare of the whole room, and Pierce
cried out, " Bernard, what 's o'clock ?" I point-
ed to the time-piece in the room. " No, no
by your watch 1" I took it out and told him.
A hum of surprise and merriment ran through
the boxes, which I thought either very strange
or very rude, and inquired of Pierce his motive
in asking me. " Did you think, Pierce, I had
not got a watch ?" said I. "Yes," said he, " I
did, for you have been talking this half-hour
to Barrington the pickpocket."
"Odds tremors!" as Acres says: I felt, and
finding that my purse was safe, grew charitable
in an instant. My reply happened to amuse the
company as much as my escape : "I don't
know whether the man's a pickpocket or not,
but he's & devilish good judge of theatricals."
COUNT BIBB. 293
Receiving an invitation to pass a day at Rich-
mond with a party of amateur aquatics, I ex-
tended my acquaintance by the knowledge of
another London character,, the well-known
" Count Bibb," son of a Mr. Bibb, a cutler in
Covent Garden, who, having run through his
means, was now living on his wits, and proving
himself to be about the keenest blade his fa-
ther had manufactured.
He was the first chevalier d^industrie of
his day, and by his success and reputation con-
tributed not a little, I believe, to the propagation
of the race. He was well-educated, and had
some talents for conversation; but his princi-
ples were as plastic as his hat, and, like his
costume, of that sans souci order, that implied
a sans six-sous value. In his manners he- was
insinuating and genteel, even to refinement, for,
though requiring a slight dash of impudence to
give spirit to his exertions, they were always
restricted to the bounds of propriety. With
the women universally, Bibb was a favourite :
he was a clever small-talker, a good hand at
whist, and a connoisseur in tabbies and parrots*
THE ORIGINAL "JEREMY DJDDLER."
To the men he made himself useful in parti-
cular ways, and was one of the most obliging
and convenient animals that ever ran upon two
legs. He had his seven staunch dining acquaint-
ance, whom he numbered, (Monday, Tuesday,
Wednesday, &c,) and stuck to with instinctive
fidelity. He used to supply his wardrobe by
borrowing in a hurry coats and boots, owing
to a sudden invitation to dine or go into the
country and his immediate necessities, by ob-
taining the tf trifling loans" of shillings and half-
crowns to pay for letters and parcels of game
which he never received. The only game on
this occasion was that he made of his friends.
To bring him more immediately before my rea-
der's eye, he was the original of Kenny's " Je-
remy Diddler 5" and Lewis, whom he had pa-
tronized for " orders" and half-crowns innume-
rable, knew how to colour the picture with tints
the more striking because the more true.
I had an acquaintance at this time by the
name of Higginbottom, a wine and spirit mer-
chant, who supplied Newgate prison, and seve-
ral of what were termed the " flash-houses."
GENTLEMAN HARRY. 295
On one occasion, when he was going to receive
his money from these places, he invited William
Farmer the coachmaker and myself to accom-
pany him, as it would afford us an insight into
low life, not every day to be obtained.
At Newgate, after a pretty general survey of
the prison, we were conducted into the room of
that elegant child of Mercury, " Gentleman
Harry," who was then in " durance vile" for
his attempt to pluck the " George" from the
breast of a Royal Duke, in the pit of the Opera
House.
We found him walking about, humming a
fashionable tune, in an elegant robe de cham-
bre, with his hair in papers, as if preparatory
for a dress-party. This person enjoyed a pe-
culiar celebrity ; he was the pickpocket of high
life. His sphere was the "West End ;"" his re-
sorts, the Opera, the Concerts, and TattersaPs;
and in his appearance and deportment he was
well calculated to escape the suspicions of the
beings he encountered. He aped the fashion-
able accent in his speech, fashionable modes in
his living, and fashionable vices in his plea-
296 GENTLEMAN HARRY.
sures. Had Lord Chesterfield been a Chief
Justice, " Gentleman Harry" would never have
been punished.
When the keeper introduced us, he bowed
with the utmost affability, told my friend that
he sold the best wine in London (a hint that
a bottle might be sent for, which was complied
with), and assured me that he had often had
the pleasure of sitting down with me at the
u Beef-steak" and the " Anacreontic." He then
dashed with much sprightliness into all the
topics of the day, touching upon his own si-
tuation (which was a fearful one) in a tone of
levity and contempt. After rekting many of
the adventures of his past life, he produced an
instrument from a drawer, which he gave us to
examine ; it was a narrow tube of polished steel,
about five inches long, from the end of which
issued, by pressure, a kind of barb. This was
an implement of his own invention for pick-
ing pockets, and the means, as he asserted, of
obtaining him many hundreds: respecting it,
we were favoured with the following anecdote.
The circumstance which led to its invention
A SINGULAR ANECDOTE. 297
was the fashion of tight buckskins, which
clinging round the thigh like a second skin,
rendered the insertion of a hand in its pocket
extremely difficult, if not hazardous. Making
a drawing of his design, he carried it to one
of the first cutlers in the metropolis, and "in-
quired if he had a workman skilful enough
to construct the implement. He was told that
it should be executed in a week, and the
price would be five guineas. Leaving a de-
posit, he called again at the time appointed^
was shown the tube, and perceived that it
strictly accorded with the drawing. He then
completed the payment very cheerfully, and
was about quitting the shop, when the cutler
stepped up to him, and in a most polite man-
ner said, " If it was not a liberty, he should
feel extremely obliged to be informed for what
use so curious and expensive an article was in-
tended." "If you will step into your par-
lour, I will tell you with pleasure," said Harry.
The cutler opened the door, rubbed his hands,
and smirked him in with the utmost alacrity.
" Plainly, then," said his customer, " this instru-
05
THE ASTONISHED CUTLER.
merit, which you have finished so highly, is in-
tended for the purpose of picking pockets." The
honest mechanic surveyed Harry from head to
foot, and doubting his words from his appear-
ance, attempted to laugh, and expressed his
disbelief. The latter however repeating the
assertion, the cutler begged to doubt the utility
of the device. " I I should imagine, Sir," said
he, " that that instrument could not be applied
to the purpose you mention, with any degree
of of certainty ." "Yes," replied Harry, "with
certainty ! for, in proof, there is your purse,
which I drew from your pocket as we enter-
ed the room."
The cutler's astonishment Harry left to our
imaginations. When reflection returned, the
former opened his restored purse, took out of it
the five guineas, and begged to make his cus-
tomer a present of the article, on condition
that, whenever he wanted any thing more of
that sort, he would be good enough to go to
another shop.
We were not more pleased with the points
of the above circumstance, than Harry's manner
"NEWGATE ACADEMIES," 299
of giving them. He certainly possessed all the
external characteristics of a gentleman (with
more than the usual talent that is displayed
in telling a story), whatever his education, or
the portion of sense which his unprincipled ha-
bits had so fatally perverted.
He was soon after condemned for the cause
which now imprisoned him ; but, about a week
before his execution, contrived to obtain a dose
of poison and destroy himself.
From the prison we proceeded to one of
those houses in the neighbourhood termed, by
Captain Grose in his Dictionary, " Newgate
Academies," and went into a long room well
lighted up, which was filled with chairs and ta-
bles, and had a. bar at one end. If the occupants
of these chairs and tables bore any striking resem-
blance to Macheatfr's gang, it was because there
happened to be a Peachum in this bar, who re-
ceived their stolen contributions, paying them a
trifling sum on the value, which goods he re-
tained till rewards were offered, from persons
that were willing to get back the property with-
out asking questions. As Higginbottom's busi-
300 SCENE IN A FLASH-HOUSE.
ness led him up to the bar, we overheard the con*
versation that took place between the gang, (as
they one by one dropped in with watches, rings,
handkerchiefs, &c.) and Peachum certainly dealt
with them too much like a pawnbroker. We
could here remark all the peculiarities of their
language and the varieties of their appearance,
an employment that was certainly amusing if not
edifying. After taking some refreshment, Hig-
ginbottom walked Farmer and myself round
the room to survey its occupants more nearly,
Peachum crying out in a clear sonorous voice,
" All right !" in order to satisfy the company, as
it appeared, that they were in no danger of our
robbing them ; some were engaged at cards,
others at dice, and all in drinking. Here was
the depredator to be espied in all his species ;
though the distinction lay not so much, I ima-
gine, in dress as in manner. This was a fine
field for speculation, to have recognised the
highwayman by his bullying abruptness his
&tand-and-deliver decision ; the housebreaker,
by his scientific phrases; and the pickpocket,
AN INCIDENT. 301
from his shabby genteel pertness and noncha-
lance ; a collection of nothing else, to use their
own terms, but " Gemmens and GenusesT*
This assembly and its purposes the Govern-
ment permitted to exist, as it enabled the " Run-
ners 11 from the public offices to obtain a fami-
liar knowledge of the thieves, and information
as to the manner in which stolen property was
disposed of. This practice, I believe, is no
longer in being ; but $s evidence of the good
effects it occasionally produced, a circumstance
occurred in the room before we quitted.
A man had just taken his seat at one of the
tables, and begun to get social with his compa-
nions, when Townsend came in, who, having
missed him for some time from his accustomed
resorts, went up and slapped him familiarly on
the shoulder u Ah, Billy, my buck, how are
you ? give us a grip of your daddle P< The
compunctious rogue dropped the cards he was
sorting in astonishment, and staring in the for-
mer's face, exclaimed, " What ! already, Master
Townsend! Why, you must be a conjuror I why,
BRIGHTON.
it ar'n't above an hour since it was done ! But
never mind ; let me finish the rubber, and I '11
go with you."
Townsend, with his usual presence of mind,
assented, and coming up to me, of whom he
had some knowledge, declared, with a smother-
ed laugh, how the -rogue had committed him-
self, as he had no charge against him whatever.
The next day, when the robbery was adver-
tised, the perpetrator was already in custody.
For the summer of 1795, several of my best
friends advised me to apply for the Brighton
Theatre, as, in consequence of a late Royal
marriage, the town was expected to overflow ;
and from the patronage I was sure of receiving
in the highest quarter, the season could not fail
in proving successful. Seizing the suggestion,
I rode down to Brighton directly, called on
Moody, and secured the house for ^400, and a
benefit for the Widow Fox. I now made the
best arrangements I could to obtain an attrac-
tive company. Holman, Munden, and Incle-
don I engaged to succeed each other, and the
Honourable Mrs. Twiselton (the best provin-
cial actress in England) to lead the business for
AN UNSUCCESSFUL SPECULATION. 303
the season. At wood superintended the musical,
and Byrne the terpsichoric department, and
Tommy Hull was my stage-manager. I forget
the names of their coadjutors, a dozen clever
persons, whose talents collectively constituted
a strength fit for Bath, in its best days. It is
sufficient to inform my reader, that the specula-
tion was a failure. Owing to peculiar causes,
the sea-seeking public that summer, instead
of flowing to Brighton, ran away to Mar-
gate. No one stayed at the former but a few
citizens and blacklegs ; the first of whom came
to save money, and the other to find it. Owing
therefore to my expensive preparations, the cur-
tain dropped to a loss of ^570.
I had not been in London a fortnight, when
my friend Mr. Morton, the coach-maker, to
whom I had advanced a considerable sum, failed,
which, with other circumstances not necessary
to mention, in the short space of three months,
swallowed up the entire amount of my profes-
sional savings; so that, with the exception of
my furniture in town, and my share in the Ply-
mouth Theatre, I was literally a poorer man
now than when I entered London.
304 " A FRIEND IN NEED
CHAPTEE X.
1705-6. Guernsey. Royal condescension and kindness.
A Compliment. Anecdotes of Governor Small Royal
interference. Sir Sidney Smith's Boatswain. Event at
the death of Governor Small. General Dalrymple, and my
Guernsey Vauxhall. A " Double Entendre" on the open-
ing night. Reasons of its failure. Plymouth. Captain
Clark, Charles Mate- Anthony Pasquin The public
mistake. Lord Barrymore's Advice. Rossignolle the Ven-
triloquist : his powers : Adventure in a Night Coach :
His improvement of Joe Miller. Anecdote of Quin and an
Innkeeper. Falmouth. Mendoza and the Sailor* The
Jack and the Jew. Colonel George. Offer from Ame-
rica. Farewell to the C Beef-steak." Manager and
Friends, Departure for the New World, 4th June, 1797-
A word to the Reader.
" A FRIEND in need," says the old proverb,
" is a friend indeed." Having hitherto lived upon
a level with my London acquaintance, I was
incapable of ascertaining till on the present occa-
sion who were really my friends. It was per-
SOS
haps worth all the misery of my situation, to
find that the kindly feelings they entertained
were not of that species which is generated by
the bottle, to be dissipated by the daylight ;
that wine-friendship, which, with all its ex-
hilaration and warmth, is but one of the fumes
of the liquid, destined to be slept off; a kind of
sky-rocket sympathy, however high and bril-
liant at night, altogether unavailable by day,
Yet such but too often is the valueless tie that
links the comedian to the hearts of the com-
munity.
My case was fully canvassed at a committee
of the Club, and a resolution passed to advance
me ^?500 for two years, from their own funds, (re-
payable by instalments,) as a means of quieting
ray London claimants, and giving me another
chance in the lottery of management. The
Guernsey Theatre was this winter available,
where the success of my first season led me to
anticipate that the feeble health of my purse
might be invigorated, if I repeated the visit.
Colonel Arabin, Captain Clark, and Mr. Bear-
croft, three members of the committee, then
306 ROYAL CONDESCENSION
waited upon Mr. Harris, to obtain his consent
to my quitting him for the term of the Guern-
sey season. There was no want of sympathy in
this quarter: I was sent for immediately, and
given, in addition to his consent, the free use of
manuscripts and music from the stock.
My course being thus decided, I determined
to start under the most favourable auspices,
and accordingly wrote a letter to my gracious
patron, the Prince, requesting the favour of an
introduction to the present Governor of Guern-
sey, who was General Small.
I found that H. R. H. was confined to his
bed by severe indisposition, and was informed
by his gentleman, it was impossible he could
attend to any business whatever. Nevertheless
I resolved to send up my letter, and wait the
result. The Duke of Clarence was with his
royal brother, and read my epistle. To the
latter (whose notice I first attracted at Ports-
mouth) I was under obligations nearly equally
important, and amongst others, that of obtain-
ing leave to visit Guernsey in the first instance.
In about half an hour, a letter was brought
AND KINDNESS. 307
down to me by the attendant, to look over and
approve, before sealed. It was sufficient to
answer every purpose I required, and more
than adequate to the claims I had ever pre-
sented to the favour of its author.
I may be here permitted to mention, that on
my return to England, after renewing my ac-
quaintance with all the friends who had sur-
vived the period of my absence, I paid a visit to
Bushy Park, to make my acknowledgments to a
person who had not been the least instrumental
in forwarding my fortunes on this side of the
Atlantic. I was received with all the friendli-
ness of early years ; the circumstances of my
career abroad were inquired into ; and his Royal
Highness turned his eye, with a degree of en-
thusiasm, to the times which were marked with
a spirit of conviviality long since departed.
Among other matters, when touching upon the
causes that led me abroad, I related the above
circumstance of the Prince condescending to
write me a letter of introduction when on a
sick-bed. The Duke corrected me, by saying,
" No, no ; I remember the circumstance per-
808 GUERNSEY.
fectly ; the Prince suggested the letter, but I
wrote it," Considering that six-and-t went y years
had since elapsed, with the respective situations
of myself and his Royal Highness, this tenacity
of memory was a compliment which I could not
but feel the full force of.
On arriving in Guernsey, my reception by
Governor Small was all that my letter could
command, or I desire. He treated me at first
more like a friend than an acquaintance, and
subsequently, more like a relative than a friend.
He went in person to the court, to renew my
licence to perform, and facilitated, iu a dozen
ways, my preparations for opening. He then
became a constant visitor to the house ; and in
return begged I would seek his as frequently.
With the public character of this gentleman
I have necessarily nothing to do. It is the pro-
perty of the history of his country; and the
page that it occupies is not the least conspicu-
ous amongst those mighty records of human
nobility. In a social light I may be permitted
to speak of him, and to point out a few of those
qualities which founded his claim to a reputa-
GOVERNOR SMALL. 300
tion nearly as enviable, qualities that, like
the tints of a miniature, were perhaps the
less known and esteemed by the public, be-
cause requiring a near inspection to observe
them.
In his manners, his affability was only limit-
ed by the becoming sense of his station. His
mind was naturally powerful, and he had stored
it with the riches of an extensive experience.
He had many original conceptions, but more
practical inferences. All his sentiments ran
upon an even ground of liberality, and he tinc-
tured them with the entertaining flavour of a
delicate humour.
To fill a public office with efficiency, it is as
requisite that a man possess the virtues which
guarantee the noifc-abuse of his power, as the
talents which insure the due discharge of his
duty. Governor Small was such a man, equally
envied and loved : his heart was an unfathomed
depth of benevolence. It had been his fortune
through life to do many great actions ; but I
believe his real ambition was to do good ones,
This was his noblest characteristic ; for in this
310 ANECDOTE.
he reflected his Sovereign. A few proofs upon
this point perhaps will interest my reader.
Guernsey was at this time a point of refuge
for various French families of distinction, some
of whom had come over with small remnants of
their property, but many comparatively re-
sourceless. The Governor being informed by
a friend, that one of these families were suffer-
ing the greatest privations, yet, from their
pride of birth, were unwilling to make their
case known, he came to me one morning, and
inquired whether I would be willing to give an
evening's receipts to their relief, after deducting
the ordinary charges. I had no hesitation in
consenting, and put his name for the next
night at the top of the bills. By means of his
exertions, the house was crowded, and the sur-
plus of the proceeds, amounting to a considera-
ble sum, the Governor conveyed to the dis-
tressed family, without giving them the slight-
est knowledge how the assistance had been
raised, or from whom it came.
On another occasion, he sent for me to look
at a pair of pistols, which for quality and work-
ANECDOTE. 311
manship surpassed any thing of the kind I had
ever witnessed. He told me that they were the
property of a distressed individual on the island,
who was forced to have them raffled for as a
last resource ; that he had taken three shares in
the raffle, and I must take one, and then our
fortunes should be thrown for together. To
this I made no other reply than by depositing
my guinea, and wishing him success. I did not
attend the raffle ; but he sent for me, in great
glee, to let me know that the pistols were ours.
" And now, my dear Sir," said he, " what
would you like to do with them ?" " Why,
Sir," I replied, ce as they are of such a costly
and beautiful description, I should like to pre-
sent them to His Royal Highness the Duke of
Clarence, as a trifling mark of my respect and
gratitude ; but as you had three chances In the
raffle to my one, I think you are entitled to a
priority of choice." " Well, well," said he,
** I '11 tell you how His Royal Highness will be
better satisfied ; send the pistols back to the un-
fortunate gentleman that owned them, and they
may serve him for a raffle another time."
312 ROYAL INTERFERENCE.
My success at Guernsey was commensurate
with my expectations, and when my leave of
absence had nearly expired, (three months,) I
wrote to London for actors to suppl^.my place,
and began to make arrangements to return; My
intention however getting wind, the Governor
called on me, and said I must not think of
quitting the island till the season concluded,
as I was marring my own harvest ; and the au-
thorities would not consider any substitutes re-
sponsible. Acquainting him with the obliga-
tion I was under, he offered to trouble my
Royal patron with a letter, stating the prospect
now before me of speedily re-establishing my
circumstances, if permitted to remain ; and
craving the interference of His Royal Highness
with my manager, to that effect. This was a
proposal I could not refuse, and by the return
of the packet he called on me with much sa-
tisfaction, to say that His Royal Highness had
graciously honoured the appeal with attention,
and that Mr. Harris was agreeable to my con-
tinuing in Guernsey till the close of the season.
One day, when I was dicing with the Gover-
SIR SYDNEY SMITH. $13
nor, Sir Sydney Smith made his appearance.
His ship lying off Guernsey with an unfavour-
able wind, he had taken the opportunity of
stretching his legs upon terra firma, and shak-
ing his friend's hand. The Governor intro-
duced me to this distinguished officer, with
many flattering remarks on my character in
public and private. Sir Sydney observed, that
if the wind did not shift, he should be happy to
attend a performance the next evening, and in
that event, would bring his crew with him. I
took my leave soon after, and, going to the
printers, prepared an appropriate bill, which I
headed with the line, " Under the Patronage of
Sir Sydney Smith, 1 ' running the risk of the wind
changing. At night it was given out to the
audience, and half the boxes were taken before
they quitted them.
King .ZEolus, on this occasion, though noted
as one of the most fickle potentates going,
luckily stuck to his point with the pertinacity
of a special pleader, and my boxes in conse-
quence were favoured with an assemblage
which reminded me of Plymouth. Sir Sydney
VOL. II. P
314 SIR SYDNEY'S BOATSWAIN.
and his officers occupied a box, whilst the pit
was entirely taken up by the crew and marines,
over whom a tall boatswain presided, taking his
stand by the orchestra, to " look arter" their
manners and expressions. To gratify the nau-
ticals, I fixed upon the musical farce of " The
Purse," as it contained a sailor, (Will Steady,)
who, in that day, pretty faithfully represented
his species; namely, a lover of grog, glory,
pretty girls, and tobacco. This hero I enacted,
and on concluding the first verse of the famous
drinking song, u Tol de riddle, dol de rido," I
gave a toast to my messmates on the stage
<4 The King !" with three cheers, which the tall
boatswain in the pit, conceiving to be equally
addressed to himself and companions, sung out,
" Ay, ay ;" and, clapping his whistle to his
lips, brought all the tars on their legs, with an
ear-splitting hurrah. At the end of the second
verse, my toast was " The Duke of Clarence
and the Navy !" The boatswain piped, and the
hurrahing again ensued with equal enthusiasm.
Concluding the third verse, I hesitated a little,
and asked my brother tars whom I should give
DEATH OP GOVERNOR SMALL. 315
next (intending to propose Governor Small
and the authorities of Guernsey), when the tall
boatswain, leaning over the stage-rail^ replied,
" Sir Sydney Smith, to be sure ! " I bowed,
and the whistle going to work, the shouting
now was ten times more uproarious than ever.
The season proceeded very prosperously, till
an event occurred that gloomed the gaiety of
the island for the rest of the winter the death
of my generous and much-esteemed friend, the
Governor.
One evening, when the house was very full,
I observed him come round and take a seat
near the wings. When I was able to join him,
I inquired if any thing unpleasant had occurred
to occasion his quitting the boxes. He said
that he had resigned his seat to some ladies, who
were strangers; and felt slightly unwell. At
his request, I procured a cordial for him ; but,
getting worse, he ordered his equipage, and
drove home to the castle, from whence in three
days he came forth to be conducted to his last
abode.
On this occasion I closed the Theatre for a
316 AN AFFECTING INCIDENT.
week ; and many of the respectable inhabitants
of the island went into mourning. The mourn-
ing, which had no outward evidence, was univer-
sal : domestic losses were seemingly absorbed in
the public one. On the day of his interment
an incident occurred, at once singular and in-
teresting.
A Government vessel, on its way home from a
foreign station, dropped anchor at Guernsey,
the captain of which had been placed in the
Navy and promoted to his present rank through
the sole interest of Governor Small. The feel-
ings of this officer may be slightly surmised,
when, going on shore to meet his friend and se-
cond father, the object that his eye first fell upon
was the coffin which contained him, attended by
its multitude of mourners. He heard the news
as he would have received a flash of lightning ;
it scorched and withered him, suspending for
the moment all the faculties of thought, and
apparently of sensation. When reflection re-
turned, the agony it brought with it over-
powered him : he rushed into a shop-door which
stood open, threw himself at full length on the
GENERAL DALRYMPLE. 317
counter, and gave way to his humanity in a man-
ner not less honourable to the dead than the
living.
My boxkeeper, Roberts, who was an artist,
tpok a faithful likeness of the General as he lay
in state, which I framed and sent to the Royal
personage who had been the means of my be-
coming known to him. Except his picture in
TrumbulTs " Battle of Bunker's Hill/' I am
not aware that there is any other resemblance
extant. In that, however, he was character-
ised more expressly by his attitude than his face.
He was drawn in the act of interposing between
an armed soldier and a fallen enemy.
On re-openipg the Theatre, I found the public
spirit so completely deadened, that I put up the
benefits, and brought the season to a close;
commencing however another matrimonial cam-
paign, by my union with Miss Fisher, a young
lady in the company.
General Dalrymple succeeded to the gover-
norship of Guernsey, and treated me with much
politeness. At a party at his house, it was pro-
posed to me to establish, for the summer, a
318 GUERNSEY VAUXHALL.
Vauxhall, in the vicinity of St. Peter's, the out-
lay of which to be partly defrayed by a sub-
scription from the town. As the Governor and
suite headed this list upon the spot, I had no
grounds for declining to carry the object into
effect, I accordingly purchased a cottage half
a mile from the town, which was surrounded by
about four acres of meadow-land ; the former
being small enough for a refreshment saloon,
the latter large enough to contain all the com-
pany I could count upon. Sketching a plan of
the erections and improvements, I then turned
upon it a master-carpenter, painter, and a score
of gardeners, and set off for London to purchase
fireworks and engage singers.
The first person I called upon in town was
Mr. Harris, who told me, with a very long face,
that, on account of my delay at Guernsey, he
had been obliged to engage a person to sustain
some of my business ; that my situation for the
ensuing season might not therefore be agreeable ;
and if I pleased, I could continue my country
speculations till the next year an offer which,
as it was likely to double my profits, I was glad
319
to accept. Disposing of my furniture, books,
prints, &c. to ray friend Captain Clark (by which
I was enabled to make the Club a large pay-
ment), I made all the arrangements for my
Guernsey Vauxhall, and returned to find it in a
state of completion. On the opening night, a
ludicrous incident occurred.
Among other things, I had purchased some
rockets in London to wind up the nightly fire-
works ; but they were not mentioned in the bill,
in order to give the visitors an agreeable sur-
prise. About half an hour after their dis-
charge, we heard drums beating in every direc-
tion, and the whole island seemed to-be in a
state of alarm. The Governor dispatched one
of his aids to make inquiry, who on his return
informed us, that a discharge of rockets having
been fixed upon as a signal to the outposts in
case of a descent by the enemy, my display
(of which no notice had been given) was as-
sumed as the appointed proof that the Revolu-
tionists were on the island playing the devil
with the maids and the magazines. The sol-
diery were accordingly hurrying in to St. Peter'?,
320 FAILURE OP THE SPECULATION.
to let England 5 the French, and General Dal-
rymple know they were ready to a man to do
their duty.
Notwithstanding its numerous and novel at-
tractions, "Williamson and Mrs. Richards, two
very pretty singers ; supper-boxes and summer-
houses ; some thousands of variegated lamps ; a
loyal French band (who had run over to Guern-
sey, from their devotion to Louis) ; fireworks,
patronage, and other fanciful matters, this spe-
culation failed.
Three weeks had not elapsed before I was
informed that all the old maids of the island were
very industrious at their tea-parties, in com-
menting upon the indecorum of the promiscu-
ous assemblage of the gardens, by which the
wives and daughters of respectable tradesmen
were brought within reach and speech of
General Dalrymple's officers; moreover, that
the old citizens declared they could drink their
wine and coffee at their own doors for one-half
they paid me, and see all my grand fireworks in
the bargain.
Against this conjoint attack it was impossi-
PLYMOUTH. CHARLES MATE.
ble to stand: greater speculators than I was
have been ruined by less means; a venomous
old maid and an economizing country squire
would ruin any institution in the world.
Owing to the above experiment., the season
was pretty far advanced before I could open at
Plymouth, where, the favourable weather having
gone by, the heavens were in the habit of
getting into a lachrymose disposition every other
night. There is no such effectual method to
damp the spirits of an audience, as by damping
their clothes. Captain Clark came from Lon-
don to spend a few weeks with me; and
Charles Mate quitted me to go home to Dover,
(where his wife was in business,) and after his
long voyage of life like a ship which had sailed
in all weathers and waters to lay up his tim-
bers by his family fireside, and go easily to
pieces. Mate was another Macklin. He left
me, as I conceived, a very old man, in whom the
flame of life flickered feebly ; yet thirty years
after this, we met again in Dover (1825), and
he was in possession of all his faculties as well
as his feelings,
p 5
ANTHONY PA.SQUIN.
Another visitor at Plymouth this summer
was Anthony Pasquin, who found his way to
my lodgings instead of an inn. He told me
that he was writing a history of Cornwall and
Devon, and had come on a tour to collect ma-
terials. Receiving an invitation to dine at the
camp, I took Pasquin over with me in my gig ;
and such was his appearance, that, happening
to meet various acquaintances on the road, it
was reported throughout Plymouth, " I was in
custody of a London bailiff !" My good friends.
Major Hawker, Dr. Gaskin, and Haydon, no
sooner heard the news, than they came or sent
to ascertain its truth and tender their assistance.
Haydon actually encountered Pasquin in my
parlour, and asked him if it was a fact that the
stranger in my house was a London bailiff.
When the mistake was discovered, (though the
most natural and pardonable that ever was
made,) Anthony could brook the laugh so lit-
tle, that, to my infinite relief, he borrowed five
pounds of me, and got into a coach or a wag-
gon to pursue his journey.
I have given my reader a clue to the above
in a preceding chapter, where I alluded to
Anthony's habits as being reprehensible in a
double sense. Certainly no man, iu my expe-
rience, presented so hardened an indifference to
the established decencies of society. No man
was such an infidel in taste. His principles
were the only things he shifted his consistency
lay altogether in his costume, and the aspect of
St. Paul's was not more enduring. Not even
Peruvian Eolla was a greater enemy to change
than Anthony Pasquin.
When a masquerade was to take place, for
which his eccentric patron Lord Barrymore
on one occasion gave him a ticket, he requested
the latter to suggest an easy disguise. " Oh P"
replied Lord B. " go in a clean shirt, Anthony,
and nobody will know you."
The " legitimate" drama proved so little
attractive this summer, that I was induced to
forego my allegiance to Thespis, and listen to
that financier of the infernal regions, Mam-
mon, who presented himself to my notice in
the person of Mons. Rossignolle the ventrilo-
quist, from Covent Garden.
324 ROSSIGNOLLE THE VENTRILOQUIST.
This person was the most wonderful of all the
species which in my experience have flooded the
Stage. His ability lay not in simply imitating
the human voice, (the common province of ven-
triloquists, and the most attainable,) but those of
all birds and beasts, and all noises whether
natural or mechanical. It was difficult to say
which was most to be admired in his organ its
astounding power, or its minute liquidity ; for
he could give you as correct an idea of the
sawing of a huge piece of timber, as of the song
of a linnet.
His entertainment was divided into three
parts, with two appropriate scenes, which he
carried with him: the first represented an
aviary and menagerie, in which he personated
the keeper, and as he approached every animal
or bird, gave its distinct growl or whistle ;
the next was the interior of a workshop, in
which he pretended to be making a box, and
imitated the sounds of all the implements em-
ployed. These were rendered characteristic by
his dress, and somewhat humorous by his
broken-English exclamations* But the third
STAGE-COACH ADVENTURE. 325
and perhaps most extraordinary scene was his
performance on a violin without strings, of a
variety of difficult music. Here the illusion
exceeds conjecture; and, what to me was more
delightful, all Plymouth came to partake in it.
Rossignolle was a fellow of very humorous
ideas ; he had met with adventures in all quar-
ters of Europe, which it was his sole amusement
to recount. Among the number, one that oc-
curred to him on the road from Exeter to Ply-
mouth was not the least whimsical.
He had taken his place in the night-coach,
but by a mistake or connivance was expelled
to the outside* The night was very dark, and
soon after the coach set off it began to rain,
which, in regard to Devonshire, is to say that
the water came down like a cataract* Being
neither provided with great-coat nor umbrella, he
naturally envied the situation of those who sat
under him. To desire their comfort, was but
another throb with him to endeavour to obtain
it ; and in the depth of his roguery therefore, as
well as distress, he resolved upon the following
expedient. He was the only passenger outside.
326 STAGE-COACH ADVENTURE.
and his location being the dicky, the coachman
at the other extremity of the vehicle was in-
capable of " peeping through the blanket of
the dark" upon his doings.
He pretended to hug and hush a child in his
arms, whose fretful whine he commenced and
increased till it cut the drums of the other pas-
sengers 7 ears like a razor. Two of these per-
sons happened to be females, one of whom was
a mother* and the other expected to be. They
instantly exclaimed, u Dear me ! there 's a poor
child on the roof, in this rain ; let ^s take it in. 1 "
The males, as gentlemen and Christians^ were
compelled to acquiesce ; so down went the sash,
and out went a lady's head and shoulders to ad-
dress Rossignolle. cc Here, my good woman,
give me the child." " No, no !" said the latter,
mimicking the voice of a female ; " mine littel
dear Adolphine sal not go from her mamma ;"
and then he commenced another series of so-
prano notes (interspersed with an abundance
of basso hush-a-byes) more intolerable than
the former. " Good heavens I" said the humane
female to her companion; "it^s a barbarous
STAGE-COACH ADVENTURE. 3S7
Frenchwoman ! She'll kill the poor little thing.""
Then leaning out of the window again, " Give
me the child, good woman, will you? it
will catch its death! Here, coachman, stop,
stop !" " Stop, Ma'am P said Jehu; bless
your soul ! did you ever hear of sich a thing
in sich a rain as this ? And if I did stop, the
young un on the dicky would frighten the
cattle:'
Rossignolle now pretended to get into a pas-
sion with the child and scold it ; at which the
women opened upon him ; the gentlemen swore ;
and between the squalling, growling, scream-
ing, and threatening, a delightful tumult ensued.
The dialogue, as he described it, then ran in the
following manner :
Child, squalling."?^ ya !"
Rossignolle. "Hush, hush, child, child P*
Women within. " Don't use it so, good
woman.*'
Child. " Ya, ya, ya F (a crescendo.)
Rossignolle. '* You von littel devel ; you
cry so much."
Women. "There 's a brute, Mr. Wiggins P ?
328 STAGE-COACH ADVENTURE.
Gentleman. " All owing to the French Re-
volution."
Child. 6 ' Ya, ya, ya !"
Coachman. " Steady, Betty, steady !"
Rossignol. " You are one littel dam child !"
Women __ " Only hear the French monster!"
Rossignol. " I will trow you into de mud T
Women. " What does she say?"
Child. " Ya, ya, ya!"
Ro&signoL " Won't you be hush? I trow
you away."
Women. " Oh, you wretch !"
RossignoL " Dere, den, cot dam ! lie in the
poodle !"
Here, suiting the action to the word, he made
a noise as if he had actually deposited the infant in
a ditch, the cries of which grew fainter as the
coach drove on. The uproar that now ensued
in the vehicle would have done credit to a St.
Giles's watchhouse on St. Patrick's Day. The
women yelled, and the men thumped the roof
with their sticks,- and swore out of the windows.
44 Stop, coachman, stop ! murder, murder ! she 's
STAGE-COACH ADVENTURE. 329
killed the child ; she 's thrown it in the ditch :
will you stop, coachman?" u In three minutes.
Harm," he replied, " to change horses." " But
there 's a child lying on the road ?" " I "11 send
some one from the inn to pick it up, Mann ; I
mustn't lose time between the stages."
The torrent of abuse now turned on the
coachman ; and one of the passengers, who was
a lawyer, swore that if the child died, he would
prosecute the former for manslaughter, and the
mother for murder.
On arriving at the inn, Rossignolle jumped
down and ran into the kitchen to dry himself.
The house was instantly thrown into confusion :
the Frenchwoman was ordered to be seized;
lanterns were lighted, and a party set off to re-
trace the road, headed by the humane lawyer.
No infant, however, was to be found ; and after
groping about till they were all thoroughly
drenched, they returned to the inn. The
lawyer was then told that the Frenchwoman
had made her escape, and that another gentle-
man had taken his place in the coach, which
was now out of sight.
330 "JOE MILLER" IMPROVED.
Rossignolle, I think, had read that national
work, The Jests of Joe Miller " but was
able to improve on the original: as for ex-
ample : Walking with him to the printer's in
Plymouth, we passed a fish-shop, where a very
fine haddock caught his eye, which he took up,
inquired the price of, and then putting to his
nose, contracted his visage with a significance
not at all creditable to the fish or pleasing to
the fishmonger. " What do you mean by that,
Sir ?" said the purveyor of piscatorials, with his
brows lowered, and his arms stuck in his sides.
" That haddock was only caught last night."
"Indeed T said Rossignolle, laughing: " we will,
see. Here, you littel boy, I will gif you one
sixpence if you ax dat vish how long he come
from him family at sea." The boy, taking the
silver, put the question accordingly, amidst
the laughter of the shop ; when the haddock
seemed to distend its gills and reply in a dis-
tinct voice, " Las Monday de week." The fish-
monger and his customers started back, over-
turning the tubs and barrels in their terror,
whilst Rossignole, walking away with me, said
ANECDOTE OF QUIN. 331
laughingly, " Dat *s what you Aingleesh call
makin' de fun.*"
One of my treats at Plymouth was to eat John
Dories, for which this place used to be very fa-
mous. Quin was so fond of this fish, that he
passed one or two summers at Plymouth with no
other view, having compounded for it a peculiar
sauce. He used to put up at an inn kept by a
Mr. Herbert, whose wife, through a severe vicis-
situde, was reduced in her old age to become
one of my u dressers." Of the actor and the
innkeeper there was a story current, which was
very amusing. Quin complimenting the latter
on the appearance of his house, soon after he
alighted, Herbert replied, "Yes, Mr. Quin, it
is handsome and convenient, and all very well
except in one respect, my drains run down to
the quay, and the scents of the kitchen are so
attractive to the rats, that they come up in num-
bers and consume all the contents of my larder
and cupboards T " That 's a pity P said Quin :
at some leisure moment before I return to town,
remind me of this circumstance, and perhaps I
may be able to suggest a remedy."
ANECDOTE OF QUIN*
Quin lived very expensively during this sum-
mer, giving large dinners, and indulging in ex-
cursions on land and water. When he called
for his bill at the end of eight weeks, the longi-
tudinal inventory of unpaid items amounted to
150Z. He stared at it as he would have done
at the Witches in Macbeth. " What, Herbert !
150Z. for eight weeks, in one of the cheapest
towns in England I Well, I must give you a
cheque for the money." When he had done
this, received the bill receipted, and stepped into
his chaise, Herbert, recollecting his promise, ran
up to him u Oh, Mr. Quin, Mr. Quin, I hope
you Ve not forgot the remedy you promised me,
to drive away the rats !" " There 's your bill,"
he replied, " show ^em that, when they come;
and if they trouble your house again, F 11 be
d d!"
At the conclusion of this season I sold my
share in the Plymouth property to Mr. Foote,
and bade farewell to the many substantial friends
who for nine*years had supported my exertions
with unflinching vigour. Major Hawker and
MENDOZA AND THE SAILOR. 338
Dr. Gaskin supplied me with letters to Fal-
mouth, which was my destination for the winter.
Sir Edward Pellew"*s squadron came into that
port soon after my arrival, and he and his offi-
cers gave a favourable impulse to the affairs of
the Theatre, Mendoza was at this time going
about the West of England on a sparring ex-
cursion, but on coming to Falmouth had got out
of his depth, owing to its dearth of a pugilistic
propensity. Being in distress, he asked my per.
mission to exhibit one night between the play
and farce, leaving the amount of his remunera-
tion to my generosity. I agreed ; but a difficulty
then arose as to where he should procure an op-
ponent. The only person available was our pro-
perty-man, who knew nothing of the art of self-
defence, but was willing to be " lamed." Tbe
time and trouble however which would have
been expended in this preparation was saved
by the following circumstance : There was a
boatswain in Sir Edward's crew, who was noted
for his muscular power and pugilistic prowess,
as also for the more unpleasant characteristics
334 COLONEL GEORGJi.
(growing out of the former) of a puffed-up, inso-
lent behaviour. His officers wished greatly to
have his manners reformed, and meeting Men-
doza, proposed him as an antagonist, who con-
senting, they conveyed a challenge to the boat-
swain, and found the Jack as ready for the
contest as the Jew. The result was, that the
Theatre was packed with spectators like a
box of corks; and the proud tar, drawing
on the gloves, had the virtue of humility
speedily thumped into him.
The success of this season was principally
owing to the influence and exertions of Colonel
George, of Penry n, a gentleman who achieved the
highest triumph of the human character, that
of securing the esteem alike of the evil and the
good: his heart was an inexhaustible spring of
benevolence. He looked upon all men of talent
as his brothers, and all men of misfortune as his
children : whoever went into Cornwall in those
days heard of Colonel George as the good ge-
nius of the country heard of a man who prac-
tically realized the superiority of an Englishman
over the natives of all other nations.
OFFER FROM AMERICA. 335
With the arrival of Spring, I concluded my
career of management in England. I then paid
a visit to Plymouth, Exeter, and Bath, playing
a few nights in each, and reached London about
the middle of Summer, to make a definitive ar-
rangement with Mr. Harris, as to the remaining
term of my article.
Whilst here, Thomas Hull called on me with
the offer of an engagement from Wignel the Phila-
delphia manager, who had lately received an im-
portation from Covent Garden (Fennel, Cooper,
and Mrs. Merry Miss Brunton). He offered
me a thousand pounds for a twelvemonth, with the
option of signing an article for five years (upon
my Covent Garden terms) at its expiration. The
means of securing such a sum in such a time were
not to be resisted, and I carried the manager's
letter to Mr. Harris, to procure my release for
the remaining season I was hound to him. That
worthy gentleman would at all times have been
the last to have interposed his interests to the
annihilation of mine, and, in the situation I
was then placed, wished me every thing that I
expected.
336 FAREWELL TO FRIENDS.
My next was a more painful duty, the taking
leave of the Club, and the formal resignation of
its secretaryship, which had hitherto been kept
open for me, from the supposition that I should
return to Covent Garden. Upon the ties thus
broken, and the home thus deserted, I shall
not dwell. I was the slave of a despot, of whom
despots are slaves necessity ; but the reason that
bade me stifle an unavailing throb of regret,
did not attempt to throw a film over the eye of
retrospection. I went abroad to improve the
future, but not to forget the past. This period
(1797) exactly divided the forty-six years of my
public career. I went on the stage in 1774 ; I
quitted it in 180. A pecuniary object carrying
me over the ocean, my fame was for the moment
absorbed in it ; but upon this point I think I
have abundant reason to be satisfied. Had I
continued in England, whatever might have been
my ultimate ascension in public esteem, when the
field was in a greater jneasure open to my exer-
tions. I must have foregone the most memor-
able epoch of my life, the becoming one of the
" founders of the American Stage !"
A WORD TO THE READER. 337
Having discharged all my obligations in
London (the Club included), and made all the
arrangements for my voyage, I took the coach
for Plymouth, and from thence crossed to Guern-
sey, where, disposing of my Vauxhall property,
and entrusting the Theatre to the care of Mr.
Gilbert, I embarked for the shores of the New
World, the 4th of June 1797.
And here, gentle reader, we part: if you are
tired of my company, or so fond of your own
ground, that you would not go a voyage of
four thousand miles even upon paper, the con-
cluding tbree-and-twenty years of my public ex-
istence must remain as much out of sight as
America itself. I have but this to say, that I
consider the two volumes of Stage Anecdotes
now submitted, as defining periods which form
two acts in the drama of my life ; and that if you
are at all desirous the curtain should go up a ,
third time, you need but to " make a noise,"
and the wish will be complied with.
THE END.
VOL. II. Q
LONDON I
PRINTED BY SAMUZ1
Dorset Street, Fleet Street.
