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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c7768dd --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #50606 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/50606) diff --git a/old/50606-0.txt b/old/50606-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index f7b1278..0000000 --- a/old/50606-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6402 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Some Eccentrics & a Woman, by Lewis Melville - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Some Eccentrics & a Woman - -Author: Lewis Melville - -Release Date: December 4, 2015 [EBook #50606] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SOME ECCENTRICS & A WOMAN *** - - - - -Produced by Thiers Halliwell, Clarity and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - - - - -Transcriber’s notes: - -In this e-text, paired underscores denote _italicised text_, and a -^ (caret) indicates superscripted text. Footnotes have been positioned -below the relevant paragraphs. A small number of spelling and -typographic errors have been corrected silently. - - - - - _Some Eccentrics - & a Woman_ - - - - -_First Published in 1911_ - -[Illustration: A VIEW from the PUMP ROOM, BATH.] - - - - - _Some Eccentrics - & a Woman_ - - _By Lewis Melville_ - - - _London_ - - _Martin Secker_ - - _Number Five John Street_ - - _Adelphi_ - - - - -NOTE - - -Of the eight papers printed here, “Some Eighteenth-Century Men About -Town,” “A Forgotten Satirist: ‘Peter Pindar’,” “Sterne’s Eliza,” -and “William Beckford, of Fonthill Abbey,” have appeared in the -_Fortnightly Review_; “Charles James Fox” appeared in the _Monthly -Review_, “Exquisites of the Regency” in _Chambers’s Journal_, and -“The Demoniacs” in the American _Bookman_. To the editors of these -periodicals I am indebted either for permission to reprint, or -for their courtesy in having permitted me to reserve the right of -publication in book form. “Philip, Duke of Wharton” is now printed for -the first time. - - LEWIS MELVILLE - - - - -_Contents_ - - - PAGE - - EIGHTEENTH CENTURY MEN ABOUT TOWN 13 - - SOME EXQUISITES OF THE REGENCY 47 - - A FORGOTTEN SATIRIST: “PETER PINDAR” 103 - - STERNE’S ELIZA 129 - - THE DEMONIACS 161 - - WILLIAM BECKFORD OF FONTHILL ABBEY 189 - - CHARLES JAMES FOX 219 - - PHILIP, DUKE OF WHARTON 253 - - INDEX 283 - - - - -_List of Illustrations_ - - - “A VIEW FROM THE PUMP ROOM, BATH” _Frontispiece_ - _A Facsimile Reproduction of a Drawing by Richard Deighton_ - - SIR JOHN LADE _To face page_ 16 - _From the Painting by Sir Joshua Reynolds_ - - THE PRINCE OF WALES " " 48 - _From the Miniature by Cosway_ - - LUMLEY SKEFFINGTON " " 80 - _From a Contemporary Miniature_ - - PETER PINDAR " " 112 - _From the Painting by John Opie_ - - LAURENCE STERNE " " 144 - _From the Painting by Sir Joshua Reynolds_ - - WILLIAM BECKFORD " " 192 - _From the Painting by Sir Joshua Reynolds_ - - CHARLES JAMES FOX " " 224 - _From the Painting by Sir Joshua Reynolds_ - - PHILIP, DUKE OF WHARTON " " 256 - _From a Contemporary Painting_ - - - - - Some Eighteenth-Century Men about Town - - -When his Royal Highness George, Prince of Wales, afterwards George -IV., freed himself from parental control, and, an ill-disciplined lad, -launched himself upon the town, it is well known that he was intimate -with Charles James Fox, whom probably he admired more because the King -hated the statesman than for any other reason. Doubtless the Prince -drank with Fox, and diced with him, and played cards with him, but -from his later career it is obvious he can never have touched Fox -on that great man’s intellectual side; and, after a time, the royal -scapegrace, who would rather have reigned in hell than have served in -heaven, sought companions to whom he need not in any way feel inferior. -With this, possibly sub-conscious, desire, he gathered around him a -number of men about town, notorious for their eccentricities and for -the irregularity of their lives. With these George felt at home; but, -though he was nominally their leader, there can be little doubt that -he was greatly influenced by them at the most critical time of a young -man’s life, to his father’s disgust and to the despair of the nation. -Of these men the most remarkable were Sir John Lade, George Hanger -(afterwards fourth Lord Coleraine of the second creation), and Sir -Lumley Skeffington; and, by some chance, it happens that little has -been written about them, perhaps because what has been recorded is for -the most part hidden in old magazines and newspapers and the neglected -memoirs of forgotten worthies. Yet, as showing the temper of the times, -it may not be uninteresting to reconstruct their lives, and, as far as -the material serves, show them in their habit as they lived. - -Sir John Lade, the son of John Inskipp, who assumed the name of Lade, -and in whose person the baronetcy that had been in the family was -revived, was born in 1759, and at an early age plunged into the fast -society of the metropolis with such vigour that he had earned a most -unenviable reputation by the time he came of age, on which auspicious -occasion, Dr Johnson, who knew him as the ward of Mr Thrale, greeted -him savagely in the satirical verses which conclude: - - “Wealth, my lad, was made to wander: - Let it wander at its will; - Call the jockey, call the pander, - Bid them come and take their fill. - - When the bonnie blade carouses, - Pockets full and spirits high-- - What are acres? what are houses? - Only dirt, or wet and dry. - - Should the guardian friend or mother - Tell the woes of wilful waste, - Scorn their counsels, scorn their pother, - You can hang, or drown, at last.” - -Sir John became one of the Prince of Wales’s cronies, and for a while -had the management of his Royal Highness’s racing stable; but while it -has been hinted of him, as of George Hanger, that during his tenure -of that office he had some share in the transactions that resulted in -Sam Chifney, the Prince’s jockey, being warned off the turf, it is but -fair to state that there is no evidence in existence to justify the -suspicion. Indeed, he seems to have been honest, except in incurring -tradesmen’s debts that he could never hope to discharge; but this -was a common practice in fashionable circles towards the end of the -eighteenth century, and was held to throw no discredit on the man who -did so--for was it not a practice sanctioned by the example of “The -First Gentleman of Europe” himself? - -Sir John’s ambition, apparently, was to imitate a groom in dress and -language. It was his pleasure to take the coachman’s place, and drive -the Prince’s “German Waggon,”[1] and six bay horses from the Pavilion -at Brighton to the Lewes racecourse; and, in keeping with his _pose_, -he was overheard on Egham racecourse to invite a friend to return to -dinner in these terms:--“I can give you a trout spotted all over like -a coach dog, a fillet of veal as white as alabaster, a ‘pantaloon’ -cutlet, and plenty of pancakes as big as coach-wheels--so help me.” - -[1] Barouches were so described on their first introduction into -England. - -Dr Johnson naturally took an interest in Sir John, and, when Lady Lade -consulted him about the training of her son, “Endeavour, madam,” said -he, “to procure him knowledge, for really ignorance to a rich man is -like fat to a sick sheep, it only serves to call the rooks round him.” -It is easier, however, to advocate the acquisition of knowledge than -to inculcate it, and knowledge, except of horses, Sir John Lade never -obtained in any degree. Indeed, his folly was placed on record by -“Anthony Pasquin” in - - AN EPIGRAMMATIC COLLOQUY, - - Occasioned by Sir John Lade’s Ingenious Method of - Managing his Estates. - - Said Hope to Wit, with eager looks, - And sorrow streaming eyes: - “In pity, Jester, tell me when, - Will Johnny Lade be--wise?” - - “Thy sighs forego,” said Wit to Hope, - “And be no longer sad; - Tho’ other foplings grow to men, - He’ll always be--a _Lad_.” - -[Illustration: _Sir John Lade_] - -When Sir John was little more than a boy, Johnson, half in earnest, -proposed him as a fitting mate for the author of “Evelina,” so Mrs -Thrale states; and, indeed, Miss Burney herself records a conversation -in 1778 between that lady and the doctor. The inadvisability of the -union, however, soon became apparent, and when Sir John, a little -later, asked Johnson if he would advise him to marry, “I would advise -no man to marry, sir,” replied the great man, “who is not likely to -propagate understanding”; but the baronet, who doubtless thought this -was an excellent joke, and as such intended, crowned his follies by -espousing a woman of more than doubtful character. When Sir John met -his future wife, she was a servant at a house of ill-fame in Broad -Street, St Giles, and, rightly or wrongly, was credited with having -been the mistress of Jack Rann, the highwayman, better known as -“Sixteen-string Jack,” who deservedly ended his career on the gallows -in 1774. Marriage did not apparently mend her manners or her morals, -for, according to Huish--who, it must, however, be admitted, was an -arrant scandalmonger--she was for some time the mistress of the Duke of -York, and also acted as procuress for the Prince of Wales; while her -command of bad language was so remarkable that the Prince used to say -of any foul-mouthed man: “He speaks like Letty Lade.” - -Like her husband, Lady Lade was a fine whip, and many stories are told -of her prowess as a driver of a four-in-hand. - - “More than one steed Letitia’s empire feels, - Who sits triumphant o’er the flying wheels; - And, as she guides them through th’ admiring throng, - With what an air she smacks the silken thong. - - Graceful as John, she moderates the reins; - And whistles sweet her diuretic strains; - _Sesostris_-like, such charioteers as these - May drive six harness’d princes, if they please.” - -Lady Lade offered to drive a coach against another tooled by a -sister-whip eight miles over Newmarket Heath for five hundred guineas a -side, but, when it came to the point, no one had sufficient confidence -to take up the wager. There is, however, an account of another race -in which she participated: “Lady Lade and Mrs Hodges are to have a -curricle race at Newmarket, at the next Spring Meeting, and the horses -are now in training. It is to be a five-mile course, and great sport -is expected. The construction of the traces is to be on a plan similar -to that of which Lord March, now Marquis of Queensberry, won his -famous match against time. The odds, at present, are in favour of Lady -Lade. She runs a grey mare, which is said to be the best horse in the -Baronet’s stalls.” - -Like the rest of his set, Sir John spent his patrimony and fell upon -evil days, which ended, in 1814, in imprisonment for debt in the King’s -Bench, being, as Creevey happily puts it, “reduced to beggary by having -kept such good company.” Some arrangement was made with his creditors, -and Sir John was released; whereupon Lord Anglesea went to the Prince -of Wales, and insisted upon his giving Lade five hundred a year out -of his Privy Purse--no easy task, one may imagine, for “Prinney” was -not given to providing for his old friends. William IV. continued the -annuity, but reduced it to three hundred pounds, and it was feared that -at his death it would be discontinued. However, when the matter was put -before Queen Victoria, she, hearing that Sir John was in his eightieth -year, generously expressed the intention to pay the pension, which she -put as a charge on her Privy Purse, for the rest of his life. Sir John -was thus freed from anxiety, but he did not long enjoy her Majesty’s -bounty, for he died on 10th February 1838, having outlived his wife by -thirteen years. - -A more interesting and a more intelligent man was George Hanger, who -born in 1751, and, after attending a preparatory school, was sent to -Eton and Göttingen, and was gazetted in January 1771, an ensign in the -first regiment of Foot Guards. In the army he distinguished himself -chiefly by his harum-scarum mode of living, and by his adventures, -most of which were of too delicate a nature to bear repetition, though -his quaint “Memoirs” throw a light upon the company he kept. He met a -beautiful gipsy girl, styled by him “the lovely Ægyptea of Norwood,” -who, according to his account, had an enchanting voice, a pretty taste -for music, and played charmingly on the dulcimer. She won his heart -with a song, the refrain of which ran: - - “Tom Tinker’s my true love, - And I am his dear; - And all the world over, - His budget I’ll bear.” - -He married her according to the rites of the tribe, introduced her to -his brother officers, and bragged to them of her love and fidelity; -but, alas! the song which enchanted him was based, not upon fiction, -but upon fact, and after Hanger had lived in the tents with his -inamorata for a couple of weeks, he awoke one morning to learn she had -run off with a bandy-legged tinker. - -For some years he remained in the Foot Guards, where he was very -popular with his brother officers; but in 1776 he threw up his -commission in anger at someone being promoted over his head, unjustly, -as he thought. His early love of soldiering, however, was not yet -abated, and he sought and obtained a captaincy in the Hessian Jäger -corps, which had been hired by the British Government to go to America. -He was delighted with his new uniform--a short, blue coat with gold -frogs, and a very broad sword-belt--and, thus attired, swaggered -about the town in great spirits, to the accompaniment of his friends’ -laughter. During the siege of Charlestown he was aide-de-camp to Sir -Henry Clinton; he was wounded in an action at Charlottetown in 1780, -and two years later was appointed Major in Tarleton’s Light Dragoons, -which regiment, however, was disbanded in 1783, when Hanger was given -the brevet rank of Colonel, and placed on half pay. - -At the close of the war Hanger left America for England, but his -affairs were in such an unsettled state that he thought it advisable -to go direct to Calais, where he remained until his friend, Richard -Tattersall, could arrange his affairs. Hanger attributed his insolvency -at this time to the fact that the lawyer to whom he had given a power -of attorney having died, his estate was sold for the benefit of -the mortgagee at half its value. This is probably true, but it is -certainly only a half-truth, for his embarrassment was mainly caused -by his extravagance when he was in the Foot Guards. He did not often -play cards, but he was passionately fond of the turf, kept a stable at -Newmarket, and bet heavily on all occasions, though it is said that -on the whole he was a considerable winner, and it is recorded that he -won no less than seven thousand pounds on the race between Shark and -Leviathan. His pay in the Foot Guards of four shillings a day did not, -of course, suffice even for his mess-bills, and he wasted much money on -dissipation, and more on his clothes. “I was extremely extravagant in -my dress,” he admitted. “For one winter’s dress-clothes only it cost me -nine hundred pounds. I was always handsomely dressed at every birthday; -but for one in particular I put myself to a very great expense, having -two suits for that day. My morning vestments cost me near eighty -pounds, and those for the ball above one hundred and eighty. It was a -satin coat _brodé en plain et sur les coutures_, and the first satin -coat that had ever made its appearance in this country. Shortly after, -satin dress-clothes became common among well-dressed men.”[2] - -[2] “Life, Adventures, and Opinions of Colonel George Hanger.” - -On his return to England, Hanger stayed with Tattersall for a year, -and then was engaged in the recruiting service of the Honourable East -India Company at a salary which, with commission, never amounted to -less than six hundred pounds a year; and he was also appointed, with a -further three hundred pounds a year, an equerry to the Prince of Wales, -with whom he was on very intimate terms. - -The next few years were the happiest of his life, but misfortune soon -overcame him. His employment under the East India Company came to an -abrupt end owing to a dispute between the Board of Control and the -Company, relative to the building of a barrack in this country to -receive the East India recruits prior to embarkation, which ended in a -change of the whole system of recruiting, when Hanger’s services were -no longer required. This was bad enough, but worse was to come, for -when he had served as equerry for four years, the Prince of Wales’s -embarrassed affairs were arranged by Parliament, which, making the -essential economies, dismissed Hanger. - -When this happened, having no means whatever with which to meet some -comparatively trifling debts, he surrendered to the Court of King’s -Bench, and was imprisoned within the Rules from June 1798 until April -in the following year, when the successful issue of a lawsuit enabled -him to compound with his creditors. “Twice have I begun the world -anew; I trust the present century will be more favourable to me than -the past,” he wrote in his “Memoirs”; and it is much to his credit -that instead of whining and sponging on his friends, having only a -capital of forty pounds, he started in the business--he called it the -profession--of coal-merchant. - -According to Cyrus Redding, who used to meet him at the house of Dr -Wolcot (“Peter Pindar”), Hanger had fallen out of favour with the -Prince by administering a severe reproof to that personage and to -the Duke of York for their use of abominable language, and was no -longer invited to Carlton House. This, however, does not ring true, -for Hanger’s language was none of the choicest, and if there was any -disagreement, this can scarcely have been the cause. Indeed, if at -this time there was a quarrel, it must soon have been made up; and -undoubtedly the twain were on friendly terms long after, for when -Hanger was dealing in coal, the Prince, riding on horseback, stopped -and made friendly inquiry: “Well, George, how go coals now?” to which -Hanger, who had a pretty wit, replied with a twinkle, “Black as ever, -please your Royal Highness.” Certainly Hanger felt no grievance -concerning the alleged quarrel, for in his “Memoirs” he spoke in high -terms of the heir-apparent in a passage that deserves to be read, -as one of the few sincere tributes ever paid to the merits of that -deservedly much-abused person. - -Whether through the influence of the Prince of Wales or another, -Hanger was in 1806 appointed captain commissary of the Royal Artillery -Drivers, from which he was allowed to retire on full pay two years -later, a proceeding which drew some observations from the Commissioners -of Military Inquiry in their seventeenth report, to which Hanger -published an answer. As the years passed, however, the free manners -and the coarse outspokenness of the Colonel jarred on the Prince, and -slowly the men drifted more and more apart, after which the former -moved in less distinguished and probably less vicious company. - -The first Lord Coleraine had long since been dead; Hanger’s eldest -brother, the second Baron, had followed his father to the grave, and -the title was now enjoyed by his second brother, William, popularly -known as “Blue” Hanger, from the colour of the clothes he wore in his -youth. Charles Marsh declared him to be “perhaps the best-dressed man -of his age,” which is an ambitious claim for any person in the days -when clothes were more regarded in fashionable society than anything -else in the world; but that there was some ground for the statement -cannot be doubted, since “Tom” Raikes reiterates it. “He was a _beau_ -of the first water, always beautifully powdered, in a light green coat, -with a rose in his buttonhole. He had not much wit or talent, but -affected the _vieille cour_ and the manners of the French Court; he had -lived a good deal in Paris before the Revolution, and used always to -say that the English were a very good nation, but they positively knew -not how to make anything but a kitchen poker. I remember many years -ago, the Duchess of York made a party to go by water to Richmond, in -which Coleraine was included. We all met at a given hour at Whitehall -Stairs, and found the Admiralty barge, with the Royal Standard, ready -to receive us, but by some miscalculation of the tide, it was not -possible to embark for near half-an-hour, and one of the watermen said -to the Duchess, ‘Your Royal Highness must wait for the tide.’ Upon -which Coleraine, with a very profound bow, remarked, ‘If I had been the -tide I should have waited for your Royal Highness.’ Nothing could have -been more stupid, but there was something in the manner in which it was -said that made everyone burst out laughing.” “Blue” Hanger, it will be -seen, was as remarkable for his politeness as for his satire! - -Heavy losses at the card-table forced William Hanger to go abroad to -avoid his creditors, and he remained in France until the death of his -elder brother in 1794, when, able to settle his affairs, he returned, -completely transformed in manners and appearance into a Frenchman. -Thereby hangs the story that, shortly after he arrived in England, -he went to Drury Lane, when, next to him in the dress circle sat a -stranger wearing top-boots. This would have been regarded as a gross -breach of etiquette in France, and Lord Coleraine was not inclined to -brook this affront to the company because he was in England. - -“I beg, sir, you will make no apology,” he said, with an innocent and -reassuring air. - -His neighbour stared in blank amazement. “Apology, sir! Apology for -what?” he demanded angrily. - -“Why,” said “Blue,” pointing to the offending boots, “that you did not -bring your horse with you into the box.” - -“Perhaps it is lucky for you I did not bring my _horsewhip_,” retorted -the other, in a fine frenzy of passion; “but I have a remedy at hand, -and I will pull your nose for your impertinence.” Whereupon he threw -himself upon Lord Coleraine, only to be dragged away by persons sitting -on the other side of him. - -Cards were exchanged between the combatants, and a duel seemed -imminent. “Blue” went at once to his brother to beg his assistance. -“I acknowledge I was the first aggressor,” he said, in anything but a -humble frame of mind; “but it was too bad to threaten to pull my nose. -What had I better do?” To which the unfeeling Colonel made reply, -“_Soap it well_, and then it will easily slip through his fingers!” - -This characteristic advice George Hanger was never weary of repeating, -and he insisted that when anyone wished to calumniate another -gentleman, he ought to be careful to take the precaution to _soap his -nose_ first. “Since I have taken upon myself the charge of my own -sacred person,” he said, returning to the subject in his “Memoirs,” “I -never have been pulled by the nose, or been compelled to soap it. Many -gentlemen of distinguished rank in this country are indebted to the -protecting qualities of soap for the present enjoyment of their noses, -it being as difficult to hold a soaped nose between the fingers as it -is for a countryman, at a country wake, to catch a pig turned out with -his tail soaped and shaved for the amusement of the spectators.” - -“Blue” Hanger died on 11th December 1814, when the title and estates -devolved upon the Colonel, who, however, could never be persuaded to -change his name. “Plain George Hanger, sir, if you please,” he would -say to those who addressed him in the more formal manner. It has -generally been supposed that this was merely another of the peer’s -many eccentricities, but there was a kindly reason for it. “Among the -few nobility already named,” wrote Westmacott in the long-forgotten -“Fitzalleyne of Berkeley,” “more than one raised modest birth and merit -to their own rank; one made a marriage of reparation; nay, even the -lord rat-catcher,[3] life-writer (and it was his own), and vendor of -the black article of trade, was faithful to his engagements where the -law bound him not; and one of his reasons for forbidding his servants -to address him as ‘My Lord’ was that she might bear his name as Mrs -Hanger.” - -[3] Hanger wrote a pamphlet on rat-catching. - -Hanger, now in the possession of a competence, made little change in -his manner of living, and though death did not claim him until 31st -March 1824, at the age of seventy-three, he never again went into -general society. At the time of his succession to the peerage he was -residing, and during the last years of his life he continued to reside, -at Somers Town, whence he would occasionally wander, shillelagh in -hand, to the “Sol Arms,” in Tottenham Court Road, to smoke a pipe. -This has been so often repeated, to the exclusion of almost any other -particulars of his life, that the comparatively few people who have -heard of Hanger think of him as a public-house loafer; but this was -far from being the case, for if he went sometimes to the “Sol Arms” he -would also go to Dr Wolcot to converse with the veteran satirist, or to -Nollekens, the sculptor; or he would ride on his grey pony so far as -Budd & Calkin’s, the booksellers in Pall Mall, where, leaving his horse -in charge of a boy--for he never took a groom with him--he would sit on -the counter, talking with the shopkeepers and their customers. - -Nor was Hanger illiterate, as were so many of the associates of his -early years, and he wrote very readable letters; but his intelligence -does not rest only on his correspondence, for he was an industrious -writer on military subjects. Reference has already been made to his -autobiography, which appeared in 1801 under the title of “The Life, -Adventures, and Opinions of Colonel George Hanger”; but though it was -stated on the title-page that the volumes were “Written by Himself,” -it has since transpired that they were compiled from his papers and -suggestions by William Combe, the author of “The Tours of Dr Syntax.” -It is an unpleasant work, and deals frankly with subjects tacitly -avoided by present-day writers; but it is not without value, for -it contains, besides excellent descriptions of debtors’ prisons and -the rogueries of attorneys at the end of the eighteenth century, -common-sense views on social subjects--views much in advance of the -general opinions of the day--and a frank avowal of hatred of hypocrisy. -This last quality induced Hanger maliciously to relate a story of a -dissenter who kept a huxter’s shop, where a great variety of articles -were sold, and was heard to say to his shopman, “John, have you watered -the rum?” “Yes.” “Have you sanded the brown sugar?” “Yes.” “Have you -wetted the tobacco?” “Yes.” “Then come in to prayers.” The “Memoirs” -will perhaps best be remembered for Hanger’s famous prophecy that “one -of these days the northern and southern Powers [of the United States] -will fight as vigorously against each other as they have both united to -do against the British.” - -It is, however, not as a soldier, a pamphleteer, or a seer that Hanger -has come down to posterity; and while some may recall that in 1772 -he distinguished himself by being one of the gentlemen who, with -drawn swords, forced a passage for the entry of Mrs Baddeley into the -Pantheon, and eight and thirty years later rode on his grey palfrey in -the procession formed in honour of the release of Sir Francis Burdett, -it is for his eccentricities and his humour that he is remembered. -Nollekens has related how one day he overheard Lord Coleraine inquire -of the old apple-woman at the corner of Portland Road, evidently an -old acquaintance, who was packing up her fruit, “What are you about, -mother?” “Why, my Lord, I am going home to tea.” “Oh! don’t baulk -trade. Leave your things on the table as they are; I will mind shop -till you return”; and the peer seated himself in the old woman’s wooden -chair, and waited until the meal was over, when he solemnly handed her -his takings, threepence halfpenny. - -Although Cyrus Redding declared that Hanger was well known in his -day for an original humour which spared neither friend nor foe, and -although Hanger could sneer at those who accepted the invitations to -dinner that Pitt was in the habit of sending to refractory members of -his party--“The rat-trap is set again,” he would say when he heard -of such dinner-parties: “is the bait _plaice_ or paper?”--there -were many who found themselves in a position to praise Hanger’s -generosity. We have it on the authority of Westmacott--and there can -be no surer tribute than this, since Westmacott would far rather have -said a cruel than a kind thing--that Hanger never forgot a friend or -ignored an acquaintance because he had fallen upon evil days. When an -out-at-elbows baronet came to see him, Hanger received him heartily, -insisted upon his remaining as his guest for some time, and, summoning -his servants, addressed them characteristically: “Behold this man, ye -varlets! Never mind me while he is here; neglect me if ye will, but -look upon him as your master; obey him in all things; the house, the -grounds, the game, the gardens, all are at his command; let his will -be done; make him but welcome, and I care not for the rest.” For his -kind heart much may be forgiven Hanger; and who could be angry with -a man who possessed so keen a sense of humour as is revealed in this -story? Late one night he went into his bedroom at an inn, and found -it occupied. The opening of the door awoke an irate Irishman, the -occupier, who inquired in no measured terms: “What the devil do you -want here, sir? I shall have satisfaction for the affront. My name is -Johnson.” Aroused by the clamour, a wizen-faced woman by Johnson’s side -raised her head from the pillow. “Mrs Johnson, I presume?” said Hanger -dryly, bowing to the lady. - -Sir Lumley St George Skeffington had at least more claim to distinction -than most of his brother fops, though it was their habit to sneer at -him, especially after Byron had given them the cue. Born on 23rd -March 1771, Lumley was educated at Henry Newcome’s school at Hackney, -where he showed some taste for composition and poetry, and took part -in the dramatic performances for which that institution had been noted -for above a century. On one occasion there he delivered an epilogue -written by George Keate, the subject of which was the folly of vanity; -but the lad did not take the lesson to heart, for so soon as he was -his own master he set up as a leader of fashion. At an early age he -began to be talked about, and such notoriety was the _open sesame_ to -Carlton House. The Prince of Wales condescended to discuss costume with -the young man, who, thus encouraged, was spurred to fresh efforts, -and acquired fame as the inventor of a new colour, known during his -lifetime as Skeffington brown. Indeed, Skeffington, who was vain of -his personal appearance--though, it must be confessed, without much -reason--dressed in the most foppish manner; and as an example may be -given a description of his costume at the Court held in honour of the -King’s birthday in 1794: “A brown spotted silk coat and breeches, with -a white silk waistcoat richly embroidered with silver, stones, and -shades of silk; the design was large baskets of silver and stones, -filled with bouquets of roses, jonquilles, etc., the _ensemble_ -producing a beautiful and splendid effect.” - -Though elated at being recognised as a _beau_, Skeffington did not -desert his first love, and he mixed much in theatrical society, and -became on intimate terms with many of the leading actors, including -Joseph Munden, John Kemble, Mrs Siddons, and T. P. Cooke. He was an -inveterate “first-nighter,” and would flit from theatre to theatre -during the evening; but he was not content to be a hanger-on to the -fringe of the dramatic profession, and desired to be a prominent -member of the _coterie_. He had abandoned any idea of following up his -youthful successes as an actor, but he had so early as 1792, at the -age of one and twenty, made his bow as an author, with a prologue to -James Plumptre’s comedy, _The Coventry Act_, performed at the latter’s -private theatre at Norwich. - -Spurred by the praise bestowed upon this trifle, he penned -complimentary verses to pretty actresses; but after a time he aspired -to greater distinction, and endeavoured to secure literary laurels by -the composition of several plays. His _Word of Honour_, a comedy in -five acts, was produced at Covent Garden Theatre in 1802, and in the -following year his _High Road to Marriage_ was staged at Drury Lane; -but neither of these had any sort of success, and it was not until -_The Sleeping Beauty_ was performed at Drury Lane, in December 1805, -that the author could look upon his efforts with any pride. - -To judge from a contemporary account, _The Sleeping Beauty_, with music -by Addison, was an agreeable, albeit an over-rated, entertainment of -the nature of an extravaganza. “Mr Skeffington,” we are told, “has not -confined himself to the track of probability; but, giving the rein -to his imagination, has boldly ventured into the boundless region of -necromancy and fairy adventure. The valorous days of Chivalry are -brought to our recollection, and the tales which warmed the breasts -of youth with martial ardour are again rendered agreeable to the mind -that is not so fastidious as to turn with fancied superiority from -the pleasing delusion. The ladies in particular would be accused of -ingratitude were they to look coldly upon the Muse of Mr Skeffington, -who had put into the mouths of his two enamoured knights speeches and -panegyrics upon the sex, which would not discredit the effusions of -Oroondates, or any other hero of romance.” - -The book of the play was never printed, but the song, duets, and -choruses of this “grand legendary melodrama” were published, and so it -is possible to form some opinion of the merits of this production of -the author, who is described by a writer in _The Gentleman’s Magazine_ -as “the celebrated Mr Skeffington ... a gentleman of classic genius, -[who] it is well known figures high in the most fashionable circles.” -It is to be feared that Skeffington’s fame as a man of fashion threw -a glamour upon this critic, for to modern eyes the “classic genius” -is nowhere in evidence, although the verses certainly do not compare -unfavourably with the drivel offered by the so-called lyric writers -whose effusions figure in the musical comedies of to-day. - -Unexpectedly, however, _The Sleeping Beauty_ achieved immortality, -though not an immortality of the pleasantest kind, for the piece -attracted the attention of Byron, who pilloried it in his “English -Bards and Scotch Reviewers”: - - “In grim array though Lewis’ spectres rise, - Still Skeffington and Goose[4] divide the prize: - And sure great Skeffington must claim our praise, - For skirtless coats and skeletons of plays, - Renown’d alike; whose genius ne’er confines - Her flight to garnish Greenwood’s gay designs; - Nor sleeps with ‘sleeping beauties,’ but anon - In five facetious acts come thundering on, - While poor John Bull, bewilder’d with the scene, - Stares, wond’ring what the devil it can mean; - But as some hands applaud--a venal few-- - Rather than sleep, John Bull applauds it too.” - -[4] Dibdin’s _Mother Goose_, which ran for a hundred nights at Covent -Garden. - -For years before this satire appeared Skeffington was a personage in -society, and if his plays secured him undying notoriety at the hands -of the satirist, his costume was to produce the same result by the -attention drawn to it by Gillray, who represented him, in 1799, as -“Half Natural,” in a Jean de Bry coat, all sleeves and padding, and -in the following year in a second caricature as dancing, below which -is the legend: “So Skiffy skipt on, with his wonted grace.” In these -days, indeed, his appearance offered a very distinct mark for the -caricaturist. Imagine a tall, spare man, with large features, sharp, -sallow face, and dark curly hair and whiskers, arrayed in the glory -of a dark blue coat with gilt buttons, yellow waistcoat, with cord -inexpressibles, large bunches of white ribbons at the knees, and short -top-boots! But in latter years Skeffington went even further, for he -distinguished himself by wearing a _vieux-rose_ satin suit, and a wig, -and rouging his cheeks and blacking his eyebrows and eyelashes, until -he looked like a French doll; while the air in his vicinity was made -noxious by the strong perfumes with which he drenched himself. Horace -Smith summed him up as “an admirable specimen of the florid Gothic,” -and Moore lampooned him in Letter VIII. of _The Twopenny Post Bag_, -from “Colonel Th-m-s to Sk-ff-ngt-n, Esq.”: - - “Come to our _fête_, and bring with thee - Thy newest best embroidery, - Come to our _fête_, and show again - That pea-green coat, thou pink of men, - Which charmed all eyes that last surveyed it; - When Brummell’s self enquired: ‘Who made it?’ - - Oh! come (if haply ’tis thy week - For looking pale) with paly cheek; - Though more we love thy roseate days, - When the rich rouge pot pours its blaze - Full o’er thy face, and amply spread, - Tips even thy whisker-tops with red-- - Like the last tints of dying day - That o’er some darkling grove delay. - Put all thy wardrobe’s glories on, - And yield in frogs and fringe to none - But the great Regent’s self alone.” - -Skeffington’s success with _The Sleeping Beauty_ occurred at the time -when he was most prominent in society. “I have had a long and very -pleasant walk to-day with Mr Ilingworth in Kensington Gardens, and -saw all the extreme crowd there about three o’clock, and between that -and four,” Lord Kenyon wrote to his wife on 1st June 1806. “The most -conspicuous figure was Mr Skeffington, with Miss Duncan leaning on -his arm. He is so great an author that all which is done is thought -correct, and not open to scandal. To be sure, they looked rather a -comical pair, she with only a cap on, and he with his curious whiskers -and sharp, sallow face.” - -Gradually, however, as time changed, Skeffington was left behind in -the race, and was no longer regarded as a leader of fashion, and at -the same time he was not fortunate enough to win further success as a -dramatist, for his _Mysterious Bride_ in 1808, his _Bombastes Furioso_ -played at the Haymarket in 1810, and his _Lose no Time_, performed -three years later at Drury Lane, were each and all dire failures. - -In January 1815 Sir William Skeffington died, and Lumley succeeded to -the baronetcy. Sir William, however, had embarrassed his estates, and -Lumley, to save his father from distress, had generously consented to -cut the entail, and so had deprived himself of a considerable fortune. -The comparatively small amount of money that now came to him had been -forestalled, and he was compelled to seek refuge for several years -within the rules of the King’s Bench Prison. Eventually, though he -failed in the attempt to regain an interest in the estates of his -maternal family, the Hubbards, at Rotherhithe, he came into possession -of an estate worth about eight hundred pounds a year; but when he came -again upon the town his old friends showed a marked disposition to -avoid him; and when one day Alvanley was asked who was that solitary, -magnificently attired person, “It is a second edition of _The Sleeping -Beauty_,” he replied wittily; “bound in calf, richly gilt, and -illustrated by many cuts.” - -Skeffington now resided quietly in Southwark, where he still -entertained members of the theatrical profession, but no longer the -leaders of the calling, only the members of the adjacent Surrey -Theatre. Henry Vizetelly met him towards the end of his life, and -described him as “a quiet, courteous, aristocratic-looking old -gentleman, an ancient fop who affected the fashions of a past -generation, and wore false hair and rouged his cheeks,” who had, he -might have added, a large fund of _histoires divertissants_ with which -to regale his visitors. - -He outlived all his brother dandies, but to the end would wander in -the fashionable streets, recalling the glories of his early manhood, -attracting attention in his long-waisted coat, the skirts of which -descended to his heels, but recognised by none of the generation that -had succeeded his own. In other circles, however, he found listeners -interested in his stories of the palmy days of Carlton House, when -he was one of the leaders of fashion in society and prominent in the -_coulisses_. He died, unmarried, in his eightieth year, and attributed -his long life to the fact that he did not stir out of doors in the -cold, damp winter months, but moved from room to room so as never to -remain in vitiated air. - -In conclusion it must be pointed out that Skeffington’s popularity -was largely contributed to by his good humour and vivacity, and by -the fact that in an age when wit spared nobody he was never known to -say an unkind word of anyone; nor was the reason for this, as was -said of another _beau_, that he never spoke of anyone but himself. -“As to his manners, the suffrages of the most polished circles of -this kingdom have pronounced him one of the best bred men of the -present times, blending at once the decorum of what is called the -_vieille cour_ with the careless gracefulness of the modern school; -he seems to do everything by chance, but it is such a chance as study -could not improve,” so ran a character sketch of the dandy in _The -Monthly Review_ for 1806. “In short, whenever he trifles it is with -elegance, and whenever occasion calls for energy he is warm, spirited, -animated.” He had, however, his share of the _nonchalance_ affected -by the fashionable folk of his day, and the story is told that when, -on a visit to a gentleman in Leicester, he was disturbed in the night -with the information that the adjoining house was in flames, his sole -comment was that this was “a great bore”; and when with difficulty he -had been induced to move quickly enough to escape into the street, -there, standing in his nightdress, bareheaded and with his hair in -papers, he called out, “What are these horrid creatures about with so -much filthy water, that I cannot step without wetting my slippers?” - - - - - Some Exquisites of the Regency - - -When Almack’s Club, composed of all the travelled young men who wore -long curls and spying-glasses, was in 1778 absorbed by Brooks’s, the -day of the Macaronis was past. Then, as Wraxall records, Charles James -Fox and his friends, who might be said to lead the Town, affecting a -style of neglect about their persons and manifesting a contempt of all -the usages hitherto established, first threw a sort of discredit on -dress. “Fox lodged in St James’s Street, and as soon as he rose, which -was very late, had a _levée_ of his followers and of the members of -the gambling club at Brooks’s--all his disciples,” Walpole wrote. “His -bristly black person, and shagged breast quite open and rarely purified -by any ablutions, was wrapped in a foul linen nightgown, and his bushy -hair dishevelled. In these cynic weeds, and with epicurean good humour, -did he dictate his politics, and in this school did the heir of the -Crown attend his lessons and imbibe them.” - -The young Prince of Wales might study statecraft under Fox; but in the -matter of dress he fell in line with the new race of _beaux_, bucks, -or, to use a word that came into general use at this time, dandies. -The most famous of the latter were Lord Petersham, Lord Foley, Lord -Hertford (immortalised by Thackeray in “Vanity Fair” as the Marquis of -Steyne, and by Disraeli in “Coningsby” as Lord Monmouth), the Duke of -Argyll, Lord Worcester, Henry Pierrepoint, Henry de Ros, Colonel Dawson -Darner, Daniel Mackinnon, Lord Dudley and Ward, Hervey Ashton, Gronow -the memoirist, Sir Lumley Skeffington, and Brummell. - -These exquisites were disinclined to yield the palm even to an -heir-apparent with limitless resources. The Prince of Wales, however, -contrived to hold his own. At his first appearance in society he -created a sensation. He wore a new shoe-buckle! This was his own -invention, and differed from all previous articles of the same kind, -insomuch as it was an inch long and five inches broad, reaching -almost to the ground on either side of the foot! This was good for an -introduction to the polite world, but it was not until he attended -his first Court ball that he did himself full justice. Then his -magnificence was such that the arbiters of fashion were compelled -reluctantly to admit that a powerful rival had come upon the scene. -A contemporary was so powerfully impressed by the splendour of the -Prince’s costume that he placed on record a description: “His coat was -pink silk, with white cuffs; his waistcoat white silk, embroidered with -various coloured foil, and adorned with a profusion of French paste; -and his hat was ornamented with two rows of steel beads, five thousand -in number, with a button and loop of the same metal, and cocked in a -new military style.” - -[Illustration: _George, Prince of Wales_] - -The laurels won in early youth he retained all the days of his life. -Expense was no object to him, and, indeed, it must be confessed -he spent money in many worse ways than on his clothes. Batchelor, -his valet, who entered his service after the death of the Duke of -York, said that a plain coat, from its repeated alterations and the -consequent journeys from London to Windsor to Davison the tailor, would -often cost three hundred pounds before it met with his approbation! -George had a mania for hoarding, and at his death all the coats, -vests, breeches, boots, and other articles of attire which had graced -his person during half-a-century were found in his wardrobe. It is -said he carried the catalogue in his head, and could call for any -costume he had ever worn. His executors, Lord Gifford and Sir William -Knighton, discovered in the pockets of his coats, besides innumerable -women’s love letters, locks of hair, and other trifles of his usually -discreditable amours, no less than five hundred pocket-books, each -containing small forgotten sums of money, amounting in all to ten -thousand pounds! His clothes sold for fifteen thousand pounds; they -cost probably ten times that amount. - -Lord Petersham was a Mæcenas among the tailors, and the inventor of -an overcoat called after him. He was famous for his brown carriages, -horses, and liveries, all of the same shade; and his devotion to this -colour was popularly supposed to be due to the love he had borne a -widow of the name. He never went out before six o’clock in the evening, -and had many other eccentricities. Gronow has described a visit to his -apartments: “The room into which we were ushered was more like a shop -than a gentleman’s sitting-room. All around the wall were shelves, upon -which were placed the canisters containing congou, pekoe, souchong, -bohea, gunpowder, Russian, and many other teas, all the best of their -kind; on the other side of the room were beautiful jars, with names -in gilt letters of innumerable kinds of snuff, and all the necessary -apparatus for moistening and mixing. Lord Petersham’s mixture is -still well known to all tobacconists. Other shelves and many of the -tables were covered with a great number of magnificent snuff-boxes; -for Lord Petersham had perhaps the finest collection in England, and -was supposed to have a fresh box for every day in the year. I heard -him, on the occasion of a delightful old light-blue Sèvres box he was -using being admired, say in his lisping way, ‘Yes, it is a nice summer -box, but it would not do for winter wear.’” Queen Charlotte had made -snuff-taking fashionable in England, but the habit began to die out -with the Regency. George IV. carried a box, but he had no liking for -it; and, conveying it with a grand air between his right thumb and -forefinger, he was careful to drop it before it reached his nose. He -gave up the custom of offering a pinch to his neighbours, and it was -recognised as a breach of good manners to dip uninvited into a man’s -box. When at the Pavilion the Bishop of Winchester committed such an -infringement of etiquette, Brummell told a servant to throw the rest -of the snuff into the fire. When Lord Petersham died, his snuff was -sold by auction. It took three men three days to weigh it, and realised -three thousand pounds. - -Another eccentric was Lord Dudley and Ward, sometime Secretary of State -for Foreign Affairs, who eventually lost his reason. His absence of -mind was notorious, and he had a habit of talking aloud that frequently -landed him in trouble. Dining at the house of a _gourmet_, under -the impression he was at home, he apologised for the badness of the -_entrées_, and begged the company to excuse them on account of the -illness of his cook! Similarly, when he was paying a visit he imagined -himself to be the entertainer, and when his hostess had exhausted her -hints concerning the duration of his call, he murmured, “A very pretty -woman. But she stays a devilish long time. I wish she’d go.” Still more -amusing were his remarks in the carriage of a brother peer who had -volunteered to drive him from the House of Lords to Dudley House: “A -deuce of a bore! This tiresome man has taken me home, and will expect -me to ask him to dinner. I suppose I must do so, but it is a horrid -nuisance.” This was too much for his good-natured companion, who, as -if to himself, droned in the same monotonous tones, “What a bore! This -good-natured fellow Dudley will think himself obliged to invite me to -dinner, and I shall be forced to go. I hope he won’t ask me, for he -gives d----d bad dinners.” These stories recall another related of -an absent-minded royal duke, who, when during the service the parson -proposed the prayer for rain, said in a voice audible throughout the -church, “Yes, by all means let us pray, but it won’t be any good. We -sha’n’t get rain till the moon changes.” - -After Brummell left England, it was to William, Lord Alvanley that all -the witty sayings of the day were attributed. The son of the famous -lawyer Sir Pepper Arden,[5] he began life in the Coldstream Guards, -of which the colonel was the Duke of York. He achieved his earliest -success as a wit at the expense of a brother officer, Gunter, a scion -of the famous catering-house. Gunter’s horse was almost beyond the -control of the rider, who explained that his horse was too hot to hold. -“Ice him, Gunter; ice him,” cried Alvanley. Thrown into such company, -it was not perhaps unnatural that Alvanley should be extravagant; but -his carelessness in money matters was notorious. He never paid ready -money for anything, and never knew the extent of his indebtedness. -He had no sympathy with those who devoted some time and trouble to -the management of their affairs, and expressed the utmost contempt -for a friend who was so weak as to “muddle away his fortune paying -tradesmen’s bills.” Though very wealthy, he soon became embarrassed in -his circumstances. He persuaded Charles Greville, the author of the -“Journals,” to put his affairs in order. The two men spent a day over -accounts, and Greville found that the task he had undertaken would not -be so difficult as he had been given to understand. His relief was not -long-lived, however, for on the following morning he received a note -from Alvanley saying he had quite forgotten a debt of fifty thousand -pounds! - -[5] Sir Pepper Arden was a man of very violent temperament. One day, -when he was haranguing a jury, a Frenchman who was paying a visit to -the Law Courts asked who was the irascible advocate. His companion -translated the name literally, “_Le Chevalier Poivre Ardent_.” -“_Parbleu!_” replied the other, “_il est très bien nommé_.” - -Alvanley was famous for his dinners, and indulged in the expensive -taste of having an apricot tart on his table every day throughout -the year. His dinners were generally acclaimed as the best in -England; certainly he spared no expense in the endeavour to secure -the blue ribbon of the table. Even Abraham Hayward commented on his -extravagance. “He had his _suprême de volaille_ made of the oysters, -or _les sots, les-laissent_ of fowls, instead of the fillet from the -breast,” he noted in “The Art of Dining,” “so that it took a score of -birds to complete a moderate dish.” It was Alvanley who organised a -wonderful freak dinner at White’s Club, at which the inventor of the -most costly dish should dine at the cost of the others; and he won -easily. His contribution to the feast was a _fricassée_ made of the -_noix_, or small pieces at each side of the back, taken from thirteen -different kinds of birds, among them being a hundred snipe, forty -woodcocks, twenty pheasants--in all some three hundred birds. The cost -of this dish exceeded one hundred pounds. - -As he was beloved by his friends and vastly popular, society was -enraged when O’Connell in the House of Commons spoke of him as “a -bloated buffoon.” A challenge was sent at once, but the Liberator -refused to go out. He had been on the ground once, had killed his man, -and had vowed never to fight another duel. Alvanley would not forgive -the insult, however, and threatened to thrash the aggressor; whereupon -Morgan O’Connell met him in place of his father, when several shots -were exchanged without result. “What a clumsy fellow O’Connell must be, -to miss such a fat fellow as I!” said Alvanley calmly. “He ought to -practise at a haystack to get his hand in.” Driven back to London, he -gave the hackney-coachman a sovereign. “It’s a great deal,” said the -man gratefully, “for having taken your lordship to Wimbledon.” “No, my -good fellow,” the peer laughed; “I give it you, not for taking me, but -for bringing me back.” - -Beyond all question the greatest dandy of his day was George Bryan -Brummell, generally called Beau Brummell. This famous personage -dominated all his rivals, and even the Prince of Wales accepted him -at least as an equal. It is not known with any certainty how his -acquaintance began with the heir-apparent. Brummell’s aunt, Mrs -Searle, who had a little cottage with stables for cows at the entrance, -opposite Clarges Street, of the Green Park, in which she had been -installed by George III., related that it was one day when the Prince -of Wales, accompanied by the beautiful Marchioness of Salisbury, -stopped to see the cows milked that he first met her nephew, was -attracted by him, and, hearing he was intended for the army, offered -him a commission in his own regiment. Gronow gives another story, which -on the face of it is more probable. Brummell made many friends among -the scions of good family while he was at Eton, where he seems to have -been regarded as an Admirable Crichton: “the best scholar, the best -boatman, the best cricketer.” He was invited to a ball at Devonshire -House, became a great favourite, and was asked everywhere. The Prince -sent for him, and, pleased by his manner and appearance, gave him a -commission. In his seventeenth year he was gazetted to a cornetcy in -the Tenth Light Dragoons. He resigned soon after because the regiment -was ordered to Manchester![6] - -[6] At a grand review at Brighton he was thrown from his horse and -broke his classical Roman nose. - -Brummell threw himself heart and soul into the social life of the -metropolis, and soon his reputation extended far and wide, until no -party was complete without him, and his presence was regarded as the -hall-mark of fashion. He was the very man for the part he had set -himself. Tall, well made, with a good figure, he affected an old-world -air of courtesy, picked up probably from the French refugees, as he had -never been out of England until he left it for good. His affectation of -_vieille cour_ showed itself in the use of powder, which distinguished -him in the days when the custom was dying out among civilians. His -grandfather was a tradesman, and let lodgings in Bury Street, St -James’s. His father, by the influence of a lodger, was presented to -a clerkship in the Treasury, became private secretary to Lord North, -made money by speculation, settled down at Donnington, and became High -Sheriff of Berkshire, where he was visited by Fox and Sheridan. Though -of no rank, Brummell lived with the highest in the land on terms of -equality. His acquaintance was sought, his intimacy desired; and, so -far from requiring a patron, it was he who patronised. His influence -was unbounded, his fascination undeniable, his indifference to public -opinion reckless. He was good-natured and rarely out of humour; neither -a drunkard nor a profligate. He had bright and amusing conversation, -some wit, and a considerable power of _persiflage_, which, while it -enabled him to laugh some people out of bad habits, only too frequently -was exerted to laugh others out of good principles. - -He revived the taste for dress. “Clean linen, and plenty of it” was -an important item of his creed. His great triumph was in connection -with the cravat. Before he came into his own they were worn without -stiffening of any kind; as soon as he ascended his throne he had them -starched![7] A revolution would not have attracted more attention. -Thereafter his sway was undisputed, and his word law in all matters of -fashion. The Prince of Wales used to call on him in the morning at his -house in Chesterfield Street, and, deeply engrossed in the discussion -of costume, would frequently remain to dinner. “Brummell was always -studiously and remarkably well dressed, never _outré_; and, though -considerable time and attention were devoted to his toilet, it never, -when once accomplished, seemed to occupy his attention,” said one who -knew him well. “His manners were easy, polished, and gentleman-like, -and regulated by that same good taste which he displayed in most -things. No one was a more keen observer of vulgarity in others, or -more _piquant_ in his criticisms, or more despotic as an _arbiter -elegantarium_; he could decide the fate of a young man just launched -into the world with a single word.”[8] - -[7] A visitor to Brummell met the great man’s valet on the stair having -on his arm a number of crumpled ties. In answer to an inquiring look, -the latter explained, “They are our failures.” - -[8] The Duke of Bedford asked his opinion of a new coat; Brummell -looked at it carefully in front and, telling him to turn round, at the -back. Then he asked earnestly, “Bedford, do you call this thing a coat?” - -The tastes of the Prince of Wales verged on the florid, but Brummell’s -efforts tended to simplicity of costume. Under Brummell the dandy’s -dress consisted of a blue coat with brass buttons, leather breeches, -and top-boots; with, of course, the deep, stiff white cravat which -prevented you from seeing your boots while standing. Gronow relates -that while he was in Paris after Waterloo trousers and shoes were worn -by young men, only old fogies favouring knee-breeches. On his return -to England in 1816, receiving from Lady Hertford an invitation to -Manchester House “to have the honour of meeting the Prince Regent,” -he went dressed _à la Française_--white neckcloth, waistcoat, black -trousers, shoes and silk stockings. He made his bow, and almost -immediately afterwards Horace Seymour came to him: “The great man is -very much surprised that you should have ventured to appear in his -presence without knee-breeches. He considers it as a want of proper -respect for him.” Gronow went away in high dudgeon. A month later the -Prince adopted the dress he had censured! - -All the world watched Brummell to imitate him. He made the fortune of -his tailor, Weston, of Old Bond Street, and of his other tradesmen. The -most noteworthy of these was Hoby, the St James’s Street bootmaker, an -impertinent and independent man who employed his leisure as a Methodist -preacher. Many good stories are told of him. It was he who said to the -Duke of Kent, when the latter informed him of the issue of the great -battle at Vittoria, “If Lord Wellington had had any other bootmaker -than myself he would never have had his great and constant successes, -for my boots and my prayers bring him out of all his difficulties.” -When Horace Churchill entered his shop and complained in no moderate -words of a pair of boots, vowing he would never employ him again, -Hoby quickly turned the tables. “John, close the shutters,” he cried -to an assistant, affecting a woebegone look. “It is all over with us. -I must shut up shop. Ensign Churchill withdraws his custom from me.” -Sir John Shelley once showed him a pair of top-boots that had split -in several places. “How did that happen, Sir John?” “Why, in walking -to my stable,” the customer explained. “Walking to your stable!” Hoby -exclaimed, not troubling to suppress a sneer. “I made the boots for -riding, not walking.”[9] - -[9] Hoby died worth one hundred and twenty thousand pounds. He was the -first man in London to drive a Tilbury. - -It is but a step from boots to blacking, an article to which the -dandies devoted much attention. Lieutenant-Colonel Kelly, of the First -Foot Guards, was famous for his well-varnished boots. After his death, -which occurred in a fire owing to his efforts to save his favourite -boots, all the men about town were anxious to secure the services of -his valet, who alone knew the secret of the blacking. Brummell found -the man and asked his wages. The Colonel had given him a hundred and -fifty pounds a year, but now he required two hundred. “Well, if you -will make it guineas,” said the Beau, “_I_ shall be happy to attend -upon _you_!” Lord Petersham spent a great deal of time in making -a particular kind of blacking which he believed would eventually -supersede all others, and Brummell declared, “My blacking ruins me; -it is made with the finest champagne.” But Brummell must not be taken -too seriously. He was a master _poseur_, and many of his critics have -fallen into the error of taking him literally. Thus it has apparently -never occurred to his biographers to think he was joking when, in reply -to a lady who inquired what allowance she should make her son who -was about to enter the world, he assured her that, _with economy_, -her son could dress on eight hundred a year. They merely comment -upon his terribly extravagant ideas. Again, when the Beau, speaking -of a boy, said with apparent earnestness, “Really, I did my best for -the young man; I once gave him my arm all the way from White’s to -Watier’s”--about a hundred yards--they discuss his enormous conceit! - -There are several accounts of the cause of the rupture of the intimacy -between Brummell and the Prince. It is certain, however, that the -story of “Wales, ring the bell,” has no foundation. “I was on such -intimate terms with the Prince that if we had been alone I could have -asked him without offence to ring the bell,” Brummell said; “but with -a third person in the room I should never have done so. I knew the -Regent too well.” The story was true in so far as the order, “Wales, -ring the bell,” was given at the royal supper-table by a lad who had -taken too much to drink. The Prince did ring the bell, and when the -servants came, told them, good-humouredly enough, to “put that drunken -boy to bed.” One authority says the quarrel arose because Brummell -spoke sarcastically of Mrs Fitzherbert, another because he spoke -in her favour when the Prince was bestowing his smiles in another -quarter. The Beau believed it was because of remarks concerning both -Mrs Fitzherbert and the Prince. There is no doubt Brummell did allow -himself considerable licence of speech, and having a ready wit, was not -inclined to forego its use. - -A curious tale was told by General Sir Arthur Upton to Gronow. It seems -that the first estrangement did not last long. Brummell played whist -at White’s Club one night, and won from George Harley Drummond[10] the -sum of twenty thousand pounds. The Duke of York told the Prince of the -incident, and the Beau was again invited to Carlton House. “At the -commencement of the dinner matters went off smoothly; but Brummell, in -his joy at finding himself with his old friend, became excited, and -drank too much wine. His Royal Highness--who wanted to avenge himself -for an insult he had received at Lady Cholmondeley’s ball, when the -Beau, looking towards the Prince, said to Lady Worcester, ‘Who is -your fat friend?’--had invited him to dinner merely out of a desire -for revenge. The Prince, therefore, pretended to be affronted with -Brummell’s hilarity, and said to his brother, the Duke of York, who was -present, ‘I think we had better order Mr Brummell’s carriage before he -gets drunk’; whereupon he rang the bell, and Brummell left the royal -presence.” As Sir Arthur was present at the dinner, there can be no -doubt as to the facts; and, knowing the character of the royal host as -we do, there is no reason to doubt that he invited a guest to insult -him. That is quite of a piece with his conduct on other occasions; but -it seems certain that the motive that spurred the Prince on to revenge -was not that attributed to him. Of all the versions of the “Who’s your -fat friend?” episode, that given by the General is the least likely. -Inaccurate, too, is Raikes when he tells of Brummell asking the famous -question of Jack Lee in St James’s Street, after the latter had been -seen speaking to the Prince. - -[10] Drummond was a partner in the great banking-house of that name, -and the episode caused his retirement from the firm. This was the only -occasion on which he had played whist at White’s Club. - -The true story is the following: A dandies’ ball was to be given by -Lord Alvanley, Sir Henry Mildmay, Henry Pierrepoint and Brummell to -celebrate a great run of luck at hazard. The question of inviting the -Prince was mooted, but it was negatived because all felt sure it would -be declined, since he was not on friendly terms with Brummell. The -Prince, however, sent an intimation that he desired to be present, and -of course a formal invitation was despatched. The four hosts assembled -at the door to do honour to their royal guest, who shook hands with -three of them, but looked Brummell full in the face and passed on -without any sign of recognition. Then it was, before the Prince was -out of hearing, that Brummell turned to his neighbour and asked with -apparent nonchalance, “Alvanley, who’s your fat friend?” - -After this there was war to the death, and Brummell, who was a good -fighter, did not miss any opportunity to wound his powerful antagonist. -He was passing down Pall Mall when the Regent’s carriage drew up at -a picture gallery. The sentries saluted, and, keeping his back to -the carriage, Brummell took the salute as if to himself. The Prince -could not hide his anger from the bystanders, for he looked upon any -slight to his dignity as rather worse than high treason. The foes met -again later on in the waiting-room at the opera. An eye-witness has -described the _rencontre_: “The Prince of Wales, who always came out -rather before the performance concluded, was waiting for his carriage. -Presently Brummell came out, talking eagerly to some friends, and, -not seeing the Prince or his party, he took up a position near the -checktaker’s bar. As the crowd flowed out, Brummell was gradually -pressed backwards, until he was all but driven against the Regent, who -distinctly saw him, but of course would not move. In order to stop him, -therefore, and prevent actual collision, one of the Prince’s suite -tapped him on the back, when Brummell immediately turned sharply -round, and saw there was not much more than a foot between his nose -and the Prince of Wales’s. I watched him with intense curiosity, and -observed that his countenance did not change in the slightest degree, -nor did his head move; they looked straight into each other’s eyes, the -Prince evidently amazed and annoyed. Brummell, however, did not quail, -or show the least embarrassment. He receded quite quietly, and backed -slowly step by step till the crowd closed between them, never once -taking his eyes off those of the Prince.” Moore, in the _Twopenny Post -Bag_, commemorated the quarrel in his parody of the letter from the -Prince of Wales to the Duke of York, in which he says: - - “I indulge in no hatred, and wish there may come ill - To no mortal, except, now I think on’t, Beau Brummell, - Who declared t’other day, in a superfine passion, - He’d cut me and bring the old King into fashion.” - -Brummell contrived to hold his own until he took to card-playing. His -patrimony of thirty thousand pounds was insufficient to justify him -in entering the lists with his companions. It was the case of the -earthenware pot and the iron pots. At first he was unsuccessful, and as -he was not then addicted to games of chance, his depression was very -great. Walking home from a club with Tom Raikes, he was lamenting his -bad fortune, when he saw something bright in the roadway. He stooped -and picked up a crooked sixpence. “This,” he said to his companion with -great cheerfulness, “is the harbinger of good luck.” He drilled a hole -in it and fastened it to his watch-chain. The talisman worked, and he -won thirty thousand pounds in the next two years. - -Fortune deserted him; but he did not lose even a third of his winnings, -and Raikes, in his “Memoirs,” remarks that he was never more surprised -than when in 1816, one morning, Brummell confided to him that his -situation had become so desperate that he must fly the country that -night, and by stealth. He had lived above his income, had got into -debt, and then had fallen into the hands of the notorious usurers, -Howard and Gibbs. Other money-lenders may have had claims upon him; for -when it was said to Alvanley that if Brummell had remained in London -something might have been done for him by his friends, the witty peer -made a _bon mot_: “He has done quite right to be off; it was Solomon’s -judgment.”[11] - -[11] Solomon was a well-known money-lender. - -He went no farther than Calais. “Here I am _restant_ for the present, -and God knows solitary enough is my existence; of that, however, I -should not complain, for I can always employ resources within myself, -was there not a worm that will not sleep, called _conscience_, which -all my endeavours to distract, all the strength of coffee, with which -I constantly fumigate my unhappy brains, and all the native gaiety of -the fellow who brings it to me, cannot lull to indifference beyond -the moment; but I will not trouble you upon that subject.” He wrote -to Tom Raikes on 22nd May 1816, soon after his arrival: “You would -be surprised to find the sudden change and transfiguration which -one week has accomplished in my life and _propriâ personâ_. I am -punctually off the pillow at half-past seven in the morning. My first -object--melancholy, indeed, it may be in its nature--is to walk to -the pier-head, and take my distant look at England. This you may call -weakness; but I am not yet sufficiently master of those feelings which -may be called indigenous to resist the impulse. The rest of my day is -filled up with strolling an hour or two round the ramparts of this -dismal town, in reading, and the study of that language which must -hereafter be my own, for never more shall I set foot in my own country. -I dine at five, and my evening has as yet been occupied in writing -letters. The English I have seen here--and many of them known to me--I -have cautiously avoided; and with the exception of Sir W. Bellingham -and Lord Blessington, who have departed, I have not exchanged a word. -Prince Esterhazy was here yesterday, and came into my room unexpectedly -without my knowing he was here. He had the good nature to convey -several letters for me upon his return to London. So much for my life -hitherto on this side of the water.” - -At first he put up at the famous Dessein’s, but soon he went into -apartments at the house of M. Leleux. His friends came to the -rescue--Alvanley, Worcester, Sefton, no doubt Raikes too, and -others--and sent him a good round sum of money. But his habits had -grown upon him, and he could not live economically. If he saw buhl or -marqueterie or Sèvres china that he liked he bought it; and he could -not accustom himself to the penny-wise economies of life. He would not -give way to despair, and, naturally high-spirited, he fought bravely -against depression. He wished to be appointed consul at Calais, and his -friends’ influence would have secured him the position, but no vacancy -occurred. - -He had a gleam of hope on hearing of the accession to the throne of -his old companion. “He is at length King,” he wrote; “will his past -resentments still attach themselves to his Crown? An indulgent amnesty -of former peccadilloes should be the primary grace influencing newly -throned sovereignty; at least towards those who were once distinguished -by his more intimate protection. From my experience, however, of the -personage in question, I must doubt any favourable relaxation of those -stubborn prejudices which have, during so many years, operated to the -total exclusion of one of his _élèves_ from the royal notice: that -unfortunate--I need not particularise. You ask me how I am going on -at Calais. Miserably! I am exposed every hour to all the turmoil and -jeopardy that attended my latter days in England. I bear up as well as -I can; and when the mercy and patience of my claimants are exhausted I -shall submit without resistance to bread and water and straw. I cannot -decamp a second time.”[12] - -[12] Brummell still interested himself in fashion. He wrote in 1818 -from Calais to Raikes: “I heard of you the other day in a waistcoat -that does you indisputable credit, spick and span from Paris, a broad -stripe, salmon colour and cramoisi. Keep it up, my dear fellow, and -don’t let them laugh you into a relapse so Gothic as that of your -former English simplicity.” - -The new King made no sign. But soon came the news that he was going -abroad, and would stay a night at Calais. The pulse of the exiled dandy -must have beat quickly. It was the time for forgiveness; and, after -all, his offence had not been very rank. If there were generosity in -the heart of the monarch, surely, surely he would hold out the right -hand of fellowship to the vanquished foe. The meeting came about -unexpectedly. Brummell went for a walk out of the town in the opposite -direction to that on which the King would enter it. On his return he -tried to get across the street, but the crowd was so great that he -remained perforce on the opposite side. The King’s carriage passed -close to him. “Good God, Brummell!” George cried in a loud voice. Then -Brummell, who was hat in hand at the time, crossed the road, pale as -death, and entered his room. - -George dined in the evening at Dessein’s, and Brummell sent his valet -to make the punch, giving him to take over a bottle of rare old -maraschino, the King’s favourite liqueur. The next morning all the -suite called except Bloomfield, and each man tried to persuade him to -ask for an audience. Brummell signed his name in the visitors’ book. -His pride would let him do no more. He had taken the first steps; -would the King send for him? George left without a word. Afterwards he -actually boasted he had been to Calais without seeing Brummell! So the -men went their ways, never to meet again. The King had won. He had seen -his old friend, his old foe--which you will--his old comrade, beaten, -bankrupt, humbled, and he had passed him by. The King had won, yet -perhaps for once it was better to be the vanquished than to win at such -a price. Perhaps in the last years of his life George thought once more -of Brummell, as himself half blind, half mad, utterly friendless, he -went down to the grave unwept and unhonoured. - -Others were more generous than the King. The Duke of Wellington invited -two successive Ministers for Foreign Affairs to do something for the -exile. Both hesitated on the ground that his Majesty might disapprove, -whereupon Wellington went to Windsor and spoke to the King, “who had -made objections, abusing Brummell--said he was a damned fellow and -had behaved very ill to him (the old story--_moi_, _moi_, _moi_); but -after having let him run his tether, he had at last extracted his -consent.” Still, nothing was done until after Charles Greville was at -Calais in 1830: “There I had a long conversation with Brummell about -his consulship, and was moved by his account of his own distresses to -write to the Duke of Wellington and ask him to do what he could for -him. I found him in his old lodging, dressing--some pretty pieces of -old furniture in the room, an entire toilet of silver, and a large -green macaw perched on the back of a tattered silk chair with faded -gilding--full of gaiety, impudence, and misery.” - -The consulate at Caen, to which a salary of four hundred a year was -attached, was secured for him. Brummell arranged that part of his -income should be set aside to pay his debts (which amounted to about -a thousand pounds), and his creditors allowed him to leave Calais. -He had not long been installed when he wrote a formal letter to -Lord Palmerston, then Foreign Secretary, stating that the place was -a sinecure and the duties so trifling that he should recommend its -abolition. It has never been made clear why he took this remarkable -step. Was it in the hope of being appointed to a better position? Was -it in the desire to evade the payment of his debts? Was it honesty? -Whatever the cause, his action recoiled on himself. Lord Palmerston was -regretfully compelled to take the consul at his word, and the place was -reduced. - -Brummell continued to live at Caen; but, being without resources, he -sank deeper into debt, and in 1835 his creditors put him into prison. -For the last time his friends came to his assistance. William IV. -subscribed a hundred pounds. Palmerston gave twice that amount from -the public purse. Enough was obtained to secure his liberation and to -settle upon him an annuity of one hundred and twenty pounds. Soon he -sank into a state of imbecility, and he ended his days in the asylum -Bon Sauveur. He died on 30th March 1840. - -A moral can easily be drawn from the story of this unfortunate man, and -many writers have dwelt upon the lesson it furnishes. Yet there were -many worse than he in the circle of which he was the arbiter. He lived -his life: he paid the price. Let him rest in peace. - -With the departure from England of Brummell the cult of the dandy began -to decline. Count D’Orsay the Magnificent, however, galvanised it into -fashion for a while. “He is a grand creature,” Gronow described him; -“beautiful as the Apollo Belvedere in his outward form; full of health, -life, spirits, wit, and gaiety; radiant and joyous; the admired of all -admirers.” - -He had an amusing _naïveté_ in speaking of his personal advantages. -“You know, my dear friend, I am not on a par with my antagonist,” he -said to his second on the eve of a duel. “He is a very ugly man, and if -I wound him in the face he won’t look much the worse for it; but on my -side it ought to be agreed that he shall not aim higher than my chest, -for if my face should be spoiled _ce serait vraiment dommage_.” - -The dandies of a later day were but poor things--pinchbeck. Captain -Gronow, in his youth a _beau_ of no mean order, pours contempt upon -their pretensions in no measured terms. “How unspeakably odious--with a -few brilliant exceptions, such as Alvanley and others--were the dandies -of forty years ago [1822]! They were generally middle-aged, some even -elderly, men, had large appetites and weak digestions, gambled freely, -and had no luck. They hated everybody and abused everybody, and would -sit together in White’s bay window or the pit-boxes at the opera -weaving tremendous crammers. They swore a good deal, never laughed, had -their own particular slang, looked hazy after dinner, and had most of -them been patronised at one time or other by Brummell and the Prince -Regent.... They gloried in their shame, and believed in nothing good or -noble or elevated. Thank Heaven, that miserable race of used-up dandies -has long been extinct! May England never look upon their like again!” - -The prayer may well be echoed. The bad influence of the dandies can -scarcely be over-estimated; and the effect upon their own class -of society was terrible. Their morals were contemptible, and they -were without principle. Prodigality was their creed, gambling their -religion. The list of those who died beggared is not much longer than -the list of those who died by their own hands. They indulged in no -manly exercises, and devoted their days to their personal decoration -and to the card-table. Extravagance of all kinds was fashionable. -Clothes, canes, snuff-boxes, must be expensive to be worthy of such -distinguished folk, whose sole aim it was to outvie each other. A -guinea was the least that could be given to the butler when dining out; -but this was an improvement upon the day when Pope, finding it cost -him five guineas in tips whenever he dined with the Duke of Montagu, -informed that nobleman he could not dine with him in future unless he -sent him an order for the tribute-money. - -There was Wellesley Pole, who, after the opera, gave magnificent -dinners at his home at Wanstead, where rare dishes were served and the -greatest luxury obtained. He married Miss Tylney Pole, who brought him -fifty thousand a year; and he died a beggar. There was “Golden Ball” -Hughes, with forty thousand a year, who, when the excitements of the -gaming-room were not to be had, would play battledore and shuttlecock -through the whole night, backing himself for immense sums. He married -a beautiful Spanish _danseuse_, Mercandotti, who appeared in London in -1822. Whereupon Ainsworth made an epigram: - - “The fair damsel is gone, and no wonder at all - That, bred to the dance, she is gone to a Ball.” - -The honeymoon was spent at Oatlands, purchased from the Duke of York. -It was thought to be a foolish investment; but when Hughes fell upon -evil days he was able to sell the estate for a large sum, as the new -railway skirted it, and speculative builders were anxious to acquire -the land, and so some of his old prosperity returned. There was Lord -Fife, an intimate friend of the Regent’s, who spent forty thousand -pounds on Mademoiselle Noblet the dancer. A chapter would not suffice -for an account of the vicious and foolish habits of these men. - -The clubs were then a far more important feature in social life -than they are to-day. They were accessible only to those who were -in society, which in those days was exclusive, and consisted of a -comparatively small body in which everyone knew everyone else, if not -personally, at least by name. There were then no clubs for professional -men save those of the first rank, or for merchants, or for the _hoi -polloi_. - -In more or less direct rivalry with the clubs were some of the hotels, -and men such as Wellington, Nelson, Collingwood and Sir John Moore used -them as a meeting-place--at the beginning of the eighteenth century -about fifteen in number, not including, of course, the large coaching -inns, coffee, eating, and the _à la mode_ beef houses, most of which -had beds for customers. First and foremost of these, kept by a French -_chef_, Jacquiers, who had served Louis XVIII. and Lord Darnley, was -the Clarendon, built upon a portion of the gardens of Clarendon House, -between Bond Street and Albemarle Street, in each of which the hotel -had a frontage. This was the only place in England where a French -dinner was served that was worthy of mention in the same breath with -those obtainable in Paris at the Maison Doré or Rocher de Cancalle’s. -The prices were very high. Dinner cost three or four pounds a head, -and a bottle of claret or champagne was not obtainable under a guinea. -A suite of apartments was reserved for banquets, and it was in these -that the famous dinner, ordered by Count D’Orsay, was given to Lord -Chesterfield when he resigned the office of Master of the Buckhounds. -Covers were laid for thirty, and the bill, exclusive of wine, came to -one hundred and eighty guineas. - -Limmer’s was another well-known hotel, the resort of the sporting world -and of rich country squires. It was gloomy and ill-kept, but renowned -for its plain English cooking and world-famous for gin-punch. The -clergy went to Ibbetson’s, naval men to Fladong’s in Oxford Street, -and army officers and men about town to Stephen’s in Bond Street. Most -of these hostelries had their regular frequenters, and strangers were -not, as a rule, encouraged to use them as a house of call. - -Clubs were few in number. There was “The Club” of Johnson; the -Cocoa-Tree, which arose out of the Tory Chocolate House of Anne’s -reign; the Royal Naval Club, a favourite haunt of the Duke of Clarence; -and the Eccentrics, which numbered among its members such well-known -men as Fox, Sheridan, Lord Petersham, Brougham, Lord Melbourne, and -Theodore Hook. Graham’s was second rate; nor was Arthur’s in the -first flight. When Arthur died, his son-in-law, Mackreth, became the -proprietor. He prospered, became a member of Parliament in 1774, and -was afterwards knighted. His name is preserved in a very good epigram: - - “When Mackreth served in Arthur’s crew, - He said to Rumbold, ‘Black my shoe’; - To which he answered, ‘Ay, Bob.’ - But when return’d from India’s land, - And grown too proud to brook command, - He sternly answered, ‘Nay, Bob.’”[13] - -[13] It was said Sir Thomas Rumbold was originally a waiter at White’s, -obtained an appointment in India, and rose to be Governor of Madras. -This, however, has been demonstrated to be merely a legend by his -descendant, Sir Horace Rumbold. - -An institution of a somewhat different class was the Beefsteak Society, -which flourished so long ago as the early years of the eighteenth -century. The Prince of Wales became a member in 1785, when the number -of the Steaks was increased from twenty-four to twenty-five in order -to admit him; and subsequently the Dukes of Clarence and Sussex were -elected. The bill of fare was restricted to beefsteaks, and the -beverages to port wine and punch; but the cuisine on at least one -occasion left something to be desired, for when, in 1830, the English -Opera House was burnt down, Greville remarked in his diary: “I trust -the paraphernalia of the Beefsteak Club perished with the rest, for -the enmity I bear that society for the dinner they gave me last year.” -Charles Morris was the bard of the Beefsteak Society, and he has come -down to posterity on the strength of four lines: - - “In town let me live then, in town let me die, - For in truth I can’t relish the country, not I. - If one must have a villa in summer to dwell, - Oh, give me the sweet, shady side of Pall Mall!” - -In spite of his prayer, he spent the last years of his life in the -rural retreat of Brockham, in Surrey, in a little place presented to -him by his fellow-Steak, the Duke of Norfolk. He lived to the great age -of ninety-two, and was so hale and hearty and cheerful that, not long -before his death, Curran said to him, “Die when you will, Charles, -you will die in your youth.” - -[Illustration: _Lumley S^t. George Skeffington Esq^r._] - -The greatest club of its day was Almack’s, at 5 Pall Mall, founded -in 1740 by Macall, a Scotsman. This institution was nicknamed the -“Macaroni Club,” owing to the fashion of its members; and Gibbon -remarked that “the style of living, though somewhat expensive, is -exceedingly pleasant, and notwithstanding the rage of play, I have -found more entertainment and rational society here than in any other -club to which I belong.” The high play, which was the bane of half the -English aristocracy, ruined many members. The club fell upon evil days, -and was absorbed by Brooks’s. - -White’s and Brooks’s took the place of Almack’s. The former, -established in 1698 as “White’s Chocolate-House,” five doors from the -bottom of the west side of St James’s Street, became a club in 1755, -when it moved to No. 38, on the opposite side of the street. It was -owned successively by Arthur Mackreth, John Martindale, and in 1812 by -Raggett, whose son eventually inherited it. Brooks’s was founded by a -wine merchant and money-lender of the name, who has been described by -Tickell in verses addressed to Sheridan, when Charles James Fox was to -give a supper at his rooms near the club: - - “Derby shall send, if not his plate, his cooks; - And know, I’ve bought the best champagne from Brooks, - From liberal Brooks, whose speculative skill - Is hasty credit and a distant bill; - Who, nursed in clubs, disdains a vulgar trade, - Exults to trust, and blushes to be paid.” - -Both clubs, although more or less instituted for the purpose of -gambling, were at first political. White’s, however, soon took -down the Tory flag and received members without reference to their -political opinions. Brooks’s, on the other hand, remained true to its -Whig traditions; and it was to counterbalance the influence of this -institution--the “Reform” of that time--that the Carlton Club was -organised by Lord Clanwilliam and others. These, with Boodles’, were -the great resorts of the dandies; and the bay window at White’s, when -Brummell was the lion, was one of the sights of the town. The Prince of -Wales was a member of Brooks’s; but when his boon companions Tarleton -and Jack Payne were blackballed he withdrew, and on his own account -founded a new club, of which the manager was Weltzie, his house-steward. - -Watier’s, the great macao gambling-house, was founded in 1807; but play -was very high, and it lasted only for twelve years. According to Gronow -it came into existence in a somewhat curious way. When some members of -White’s and Brooks’s were dining at Carlton House, the Prince of Wales -asked what sort of dinners were served at these institutions. One of -the guests complained: “The eternal joints and beefsteaks, the boiled -fowl with oyster sauce, and an apple-tart. This is what we have, sir, -at our clubs, and very monotonous fare it is.” The Prince sent for -Watier, his _chef_, and asked if he would take a house and organise a -club-dinner. Watier was willing. The scheme was carried out, and the -club was famed for its exquisite cuisine. - -Another and more circumstantial account of the founding of the club is -given by Raikes. He says it was originally instituted as a harmonic -meeting by the Maddochs, Calverts and Lord Headfort, who took a house -in Piccadilly, at the corner of Bolton Street, and engaged Watier as -master of the revels. “This destination of the club was soon changed. -The dinners were so _recherché_ and so much talked of in town that all -the young men of fashion and fortune became members of it. The catches -and glees were then superseded by cards and dice; the most luxurious -dinners were furnished at any price, as the deep play at night rendered -all charges a matter of indifference. Macao was the constant game, and -thousands passed from one to another with as much facility as marbles.” - -The Duke of York was a member of Watier’s, and so too was Byron, who -christened it “The Dandy Club.” - -Another member was Robert Bligh, whose eccentricities were already -verging upon insanity. One night, at the macao-table, Brummell was -losing heavily, and in an affected tone of tragedy he called to a -waiter to bring him a pistol. Thereupon Bligh, who was his _vis-à-vis_, -produced from his coat pockets a pair of loaded pistols, and laying -them on the table, said, “Mr Brummell, if you are really desirous to -put a period to your existence, I am extremely happy to offer you the -means without troubling the waiter.” The feelings of the members may be -imagined when the knowledge was forced upon them that in their midst -was a madman who carried loaded firearms. - -Brummell, Raikes has recorded, was the supreme dictator at Watier’s, -“the club’s perpetual president.” At the height of his prosperity, one -night when he entered, the macao-table was full. Sheridan was there -trying his luck with a few pounds he could ill spare, for he had fallen -upon evil days. Brummell, whose good luck was notorious at this time, -offered to take Sheridan’s seat and go shares in his deal. He added -two hundred pounds in counters to the ten pounds in front of him, took -the cards, dealt, and in a quarter of an hour had won fifteen hundred -pounds. Then he left the table and divided his gains with Sheridan. -“Go home, Sheridan,” he said quietly; “go home and give your wife and -brats a supper, and never play again.” It is good to be able to record -a generous act, delicately done, of a much-abused man. - -Of Brummell’s witty insolence mention has already been made, but the -laugh was once at least against him. He was at the card-table playing -with Combe the brewer, an Alderman who had passed the chair. “Come, -Mashtub,” he said, being the caster, “what do you set?” “Twenty-five -guineas.” “Well, then, have at the mare’s pony” (twenty-five guineas). -The game progressed, and Brummell won twelve times in succession. -“Thank you, Alderman,” he said; “for the future I shall never drink any -porter but yours.” “I wish, sir,” retorted Combe, “that every other -blackguard in London would say the same.” - -Everybody played cards in those days. Even at the quiet Court of -“Farmer” George the tables were set out in the Queen’s drawing-rooms. -Ladies gambled with as much zest as their husbands and brothers, -and at the end of the eighteenth century several held gaming-tables. -“Faro goes on as briskly as ever; those who have not fortune enough -of their own to live on have recourse to this profitable game in -order to raise contributions on their friends,” wrote Anthony Storer -to Lord Auckland in 1791. “The ladies are all embarked in banks. Mrs -Strutt, Lady Archer, Mrs Hobart, Lady Elizabeth Luttrell (sister of -the Duchess of Cumberland), are avowed bankers; others, I suppose, -are secretly concerned.” Information was laid against Lady Archer and -Lady Buckinghamshire, who were convicted and fined; and Lord Kenyon, -delivering judgment in another case, actually declared that if any -titled ladies were found guilty of the offence before him they should -stand in the pillory. No one was bold enough to test the sincerity of -the threat. As _The Morning Post_ put it in its issue for 15th January -1800: “Society has reason to rejoice in the complete downfall of the -Faro Dames who were so long the disgrace of human nature. Their _die_ -is cast, and their _odd tricks_ avail no longer. The _game_ is up, and -very few of them have _cut_ with _honours_.” - -Play was taken very seriously, for the stakes were always heavy, and -conversation was resented. Sir Philip Francis came to Brooks’s wearing -for the first time the ribbon of the Order of the Bath, for which -Fox had recommended him. “So this is the way they have rewarded you -at last,” remarked Roger Wilbraham, coming up to the whist-table. -“They have given you a little bit of red ribbon for your services, Sir -Philip, have they? A pretty bit of red ribbon to hang about your neck; -and that satisfies you, does it? Now, I wonder what I shall have. What -do you think they will give me, Sir Philip?” “A halter, I trust and -hope!” roared the infuriated player. - -It was at Almack’s, and later at White’s, Brooks’s, Weltzie’s and -Watier’s, that the heaviest play prevailed. It is no exaggeration -to say that during the long sittings at macao, hazard and faro many -tens of thousands changed hands. Nelson won three hundred pounds at a -gaming-table when he was seventeen; but he was so horrified when he -reflected if he had lost he could not have paid that he never played -again. Pitt gambled, and George Selwyn, and Fox, who was always unlucky. - - “At Almack’s, of pigeons I’m told there are flocks, - But it’s thought the completest is one Mr Fox. - If he touches a card, if he rattles a box, - Away fly the guineas of this Mr Fox.” - -Fox lost two hundred thousand pounds in a night. Once he played for -twenty-two hours and lost five hundred pounds an hour. It was he who -said that the greatest pleasure in life, after winning, was losing. -His bad luck was notorious, and Walpole wondered what he would do -when he had sold the estates of all his friends. How Fox contrived -to make a great reputation as a statesman, considering his mode of -life, is truly remarkable. It was noticed that he did not shine in -the debate on the Thirty-Nine Articles (6th February 1772). Walpole -thought it could not be wondered at. “He had sat up playing at hazard -at Almack’s from Tuesday evening, the 4th, till five in the afternoon -of Wednesday, 5th. An hour before, he had recovered twelve thousand -pounds that he had lost, and by dinner, which was at five o’clock, he -had ended losing eleven thousand pounds. On the Thursday he spoke in -the above debate, went to dinner at half-past eleven at night, from -there to White’s, where he drank till seven the next morning; thence to -Almack’s, where he won six thousand pounds, and between three and four -in the afternoon he set out for Newmarket. His brother Stephen lost ten -thousand pounds two nights after, and Charles eleven thousand pounds -more on the 13th, so that in three nights the two brothers, the eldest -not twenty-five, lost thirty-two thousand pounds.” One night when Fox -had been terribly unlucky, Topham Beauclerk followed him to his rooms -to offer consolation, expecting to find him perhaps stretched on the -floor bewailing his losses, perhaps plunged into moody despair. He was -surprised to find him reading Herodotus. “What would you have me do?” -he asked his astonished visitor. “I have lost my last shilling.” - - “But, hark! the voice of battle shouts from far, - The Jews and Macaronis are at war - The Jews prevail, and thund’ring from the stocks, - They seize, they bind, they circumcise Charles Fox.” - -They were good losers in those days, and it was a very necessary -quality for the majority to possess, since all played and most lost. -Lord Carlisle (who complained of _cette lassitude de tout et de -moi-même, qu’on appelle ennui_), General Fitzpatrick, “Old Q.,” Lord -Hertford, Lord Sefton, the Duke of York, and many others squandered -vast sums in this amusement. There were not a great many winners. The -Duke of Portland was one; and his and Canning’s father-in-law, General -Scott, won two hundred thousand pounds. It was said the success of the -latter was due not only to his knowledge of the game of whist, but also -to his notorious sobriety. General Fitzpatrick and Lord Robert Spencer -lost all their money at Brooks’s; but, the members not objecting, with -borrowed capital they kept a faro bank. The bank won, and with his -share of one hundred thousand pounds Lord Robert bought the estate of -Woolbidding, in Sussex. He had learnt his lesson, and he never played -again. There were few who had the sense to make or the strength to -keep such a resolution. Mrs Delany, however, tells of a Mr Thynne “who -has won this year so considerably that he has paid off all his debts, -bought a house and furnished it, disposed of all his horses, hounds, -etc., and struck his name out of all the expensive subscriptions.” A -fortunate man, too, was Colonel Aubrey, who had the reputation of being -the best whist and piquet player of his day. He made two fortunes in -India and lost them both, and made a third at play from a five-pound -note which he borrowed. - -Another celebrated faro bank at Brooks’s was that kept by Lord -Cholmondeley, Mr Thompson of Grosvenor Square, Tom Stepney, and a -fourth. It ruined half the town; and a Mr Paul, who had come home with -a fortune from India, punting against the bank, lost ninety thousand -pounds in one night, and at once went Eastward Ho! to make another. -Lord Cholmondeley and Mr Thompson realised between three and four -hundred thousand pounds apiece; but Stepney so frequently played -against his partners that what he won on one side he lost on the other, -with the result that his gains were inconsiderable. - -Foreigners were made honorary members of the clubs. The Duke of Orleans -(“Vile Égalité,” Lady Sarah Bunbury wrote him down) carried off vast -sums. During the visit of the Allied Sovereigns, Blücher, an inveterate -gambler, lost twenty thousand pounds. Count Montrond, on the other -hand, was a winner. “Who the deuce is this Montrond?” the Duke of York -asked Upton. “They say, sir, that he is the most agreeable scoundrel -and the greatest reprobate in France.” “Is he, by Jove?” cried the -Duke. “Then let us ask him to dinner immediately.” Montrond was a witty -fellow, and one of his _bon mots_ has been handed down. The Bailli de -Ferretti was always dressed in knee-breeches, with a cocked hat and a -Court sword, the slender proportions of which resembled those of his -legs. “Do tell me, my dear Bailli,” said Montrond one day, “have you -got three legs or three swords?” - -Englishmen were not backward in playing abroad, and they assembled in -great numbers at the Salon des Étrangers in Paris during the stay -of the army of occupation after Waterloo. Gronow gives a long list -of habitués: Henry Baring, Tom Sowerby, Henry Broadwood, Bob Arnold, -Steer, Colonel Sowerby, were the most reckless plungers. Lord Thanet, -who had an income of fifty thousand pounds, lost every penny he had at -the _salon_. He would not stop playing when the public tables closed, -and used to invite those present to remain and play hazard or écarté. -One night he lost a hundred and twenty thousand pounds. His friends -told him he had most probably been cheated. “Then,” he said with great -coolness, “I consider myself lucky not to have lost twice as much.” - -Prominent among gamblers, and as such deserving of special mention, was -William Douglas, Earl of March and Ruglen, afterwards fourth and last -Duke of Queensberry.[14] Even making liberal allowance for the spirit of -the age and for the state of morality in the days when he was young, -he was one of the worst men of his generation; and his rank and wealth -made his vices only more notorious. He was the “Degenerate Douglas” of -Wordsworth’s muse, and Burns damned him in verse for all time: - -[14] Born 1724; succeeded to the Earldom of March, 1731, and, on his -mother’s death, to the Earldom of Ruglen; inherited the dukedom, 1778; -died 23rd December 1810. - - “How shall I sing Drumlanrig’s Grace, - Discarded remnant of a race - Once great in martial story? - His forebears’ virtues all contrasted, - The very name of Douglas blasted-- - His that inverted glory. - - Hate, envy, oft the Douglas bore; - But he has superadded more, - And sunk them in contempt. - Follies and crimes have stained the name; - But, Queensberry, thine the virgin claim-- - From aught that’s good exempt.” - -He was appointed to the Household of George III.; but when the -King’s malady declared itself in 1788, he, in common with many other -courtiers, veered round to the side of the Prince of Wales. George -recovered, and the Duke was dismissed. His profligacy was a byword, -and he pursued pleasure to the end of his days. He built a palace at -Richmond, where many orgies took place. But he tired of that residence, -as he wearied of most people and most things. “What is there to make -so much of in the Thames? I am quite tired of it. There it goes, flow, -flow, flow, always the same.” At the end of his days he sat on the -balcony of a ground-floor room of his Piccadilly mansion, and ogled the -passers-by, while a footman held a parasol over his head, and another -was ready to follow and find out the residence of any pretty girl -that passed. Yet “Old Q.” had wit in plenty, loved music, and was not -without appreciation of letters and art. One of his greatest friends -was George Selwyn; and, while both accredited themselves with the -paternity, neither knew which was the father of Maria Fagniani. This -young lady became Selwyn’s ward and the inheritrix of the greater part -of his fortune, while the Duke left her his residence in Piccadilly, -a villa at Richmond, and a hundred and fifty thousand pounds; and her -husband, Lord Yarmouth, afterwards third Marquis of Hertford, as the -Duke’s residuary legatee, came into about two hundred thousand pounds. - -“Old Q.” was a dangerous man at the card-table. The turf had no -mysteries for him. He was ever ready to bet, and he preferred to bet on -something that was very nearly a certainty. He was full of resource, -and his success was due at least as much to his cleverness as to his -luck. His was the day of wagers, and at White’s a betting-book was laid -upon a table for all bets made in the building to be inserted. His name -frequently occurs therein: - -“_June 1751._--Lord March wagers Captain Richard Vernon fifty guineas -to twenty that Mr St Leger is married before him.” The bet requires the -explanatory note that “him” stands for Captain Vernon. - -“_March 1784._--The Duke of Queensberry bets Mr Grenville ten guineas -to five that Mr Fox does not stand a poll for Westminster if the -Parliament should be dissolved within a month from the date hereof. -_N.B._--If a coalition takes place between Mr Pitt and Mr Fox this bet -is to be off.” It is to be noticed that the Duke was not convinced of -the sincerity of politicians. - -The Duke bet Sir John Lade a thousand guineas as to which could produce -a man to eat the most at one sitting. The Duke could not be present at -the contest, but he received the result from a representative. “I have -not time to state particulars, but merely to acquaint your Grace that -your man beat his antagonist by a pig and an apple-pie.” What must they -have eaten! - -White’s betting-book is full of quaint wagers. “Lord Northington bets -Mr C. Fox, June 4, 1774, that he (Mr. C. F.) is not called to the Bar -before this day four years.” On 11th March 1775 is an interesting -entry: “Lord Bolingbroke gives a guinea to Mr Charles Fox, and is to -receive a thousand from him whenever the debt of this country amounts -to one hundred and seventy-one millions. Mr Fox is not to pay the -thousand pounds till he is one of his Majesty’s Cabinet.” The following -is dated 7th April 1792: “Mr Sheridan bets Lord Lauderdale and Lord -Thanet twenty-five guineas each that Parliament will not consent to -any more lotteries after the present one voted to be drawn in February -next.” Lotteries were then a regular source of revenue to the State, -the average profit being about three hundred and fifty thousand -pounds a year, besides many brokers’ annual licences at fifty pounds. -Private lotteries were forbidden by law, and required a special Act of -Parliament to enable them to be drawn. The result was that the only two -private lotteries were the Pigot Diamond in 1800 and Boydell’s pictures -five years later. Lotteries were first drawn at Guildhall and later -at the Coopers’ Hall, and the tickets were taken from the wheels by -Bluecoat boys. The last public lottery took place in October 1826, and -so Mr Sheridan lost his bet. - -On 8th May 1809, “Mr G. Talbot bet Lord Charles Manners ten guineas -that the Duke of Queensberry is not alive this day two years.” Another -entry records that “Mr C. H. Bouverie bets Mr Blackford that the Duke -of Queensberry outlives the Duke of Grafton.” “Lord Mountford bets Sir -John Bland twenty guineas that Nash outlives Cibber.” But the bet was -cancelled, because before either Nash or Cibber died the two wagerers -committed suicide! - -Apparently no subject was thought unfit for a bet. Wagers were made as -to which of two married ladies would first give birth to a live child, -and as to which of two men would marry first. They bet with equal -heartiness on the duration of a Ministry or the life of a Minister, on -a horse, or a dog, or a prize-fight, or a cock-fight. Walpole tells the -story of a simple parson entering White’s on the morning of a severe -earthquake, and hearing bets laid whether the shock was caused by an -earthquake or the blowing up of powder mills, went away in horror, -protesting that they were such an impious set that he believed if the -Last Trump were to sound they would bet puppet-show against Judgment! - -All other English clubs where gaming took place fade into -insignificance before Crockford’s. Crockford was originally a -fishmonger at the old Bulkshop next door to Temple Bar Without, -and later a “leg” at Newmarket. He became part-proprietor of a -gambling-house, and with his partner, at a twenty-four hours’ sitting, -he won a hundred thousand pounds from five punters, including Lord -Thanet, Lord Granville and Ball Hughes. He then built the famous palace -in St James’s Street opposite to White’s. - -“No one can describe the splendour and excitement of the early days of -Crockford’s,” Gronow relates. “A supper of the most exquisite kind, -prepared by the famous Ude, and accompanied by the best wines in the -world, together with every luxury of the season, was provided gratis. -The members of the club included all the celebrities of England, from -the Duke of Wellington to the youngest ensign of the Guards; and at the -gay and festive board, which was constantly replenished from midnight -till early dawn, the most brilliant sallies of wit, the most agreeable -conversation, the most interesting anecdotes, interspersed with grave -political discussions and acute logical reasoning on every conceivable -subject, proceeded from the soldiers, scholars, statesmen, poets, and -men of pleasure, who, when the House was ‘up’ and balls and parties -at an end, delighted to finish their evenings with a little supper -and a good deal of hazard at old Crockey’s. The tone of the club was -excellent. A most gentleman-like feeling prevailed, and none of the -rudeness, familiarity, and ill-breeding which disgrace some of the -minor clubs of the present day would have been tolerated for a moment.” - -The whole establishment was organised on a scale of wonderful -magnificence; and to keep it select, the election of members was -controlled by a committee. Talleyrand, Pozzo di Borgo, General -Alava, Esterhazy, and other ambassadors belonged to it; the Duke of -Wellington, Lord Raglan, Lord Anglesea, Sir Hussey Vivian, Disraeli, -Bulwer, Croker, Horace Twiss, and, as a matter of course, Lord Alvanley -and Count D’Orsay. Though many members never touched a card, Crockford -with his hazard bank won a sum estimated at between one million two -hundred thousand and two million pounds, or, as a contemporary put -it very neatly, “the whole of the ready money of the then existing -generation.” He died worth seven hundred thousand pounds, after having -sustained heavy losses in mining and other speculations. The retirement -of Crockford marks an epoch, for after that date the craze for gambling -on a vast scale slowly but surely died out. By this time, however, it -had done as much harm to the aristocracy as the South Sea Bubble did to -the general public. - - - - - A Forgotten Satirist: “Peter Pindar” - - -The amusing banter of Mr E. V. Lucas and Mr C. L. Graves, and the -delightful parody of Mr Owen Seaman, are the nearest approach that -England can now show to the satirical productions for which it was once -famous. Indeed, we are becoming an amiable race, developing, or at -least feigning, the milk of human kindness to such an extent that even -modern caricature can scarcely be distinguished from portraiture, and -only Mr Max Beerbohm flings the tomahawk of pictorial satire. A study -of the lampoons and the vigorous personal onslaughts in prose and verse -of the Georgian days, however, gives us pause for reflection whether -we refrain from such practices because of our improved manners or -increasing effeminacy: though, perhaps, it may be attributed largely to -the signed review which makes it difficult, in these days of numerous -literary associations, for a sociable or a nervous scholar to gibbet -his erring brethren with an acerbity once general. Certain it is that -current criticism is for the most part the art of saying pleasant -things graciously, while our excursions into the personal element -are usually headed “Appreciations.” Whatever the cause, it is a sad -thought for militant spirits that a wave of politeness has engulfed -the heretofore blunt, outspoken John Bull, that typical figure, of -which--it is pathetic to note in these days of unsuppressed emotion--we -are still so proud. - -The most casual incursion into Georgian history reveals a great mass -of almost forgotten satirical productions, all of it trenchant, most -of it coarse and not a little scurrilous, indeed, but much of it -readable and amusing. There were scores of virile pamphleteers in the -pay of Ministers and Oppositions, as well as a number of independent -writers of lampoons on all sorts and conditions of men and things. -The best of the latter class was Charles Churchill, the famous author -of “The Rosciad” and of those terrible onslaughts on Hogarth and -Sandwich, on Martin and other small fry. His mantle was in due course -assumed by Wolcot, who, though scarcely remembered to-day, was a man -of considerable talent and extensive knowledge, and, though of course -without the genius of his predecessor, was widely read, enjoyed a vast -popularity, and undoubtedly influenced a great body of people. - -John Wolcot, the son of a country surgeon, was born in May 1738. He -was educated at various schools of no great repute, and in the early -twenties paid a lengthy visit to France, for the inhabitants of which -land he conceived the insular prejudice usual in his day: - - “I never will put Merit on the rack: - No; yet, I own, I hate the shrugging dogs. - I’ve lived among them, eat their frogs, - And vomited them up, thank God, again.” - -He studied medicine in London until 1764, when he went as assistant -to his uncle, John Wolcot of Fowey, taking a Scotch Degree of Doctor -of Medicine three years later, immediately after which, his distant -connection, Sir William Trelawny, going to Jamaica as Governor, he -accompanied him as physician. In that island he saw little or no -prospect of securing a paying practice, and paid a flying visit to -England in 1769 to take holy orders. On his return to Jamaica he found -that the lucrative living for which he had been destined, had, contrary -to expectation, not been vacated, whereupon, after holding a minor -clerical post for a few months, he reverted to his old profession, -and obtained the post of physician-general to the troops. Sir William -Trelawny died at Spanish Town in 1772, and Wolcot again came to -England, where he established himself as a doctor at Truro, but, after -disputes with his medical _confrères_ and the Corporation, removed in -1779 to Helstone and then to Exeter. - -Wolcot abandoned the practice of medicine in 1781, when he came -to London, urged to this step partly by the desire to advance the -prospects of his _protégé_, Opie, the painter, and partly by the -desire to establish himself there as a man of letters. The last project -was not so mad as it may have appeared to his country neighbours, for -under the pseudonym of “Peter Pindar” he had already obtained some -success with the publication of a “Poetical Epistle to Reviewers” in -1778, in which he declared: - - “In Sonnet, Ode, and Legendary Tale, - Soon will the press my tuneful Works display.” - -He fulfilled this promise, and in 1782 issued “Lyric Odes to the Royal -Academicians for 1782,” by “Peter Pindar, Esq., a distant relative of -the Poet of Thebes and Laureat to the Academy,” which were at once so -successful, that in quick succession came from his fertile pen, “More -Lyric Odes to the Royal Academicians for 1783,” “Lyric Odes for 1785,” -and, in 1786, “Farewell Odes to Academicians.” These vigorous verses -attracted much attention, for the critic was outspoken in his dislikes, -and lashed with the utmost contempt “George’s idol,” West, and other -fashionable artists; though he showed his discrimination by praising -the works of Gainsborough, Reynolds (“Of whose fine art I own myself a -lover”), and of the unfairly neglected Richard Wilson (“By Britain left -in poverty to pine”): - - “But honest Wilson, never mind; - Immortal praises thou shalt find, - And for a dinner have no cause to fear. - Thou start’st at my prophetic rhymes: - Don’t be impatient for those times; - Wait till thou hast been dead a hundred year.” - -It was not because Wolcot had exhausted this vein (for he returned to -it again and again, even in 1808 having “One more Peep at the Royal -Academy”) that he looked for another theme, but that he discovered, so -long as he wrote on art and artists, let him be never so humorous, he -would have to be content with praise alone for his reward. No man cared -less for money than he, but he certainly thought the labourer worthy -of his hire, and, since he depended for his livelihood on his pen, it -behoved him to select a subject that would appeal to a larger public. -To the exceeding joy of his own and subsequent generations, he decided -to exercise his humour at the expense of the King and Queen, with an -occasional playful blow at a Minister. - -No satirist could ask for better subjects for his wit than George III. -and Queen Charlotte. The slow-witted monarch and his parsimonious -consort offered every conceivable temptation to Wolcot’s nimble humour, -and he was not slow to take advantage of this rare chance. Of course, -he was not the first in the field, but he was head and shoulders over -his rivals in talent and wit, and, if he did not silence, at least he -succeeded in eclipsing them. He was especially fortunate in having -accurate information concerning the internal economy of the royal -palaces, and, though he took a poet’s licence to embroider the facts, -there was always some foundation for his lampoons. Thus, when the King -found a noxious insect in his plate at dinner and gave orders that -everyone in the kitchens, from _chef_ to scullion, should be shaved, -“Peter Pindar” wrote a “heroi-comic poem,” “The Lousiad,” in which he -gave a version of the story. “I had this (incident),” he wrote to a -friend, “from the cooks themselves, with whom I dined several times at -Buckingham House and Windsor, immediately after the ‘shave’ took place.” - - “‘Some spirit whispers that to Cooks I owe - The precious Visitor that crawls below; - Yes, yes, the whispering Spirit tells me true, - And soon that vengeance all the locks pursue. - Cooks, Scourers, Scullions, too, with Tails of Pig, - Shall lose their coxcomb Curls and wear a Wig.’ - Thus roared the King, not Hercules so big; - And all the Palace echoed, ‘Wear a Wig!’” - -So successful was the first canto of “The Lousiad,” which appeared -in 1785, that during the next ten years four additional cantos -were written, in which members of the Household and Ministers were -introduced, scarified and dismissed; but the gem of the collection is -the lengthy “Petition of the Cooks,” which, after references to France, -the Schwellenberg and Wilkes, concludes: - - “‘O King, our Wives are in the Kitchen roaring, - All ready in rebellion now to rise; - They mock our humble methods of imploring, - And bid us guard against a wig surprise: - “_Yours_ is the hair,” they cry, “th’ Almighty gave ye, - And not a King in Christendom should shave you.’” - - ‘Lo! on th’ event the World impatient looks, - And thinks the joke is carried much too far; - Then pray, Sir, listen to your faithful Cooks, - Nor in the Palace breed a Civil War: - Loud roar our Band; and, obstinate as Pigs, - Cry, “Locks and Liberty and damn the Wigs!”’” - -Eventually the attention of the Privy Council was drawn to this poem, -and that body, according to Wolcot, decided to prosecute the author, -and refrained from doing so only when it discovered that the poem had -its foundation in fact. “Are you sure of a verdict?” it is stated -that Chancellor Thurlow inquired; “for, if not so, we shall look -like a parcel of fools.” Huish states emphatically that the idea of -prosecuting the poet did not originate with the King; and Galt says -that the effusions of the satirist produced on George “no other effect -than a smile of wonder at the perverse ingenuity of the man: and the -most serious thing he was ever known to say of them was on the occasion -of Peter’s lampooning General Carpenter, when his Majesty observed, -that ‘for himself he cared nothing; but he was hurt to see a worthy man -calumniated, because he happened to be one of his servants.’ As far as -they were capable of exciting a good-natured laugh, the King enjoyed -that laugh as much as any man; and when they were otherwise, as was -but too often the case, he observed a dignified forbearance, leaving -the author to enjoy all the triumph there might be in making a base -attack on a party whom he knew to be precluded, by his dignity, from -descending into the arena in his own defence.” - -It may, however, he doubted whether Hazlitt was accurate in stating -that “the King as well as the nation delighted in the bard,” for George -had not a spark of humour in his composition, and was the last man in -the nation to take a joke at his own expense in good part. - -If, however, the King suffered in silence, the Queen was determined -not to submit to similar attacks, and her solicitor warned Wolcot that -if he exercised his wit against her Majesty, proceedings would at once -be taken--representations that had the desired effect, although they -furnished the subject for one of Peter’s verses: - - “Great was the Bard’s desire to sing the Queen, - Vast in her soul, majestic in her mien; - But fierce George Hardinge swore, if pens or pen - Of woman, women, man or men, - In any wise or shape, in Ode or Tale, - Dared mention that _superior_ Lady, lo! - The law should deal them _such_ a blow! - Hang, pillory, or confine for life in jail.” - -When the Doctor was once reproved by an acquaintance for the liberties -he took with his sovereign, “I confess there exists this difference -between the King and me,” he replied; “the King has been a good subject -to me, but I have been a bad subject to him.” This he admitted, but -that he was guilty in any sense of serious offence he pooh-poohed: - - “Such is the Song: and do not thou, severe, - With ‘Treason! Treason!’ fill a royal ear; - For gentle jokes, at times, on Queens and Kings, - Are pleasant, taking, nay, _instructive_ things. - Yet _some_ there are who relish not the sport, - That flutter in the sunshine of a Court; - Who, fearful Song might mar their high ambition, - Loose the gaunt Dogs of State, and bawl ‘Sedition.’” - -Wolcot was clever enough usually to take for his verse topics in which -the public were interested, and it was to this acuteness his success -with his contemporaries must be largely attributed. He attacked Lord -Lonsdale when that nobleman showed a great disregard of his neighbour’s -rights, and “expostulated” with Hannah More, when in her “Strictures on -Female Education,” she wrote, “The Poets again, to do them justice, are -always ready to lend a helping hand when any mischief is to be done.” -He inveighed against the strict enforcement of Sunday Observance, which -to some extent resulted from Lady Huntingdon’s petition to the King, -and the Puritanism of the Methodists: - - “‘No,’ roars the Huntingdonian Priest; ‘no, no: - Lovers are liars; love’s a damned trade. - Kissing is damnable; to Hell they go: - The _Devil claws_ away the rogue and jade.’” - -And he gave a fanciful description of the result of the unpopular -Hair-Tax, which, according to him, evoked so much disgust that, “the -male sex have already sacrificed their favourite curls, to disappoint -the rapacity of a minister.” - -[Illustration: _Peter Pindar Esq._] - - “See groups of Hairdressers all idle stand, - A melancholy, mute, and mournful band; - And Barbers _eke_, who lift the crape-clod Pole, - And round and round their eyes of horror roll; - Desponding, pale, like Hosier’s Ghost so white, - Who told their sorrows ’mid the morning light. - But see! each hopeless wight with fury foams; - His curling-irons breaks, and snaps his combs: - Ah! doom’d to shut their _mouths_ as well as _shops_; - For dead is Custom, ’mid the world of _crops_.” - -Wolcot, as a defender of Mrs Fitzherbert, thought no words too strong -in which to express his opinion of those who attacked her, and when -John Rolle introduced the question of her marriage to the Prince of -Wales in the House of Commons, he fell foul of him, and of Pitt, who -supported him: - - “Sick at the name of Rolle (to thee tho’ dear), - The name abhorr’d by Honour’s shrinking ear, - I draw reluctant from thy venal throng, - And give it mention, though it blacks my song. - - How could’st thou bid that Rolle, despised by all, - On helpless beauty, like a mastiff fall; - Then meanly to correct the brute pretend, - And claim the merit of the Fair One’s friend?” - -He had the courage to say a good word for Paine and “The Rights of Man”: - -“O Paine! thy vast endeavour I admire. How brave the hope, to set a -realm on fire! Ambition smiling praised thy giant wish. Compared to -_thee_, the man, to gain a name, Who to Diana’s temple put the flame, A -simple Minnow to the Prince of Fish.” - -He was fearless in his denunciation of the Duke of York, when it -transpired that during the latter’s occupation of the position of -Commander-in-Chief, his mistress had been selling commissions and -offices, and he voiced the public clamour: - - “Heavens, what a dire confusion beauty makes! - The Horse Guards tremble, and old Windsor shakes. - Like bees, the mob around St Stephen’s swarms; - And every street and alley feels alarms: - Men, women, coaches, gigs, each other jostle; - And thou the cause of all this horrid bustle! - Hotels and tap-rooms sound with mingled din, - And every coffee-house is on the grin. - From morn to eve, from eve to midnight dark, - Naught strikes the ear but ‘Duke and Mistress Clarke.’ - Nay, too, the parrot and the simple starling - Cry from their cages naught but ‘Duke and Darling’!” - -When, as a consequence of the inquiry, the Duke resigned, Wolcot drew a -malicious picture of his loneliness: - - “No longer now the Duke excites our wonder, - ’Midst gun, drum, trumpet, blunderbuss and thunder; - Amidst his hosts, no more with rapture dwells - On Congreve’s rockets, and on Shrapnell’s shells; - But quits with scornful mien the field of Mars, - And to Sir David’s genius leaves the wars. - Now in dull Windsor rides the youth is seen; - Now, in dull walks to Frogmore with the Queen; - At Oaklands, where pigs and poultry charm, - Like Cincinnatus on his Sabine farm; - Now, o’er a lonely dish in Stable Yard, - Without a friend, and (strange!) without a card!” - -Wolcot sometimes contrived to combine his attacks upon art and -royalty, as in “Subjects for Painters,” in the introduction to which -he explained that the rage for historical pictures, “so nobly rewarded -by Messieurs Boydell and Macklin,” tempted him to offer subjects that -would be useful when the painters had exhausted Shakespeare and Milton. - - “Pitt trying to unclench Britannia’s fist, - Imploring money for a King; - Telling _most mournful_ tales of Civil List, - The Lady’s _tender_ heart to wring: - - Tales of expense in doctors’ bills, - High price of blisters, boluses, and pills; - Long journey to Saint Paul’s t’_oblige_ the Nation, - And give thanks for Restoration:-- - Britannia, with arch look the while, - Partaking strongly of a smile, - Pointing to that huge Dome,[15] the Nation’s wealth; - Where _people_ sometimes place their Cash by _stealth_, - And, all so modest with their secret store, - Inform the World they’re _poor_, ah! _very poor_!” - -[15] The Bank of England. - -As a rule, however, Wolcot directed his lampoons against the King, -whose foibles he most unmercifully laid bare. He was never weary of -decrying a monarch who preferred farming to art, and whose economies -were a source of scandal to the whole nation. It is said that the -bitterness on this latter score arose from the King having purchased a -picture from a friend of the satirist and having given him only half -the market value. This, indeed, was only one instance out of many of -George’s meanness. He would put an artist to the expense of bringing -his pictures to Windsor, and not offer to pay the carriage, even when, -in the case of one such command, the cost was twenty-five pounds. He -would invite eminent singers and actors to perform at Court functions -and give them never a sou, thinking the honour sufficient reward. - - “At length the Actress ceased to read and spout, - Where Generosity’s a crying Sin: - Her curtsey dropp’d, was nodded to; came out. - So rich! How rich? As rich as she went in. - - Should Mara call it cruelty, and blame - Such royal conduct, I’d cry, Fie upon her! - To Mistress Siddons freely say the same: - Sufficient for _such people_ is the _honour_.” - -Wolcot was never weary of harping upon this unroyal quality that was -common to both the sovereigns. He returned to it in the “Odes to Kien -Long, Emperor of China.” - - “Give nothing from the Privy Purse away, I say: - Nay, should thy coffers and thy bags run o’er; - Neglect, or pension Merit on the Poor. - Give not to Hospitals; thy Name’s enough: - To death-face Famine, not a pinch of snuff. - On Wealth, thy Quarry, keep a Falcon-view, - And from the very children steal their due!” - -The King’s love of farming for profit--a king with a Civil List of -eight hundred thousand pounds and occasional special grants amounting -to millions--was a subject much discussed, and not likely to escape the -attention of our satirist. - - “... the note is, ‘How go sheep a score? - What, what’s the price of Bullocks? How sells Lamb? - I want a Boar, a Boar, I want a Boar; - I want a Bull, a Bull; I want a Ram!’ - Whereas it should be this: ‘I want a Bard, - To cover him with honour and reward.’” - -Indeed, nothing that the King did was allowed to pass without comment. -Did he go to Weymouth, “Peter Pindar” accompanied him in spirit: - - “See! Cæsar’s off: the dust around him hovers; - And gathering, lo, the King of Glory covers! - The Royal hubbub fills both eye and ear, - And wide-mouth’d Wonder marks the wild career.” - -Did George visit Samuel Whitebread’s brewery, the event was duly -recorded: - - “Now moved the King, Queen, and Princesses, so grand, - To visit the first Brewer in the land; - Who sometimes swills his beer and grinds his meat, - In a snug corner christen’d Chiswell Street; - But oftener, charmed with _fashionable_ air, - Amidst the gaudy Great of Portman Square.” - -Popular as such verses were, and wide as was their circulation, they -were easily eclipsed in both respects by those in which the stupidity -of the King was chronicled, and people, being so much amused by them, -forgot that the foundation of truth was often so built upon as to -obscure it. “Peter Pindar” was in his element poking fun at George’s -ignorance, as shown when looking through Lord Pembroke’s treasures at -Wilton House. - - “‘Who’s this? Who’s this? Who’s this fine fellow here?’ - ‘Sesostris,’ bowing low, replied the Peer. - ‘_Sir Sostris_, hey? _Sir Sostris?_ ‘Pon my word! - Knight or a Baronet, my Lord? - One of _my making_? what, my Lord, _my making_?’ - . . . . . . . . . . . . . - ‘Pray, pray, my Lord, who’s that big fellow there?’ - ‘’Tis Hercules,’ replied the _shrinking_ Peer. - ‘Strong fellow, hey, my Lord? strong fellow, hey? - Clean’d stables; crack’d a Lion like a flea; - Kill’d Snakes, great Snakes, that in a cradle found him--The - Queen, Queen’s coming: wrap an apron round him.’” - -The best thing that Wolcot ever wrote, and one that provoked a laugh -all over England, was “The King and the Apple-Dumplings,” in which -he described George’s astonishment at first seeing a dumpling, one of -which he took into his hand to examine: - - “‘’Tis monstrous, monstrous hard, indeed,’ he cried: - ‘What makes it, pray, so hard?’ The Dame replied, - Low curtseying, ‘Please your Majesty, the Apple!’ - - ‘Very astonishing indeed! Strange thing!’ - (Turning the Dumpling round, rejoined the King). - ‘’Tis most extraordinary then, all this is; - It beats Pinetti’s conjuring all to pieces: - Strange I should never of a Dumpling dream! - But, Goody, tell me where, where, where’s the seam?’ - - ‘Sir, there’s no Seam,’ quoth she, ‘I never knew - That folks did Apple-Dumplings _sew_.’ - ‘No!’ said the staring Monarch with a grin: - ‘How, how the devil got the Apple in?’” - -Since it was thought unwise to prosecute Wolcot, after a time an -endeavour was made to silence him by gentler means, and, through the -instrumentality of Yorke, the Government offered the satirist a pension -of three hundred a year, at which he professed to be much astonished: - - “Great is the shout indeed, Sir, all abroad, - That you have order’d me this handsome thing; - On which, with lifted eyes, I’ve said, ‘Good God! - Though great my merits, yet how great the King!’ - - And yet, believe me, Sir, I lately heard - That all your doors were doubly lock’d and barr’d - Against the Poet for his tuneful art; - And that the tall, stiff, stately, red Machines, - Your Grenadiers, the guards of Kings and Queens, - Were ordered all to stab me to the heart: - - That if to the House of Buckingham I came, - Commands were given to Mistress Brigg, - A comely, stout, two-handed Dame, - To box my ears and pull my wig; - The Cooks to spit me; curry me, the Grooms; - And Kitchen queans to baste me with their brooms. - - You’re told that in my ways I’m very evil; - So ugly, fit to travel for a show; - And that I loot all grimly where I go, - Just like a devil; - With horns, and tail, and hoop, that make folks start, - And in my breast a Mill-stone for a Heart.” - -Nothing came of the proposal, for it fell through owing to a difference -of opinion as to the conditions which it would carry with it. - - “This pension was well meant, O glorious King, - And for the Bard a very pretty thing: - But let me, Sir, refuse it, I implore; - I ought not to be rich while you are poor. - No, Sir, I cannot be your humble Hack: - I fear your Majesty would break my back.” - -Wolcot then made a bid for the favour of the Prince of Wales in the -“Expostulatory Odes.” - - “Elate, to Carlton House my rhymes I sent, - Before the Poem met the public eye: - Which gain’d _applause_, the Poet’s great intent - But naught _besides_, I say it with a sigh.” - -Thereafter, but not necessarily because of this, he found the Prince -nearly as useful a subject for his scathing verses as the King, and -when the former was appointed Regent, “Peter Pindar” was ready with -“The Royal First-Born, or, The Baby out of his Leading Strings.” - - “The P[rince] he promised to _be good_, - And do as every R[egen]t should, - Nor give vile slander cause to say things: - He owned with grief his conduct _wildish_, - And swore no longer to be _childish_, - But part with his _Imperial Playthings_. - - This is the day when Britain’s pride - Shall throw his leading-strings aside, - And pass a solemn confirmation; - And, being now arrived at age, - From hence shall for himself engage - To do his duty to the nation. - - No longer like a baby toss - The bold M[aho]n as his ball, - Make S[heri]d[a]n his rocking horse, - Himself a laughing stock for all. - - When he no more in many a frolic - Shall give to Decency the Cholic, - Hang Truth in his imperial garters, - Butchers good-breeding at a jerk, - And crucify (O Parricide and Turk!) - Poor Virtue and Morality, like Martyrs.” - -He often returned to administer castigation to the Prince, whose -profligacies were notorious, and when the heir-apparent was said to be -suffering from a sprained ankle, he voiced the general opinion that the -confinement was the result of a thrashing from Lord Yarmouth, whose -wife had been insulted by “The First Gentleman of Europe.” - - “Ye Princes, as you love your lives, - Ne’er meddle with _your neighbours’ wives_, - But keep your brittle hearts from tripping; - Lest some rude _Lord_, to scare beholders, - Should compliment your princely shoulders, - With such another _royal_ whipping. - So let us sing, Long live the King, - The Regent long live he; - And when again he gets a _sprain_, - May I be there to see.” - -Wolcot’s sight began to fail, and in 1811 he was nearly blind, but he -still contrived to continue his literary work almost until his death, -which took place on 14th January 1819. By his express desire he was -buried in St Paul’s Church, Covent Garden, by the side of the coffin -which contained the mortal remains of Samuel Butler, of whom, perhaps, -and not without some reason, he considered himself a humble disciple. - -He was a very sane man, sensible of his limitations, and not given -to value his work unduly. Indeed, in his first work, “The Epistle to -Reviewers,” he stated the position to which he aspired: - - “I am no cormorant for Fame, d’ye see; - I ask not _all_ the laurel, but a _sprig_: - Then hear me, Guardian of the sacred Tree, - And stick a Leaf or two about my wig.” - -At the same time, he was by no means inclined to hide his light under -a bushel, and his verses contain many deliberately humorous references -to his talents. “Had I not stepped forward as the Champion of my own -Merit (which is deemed so necessary now-a-days for the obtention of -public notice, not only by Authors, but by tête-makers, perfumers, -elastic truss and Parliament-speech makers, &c., who, in the daily -newspapers, are the heralds of _their own_ splendid abilities),” he -wrote in “Subjects for Painters,” “I might possibly be passed by -without observation; and thus a great part of a poetical Immortality be -sacrificed to a pitiful _mauvaise honte_.” - -Of course he made many enemies, as every satirist must, but he bore -attacks unflinchingly, as, indeed, every satirist should. - - “Great are my Enemies in Trade, God knows: - There’s not a Poet but would stop my note; - With such a world of Spite their venom flows, - With such _good-will_ the knaves would cut my throat.” - -As a rule he treated his revilers with good-humoured banter, but once a -critic raised his ire by an unmerciful attack on his “Nil Admirari, or, -A Smile at a Bishop,” in _The Anti-Jacobin_, in which he was styled, -“this disgraceful subject, the profligate reviler of his sovereign -and impudent blasphemer of his God.” Gifford at once issued as a -counterblast, “An Epistle to Peter Pindar,” the savagery of which made -the subject so sore that he endeavoured to thrash the author, who, -however, had the best of the struggle. - - “False fugitive! back to thy vomit flee-- - Troll the lascivious song, the fulsome glee; - Truck praise for lust, hunt infant genius down, - Strip modest merit of its last half-crown; - Blow from thy mildew’d lips, on virtue blow, - And blight the goodness thou canst never know. - . . . . . . . . . . . . - But what is he that with a Mohawk’s air, - Cries havock, and lets slip the dogs of war? - A blotted mass, a gross unkneaded clod, - A foe to man, a renegade from God, - From noxious childhood to pernicious age, - Separate to infamy, through every stage.” - -Yet the man of whom these words were spoken was described by his -friends as of “a kind and hearty disposition,” with little or no malice -in his composition, a lover of flowers, music and art. Not even his -blindness or the infirmities of age soured his temper, and in his last -years he said to Cyrus Redding, “You have seen something of life in -your time. See and learn all you can more. You will fall back upon it -when you grow old--an old fool is an inexcusable fool to himself and -others--store up all; our acquirements are most useful when we become -old.” Yet he did not suffer age gladly, and when on his death-bed John -Taylor asked, “Is there anything I can do for you?” the reply--Wolcot’s -last words on earth--came. “Bring me back my youth.” - -“The historian of _Sir Joseph Banks_ and _The Emperor of Morocco_, -of the _Pilgrims and the Peas_, of the _Royal Academy_, and of _Mr -Whitebread’s Brewing-Vat_, the bard in whom the nation and the King -delighted,” Hazlitt wrote the year before the satirist died, “is old -and blind, but still merry and wise; remembering how he has made the -world laugh in his time, and not repenting of the mirth he has given; -with an involuntary smile lighted up at the mad pranks of his Muse, -and the lucky hits of his pen-- ‘faint pictures of those flashes of -his spirit, that were wont to set the table in a roar’; like his own -expiring taper, bright and fitful to the last; tagging a rhyme or -conning his own epitaph; and waiting for the last summons, grateful -and contented.” Indeed, while the coarseness and offensiveness of many -of Wolcot’s works must be admitted and deplored, it is impossible -not to like the man, for he was such a jovial wight, so well able to -appreciate a joke against himself and ready to join in the laugh, a -very prince of good fellows in an age of less severe restrictions in -taste and morality. - - - - - Sterne’s Eliza - - -Not Swift so loved his Stella, Scarron his Maintenon, or Waller his -Sacharissa, as I will love, and sing thee, my bride elect! All these -names, eminent as they were, shall give place to thine, Eliza.” Thus -Sterne in a letter to Mrs Elizabeth Draper, written in the early part -of the year 1767; and though, in spite of this fervent protestation, -not Stella, nor Maintenon, nor Sacharissa has paled before Eliza, yet -most assuredly Eliza has come to be ranked with them among the heroines -of romance. - -Of the antecedents of Mrs Draper nothing apparently was generally -known to writers on the subject until 1897, when Mr Thomas Seccombe, -in the article in the _Dictionary of National Biography_ on William -Sclater, Rector of Pitminster, showed that her descent could be traced -from William’s father, Anthony. Anthony Sclater, born in 1520, was -appointed in 1570 Rector of Leighton Buzzard, which benefice he held -until his death in 1620, when he was succeeded in this clerical office -by a younger son, Christopher. Christopher’s son William served in the -Civil Wars as a Cornet of Horse, and subsequently entered the Church. -He was presented in 1666 to the living of St James’s, Clerkenwell, and -later became Rector of Hadley. He died in 1690, having outlived by five -years his son Francis. Francis had a son Christopher, born in 1679, -who held the livings of Loughton and Chingford, in Essex, married in -1707 Elizabeth, daughter of John May, of Working, Hants, and by her -had thirteen children. The tenth son, May, born on 29th October 1719, -went out to India, probably as a cadet in the service of the East -India Company, and there married a Miss Whitehall, who bore him three -daughters, Elizabeth (Sterne’s Eliza), born on 5th April 1744, Mary, -and Louisa. The only other children of Christopher with which this -narrative is concerned are Elizabeth, who married Dr Thomas Pickering, -Vicar of St Sepulchre’s, and Richard, the fourth son, born in 1712, who -became an alderman of the City of London.[16] - -[16] From Alderman Richard Sclater is descended the present Lord -Basing, by whose generous courtesy the present writer has had access -to the unpublished letters, preserved at Hoddington House, written -from India by Elizabeth Sclater, afterwards Mrs Draper, to members of -her family in England. Passages from these letters are printed in this -article. - -When his daughters were born, May Sclater was factor of Anjengo, on the -Malabar coast, and it was long assumed that his girls were brought up -there. Even so late as 1893, Mr James Douglas, the author of “Bombay -and Western India,” gave credence to the legend, and after stating that -there were very few Europeans at Anjengo, “it seems a marvel,” he -added, “how, never having been in Europe, Eliza should yet have been -able to carry herself and attract so much attention there from men -who, whatever were their morals, claimed a first position in society -and letters.” However, as a matter of fact, like most children born in -India of English parents, Eliza and her sisters were at an early age -sent home for the sake of their health. - -In England Eliza stayed alternately with her aunt, Mrs Pickering, and -with her uncle, Richard, for whose eldest children, Thomas Mathew and -Elizabeth, she conceived an enduring affection. Not until she was in -her fourteenth year did she return to her father, now a widower, and -she arrived two days after Christmas, 1757, at Bombay, where he then -resided. - -“I was never half so much rejoiced at going to any ball in my life -as when we first saw the land,” (she wrote to her cousin in England, -Elizabeth Sclater, 13th March 1758). “The Dutch people are white, but -their servants are all black, they wear nothing at all about them but -a little piece of rag about their waist which to us at first appeared -very shocking.” - -“My Papa’s house is the best in Bombay, and where a great deal of -company comes every day after dinner.” - -Among the company that came to May Sclater’s house was Daniel Draper, -who, entering the East India Company’s service in or about 1749, had in -the intervening nine years risen to a fairly good position. In those -days lads went out to India at an early age, and Draper, in 1757, may -well have been no more than thirty, though Dr Sidney Lee has suggested -that he was at least four years older. Draper fell in love with Eliza, -and married her on 28th July 1758, she being then but fourteen. Such -marriages, however, were not then uncommon in India. Two children were -born of this union, a boy in 1759, and a girl in October 1761. - -Mrs Draper suffered from ill-health, and in 1765, with her husband -and children, she came to England. The children were taken to an -establishment at Enfield, where Anglo-Indian children were cared -for during the absence of their parents in the tropical zone, and -presently Draper had to return to his post in Bombay. Mrs Draper, -however, remained in England to recover her strength. She stayed with -relatives of her mother and father, but with her movements we are not -here concerned until she was temporarily domiciled in London during -the winter of 1766. It was not until December of that year that she -met Sterne, probably at the town house in Gerrard Street, Soho, of -William James and his wife--the “Mr and Mrs J.” of Sterne’s published -correspondence. - -William James, Commodore of the Bombay Marine, having amassed a fortune -by prize-money and mercantile enterprises, retired from the service -at the age of eight and thirty, and came to England in 1759, when he -purchased an estate at Eltham, near Blackheath, and married Anne, -daughter of Edmund Goddard, of Hartham, in Wiltshire. Presently he -became chairman of the East India Company, and in 1778, five years -before his death, he was made a baronet. When Sterne first became -acquainted with the Jameses cannot now be determined, but probably it -was not earlier than after his return from the second visit to the -Continent. It is evident, however, that he was on very intimate terms -with them at the end of 1766, as his references to them in his letters -to Mrs Draper show, though they are mentioned for the first time to his -daughter, then with her mother at Marseilles, in a letter dated 23rd -February 1767. In this letter we learn that the gossips were already -busy coupling Sterne’s name with Mrs Draper’s. - -“I do not wish to know who was the busy fool, who made your mother -uneasy about Mrs Draper. ’Tis true I have a friendship for her, but -not to infatuation--I believe I have judgment enough to discern hers, -and every woman’s faults. I honour thy mother for her answer--‘that she -wished not to be informed, and begged him to drop the subject.’” - -Nor was Mrs Sterne’s informant the only person who disapproved of the -relations of Sterne and Mrs Draper. - -“The ----’s, by heavens, are worthless! I have heard enough to tremble -at the articulation of the name.--How could you, Eliza, leave them -(or suffer them to leave you, rather), with impressions the least -favourable? I have told thee enough to plant disgust against their -treachery to thee, to the last hour of thy life! Yet still, thou -toldest Mrs James at last, that thou believest they affectionately -love thee.--Her delicacy to my Eliza, and true regard to her ease -of mind, have saved thee from hearing more glaring proofs of their -baseness.--For God’s sake write not to them; nor foul thy fair -character with such polluted hearts. _They_ love thee! What proof? Is -it their actions that say so? or their zeal for those attachments, -which do thee honour, and make thee happy? or their tenderness for thy -fame? No.--But they _weep_, and say _tender things_.--Adieu to such -for ever. Mrs James’s honest heart revolts against the idea of ever -returning them one visit. I honour her, and I honour thee, for almost -every act of thy life, but this blind partiality for an unworthy being.” - -The remonstrances of these friends of Eliza were not so outrageous as -Sterne deemed them. There was, indeed, some ground for gossip, though -perhaps not for scandal--enough, certainly, to alarm people interested -in the lady: Sterne’s visits to Mrs Draper were too frequent, and Mrs -Draper was so indiscreet as to visit Sterne at his lodgings in Old -Bond Street and dine there with him _tête-à-tête_. There has been -much discussion as to whether the relations of the Brahmin and the -Brahmine, as they loved to call each other, were innocent or guilty; -but there can be no doubt that the intimacy was not carried to the -last extreme. “I have had no commerce whatever with the sex--not -even with my wife--these fifteen years,” Sterne told his physicians -shortly after Eliza had returned to India. This in itself would not be -conclusive evidence, though there could have been no reason for him to -lie to these people; but the fact that he wrote down this conversation -in a Journal intended exclusively for the eye of Mrs Draper makes -it certain that his assertion was accurate--at least, so far as he -and she were concerned. A man would scarcely trouble falsely to tell -his mistress in confidence that he had had no intimacy with her. The -Jameses most certainly believed in the innocence of the friendship, -else they could scarcely have countenanced it; and not even Thackeray, -who shares with John Croft the distinction of being Sterne’s most -envenomed critic, could have believed that the following letter -(whether ultimately despatched or not) could have been written by a -guilty man. - - LAURENCE STERNE TO DANIEL DRAPER - -“Sir, I own it, Sir, that the writing a Letter to a gentleman I have -not the honour to be known to, and a Letter likewise upon no kind of -business (in the Ideas of the World) is a little out of the common -course of Things--but I’m so myself--and the Impulse which makes me -take up my pen is out of the Common way too--for it arises from the -honest pain I should feel in avowing in so great esteem and friendship -as I bear Mrs Draper--If I did not wish and hope to extend it to Mr -Draper also. I fell in Love with your Wife--but ’tis a Love you would -honour me for--for ’tis so like that I bear my own daughter who is a -good creature, that I scarce distinguish a difference betwixt it--the -moment I had--that Moment would have been the last. I wish it had been -in my power to have been of true use to Mrs Draper at this Distance -from her best Protector--I have bestowed a great deal of pains (or -rather I should say pleasure) upon her head--her heart needs none--and -her head as little as any Daughter of Eve’s--and indeed less than any -it has been my fate to converse with for some years.--I wish I could -make myself of any Service to Mrs Draper whilst she is in India--and I -in the world--for worldly affairs I could be of none.--I wish you, dear -Sir, many years’ happiness. ’Tis a part of my Litany to pray for her -health and Life--She is too good to be lost--and I would out of pure -zeal take a pilgrimage to Mecca to seek a Medicine.”[17] - -[17] British Museum, Add. MSS. 34527. - -If the intimacy was, as is here contended, not carried to the last -extreme, there is no doubt of the vigour with which Sterne and -his Brahmine flirted, and therefore Sterne cannot be acquitted of -insincerity when he wrote to Daniel Draper that he looked upon Eliza as -a daughter. But if there is little that is paternal in the few letters -of his to Mrs Draper that have been preserved, on the other hand there -is nothing from which the conclusion of undue intimacy can be built up. - -It may be taken for granted that Mrs Draper’s feelings were not very -deeply engaged by Sterne. A woman of three and twenty does not often -find such enduring attraction in a man of four and fifty as a man of -that age does in a woman more than thirty years his junior. But Sterne -had fame and undoubted powers of fascination, and Mrs Draper had in her -composition an innocent vanity that induced her to encourage him. The -homage of one of the most famous men in England was a compliment not -lightly to be ignored; and, being flattered, Eliza, unhappy at home, -was far from unwilling to enjoy herself abroad. She was clever and -bright--perhaps a little bitter, too, remembering that she had been -married before she was old enough to know what marriage meant, to a man -with uncongenial tastes, dour, and bad-tempered. It is to her credit -that she never told Sterne of her marital infelicity, though candid -friends left him in no doubt as to her relations with her husband. “Mrs -James sunk my heart with an infamous account of Draper and his detested -character,” Sterne wrote in the “Journal to Eliza” on 17th April 1767, -a few weeks after the lady to whom it was addressed had sailed for -India. - -Eliza is a figure so fascinating to the world interested in the -personal side of literary history that a few pages may perhaps be -devoted to tracing her life after her acquaintance with Sterne. She -was undoubtedly an attractive woman, and made conquest of others than -the author of “Tristram Shandy” during this visit to England. The -Abbé Raynal, a man about the same age as Sterne, fell a victim to -her charms, and expressed his passion in a strange and wild piece of -bombast, which he inserted in the second edition of his “History of the -Indies.” - -It was not only to men of middle age that Mrs Draper appealed, for her -cousin and playmate of her youth, Thomas Mathew Sclater, was one of -her most devoted admirers. That she was fascinating may be taken for -granted, but wherein lay her attractiveness is not so clear. Raynal -laid more stress on the qualities of her mind than on her appearance. -Sterne, too, by his own not too artless confession, was in the first -instance drawn to her by something other than her good looks. - -“I have just returned from our dear Mrs James’s, where I have been -talking of thee for three hours” (he wrote to her when they had -become well acquainted). “She has got your picture, and likes it; but -Marriot, and some other judges, agree that mine is the better, and -expressive of a sweeter character. But what is that to the original? -yet I acknowledge that hers is a picture for the world, and mine -is calculated only to please a very sincere friend, or sentimental -philosopher.--In the one, you are dressed in smiles, and with all -the advantage of silks, pearls, and ermine;--in the other, simple -as a vestal--appearing the good girl nature made you: which, to me, -conveys an idea of more unaffected sweetness, than Mrs Draper, habited -for conquest, in a birthday suit, with her countenance animated, and -her dimples visible.--If I remember right, Eliza, you endeavoured to -collect every charm of your person into your face, with more than -_common_ care, the day you sat for Mrs James.--Your colour, too, -brightened; and your eyes shone with more than usual brilliancy. I -then requested you to come simple and unadorned when you sat for -me--knowing (as I see with _unprejudiced_ eyes) that you could receive -no addition from the silk-worm’s aid, or jeweller’s polish. Let me -now tell you a truth, which, I believe, I have uttered before. When I -first saw you, I beheld you as an object of compassion, and as a very -plain woman. The mode of your dress (though fashionable) disfigured -you. But nothing now could render you such, but the being solicitous -to make yourself admired as a handsome one.--You are not handsome, -Eliza, nor is yours a face that will please the tenth part of your -beholders--but are something more; for I scruple not to tell you, I -never saw so intelligent, so animated, so good a countenance; nor was -there (nor ever will be) that man of sense, tenderness, and feeling, in -your company three hours, that was not (or will not be) your admirer, -or friend, in consequence of it; that is, if you assume, or assumed, no -character foreign to your own, but appeared the artless being nature -designed you for. A something in your eyes, and voice, you possess in -a degree more persuasive than any woman I ever saw, read, or heard of. -But it is that bewitching sort of nameless excellence that men of nice -sensibility alone can be touched with.” - -While all are agreed that Mrs Draper had beauty of expression rather -than perfectly formed features, there was given a description of her as -having “an appearance of artless innocence, a transparent complexion, -consequent upon delicate health, but without any sallowness, brilliant -eyes, a melodious voice, an intellectual countenance, unusually -lighted up with much animation and expressing a sweet gentleness of -disposition.”[18] She had, we are told, engaging manners and numerous -accomplishments. She talked well and wrote well, and could play -the piano and the guitar. Her faults were a tendency to pecuniary -extravagance and a liking for admiration--which latter trait, in her -correspondence, she admitted and bewailed. She was also, it must be -admitted, a most arrant flirt. - -[18] _Bombay Quarterly Review_, January 1857, p. 191. The article is -anonymous, and can scarcely have been written by one who knew Mrs -Draper, though he may well have been acquainted with those who had. - - MRS DRAPER TO HER COUSIN, THOMAS MATHEW SCLATER - - “_Earl Chatham_, May 2nd, 1767. - (Off Santiago.) - -“... From the vilest spot of earth I ever saw, and inhabited by the -ugliest of Beings--I greet my beloved cousin--St Jago the place--a -charming passage to it--fair winds and fine weather all the way. -Health, too, my friend, is once more returned to her enthusiastic -votary. I am all Life, air, and spirits--who’d have thought -it--considering me in the light of an Exile. And how do you, my -Sclater?--and how sat the thoughts of my departure on your Eyes? and -how the reality of it? I want you to answer me a thousand questions, -yet hope not for an answer to them for many, many months. I am.... -Did you receive a letter I wrote you from the Downs, with a copy of -one enclosed from Sterne to me with his sermons and ‘Shandy’? I sent -such to you, notwithstanding the Bagatelle airs I give myself--my -heart heaves with sighs, and my eyes betray its agitating emotions, -every time I think of England and my valuable connections there--ah, -my Sclater, I almost wish I had not re-visited that charming country, -or that it had been my fate to have resided in it for ever, but in the -first instance the Lord’s will be done, mine I hope may be accomplished -in the second.” - - MRS DRAPER TO THOMAS MATHEW SCLATER - - “_Earl Chatham_, November 29th, 1767. - (Off the Malabar Coast.) - -“They all tell me I’m so improved--nothing--I say to what I was in -England--nobody can contradict the assertion--and if it adds to my -consequence, you know--it is good policy. Always self to be the -subject of your pen (you say) Eliza--why not, my dear cousin? Why -have I not as good a right to tell you of my perfections as Montaigne -had to divulge to the World he loved white wine better than red? with -several other Whims, Capricios, bodily complaints, infirmities of -temper, &c., &c.--of the old Gascoignes, not but I love his essays -better than most modern ones--and think those that have branded -him with the name of Egotist--deserve to be Debar’d the pleasure of -speaking of--or looking at themselves--how is it we love to laugh, -and yet we do not often approve the person who feeds that voracious -passion? Human nature this! vile rogue!--’tis a bad picture--however -there’s a great resemblance.... Once a year is tax enough on a tender -Conscience, to sit down premeditatedly to write fibs--and let it not -enter your imagination that you are to correspond with me in such -terms as your heart dictates. No, my dear Sclater--such a conduct -though perfectly innocent (and to me worth all the studied periods of -Labour’d Eloquence) would be offensive to my Husband--whose humour -I now am resolved to study--and if possible conform to if the most -punctilious attention--can render me necessary to his happiness ... be -so--Honour--prudence--and the interest of my beloved children ... and -the necessary Sacrifice--and _I will make it_. Opposing his will will -not do--let me now try, if the conforming to it, in every particular -will better my condition--it is my wish, Sclater--it is my ambition -(indeed it is)--to be more distinguished as a good wife than as the -agreeable woman I am in your partial Eyes even--’tis true I have -vanity enough to think I have understanding sufficient to give laws -to my Family, but as that cannot be, and Providence for wise purposes -constituted the male the Head--I will endeavour to act an underpart -with grace. ‘Where much is given, much is required.’ I will think of -this proverb and learn humility.” - -[Illustration: _Laurence Sterne_] - - MRS DRAPER TO HER AUNT, MRS PICKERING - - “Bombay, High Meadow, _March 21st, 1768_. - -“I found my Husband in possession of health, and a good post. -Providence will, I hope, continue to him the blessing of the one and -the Directors at home, that of the other. My agreeable sister is now -a widow, and so much improved in mind and person, as to be a very -interesting object. May she be so far conscious of her own worth as to -avoid throwing herself away a second time.” - - MRS DRAPER TO THOMAS MATHEW SCLATER - - “Tellichery, _May 1769_. - -“Mr D. has lost his beneficial post at Bombay, and is, by order of the -Company, now Chief in one of the Factories subordinate to it. This was -a terrible blow to us at first, but use has in some measure reconciled -the mortifying change, though we have no prospect of acquiring such an -independence here as will enable us to settle in England for many, very -many years, as the country for some time has been the seat of war, and -still continues subject to frequent alarms from the growing power of an -ambitious usurper. I’ve no doubt but a general massacre of the English -will ensue, if he once more visits this coast. Our fortifications -are a wretched burlesque upon such. Troops not better soldiers than -trained Bands, and too few in number to cope with so able a general and -politician. - -“I was within an hour once of being his prisoner, and cannot say but -I thought it a piece of good fortune to escape that honour, though he -has promised to treat all English ladies well that cheerfully submit to -the laws of his seraglio. The way of life I’m now in is quite new to -me, but not utterly unpleasant. I’m by turns the wife of a Merchant, -Soldier, and Innkeeper, for in such different capacities is the Chief -of Tellichery destined to act. The War is a bar to Commerce, yet I -do a great deal of business in the mercantile way, as my husband’s -amanuensis. You know his inability to use the pen, and as he has lost -his Clerks and Accountant, without any prospect of acquiring others, -I’m necessitated to pass the greatest part of my time in his office, -and consent to do so, as it gives me consequence and him pleasure. -I really should not be unhappy here if the Motive for which we left -England could be as easily accomplished as at Bombay, but that cannot -be without an advantageous place--then indeed we should do very well. - -“The country is pleasant and healthy (a second Montpelier), our house -(a fort and property of the Company) a magnificent one, furnished, -too, at our Master’s expense, and the allowance for supporting it -creditably, what you would term genteelly, though it does not defray -the charge of Liquors, which alone amount to six hundred a year, -and such a sum, vast as it seems, does not seem extravagant in our -situation. For we are obliged to keep a public table, and six months in -the year have a full house of shipping Gentry, that resort to us for -traffic and intelligence from all parts of India, China, and Asia. Our -Society at other times is very confined, as it only consists of a few -factors, and two or three families: and such we cannot expect great -intercourse with on account of the heavy rains and terrible thunder -with lightning to which this Coast is peculiarly subject six months in -the year.... I flatter myself I’m beloved by such of the Malabars as -are within reach of my notice. I was born upon their coast, which is an -argument in my favour.... I never go out without a guard of six Sepoys -(Mahomedan soldiers) armed with drawn sabres and loaded pistols, as -some of the natives are treacherous and might be induced to insult a -woman of _my Consequence_ without a Veil.” - - MRS DRAPER TO THOMAS MATHEW SCLATER - - “Surat, _April 5th, 1771_. - -“... I received your affectionate letter, my dear Coz, and I prophecy -that I shall answer it very stupidly for I danced last night--supped -on a cool terrace, and sat up till three o’clock this morning. This -may appear nothing very extraordinary to you, my spirits and love of -the graceful movement considered, but it was a very great undertaking, -the climate, my plan of temperance and exercise considered; for you -must know that I find it necessary to live simply mechanical, in order -to preserve the remains of a broken constitution and some traces of -my former appearance. I rise with the lark daily, and as constantly -amble some eight or sixteen miles--after the fox too, occasionally, but -field sports have something Royal with them here. What think you of -hunting the Antelope with Leopards? This I have frequently done, and a -noble diversion it is. Early hours and abstemious Diet are absolutely -necessary to the possession of health in India, and I generally -conform to the one, and invariably practise the other. Ten or eleven -o’clock at the latest, is the usual time of retiring, and soup or -vegetables with sherbet and milk constitutes the whole of my regimen. -Still I cannot acquire anything like confirmed health or strength here; -but if this mode of living preserves my being, my cheerfulness and -natural disposition to make the best of things will I hope teach me to -bear it.... At least I will not thro’ any fault of my own, return to -Europe with the dregs of life only, but endeavour by every honest means -to preserve such a position of animating spirit as may qualify me for -the character of an agreeable companion; and then, who knows but cool -weather, fashionable society and the animating presence of those I love -may enable me - - ‘Formed by their converse happily to steer - From grave to gay, from lively to severe.’ - -“Do you know that I begin to think all praise foreign but that of -true desert. It was not always so, but this same solitude produces -reflection, and reflection is good. - -“It is an enemy to everything that is not founded on truth, -consequently I grow fond of my own approbation and endeavour to deserve -it by such a mode of thinking and acting as may enable me to acquire -it. Seriously, my dear Sclater, I believe I shall one day be a good -moralist.” - - MRS DRAPER TO MRS RICHARD SCLATER - - “Bombay, _February 6th, 1772_. - -“I cannot say that we have any immediate hopes of returning to England -as independent people. India is not what it was, my dear Madam, nor is -even a moderate fortune to be acquired here, without more assiduity and -time than the generality of English persons can be induced to believe -or think of as absolutely necessary; but this Idea, painful as it is -to many adventurers who’ve no notion of the difficulties they are to -encounter in the road to wealth, would not affect me considerably, if -I had not some very material reasons for wishing to leave the Climate -expeditiously. My health is much prejudiced by a Residence in it, my -affection for an only child, strongly induces me to bid farewell to it -before it is too late to benefit by a change of scene. Mr Draper will -in all probability be obliged to continue here some years longer, but, -as to myself, I hope to be permitted to call myself an inhabitant of -your country before I am two years older.” - - MRS DRAPER TO MRS ANNE JAMES - - “Bombay, _April 15th, 1772_. - -“You wonder, my dear, at my writing to Becket--I’ll tell you why I -did so. I have heard some Anecdotes extremely disadvantageous to -the Characters of the Widow and Daughter [of Sterne], and that from -Persons who said they had been personally acquainted with them, both -in France and England.... Some part of their Intelligence corroborated -what I had a thousand times heard from the Lips of Yorick, almost -invariably repeated.... The Secret of my Letters being in her hands, -had somehow become extremely Public: it was noticed to me by almost -every Acquaintance I had in the Ships, or at this Settlement--this -alarmed me, for at that time I had never communicated the circumstance -and could not suspect you of acting by me in any manner which I would -not have acted in by myself--One Gentleman in particular told me that -both you and I should be deceived, if we had the least reliance on the -Honor or Principles of Mrs Sterne, for that, when she had secured as -much as she could for suppressing the Correspondence she was capable of -selling it to a Bookseller afterwards--by either refusing to return it -to you--or taking Copies of it, without our knowledge--and therefore -He advised me, if I was averse to its Publication, to take every means -in my Power of Suppressing it--this influenced me to write to Becket -and promise Him a reward equal to his Expectations if He would deliver -the letters to you.... - -“My dear Friend, that stiffness you complain’d of, when I called you -Mrs James I said I could not accost you with my usual Freedom entirely -arose from a Depression of Spirits, too natural to the mortified, when -severe Disappointments gall the Sense--You had told me that Sterne -was no more--I had heard it before, but this Confirmation of it truly -afflicted me; for I was almost an Idolator of his Worth, while I found -Him the Mild, Generous, Good Yorick, We had so often thought Him to -be--to add to my regret for his loss his Widow had my letters in her -Power (I never entertained a good opinion of her), and meant to subject -me to Disgrace and Inconvenience by the Publication of them. You know -not the contents of these letters, and it was natural for you to form -the worst judgment of them, when those who had seen ’em reported them -unfavourably, and were disposed to dislike me on that Account. My dear -girl! had I not cause to feel humbled so Circumstanced--and can you -wonder at my sensations communicating themselves to my Pen? - -“Miss Sterne’s did indeed, my dear, give me a great deal of -pain--it was such a one as I by no means deserved in answer to one -written in the true Spirit of kindness, however it might have been -constructed.--Mr Sterne had repeatedly told me, that his Daughter was -as well acquainted with my Character as he was with my Appearance--in -all his letters wrote since my leaving England this Circumstance -is much dwelt upon. Another, too, that of Mrs Sterne being in too -precarious a State of Health, to render it possible that she would -survive many months. Her violence of temper (indeed, James, I wish -not to recriminate or be severe just now) and the hatefulness of her -Character, are strongly urged to me, as the Cause of his Indifferent -Health, the whole of his Misfortunes, and the Evils that would probably -Shorten his Life--the visit Mrs Sterne meditated, some time antecedent -to his Death, he most pathetically lamented, as an adventure that would -wound his Peace and greatly embarrass his Circumstances--the former -on account of the Eye Witness He should be to his Child’s Affections -having been alienated from Him by the artful Misrepresentations of -her Mother under whose Tutorage she had ever been--and the latter, -from the Rapacity of her Disposition--for well do I know, says he, -‘that the sole Intent of her Visit is to plague and fleece me--had I -Money enough, I would buy off this Journey, as I have done several -others--but till my Sentimental Work is published I shall not have a -single sou more than will Indemnify People for my immediate Expenses.’ -The receipt of this Intelligence I heard of Yorick’s Death. The -very first Ship which left us Afterwards, I wrote to Miss Sterne -by--and with all the freedom which my Intimacy with her Father and -his Communications warranted--I purposely avoided speaking of her -Mother, for I knew nothing to her Advantage, and I had heard a great -deal to the reverse--so circumstanced--how could I with any kind of -Delicacy Mention a Person who was hateful to my departed Friend, when -for the sake of that very Friend I wished to confer a kindness on -his Daughter--and to enhance the value of it, Solicited her Society -and consent to share my Prospects, as the highest Favor which could -be shown to Myself--indeed, I knew not, but Mrs Sterne, from the -Description I had received of her, might be no more--or privately -confined, if in Being, owing to a Malady, which I have been told the -violence of her temper subjects her to.”[19] - -[19] British Museum, Add. MSS. 34527. - -It has been stated by many writers that the cause of the unhappy life -led by the Drapers at Bombay was the fault of Sterne, whose insidious -flatteries undermined the lady’s moral rectitude. This, not to put too -fine a point on it, is a conclusion as absurd as it is unwarrantable. -Mrs Draper was far too intelligent not to realise that Sterne was a -sentimentalist, and not to understand that such allusions as to her -being his second wife were, if in bad taste, at least meant to be -playful, seeing that he was, and knew he was, standing on the threshold -of the valley of the shadow of death. Mrs Draper left her husband -six years after she had said farewell to Sterne, not because of the -author’s influence on her, but because her patience, weakened by a -long course of unkind behaviour, was finally outraged by her husband’s -obvious partiality for her maid, Mrs Leeds. She had long desired to -leave Draper, and now a legitimate excuse was furnished, which in the -eyes of all unprejudiced persons justified the step. - -Draper, who seems to have had some suspicion of her intention, watched -her closely, and for a while it was impossible for her to get away. -At last she escaped from Mazagon on board a King’s cutter, and it was -stated that she had eloped with one of her admirers, Sir John Clark. -The truth was that she accepted his escort to the house of her uncle, -Thomas Whitehall, who lived at Masulipatam. - - MRS DRAPER TO THOMAS MATHEW SCLATER - - “Rajahmundy, 80 miles from Masulipatam, - “_January 20th, 1774_. - -“... I will let you into my present situation. I live entirely with my -uncle, and I shall continue to do so to the last hour of my life if he -continues to wish it as much as he does at present.” - -Whether her uncle did not continue to desire her company, or whether -she tired of the life, cannot be determined, but later, in the year -1774, Mrs Draper returned to England. There she took up her friendship -with the Jameses from the point at which it had been interrupted by her -departure seven years earlier for India, and she was soon the centre of -a distinguished circle. The publication, in 1775, of some of Sterne’s -letters to her made her somewhat unpleasantly notorious, and she -withdrew from London to the comparative seclusion of Bristol, where she -remained until her death, three years later. She was buried in Bristol -Cathedral, where a monument, depicting two classical figures bending -over a shield, one bearing a torch, the other a dove, was erected in -her honour. The shield bore the inscription: - - Sacred - To the Memory - of - MRS ELIZA DRAPER, - in whom - Genius and Benevolence - were united. - She died August 3, 1778, - aged 35. - - - - - The Demoniacs - - -’Twas at Jesus College, Cambridge,” Sterne wrote in the last year of -his life, “I commenced a friendship with Mr H----, which has been most -lasting on both sides.” This “Mr H----” was the notorious John Hall, -who added to his patronymic the name of Stevenson after his marriage -in 1739 with an heiress, Anne, daughter of Ambrose Stevenson of Manor -House, in the parish of Lanchester, county Durham. Born in 1718, the -second son of Joseph Hall, counsellor-at-law of Durham, by his wife, -Catherine, eldest daughter of Edward Trotter of Skelton Castle, near -Guisborough, John Hall-Stevenson, to call him by the name by which -he is best known, went in his eighteenth year to the University, for -which, though he did not there distinguish himself, he cherished to -the end of his days a sincere regard. “I should recommend Cambridge as -a place infinitely preferable to the Temple,” he wrote to his eldest -grandson, on 17th February 1785, “and particularly on account of the -connections you may form with young gentlemen of your own age, of the -first rank, men that you must live with hereafter: it is the only time -of life to make lasting, honourable, and useful friendships. These -advantages were lost to me and blasted by premature marriage, the -scantiness of my fortune forced me to vegetate in the country, and -precluded me from every laudable pursuit suggested by ambition.” - -The friendship between Sterne and Hall-Stevenson must have been of -rapid growth, as Hall-Stevenson went to Jesus College in June 1835, and -Sterne left the University when he took his degree in the following -January. Hall-Stevenson has been, no doubt accurately, described as a -very precocious lad, with Rabelaisian tastes, and again and again his -influence with Sterne has been made an excuse for the humorist’s lapses -from morality and decency. This, however, is most unfair, for when the -young men became acquainted Hall-Stevenson was only seventeen years of -age, whereas Sterne was two-and-twenty. Be this as it may, of their -intimacy at this time there is no doubt, and tradition tells how they -studied together--it would be interesting in the light of subsequent -events to know what they studied. They called each other cousin, though -the relationship, if any, was most remote. “Cousin Anthony Shandy,” -Hall-Stevenson in days to come signed himself, and Sterne, in the -famous dog-Latin letter written a few months before he died, addressed -him: “_mi consobrine, consobrinis meis omnibus carior_.” - -Hall-Stevenson remained at Cambridge until 1838, then went abroad for -a year, and on his return made the “premature marriage” to which -allusion has been made. When he and Sterne met again is a problem -not easy to solve. Sterne, writing to Bishop Warburton in June 1760, -mentioned that he did not know Hall-Stevenson’s handwriting. “From a -nineteen years’ total interruption of all correspondence with him,” he -said, “I had forgot his hand.” Since Sterne is so precise in giving -the number of years, it would seem as if he and his college friend had -written to each other until 1741, and that in this year the youthful -intimacy, after the manner of its kind, had lapsed. Probably for -some years they may have drifted apart, but there is an abundance of -evidence to show that long before 1760 they were again on the best -terms. - -The threads of the college friendship, it has generally been stated, -were gathered together when Skelton Castle came into the possession of -Hall-Stevenson, who thenceforth resided there. As to when this happened -the writers on Sterne only agree in remarking that it was not until -after 1745, in which year, after the rebellion, Lawson Trotter, the -owner of the castle and a noted Jacobite, fled the country; some say -that then the property passed to his sister, Hall-Stevenson’s mother, -and at her death to her son; others that it passed direct to the -nephew as the next in tail. All these statements are inaccurate. Lawson -Trotter sold Skelton Castle to Joseph Hall in 1727, and Hall-Stevenson, -his elder brother having died in childhood, inherited the estate at the -death of his father six years later. - -Skelton Castle, which is believed to date back before the Conquest, -had been added to, a square tower here, a round tower there, by many -of its occupiers, Bruces, Cowpers, Trotters, until, when it came into -the hands of Hall-Stevenson, it was a quaint patchwork edifice, erected -on a platform supported by two buttressed terraces, which raised it -high above the surrounding moat. Hall-Stevenson, amused by the picture -presented by its medley of architectural styles, christened it “Crazy -Castle,” and wrote some humorous verses descriptive of it, well worthy -to be preserved, especially as they are almost the only lines from his -pen that can be printed in this respectable age: - - “There is a Castle in the North, - Seated upon a swampy clay, - At present but of little worth, - In former times it had its day. - - This ancient Castle is call’d CRAZY, - Whose mould’ring walks a moat environs, - Which moat goes heavily and lazy, - Like a poor prisoner in irons.” - -Skelton Castle was at this date more than half ruined, as the owner was -at some pains to indicate: - - “Many a time I’ve stood and thought, - Seeing the boat upon this ditch, - It look’d as if it had been brought - For the amusement of a witch, - To sail amongst applauding frogs, - With water-rats, dead cats and dogs. - - The boat so leaky is, and old, - That if you’re fanciful and merry, - You may conceive, without being told, - That it resembles Charon’s wherry. - - A turret also you may note, - Its glory vanish’d like a dream, - Transform’d into a pigeon-coat, - Nodding beside the sleepy stream. - - From whence, by steps with moss o’ergrown, - You mount upon a terrace high, - Where stands that heavy pile of stone, - Irregular, and all awry. - - If many a buttress did not reach - A kind and salutary hand, - Did not encourage and beseech, - The terrace and the house to stand, - Left to themselves, and at a loss, - They’d tumble down into the foss. - - Over the Castle hangs a Tow’r, - Threat’ning destruction every hour; - Where owls, and bats, and the jackdaw, - Their vespers and their Sabbath keep, - All night scream horribly, and caw, - And snore all day in horrid sleep. - - Oft at the quarrels and the noise - Of scolding maids or idle boys, - Myriads of rooks rise up and fly, - Like legions of damn’d souls, - As black as coals, - That foul and darken all the sky.” - -Hall-Stevenson was, as has been remarked, a poor man, and could not -afford to undertake the task of repairing the vast structure, though -once he thought of making an effort to do so. When Sterne heard of -this he wrote protesting against any interference with the fine old -structure, and seasoned his letter with a touch of worldly wisdom that -comes quaintly from him: - -“But what art thou meditating with axes and hammers?--‘_I know the -pride and the naughtiness of thy heart_,’ and thou lovest the sweet -visions of architraves, friezes and pediments with their tympanums, -and thou hast found out a pretence, _à raison de cinq livres sterling_ -to be laid out in four years, &c. &c. (so as not to be felt, which is -always added by the d----l as a bait) to justify thyself unto thyself. -It may be very wise to do this--but ’tis wiser to keep one’s money in -one’s pocket, whilst there are wars without and rumours of wars within. -St ---- advises his disciples to sell both coat and waistcoat--and go -rather without shirt or sword, than leave no money in their scrip to go -to Jerusalem with. Now those _quatre ans consecutifs_, my dear Anthony, -are the most precious morsels in thy _life to come_ (in this world), -and thou wilt do well to enjoy that morsel without cares, calculations, -and curses, and damns, and debts--for as sure as stone is stone, -and mortar is mortar, &c., ’twill be one of the many works of thy -repentance.--But after all, if the Fates have decreed it, as you and I -have some time supposed it on account of your generosity, ‘_that you -are never to be a monied man_,’ the decree will be fulfilled whether -you adorn your castle and line it with cedar, and paint it within side -and without side with vermilion, or not--_et cela étant_ (having a -bottle of Frontiniac and glass at my right hand) I drink, dear Anthony, -to thy health and happiness, and to the final accomplishments of all -thy lunary and sublunary projects.” - -Notwithstanding this sage counsel, Hall-Stevenson called in an -architect, presently to be referred to as “Don Pringello,” who, to -his credit, declined to tamper with the building, and succeeded in -inducing the owner to abandon the plan of reconstruction. - -Hall-Stevenson from time to time visited London, and made acquaintance -with Horace Walpole, and also with Sir Francis Dashwood and John -Wilkes, who introduced him to the Monks of Medmenham and also gave him -a taste for politics, that afterwards found vent in some satirical -verses. Lack of means, however, prevented his taking any considerable -part in metropolitan gaieties, and he lived most of his life on his -estate, making an occasional stay at Scarborough or some other northern -watering-place. At Skelton, as William Hutton phrased it happily, he -“kept a full-spread board, and wore down the steps of his cellar.” -Steeped in Rabelaisian literature, he caught something of the spirit of -the books he had perused; and, inspired by the example of the deceased -Duke of Wharton and of his friend Dashwood, he gathered round him a -body of men with similar tastes, and founded, in imitation of the -Hell-fire Club and the Monks of Medmenham, a society which has passed -into history as the Demoniacs. - -The number of members of this convivial community cannot have been -considerable. Hall-Stevenson in “Crazy Tales” gives eleven stories, -each supposed to have been told by one of the band, the identity of -the narrator being veiled under a nickname; and if this may be accepted -as a guide, then there were but eleven Demoniacs in 1862--though, in a -later edition, were added, “Old Hewett’s Tale,” and “Tom of Colesby’s -Tale.” In most cases it has been easy to discover the names of the -members. “Anthony” of the “Crazy Tale” was, of course, the host; and -“My Cousin” Sterne, though he was also known among the fraternity as -“The Blackbird,” probably because of his clerical attire, and under -this _sobriquet_ was made the subject of one of Hall-Stevenson’s -“Makarony Fables.” “Zachary” was Zachary Moore, of Lofthouse, a -fashionable man about town, who spent a great fortune in riotous -living; though the only story of his extravagance that has been handed -down is, that his horses were always shod with silver, and that when a -shoe fell off or was loose, he would have it replaced with a new one. -He was a jovial fellow, and popular. - - “What sober heads hath thou made ache! - How many hath thou kept from nodding! - How many wise ones, for thy sake, - Have flown to thee, and left off plodding.” - -Thus he was apostrophised by Hall-Stevenson, who subsequently indited -an epitaph for him, which while it does much credit to the writer’s -heart, does less to his head: such a prodigal as Moore was lucky to be -presented with an ensigncy. - -“Z. M. Esq.” (thus runs the epitaph), “A Living Monument, of the -Friendship and Generosity of the Great; After an Intimacy of Thirty -Years With most of The Great Personages of these Kingdoms, Who did him -the Honour to assist him, In the laborious Work, Of getting to the far -End of a great Fortune; These his Noble Friends, From Gratitude For the -many happy Days and Nights Enjoyed by his means, Exalted him, through -their Influence, In the forty-seventh year of his Age, To an Ensigncy; -which he actually enjoys at present at Gibraltar.” - -The “Privy Counsellor” of the “Tales” has been said to be Sir Francis -Dashwood, but upon what grounds this statement has been made is not -clear: if the assumption is accurate, the “Privy Counsellor” cannot -often have attended the gatherings of the brethren, being usually -otherwise engaged in London. “Panty,” an abbreviation of Pantagruel, -is known to have been the Rev. Robert Lascelles, subsequently the -incumbent of Gilling, in the West Riding; and “Don Pringello,” whose -name has not transpired,[20] has his niche in “Tristram Shandy,” where -it is mentioned: “I am this moment in a handsome pavilion built by -Pringello upon the banks of the Garonne.” Don Pringello also receives -honourable mention in a scholium to the Tale inscribed to his name by -“Cousin Anthony.” - -[20] It has hitherto been assumed that “Don Pringello” was the playful -form given by the Demoniacs to one Pringle. The present writer has been -so fortunate as to enlist the kind offices of Mr W. J. Locke and Mr -Rudolf Dircks in an endeavour to trace this architect; but neither an -English Pringle nor a Spanish Don Pringello has been discovered. - -“Don Pringello” (Hall-Stevenson wrote) “was a celebrated Spanish -Architect, of unbounded generosity. At his own expense, on the other -side of the Pyrenean Mountains, he built many noble castles, both for -private people and for the _public_, out of his own funds; he repaired -several palaces, situated upon the pleasant banks of that delightful -river, the Garonne, in France, and came over on purpose to rebuild -CRAZY-CASTLE; but, struck with its venerable remains, he could only be -prevailed upon to add a few ornaments, suitable to the stile and taste -of the age it was built in.” - -“Old Hewett” was that eccentric William Hewett, or Hewitt, introduced -into “Humphrey Clinker” by Smollett, who prophesied that, “his -exit will be as odd as his life has been extravagant.” Smollett’s -anticipation was justified, even before the novel was published, as the -author mentions in a footnote. Hewett in 1767, being then over seventy -years of age, was attacked by an internal complaint, and, to quote -Smollett, - -“he resolved to take himself off by abstinence; and this resolution he -executed like an ancient Roman. He saw company to the last, cracked -his jokes, conversed freely, and entertained his guests with music. On -the third day of his fast, he found himself entirely freed from his -complaint; but refused taking sustinence. He said the most disagreeable -part of the journey was past, and he should be a cursed fool indeed -to put about ship when he was just entering the harbour. In these -sentiments he persisted, without any marks of affectation; and thus -finished his course with such ease and serenity, as would have done -honour to the firmest stoic of antiquity.” - -There are still unaccounted for, “Captain Shadow,” “The Student of -Law,” “The Governor of Txlbury,” “The Lxxb,” “The Poet,” and “Tom -of Colesby”; and against these may be placed other frequenters of -Skelton Castle--though it is possible some may not have been of the -brotherhood. There were Garland, a neighbouring squire; and Scroope, -whom Sterne referred to as “Cardinal S.” and who was probably a parson; -and “G.” of the printed letters, whose name in the originals is given -as Gilbert. More likely to have been Demoniacs were Hall-Stevenson’s -younger brother, Colonel George Lawson Hall (who married a daughter -of Lord William Manners), and Andrew Irvine, called by his familiars -“Paddy Andrews,” master of the Grammar School at Kirkleatham. Because -Dr Alexander Carlyle met at Harrogate in the company of Hall-Stevenson -that Charles Lee who subsequently became a general in the American -army, and fought against his countrymen in the War of Independence, -Lee has been written down one of the society; but it is improbable he -was enrolled, if only because, leaving England in 1751 at the age of -twenty, he was not again in his native land before “Crazy Tales” was -written, except for a few months in the spring of 1761. - -The Demoniacs (and the title may for the nonce be taken to include all -the frequenters of Skelton Castle) have been damned by each succeeding -writer who has taken them for his subject; but it is extremely doubtful -if they were as black as they have been painted. Had they been merely -vulgar debauchees, it is inconceivable that Sterne would have let them -make the acquaintance, not only of his wife, but also of the young -daughter he cherished so tenderly; and it is only one degree less -unlikely that they would have won and retained his affectionate regard -for a score of years, or that he would have read to them “Tristram -Shandy” and have desired their opinion of the various instalments of -that work. His letters are full of references to the Demoniacs, and he -rarely wrote to “dear Cousin Anthony” without sending greetings to his -associates, and expressing the wish that he was with them. - -“Greet the Colonel [Hall] in my name, and thank him cordially from me -for his many civilities to Madame and Mademoiselle Sterne, who send -all due acknowledgments” (he wrote from Toulouse, 12th August 1762; -adding in a postscript:) “Oh! how I envy you all at Crazy Castle! I -would like to spend a month with you--and should return back again for -the vintage.... Now farewell--remember me to my beloved Colonel--greet -Panty most lovingly on my behalf, and if Mrs C---- and Miss C----, &c. -are at G[uisborough], greet them likewise with a holy kiss--So God -bless you.” - -A couple of months later, Sterne, still at Toulouse, addressed -Hall-Stevenson: - -“If I had nothing to stop me I would engage to set out this morning, -and knock at Crazy Castle gates in three days less time--by which time -I should find you and the Colonel, Panty, &c. all alone--the season I -most wish and like to be with you.” - -Again and again are allusions to the Crazelites, as Sterne often called -them: - -“I send all compliments to Sir C. D[ashwoo]d and G----s. I love them -from my soul. If G[ilber]t is with you, him also” (he wrote from -Coxwold, 4th September 1764; and from Naples, two years later:). -“Give my kind services to my friends--especially to the household of -faith--my dear Garland--to the worthy Colonel--to Cardinal S[croope], -and to my fellow-labourer Pantagruel.” - -Even in the last year of his life he looked forward to being present at -a reunion at the castle: “We shall all meet from the east, and from the -south, and (as at the last) be happy together.” - -Faults the Demoniacs certainly had; but there is no reason to believe, -indeed there is not a jot or tittle of evidence to support the -suggestion, that they performed the blasphemous rites associated -with the more famous institutions that served as their model. Their -indulgences were limited to coarse stories and deep potations; which, -after all, were regarded as venial sins in the eighteenth century. -Even so, of course, it must be admitted they were not fit company for -clergymen, and it is a matter for regret that Sterne should have been -of the party. Doubtless Laurence told his story of “A Cock and a Bull” -with the best of them; but he was no drunkard, and tried to induce -Hall-Stevenson to give up the habit of heavy drinking. - -“If I was you, quoth Yorick, I would drink more water, Eugenius” (so -runs a passage in “Tristram Shandy”). “And, if I was you, Yorick, -replied Eugenius, so would I.” - -On the other hand, several of the Demoniacs were men of intelligence. -With all his vices, Dashwood had brains of no mean order; Irvine, the -schoolmaster, and a Cambridge D.D., had, at least, some reading; and -Lascelles, a keen fisherman, could write verses--not very good verses, -it is true--in Latin and English. It is doubtful, however, if he was -that Robert Lascelles who in 1811 wrote the “Letters on Sporting,” -in which he treated of angling, shooting, and coursing; although -this rare work has been attributed to him. William Hewett, too, was a -cultured man; he had been tutor to the Marquis of Granby, and was a -friend of Voltaire. He had a pretty wit. It has been told how being -in the Campidoglio at Rome, Hewett, who owned “no religion but that -of nature,” made up to the bust of Jupiter, and, bowing very low, -exclaimed in the Italian language, “I hope, sir, if ever you get your -head above water again, you will remember that I paid my respects to -you in your adversity.” Indeed that carousals at Skelton Castle were -confined to the evening is shown by Hall-Stevenson’s account of his -guest’s occupations during the day. - - “Some fell to fiddling, some to fluting, - Some to shooting, some to fishing, - Some to pishing and disputing, - Or to computing by wishing. - - And in the evening when they met - (To think on’t always does me good,) - There never met a jollier sett, - Either before, or since the Flood.” - -Nor was Hall-Stevenson a mere voluptuary. Even though the critic may -have exaggerated who wrote of him: “He could engage in the grave -discussions of criticism and literature with superior power; he was -qualified to enliven general society with the smile of Horace, the -laughter of Cervantes; or he could sit on Fontaine’s easy chair, and -unbosom his humour to his chosen friends”; yet there is no doubt that -he was a good classical scholar, and, for an Englishman, exceptionally -well read in the _belles lettres_ of Europe, in a day when such -knowledge was rare. - - “ANTHONY, Lord of CRAZY Castle, - Neither a fisher, nor a shooter, - No man’s, but any woman’s vassel, - If he could find a way to suit her”; - -so he wrote himself down; and the description is good so far as it -goes. But though “My Cousin Anthony” thus indicates that, unlike -Sterne, he has no liking for field sports, he does not mention that -he found his pleasure at home in the great library, that was so rich -in what Bagehot has described as “old folio learning and the amatory -reading of other days.” There the owner browsed for hours together, -and he wrought better than he knew when he introduced his friend -Sterne to the apartment and made him free of it, for there it was that -Sterne found in many quaint forgotten volumes much of that strange -lore with which the elder Shandy’s mind was packed. Dr Carlyle found -Hall-Stevenson a “highly-accomplished and well-bred gentleman,” and -Sterne’s opinion of his old college friend is clearly shown not only -in his letters but in the character of “Eugenius” in “Tristram Shandy.” -There must have been virtues in the man who stood for Eugenius, else -Sterne, who had as keen an eye for the weaknesses of his fellows as -any author that ever lived, would not have immortalised him as the -wise, kindly counsellor of Yorick. How tenderly Sterne rallied “Cousin -Anthony” upon his hypochondria. - -“And so you think this [letter] cursed stupid--but that, my dear H., -depends much upon the quotâ horâ of your shabby clock, if the pointer -of it is in any quarter between ten in the morning or four in the -afternoon--I give it up--or if the day is obscured by dark engendering -clouds of either wet or dry weather, I am still lost--but who knows -but it be five--and the day as fine a day as ever shone upon the earth -since the destruction of Sodom--and peradventure your honour may have -got a good hearty dinner to-day, and eat and drink your intellectuals -into a placidulish and blandulish amalgama--to bear nonsense, so much -for that.” - -So he wrote from Coxwould in August 1761; and rather more than a year -later, when he was at Toulouse, he reverted to the subject: - -“I rejoice from my heart, down to my reins, that you have snatched -so many happy and sunshiny days out of the hands of the blue devils. -If we live to meet and join our forces as heretofore, we will give -these gentry a drubbing--and turn them for ever out of their usurped -citadel--some legions of them have been put to flight already by your -operations this last campaign--and I hope to have a hand in dispersing -the remainder the first time my dear cousin sets up his banners again -under the square tower.” - -Once, indeed, Sterne tried to cure his friend. Hall-Stevenson had a -great fear of the effect of the east wind upon his health, and he had -a weather-cock placed so that he could see it from the window of his -room, and he would consult it every morning. When the wind blew from -that quarter he would not get up, or, being up, would retire to bed. -During one of Sterne’s visits to Skelton Castle he bribed a lad to -climb up one night and tie the vane to the west; and Hall-Stevenson, -after the customary inspection of the weather-cock, joined his guests -the next day without any ill effect, although as a matter of fact an -east wind was blowing. The trick was subsequently explained; but it is -doubtful if it cured the _malade imaginaire_. - -Hall-Stevenson was as devoted to Sterne as Sterne to him, and he made -agreeable reference to their affection: - - “In this retreat, whilom so sweet, - Once _Tristram_ and his cousin dwelt, - They talk of _Crazy_ when they meet, - As if their tender hearts would melt.” - -When the first two volumes of “Tristram Shandy” were published, -Hall-Stevenson indicted a lyric epistle “To my Cousin Shandy, on his -coming to Town,” that, through its indecency, brought in its train -more annoyance than pleasure to Sterne; and subsequently (in 1768) -parodied the style of the book under the title of “A Sentimental -Dialogue between two Souls in the Palpable Bodies of an English Lady -of Quality and an Irish Gentleman,” introduced by a note: “Tristram -Shandy presents his compliments to the Gentlemen of Ireland, and begs -their acceptance of a Sentimental Offering, as an acknowledgment -due to the Country where he was born.” A year after Sterne’s death -Hall-Stevenson, over the signature of “Eugenius,” issued a continuation -of “A Sentimental Journey,” for which he made the following excuse: - -“The Editor has compiled this Continuation of his Sentimental Journey, -from such motives, and upon such authority, as he flatters himself -will form a sufficient apology to his readers for its publication. - -“The abrupt manner in which the Second Volume concluded, seemed -forcibly to claim a sequel; and doubtless if the author’s life had been -spared, the world would have received it from his own hand, as he had -materials already prepared. The intimacy which subsisted between Mr -Sterne and the Editor, gave the latter frequent occasion of hearing -him relate the most remarkable incidents of the latter part of his -last journey, which made such an impression on him, that he thinks he -has retained them so perfectly as to be able to commit them to paper. -In doing this, he has endeavoured to imitate his friends stile and -manner, but how far he has been successful in this respect, he leaves -the reader to determine. The work may now, however, be considered -as complete; and the remaining curiosity of the readers of Yorick’s -Sentimental Journey, will at least be gratified with respect to facts, -events, and observations.” - -The book opens with an apostrophe to his dead friend: - -“Delightful Humourist! thine were unaccountable faculties. Thy Muse -was the Muse of joy and sorrow,--of sorrow and joy. Thou didst so -exquisitely blend fancy with feeling, mirth with misfortune; thy -laughter was so laughable; and thy sighs so sad; that--thou never wast, -never will be equalled.--Thou hadst the _Key of the Heart_.--Lend it to -a Friend. - -“O Yorick, hear me! _Half_ thy work is left unfinished, and _all_ thy -spirit is fled.--Send part of it back. Drop one remnant of it to a -Friend.” - -The prayer was not granted. The mantle of Yorick did not fall upon -Eugenius, who had neither the power of humour or pathos, but only the -indelicacy a hundredfold increased, of the great man. Indeed, the -writings of Hall-Stevenson rendered poor service to his friends, for it -was their publication that brought about the forcible condemnation of -the Demoniacs: the flagrant indecency of “Crazy Tales” being accepted -as a clue to the thoughts and actions of the members of the society. -Yet of that little production, which appeared in 1762, the author -thought very highly. - - “As long as CRAZY Castle lasts, - Their Tales will never be forgot, - And CRAZY may stand many blasts, - And better Castles go to pot.” - -Thus Hall-Stevenson in his Prologue, doubtless reflecting that since -Skelton Castle had endured through seven centuries, it might well -brave the breeze for many generations to come. His prophecy was not -falsified, for “Crazy Tales” were not forgot until the Castle went to -pot--which event, however, took place three years after his death, -when his grandson substituted for the unique and picturesque structure -a house in which it was possible to live in comfort. Nay, the “Tales” -outlived the Castle, being reprinted in 1796, and again four and twenty -years later, when they were assigned on the title-page to Sheridan. A -glance at the catalogue of the British Museum Library shows that some -singularly ill-advised person thought fit in 1896 to reissue the book -for private circulation. - -That Sterne should find a word of praise for “Crazy Tales” was but -natural: - -“I honour the man who has given the world an idea of our parental -seat--’tis well done--I look at it ten times a day with a _quando -te aspiciam_” (he wrote to his friend from Toulouse soon after the -publication of the volume; adding), “I felicitate you upon what messr. -the Reviewers allow you--they have too much judgment themselves not -to allow you what you are actually possessed of, ‘talents, wit, and -humour.’--Well, write on, my dear cousin, and be guided by thy fancy.” - -It is more surprising to find Horace Walpole enlisting himself among -Hall-Stevenson’s admirers. “They entertained me extremely,” he wrote -to a friend, returning some verses, “as Mr Hall’s works always do. He -has a vast deal of original humour and wit, and nobody admires him more -than I do.... If all authors had as much parts and good sense as he -has, I should not be so sick of them as I am.” The critics as a body -were not so kind, and incurred the resentment of the author, who lashed -them in “Two Lyric Epistles,” which Gray, writing to the Rev. James -Brown,thought “seemed to be absolute madness.” The works, which were -collected in 1795, were declared by Sir Walter Scott to be witty; but -even that tribute has since been denied them. Bagehot dismissed them -as having “licence without humour, and vice without amusement,” and -Whitwell Elwin, in his masterly essay on Sterne, stigmatised the “Crazy -Tales” as infamous. - - - - - William Beckford of Fonthill Abbey - - -It may be said with truth that there were few famous men born in the -eighteenth century of whom less is known than of William Beckford of -Fonthill, the author of “Vathek.” There is an abundance of legend, -as little trustworthy as most legends, but of the man as he was few -people have even a remote conception. This may be partly because there -has been no biography of him worthy of the name; but it is, probably, -due even more largely to the fact that he led a secluded life. It is -certain that stories concerning him, invariably defamatory and usually -libellous, were circulated so far back as the days of his minority; and -that these were revived when, after his Continental tours, he settled -at Fonthill. Then the air of mystery that enveloped him created grave -suspicion in the minds of his fox-hunting neighbours. Everything he -said was misrepresented and regarded as evidence against him, until -so strong was the feeling that it was looked upon by his country -neighbours as disgraceful to visit him. This, however, did not prevent -Nelson or Sam Rogers or Sir William Hamilton from going to Fonthill, -nor, later, did it prevent his acquaintance with Benjamin Disraeli. -Notwithstanding, Beckford was accused of almost every conceivable -crime, and John Mitford, in one of his unpublished note-books, -solemnly recorded that Beckford was accused of poisoning his wife at -Cintra. There was no more truth in any other accusation than in this of -causing the death of a woman to whom he was deeply attached and whose -loss he sincerely mourned. Thirty years after her death, Rogers noticed -that there were tears in Beckford’s eyes while he was talking of her. - -This, however, was but one of many slanders. It was said that Beckford -built the high wall round his estate of Fonthill that his orgies might -be carried on unperceived--the wall was built because no mere request -would keep the hunters off his land, and he could not bear to see the -death agonies of a fox. It was said that he kept a number of dwarfs, -and with their aid performed blasphemous rites and indulged in magical -incantations--he had in his service one dwarf, Piero, whom he had -rescued in some Italian town from a cruel father. Even so recently as -nine years ago an anonymous writer thought it worth while to record in -a literary journal the reminiscences of an elderly lady, who lived at -Bath when Beckford resided in that city, who was a child then, and who -had no acquaintance with him. This elderly lady stated that “a species -of paroxysm would seize Beckford if he saw a woman”--yet a line before -she speaks of his riding through the streets of Bath! Were the women -of Bath on these occasions, it is legitimate to ask, commanded, like -the inhabitants of Coventry when Lady Godiva took her famous airing, to -keep out of sight? or was Beckford seen to have paroxysm after paroxysm -as his horse took him through the narrow streets of the quaint old -city? The same authority relates that at Beckford’s house in Lansdown -Crescent (Bath) niches were constructed in the walls of the staircase, -so that the female servants could conceal themselves when they heard -their master’s footsteps; and that one girl, to satisfy her curiosity -as to what Beckford would do if he saw her, had her curiosity fully -satisfied, for the “woman-hater, in a paroxysm of fury, seized her -by the waist and threw her over the banisters.” This suggests a new -version of the Peeping Tom episode, and also brings to mind the nursery -rhyme, - - “He took her by the left leg and threw her down the stairs.” - -It is pleasant to be told that the misogynist generously bestowed on -the injured maid a pension for life. The story is nearly as good, and -doubtless quite as true, as that of the gentleman who killed a waiter -at an inn and told the landlord, who thought he must send for the -police, to charge it in the bill. - -The fact is that the majority of writers on Beckford have been -willing to recount what they have heard, without making any attempt -at verification, even when such a task would not have been difficult. -Beckford, we are told, was as likely to thrash a beggar in the streets -as to give him alms. This is really the most truthful of all the -charges brought against him, for it actually has for its foundation the -fact that he once did strike a beggar! Here is the story: When Beckford -was riding one day to Weston, a suburb of Bath, a man near his gates -begged from him and received a coin; delighted with his success, the -beggar watched which way the donor was going, took a short cut, and at -another place again asked for alms, only to be recognised and struck -with a whip. - -The calumnies that pursued Beckford during his life, and his memory -since his death, were bad enough, but the excuses that are made for -him nowadays are worse. The writer already referred to as retailing -the elderly lady’s gossip, unable to account for Beckford’s mysterious -seclusion and other peculiarities, fell back upon the convenient -suggestion of “a mental derangement.” “We learn,” he said, in support -of his contention, “that at his death he showed scarcely a sign of -age, a peculiarity frequently noticed, of course, among those with -similar mental aberrations.” Another peculiarity frequently noticed, -among those with similar mental aberrations, we may add, is that at -their death many show every sign of age. - -[Illustration: _William Beckford_] - -Many of those who do not suggest that Beckford was mad love to dwell -upon his eccentricities; but an examination of their arguments shows -that these eccentricities were limited to the building of Fonthill -and a love of seclusion. His seclusion has been vastly exaggerated, -and Fonthill was but the whim of a millionaire--a whim, moreover, -prompted by a laudable desire to provide employment for the poor of the -countryside. What a genius he had “Vathek” proves conclusively; how -sane he was to the end of his days may be discerned from the letters -written in the last years, even in the last month, of his long life. - -The keynote of Beckford’s character was enthusiasm. If he undertook -anything it must be done forthwith; if he had a desire, he must satisfy -it with the least possible delay. Thus, when he built Fonthill he had -five hundred men working day and night; when he collected books, he did -so with such vigour that in a few years he brought together one of the -finest private libraries in the world. That last passion never deserted -him, and in his eighty-fourth year he studied catalogues as keenly, -and was as impatient for news as to the success that had attended his -agent, as when he began half-a-century earlier. Like most men he did -not suffer bores gladly, but, unlike the majority, he would not have -aught to do with them. Having a genius and a million, he lived his -life as he pleased; while welcoming his friends, and opening wide his -doors to distinguished writers, artists and musicians, he held the rest -of the world at bay, and spent his days with his books and pictures, -playing the piano, and superintending his gardens. So well did he order -his life that when in his eighty-fifth year the flame was burning out, -he could say truthfully, “I have never known a moment’s _ennui_.” - -Beckford was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. Wealth came to -him from his father, the Alderman, and aristocratic connections from -his mother, the daughter and co-heir of the Hon. George Hamilton, -second surviving son of the Sixth Earl of Abercorn. Lord Chatham was -his godfather, and when the Alderman died in 1770, not only did Lord -Chatham, but also “the good Lord Lyttelton” and Lord Camden, interest -themselves in the education of the ten-years-old lad, who, if he lived -to attain his majority, would be the wealthiest commoner in England. -The Rev. John Lettice was his tutor; Sir William Chambers, who was -then rebuilding Somerset House, taught him architecture; and he studied -music under Mozart. He learnt declamation, too, and at an early age -won the approval of his godfather by reciting with correct emphasis -a passage from Thucydides which he had previously translated into -English. “May you,” the aged statesman said to his son William, “some -day make as brilliant a speaker.” The cynical may trace from this -remark the dislike that subsequently existed between the younger Pitt -and Beckford. - -“Great pains were bestowed upon my education,” Beckford said in his -old age. “I was living amidst a fine collection of works of art, -under competent tutors. I was studious and diligent from inclination. -I was fond of reading whatever came in my way. After my classical -studies were finished, and while I worked hard at Persian, I read -French and English biographies of all sorts.” How much he profited -by his education, and how well he remembered what he read, is shown -conclusively by the numerous allusions to men and books in the -letters written when he was still a lad. He seems, indeed, to have -been taught, or to have acquired by reading, some knowledge of most -subjects, except, as he subsequently admitted regretfully, astronomy. -Like most boys, he preferred the subjects of his own choosing to -those he was compelled to study. A chance discussion as to whether -the Abercorn branch of the Hamilton family from which his mother was -descended was older than the ducal branch sent him early to books of -genealogy, and his reading in this byway of history imbued him with -a pride of race that nothing could eradicate. His father’s ancestry -did not satisfy him, and he studied the pedigree of his mother, and -declared he could trace it to John of Gaunt. He claimed the distinction -of being descended from all the barons (of whom any issue remained) -who signed Magna Charta. At a very early age he came across a copy of -“The Arabian Nights”--and this chance find had more effect upon his -life and character than any other incident. He read and re-read these -stories with avidity, and the impression they made on him was so strong -that Lord Chatham instructed Lettice that the book must be kept from -the boy. The precaution came too late, for, though the injunction was -obeyed and for some years “The Arabian Nights” was withheld from him, -the Oriental tales had taken possession of the impressionable reader -to such an extent that he could never forget them. They had fired his -youthful mind and held his imagination captive; their influence over -him never waned all the days of his life; and while they inspired -him with the idea of “Vathek,” they also fostered in him the love of -magnificence, inherited from his father, that resulted in the erection -of Fonthill Abbey and other extravagances. As a lad, owing to the hold -the stories had over him, he became a dreamer and lived in an unreal -world; and it is not surprising, therefore, that, though of an amiable -disposition, he became wilful and capricious. “Little Beckford was -really disappointed at not being in time to see you--a good mark for my -young _vivid_ friend,” Lord Chatham wrote to William Pitt, 9th October -1773. “He is just as much compounded of the elements of _air and fire_ -as he was. A due proportion of _terrestrial_ solidity will, I trust, -come and make him perfect.” - -A boy of thirteen who is all “air and fire” is certain to be spoilt -by a doting mother and made much of by visitors to the house, and -Beckford’s wit was so much encouraged by almost all of them that, in -spite of Lettice’s admonitions, he frequently got out of hand. Only -his relative, the old Duchess of Queensberry--Gay’s Duchess--who lived -in the neighbourhood, ventured to rebuke him: when he treated her with -some lack of respect at her house, without making any reply, she sent -a servant for the great family Bible, and made the boy read a passage -from the Book of Solomon: “There it was, young man, that I learnt _my_ -manners,” she said impressively; “I hope you will remember what you -have read.” - -Mrs Beckford had refused to allow her son to go to school, and she -objected as strongly to send him to a university, regarding the -temptations that would there be held out to a young man of enormous -wealth as more than counterbalancing the advantages. Eventually it was -decided that the lad, now in his seventeenth year, should stay with his -relatives, Colonel and Miss Hamilton, who lived at Geneva. Though for -the first time emancipated from maternal control, Beckford, happy in -his daydreams, showed no desire to kick over the traces. It was at this -time that Beckford first gave expression to his intention to adopt a -mode of life different from that led by most fashionable young men. - -“To receive Visits and to return them, to be mighty civil, well-bred, -quiet, prettily Dressed, and smart is to be what your old Ladies call -in England a charming Gentleman, and what those of the same stamps -abroad know by the appellation of _un homme comme il faut_. Such an -Animal how often am I doomed to be” (he wrote at the age of seventeen, -in a letter hitherto unpublished). “To pay and to receive fulsome -Compliments from the Learned, to talk with modesty and precision, -to sport an opinion gracefully, to adore Buffon and d’Alembert, to -delight in Mathematics, logick, Geometry, and the rule of Right, the -_mal morale_ and the _mal physique_, to despise poetry and venerable -Antiquity, murder Taste, abhor imagination, detest all the charms of -Eloquence unless capable of mathematical Demonstration, and more than -all, to be vigorously incredulous, is to gain the reputation of good -sound Sense. Such an Animal I am sometimes doomed to be. To glory in -Horses, to know how to knock up and how to cure them, to smell of the -stable, swear, talk bawdy, eat roast beef, drink, speak bad French, go -to Lyons, and come back again with manly disorders, are qualifications -not despicable in the Eyes of the English here. Such an Animal I am -determined not to be.” - -After a year and a half’s absence Beckford was summoned to England, -where he stayed for some months, visiting various cities and country -houses, and composing his first book, “Biographical Memoirs of -Extraordinary Painters.” It was well in keeping with the curious -contradictions of Beckford’s character, that, while his letters before -and after, and even while he was engaged upon the “Memoirs,” were so -full of dreams, this work should be an amusing burlesque. “I will -explain the origin of the ‘Memoirs,’” Beckford said to Cyrus Redding -in 1835, fifty-five years after its publication. “The housekeeper at -old Fonthill, as is customary, used to get her fee by exhibiting the -pictures to those who came to see the building. Once or twice I heard -her give the most extraordinary names to different artists. I wondered -how such nonsense could enter the brain of woman. More than this, in -her conceit she would at times expatiate upon excellencies of which the -picture before her had no trace. The temptation was irresistible in -my humour. I was but seventeen. My pen was quickly in hand composing -the ‘Memoirs.’ In future the housekeeper had a printed guide in aid -of her descriptions. She caught up my phrases; the fictitious names -of the wives, too, whom I had given to my imaginary painters, were -soon learned in addition; her descriptions became more picturesque, -her language more graphic than ever, to the sight-seeing people. Mine -was the text-book, whoever exhibited the paintings. The book was soon -on the tongues of all the domestics. Many were the quotations current -upon the merits of Og of Basan and Watersouchy of Amsterdam. Before a -picture of Rubens or Murillo there was often a charming dissertation -upon the pencil of Herr Sucrewasser of Vienna, or that great artist, -Blunderbussiana of Venice. I used to listen unobserved until I was -ready to kill myself with laughter, at the authorities quoted to the -squires and farmers of Wiltshire, who took all for gospel. It was the -most ridiculous thing in effect you can conceive. Between sixty and -seventy years ago people did not know as much of the fine arts as they -do now. Not but that they have still much to learn.” The biographies -of Aldrovandus Magnus of Bruges, of Andrew Guelph and Og of Basan, -disciples of the former, of Sucrewasser of Vienna, Blunderbussiana of -Dalmatia, and Watersouchy of Amsterdam, make up, as the author said in -his last years, “a laughable book”; but, indeed, it is more than that, -for it contains much brilliant satire on the Dutch and Flemish schools, -showing that the writer, although so young, had profited by his early -training in art. “[It is] a performance,” Lockhart wrote in 1834, “in -which the buoyancy of juvenile spirits sees of the results of already -extensive observation, and the judgments of a refined (though far too -fastidious and exclusive) taste.” - -In June 1780 Beckford, with Lettice again as his companion, went abroad -for the second time, and visited Holland, Germany, Austria and Italy, -staying for a while at Naples with his relative, Sir William Hamilton, -whose first wife was then living. During this tour the young traveller -made notes that soon after he expanded and printed under the title of -“Dreams, Waking Thoughts, and Incidents.” This book is composed of -impressionist sketches made as his mind dictated, and nowhere did he -allow himself to be shackled by the rules laid down by the compilers -of works of travel. If anyone wants full particulars of a town, either -topographical or historical, it is not to “Dreams, Waking Thoughts, -and Incidents” he must turn; but if he desires exquisite word-pictures -inspired by a brilliant imagination and conveyed with great literary -skill, these he can find to his heart’s content. The story goes -that the book was suppressed by the author acting on the advice of -his friends, who represented that the brilliant imagination therein -displayed would create a prejudice against him when he should enter -the practical field of public life, but it can scarcely be contended -that this was the reason why at the eleventh hour it was withdrawn. -As a matter of fact there were rumours, started no one knows how, -of grave misconduct on Beckford’s part, and probably it was thought -that the tendency to romance laid bare in the work might give some -colour to them. These rumours endured through Beckford’s life, and the -scandal was certainly widely circulated, but there seems to have been -absolutely no grounds whatever for the charges. That Beckford should -deny the charges was a matter of course, and, indeed, he protested -passionately against them; but even John Mitford, an envenomed critic -of his brother-author, had to admit that Samuel Richard White, -Beckford’s solicitor, who knew more about the matter than anyone else, -after his client’s death as during his life, declared his firm belief -in Beckford’s innocence. - -In due course there were the coming-of-age festivities at Fonthill, -and then another Continental tour, when Beckford was accompanied by -so large a suite that at Augsburg he was mistaken for the Emperor -of Austria, who at the time was known to be travelling incognito to -Italy. Early in 1783, when he was two and twenty years of age, he came -to England, saw, wooed, and married Lady Margaret Gordon, the sole -surviving daughter of the Fourth Earl of Aboyne. - -The years 1783 to 1786 make little call upon Beckford’s biographer. -The honeymoon had been spent in travelling, and when it was over the -bride and bridegroom, still ardent lovers, stayed for a while at -Cologny, near Geneva. Towards the end of the year, having made up -their minds to sojourn for an indefinite period under southern skies, -they decided to rent a more commodious residence, and took up their -quarters at the Château de la Tour, near Vevey. There, in June 1784, -was born a daughter, Susan Euphemia, and, on 14th May 1786, another, -Margaret Maria Elizabeth. A fortnight later the young mother died. The -marriage had been an ideal union, and Beckford’s grief was terrible. -His friends, fearful of his losing his reason or taking his life, moved -him from place to place, hoping that change of scene might distract his -thoughts, even momentarily, from the loss. To some extent this plan was -successful, for after some weeks Beckford became again a reasonable -being. He allowed arrangements to be made for his children to live -with his mother, then residing at West End, between the villages -of Hampstead and Kilburn; but himself continued to move restlessly -from town to town, seeking, not change of place so much as change of -thought. Though time mercifully mitigated the transports of his grief, -it never ousted from his mind the memory of his gracious, beautiful -wife. Rarely he spoke of her, but when he did mention her it was in a -way which made it clear that she was always in his mind; though his -wealth and genius made him the target of fortune-hunters, he never -even thought to marry again; and his tender memories of her, enduring -through the passage of years, acting upon an emotional nature, may -have had more to do with his subsequent retirement than is generally -supposed. - -Before Beckford left England for his second Continental tour he had -begun the composition of a “Suite des Contes arabes.” Of this the -principal story was “Vathek,” which he completed while he was abroad. -He sent the manuscript in 1783 to his friend, the Rev. Samuel Henley, -who was delighted with it, and volunteered to translate it into -English. The offer was accepted, but Henley proceeded leisurely with -the work, which, with the notes added by him, was not finished until -early in 1786. Beckford, however, was desirous to insert in “Vathek” -the stories of the Princes whom his hero met in the Hall of Eblis, -and he told Henley that on no account must the publication of the -translation precede that of the original. Henley, however, ignored the -author’s injunction, and issued the translation later in the year, and -made matters worse by stating that the tale was of Eastern origin: -Beckford hereupon made the only rejoinder in his power, and issued the -French original at Lausanne. - -After bringing his children to England Beckford returned to the -Continent, where he remained until 1794, visiting Spain and Portugal, -where he wrote another book of travels, and staying for some time in -Paris, where he witnessed the fall of the Bastille and the execution -of Louis XVI. At Paris he was at one time mistaken for an English spy, -and he was in danger of arrest, from which he was saved by the devotion -of the second-hand bookseller, Chardin, who contrived his escape in -disguise to England, for which he was rewarded by Beckford with a -pension. Subsequently Beckford endeavoured, through his agent at Paris, -to set on foot, in 1797, negotiations for a peace between France and -this country. - -After 1794 Beckford seldom left England except to pay brief visits to -Paris. At Fonthill he employed James Wyatt, the architect, to make -improvements in the house his father had built; and subsequently he -erected a new house, the famous Fonthill Abbey, a magnificent but -unsubstantial Gothic structure. Once Beckford was asked if the Abbey -was built from his own plan. “No, I have sins enough to answer for, -without having that laid to my charge,” he answered. “Wyatt had an -opportunity of raising a splendid monument to his fame, but he missed -it.” But whatever was said against the Abbey, no one had anything -but praise for the gardens and park, which were, indeed, beautiful. -Beckford lived at Fonthill until 1822, when, owing to the depreciation -of his property in the West Indies, he sold the place and moved to -Bath, where he remained until his death twenty-two years later. - -Though Beckford had many visitors at Fonthill, he was singularly -independent of company, having more resources in himself than usually -falls to the lot of a man. “I love building, planting, gardening, -whatever will keep me employed in the open air,” he said; and, while -the Abbey was being built and the grounds laid out, he might have been -seen at all hours of the day, and sometimes, too, at night, watching -the progress of the operations. He charged himself with the welfare -of his workmen, of whom there were never less than two hundred in his -employ; he visited the poor on his estates, and made provision for -those who could not help themselves. - -Beckford’s indoor occupations were numerous. It has been said, and with -some show of reason, that he was the most accomplished man of his time. -He was a good musician, he could sketch, he spoke five modern European -tongues, and could write three of them with elegance, he was well -acquainted with Persian, Arabic, and, of course, the Latin and Greek -classics; while his reading was at least as extensive as that of any of -his contemporaries. Anyone who has these accomplishments can scarcely -be dull, and Beckford, in addition, was an enthusiastic collector of -books, pictures, and other treasures, in pursuit of which he frequently -went to London to inspect the dealers’ stocks of scarce volumes and -fine paintings. Though he yielded to none in his love of tall copies, -splendid bindings and rare editions, he was student as well as -collector: and it was characteristic of his tastes that while, in later -life, he sometimes disposed of a picture, he never sold a book. Even as -in his youth he secluded himself at Lausanne to read Gibbon’s library, -which he had purchased, so afterwards he rarely put on his shelves any -volume until he had made himself acquainted with its contents; and, -large as his library was, to the end of his days he could without a -moment’s hesitation put his hand on any book or print he possessed. It -was his habit to annotate his books, and to write some brief criticism -on the fly-leaf. Sometimes his comments covered three or four pages, -and one of the most valuable items offered at the sale of his library, -in 1882–1883, was this item, knocked down to Quaritch for forty-two -pounds: “Beckfordiana. Transcript from the autograph notes written by -Mr Beckford on the fly-leaves of various works in his library, 7 vols., -Manuscript (folio).” His comments were unusually shrewd, and often so -caustic as to suggest that had he been obliged to earn his living he -might well have turned an honest penny by contributing to one or other -of the quarterlies in the days when severity was the motto of these -periodicals. - -In Wiltshire Beckford rarely went beyond the limits of his estate, -except when driving to London; but at Bath he might occasionally be -seen at a concert or a flower show, and not infrequently riding on his -cream-coloured Arabian, either alone, attended by three grooms, two -behind and one in front as an outrider, or in company with the Duke of -Hamilton or a friend. He was always dressed in a great-coat with cloth -buttons, a buff-striped waistcoat, breeches of the same kind of cloth -as the coat, and brown top boots, the fine cotton stockings appearing -over them, in the fashion of thirty or forty years before. He wore his -hair powdered, and with his handsome face and fine eyes looked every -inch the fine old English gentleman. - -These appearances in public were the only difference between the life -Beckford led at Fonthill and at Bath. In fine weather it was his -invariable custom to rise early, ride to the tower he had erected -at Lansdown, look at the flowers, and walk back to his house for -breakfast. He would then read until noon, transact business with his -steward, and afterwards ride out for exercise, again visiting the -tower, if there was any planting or building going on. After dinner, -which in those days was served in the afternoon, unless he had a -visitor, he would retire to his library, and occupy himself with his -correspondence, his books and his prints, and the examination of -catalogues of sales sent to him by the London dealers. This routine -was seldom varied, except when he went to London, where by this time -he had removed from No. 22 Grosvenor Square to a house, No. 127 Park -Street, overlooking Hyde Park, which, owing to its somewhat unwholesome -insanitary condition, he styled, and dated from, “Cesspool House.” In -1841, because of its many defects, he gave up this residence. - -The Bath aristocracy and the fashionable folk who flocked to the -watering-place could not understand how books and pictures, music -and gardens, could occupy anyone to the exclusion of participation -in the gaieties of the town; and the rumours that had been current -in Wiltshire society were revived with interest in the little -Somersetshire valley. The most awful crimes were placed to his account, -and with them accusations of devil-worship and the study of astrology. -Nothing was too terrible or too absurd with which to charge the man -of mystery, and, we are told, “surmises were current about a brood of -dwarfs that vegetated in an apartment built over the archway connecting -his two houses; and the vulgar, rich and poor alike, gave a sort of -half-credit to cabalistical monstrosities invoked in that apartment.” - -Though in his later years Beckford rarely indulged in the pleasures of -authorship, he did not underrate his literary gifts, and he saw with -pleasure that “Vathek” was taking the place in English literature to -which it was entitled. New editions were called for, and in 1834 it -took its place among Bentley’s Standard Novels. The venture must have -been profitable, for Bentley became Beckford’s publisher-in-chief. He -at once took over the “Biographical Memoirs of Extraordinary Painters,” -and in 1834 issued “Italy, with Sketches of Spain and Portugal”--a -work that appeared in the same year also in Baudry’s European Library, -published in Paris. In 1835 Bentley brought out “Alcobaça and Batalha,” -and five years later republished this and the earlier book of travels -in one volume--the last edition of any of Beckford’s books issued in -the author’s lifetime. Beckford’s interest in the various publications -was very considerable, and his annoyance with adverse critics is only -to be compared with the anger he displayed when rival collectors at -auction sales snatched treasures from his grasp. The adverse critics -of “Italy, with Sketches of Spain and Portugal,” however, were few and -far between. It was, indeed, received with a chorus of praise, and no -one cried “Bravo!” louder than Lockhart, who reviewed the work in _The -Quarterly Review_. - -Though Beckford lived to the patriarchal age of eighty-four, almost to -the last hour of his life he enjoyed good health. It has already been -said that when nearly eighty he declared he had never known a moment’s -_ennui_: few men have been able to say so much; yet there is no doubt -this was true, for he had stumbled upon the secret that only the idle -man is bored. Beckford was never idle; he had made so many interests -for himself that every moment of his day was occupied. A man of his age -who, in his last weeks, retains all his enthusiasms for his books, his -prints and his gardens, may well claim that he has made a success of -life. His intellectual power never waned, his sight was preserved to -him unimpaired, and at seventy-eight he could read from manuscript for -an hour and a half without resting. When his last illness overtook him, -he was busily engaged in marking a catalogue of M. Nodier’s library, -the sale of which at Paris his agent was to attend to make purchases: -he was as enthusiastic about his collections at the age of eighty-four -as he had been when he took up his residence at Fonthill fifty years -before. - -Physically, too, considering his great age, he was wonderfully active, -and until within a few days of his death he took regular exercise -on foot and on horseback. When he was seventy-seven he astonished a -friend by mentioning that he had on the previous day at dusk ridden -from Cheapside to his house in Park Street; and a year later he stated, -“I never feel fatigue. I can walk twenty to thirty miles a day; and I -only use my carriage (in London) on account of its being convenient -to put a picture or book into it, which I happen to purchase in my -rambles.” At seventy-five his activity was so great that he could mount -rapidly to the top of the tower at Lansdown without halting--“no small -exertion,” comments Cyrus Redding feelingly, “for many who were fifteen -or twenty years younger”: and even eight years later, during his visits -to London, he would ride to Hampstead Heath, or through Hyde Park, and -along the Edgware Road to West End, and pull up his horse opposite the -spot where once had been the entrance to his mother’s house. - -Most men who live to an advanced age have some theory to account for -it. Beckford had none, beyond believing that his days had probably been -prolonged by the fact that his life had been temperate, and that, as -he grew older, he took reasonable care of himself. “I enjoy too good -health, feel too happy, and am too much pleased with life to have any -inclination to throw it away for want of attention,” he said. “When I -am summoned I must go, though I should not much mind living another -hundred years, and, as far as my health goes at present, I see no -reason why I should not.” Thus, when going out he would put on an -overcoat, even if there were only the slightest wind stirring; and, -however interested or amused he might be, he would always retire early; -but while he took such precautions as these, he was in no sense a -valetudinarian. His love of fresh air, and his activity, together with -the regular life he led, undoubtedly had much to do with his attaining -his great age. - -Until the last week of April 1844, Beckford occupied himself in his -usual way, walking and riding, and working in his library. Then -influenza laid hold of him, and though he struggled manfully against -it, at last there was no doubt that the end was near. He sent a last -laconic note to his surviving daughter, the Duchess of Hamilton, “Come -quick! quick!” and a day or two after her arrival, on 2nd May, he -expired, with perfect resignation, and, we are told, so peacefully that -those by his side could not tell the moment when he passed away. - -His mortal remains were, on 11th May, interred in the Bath Abbey -Cemetery; but soon after they were removed, and reburied, more -appropriately, at Lansdown, under the shadow of his tower. On one side -of his tomb is a quotation from “Vathek,” “Enjoying humbly the most -precious gift of heaven to man--Hope”; and on another these lines from -his poem, “A Prayer”: - - “Eternal Power! - Grant me, through obvious clouds one transient gleam - Of thy bright essence in my dying hour.” - - - - - Charles James Fox - - -Charles James Fox, one of the most brilliant personalities, if not, -indeed, the most brilliant personality, that flourished in the last -decades of the eighteenth century, was the third son of Henry Fox, -afterwards Baron Holland of Foxley, and Lady Georgiana Lennox, daughter -of Charles, second Duke of Richmond, a grandson of Charles II. The -future statesman was born on 24th January 1749, and as he grew up it -was thought that a resemblance to his royal ancestor could be traced -in his dark, harsh and saturnine features, that “derived a sort of -majesty from the addition of two black and shaggy eyebrows, which -sometimes concealed, but more frequently developed, the workings of -his mind.” He was a bright, lively and original child, but subject to -violent excesses of temper. “Charles is dreadfully passionate,” said -his mother. “What shall we do with him?” “Oh, never mind. He is a very -sensible little fellow, and he will learn to cure himself,” replied -his father, who perceived and was proud of the lad’s unusual ability. -“Let nothing be done to break his spirit; the world will effect that -business soon enough.” - -At a private school at Wandsworth, and subsequently at Eton, where Dr -Philip Francis was his private tutor, the lad showed himself both -intelligent and diligent. His education was interrupted in 1763, -when his father took him to Paris and Spa, and at that early age -initiated him into the mysteries of gaming, the passion for which -was subsequently to exercise a most adverse influence on him. On his -return to Eton his newly acquired knowledge of the world demoralised -his companions, and he gave himself airs and thought himself a man -until the headmaster birched him, and so brought him down to earth. In -1764 he went to Hertford College, Oxford, preceded by a reputation for -Latin verse, a considerable knowledge of French, and a power of oratory -unusual in one so young, but which he attributed to the fact that at -home he had always been encouraged to think freely, and as freely to -express his opinions. At the University he read deeply in classics and -history, and the taste then developed endured through life, for, while -he indulged in many frivolities, he would in the midst of them steal a -few hours to devote to the books of which he never wearied. Towards the -end of his days he put his learning into harness, and wrote a history -of the reign of James II. and an account of the Revolution of 1688 that -do not deserve to be relegated to obscurity. - -Much has been written about the faults of Fox, but some of them, at -least, should not be held greatly to his discredit, since they were -the faults of the age. Wine, women and cards were the occupations of -his companions, and not of the unintelligent only. Everybody drank and -drank deeply, drank in pursuit of pleasure, drank to drown sorrow. - -“I dined at Holland House” (wrote the Right Honourable Charles Rigby -upon one occasion to George Selwyn), “where, though I drank claret with -the master of it from dinner till two in the morning, I could not wash -away the sorrow he is in at the shocking condition his eldest boy is -in.” - -Fox, Sheridan, Pitt and, notably, Professor Porson were three-bottle -men, and it was not unusual for politicians to go to Westminster Hall -in a state of insobriety. - -“Fox drinks what I should call a great deal, though he is not reckoned -to do so by his companions; Sheridan, excessively, and Grey more -than any of them; while Pitt, I am told, drinks as much as anybody, -generally more than any of his company, and is a pleasant, convivial -man at table,” - -Sir Gilbert Elliot has recorded; and Lord Bulkeley wrote to the Marquis -of Buckingham à propos of Pitt bringing in the Declaratory Bill of the -powers of the Board of Control: - -“It was an awkward day for him (owing to the defection of some -friends), and he felt it the more because he himself was low-spirited, -and overcome by the heat of the House, in consequence of having got -drunk the night before at your house in Pall Mall, with Mr Dundas and -the _Duchess of Gordon_! They must have had a hard bout of it, for even -Dundas, who is well used to the bottle, was affected by it, and spoke -remarkably ill, dull and tedious.” - -One reads with amazement of a Chancellor of the Exchequer, a -Lord Chancellor and a Treasurer of the Navy--Pitt, Thurlow and -Dundas--excited by wine galloping through a turnpike gate without -paying the toll, and the man, mistaking them for highwaymen, -discharging his blunderbuss. This exploit was duly noted in “The -Rolliad.” - - “Ah! think what danger on debauch attends! - Let Pitt o’er wine preach temperance to his friends, - How, as he wandered darkling o’er the plain, - His reason drowned in Jenkinson’s champagne, - A rustic’s hand, but righteous fate withstood, - Had shed a Premier’s for a robber’s blood.” - -A great drinker, too, was Jack Talbot of the Coldstream Guards, and -it was of him, when the doctor said: “My lord, he is in a bad way, -for I was obliged to make use of the lancet this morning,” that the -witty Alvanley remarked: “You should have _tapped_ him, Doctor, for I -am sure he has more claret than blood in his veins.” Another was the -eccentric Twistleton Fiennes, Lord Saye and Sele, a famous epicure, -who drank large quantities of absinthe and curaçoa. Gronow recommended -him a servant, who, arriving as Fiennes was going to dinner, asked his -new master if he had any orders, only to receive these instructions: -“Place two bottles of sherry by my bedside, and call me the day after -to-morrow!” - -Gambling vied with drinking as an amusement of the aristocracy, and -the one was as ruinous to their purses as the other to their health. -Everyone played cards in those days, and even ladies gambled with as -much zest as their husbands and brothers. There was much card-playing -in private houses, but more in the clubs, especially at White’s, -Brooks’s and Almack’s. - -“As the gambling and extravagance of the young men of fashion has -arrived now at a pitch never heard of, it is worth while to give some -account of it” (Walpole wrote in 1772). “They have a club at Almack’s -in Pall Mall, where they played only for rouleaus of fifty pounds each -rouleau; and generally there was ten thousand pounds in specie on the -table. Lord Holland had paid about twenty thousand pounds for his two -sons. Nor were the manners of the gamesters, or even their dresses for -play, undeserving notice. They began by pulling off their embroidered -clothes, and put on frieze great-coats, or turned their coats inside -outwards for luck. They put on pieces of leather (such as is worn by -footmen when they clean knives) to save their lace ruffles; and to -guard their eyes from the light and prevent tumbling their hair, wore -high-crowned straw hats with broad brims, and adorned with flowers and -ribbons; masks to conceal their emotions when they played at quinze. -Each gamester had a small, neat stand by him, with a large rim, to -hold their tea, or a wooden bowl with an edge of ormolu to hold their -rouleaus. They borrowed great sums of the Jews at exorbitant premiums. -Charles Fox called his outward room, where those Jews waited till he -rose, the Jerusalem Chamber. His brother Stephen was enormously fat; -George Selwyn said he was in the right to deal with Shylocks, as he -could give them ‘pounds of flesh.’” - -[Illustration: _Charles James Fox_] - -It is not exaggeration to say that during the long sittings at macao, -hazard, and faro many tens of thousands exchanged hands. - -Fox was a magnificent player of piquet and whist, but in the evenings, -when he had dined well and wined well, he would play only games of -chance, at which he was always unlucky. - - “At Almack’s of pigeons I’m told there are flocks, - But it’s thought the completest is one Mr Fox. - If he touches a card, if he rattles a box, - Away fly the guineas of this Mr Fox.” - -Once, before delivering a speech in defence of the Church, he played -for twenty-two hours, and lost five hundred pounds an hour; and then -declared that the greatest pleasure in life, after winning, was losing! -His bad luck was notorious, but again and again his intimates came -to his assistance, and Walpole wondered what he would do when he had -sold the estates of all his friends! It was noticed that he did not do -himself justice in a debate on the Thirty-Nine Articles (6th February -1772), and Walpole thought it was not to be wondered at. - -“He had sat up playing at hazard at Almack’s from Tuesday evening, the -4th, till five in the afternoon of Wednesday, 5th. An hour before, -he had recovered twelve thousand pounds that he had lost, and by -dinner, which was at five o’clock, he had ended losing eleven thousand -pounds. On the Thursday he spoke in the above debate, went to dinner -at half-past eleven at night, from there to White’s, where he drank -till seven the next morning, thence to Almack’s, where he won six -thousand pounds, and between three and four in the afternoon he set -out for Newmarket. His brother Stephen lost ten thousand pounds two -nights after, and Charles eleven thousand pounds more on the 13th, so -that in three nights the two brothers, the eldest not twenty-four, lost -thirty-two thousand pounds.” - -The wonder is, not that Fox spoke ill, but that he spoke at all. - -They were good losers in those days, and stoicism was a very necessary -quality to be possessed by the majority, since all played and few won. -One night, when Fox had been terribly unfortunate at the faro-table, -Topham Beauclerk followed him to his rooms to offer consolation, -expecting to find him perhaps stretched on the floor bewailing his -losses, perhaps plunged in moody despair. He was surprised to see -him reading Herodotus. “What would you have me do?” Fox asked the -astonished visitor. “I have lost my last shilling.” “Charles tells me -he has not now, nor has had for some time, one guinea,” Lord Carlisle -told George Selwyn, “and is happier on that account.” - - “But hark! the voice of battle shouts from far, - The Jews and Macaronis are at war; - The Jews prevail, and, thund’ring from the stocks, - They seize, they bind, they circumcise Charles Fox.” - -The money-lenders were most obliging to Fox at the time when he was -heir-apparent to the barony of Holland, but the holder of the title had -an heir, which destroyed his prospects; whereupon Fox, unperturbed, -made it the subject of a joke against his creditors: “My brother Ste’s -son is a second Messiah, born for the destruction of the Jews.” He -lived on credit for some time, and so notorious was this fact that when -he gave a supper-party at his rooms in St James’s Street, close by -Brooks’s Club, Tickell addressed verses thereon to Sheridan: - - “Derby shall send, if not his plate, his cooks; - And know, I’ve bought the best champagne from Brooks, - From liberal Brooks, whose speculative skill - Is hasty credit and a distant bill; - Who, nursed on clubs, disdains a vulgar trade, - Exults to trust, and blushes to be paid.” - -Lord Holland had already paid his son’s debts on several occasions, -and apparently some remonstrance was addressed to the latter. - -“In regard to what you say of my father’s feelings, I am sure if you -could have known how very miserable you have made me you would not have -said it” (Fox wrote in 1773 to Lady Holland, in a letter in which there -is the true note of sincerity). “To be loved by you and him has always -been (indeed, I am no hypocrite, whatever I may be) the first desire of -my life. The reflection that I have behaved ill to you is almost the -only painful one I have ever experienced. That my extreme imprudence -and dissipation has given both of you uneasiness is what I have long -known, and I am sure I may call those who really know me to witness -how much that thought has embittered my life. I own I lately began to -flatter myself that, particularly with you, and in a great measure with -my father, I had regained that sort of confidence which was once the -greatest pride of my life; and I am sure I don’t exaggerate when I say -that, since I formed those flattering hopes, I have been the happiest -being in the universe. I hate to make professions, and yet I think I -may venture to say that my conduct in the future shall be such as to -satisfy you more than my past. Indeed, indeed, my dear mother, no son -ever loved a father and mother as I do. Pray, my dear mother, consider -how very miserable you have made me, and pity me. I do not know what -to write, so have to leave off writing, but you may be assured that no -son ever felt more duty, respect, gratitude, or love than I do for both -of you, and that it is in your power, by restoring me to your usual -confidence and affection, or depriving me of it, to make me the most -unhappy or contented of men.” - -Once again Lord Holland took upon himself the settlement of Charles’s -debt, and just before his death, in 1774, satisfied his son’s -creditors--at a cost of £140,000! Even this was not a sufficient lesson -to the young man, who incurred fresh liabilities, to pay which he sold -a sinecure place of £2000 a year for life--the Clerkship of the Peels -in Ireland, and the superbly decorated mansion and estate at Kingsgate -in the Isle of Thanet, both of which had been left him by his father. - -Fox in his twentieth year entered Parliament as member for the pocket -borough of Midhurst in Sussex, and, at his father’s request, supported -the Duke of Grafton’s administration. He took his seat in May 1768, and -distinguished himself in the following year by a speech opposing the -claim of Wilkes to take his seat as member for Middlesex. “It was all -off-hand, all argumentative, in reply to Mr Burke and Mr Wedderburn, -and excessively well indeed,” Lord Holland said proudly. “I hear it -spoken of as an extraordinary thing, and I am, as you see, not a little -pleased with it.” This was the age of young men, for Fox’s lifelong -antagonist, Pitt, entered the House when he was twenty-two, accepted -the Chancellorship of the Exchequer twelve months later, and became -Prime Minister in his twenty-fifth year! The careers of these statesmen -must have delighted another precocious genius, Benjamin Disraeli, who -reverenced youth. “The only tolerable thing in life is action, and -action is feeble without youth,” he wrote. “What if you do not obtain -your immediate object? You always think you will, and the detail of the -adventure is full of rapture.” The blunders of youth, that great man -thought, are preferable to the triumph of manhood or the successes of -old age. - -In February 1770 Fox took office under Lord North as Lord of the -Admiralty, when, owing to his attitude in the debates on the Press -laws, he became so unpopular with a section of the public as actually -to be attacked in the streets, and rolled in the mud. It has already -been mentioned how, in February 1772, he spoke against the clerical -petition for relief from subscription to the Thirty-Nine Articles; -and later, in the same month, he resigned his office so as to be -free to oppose the Royal Marriage Bill, which was introduced by the -King’s command after the announcement of the Duke of Cumberland’s -marriage with Mrs Horton. The King was determined, so far as it lay -in his power, to prevent the occurrence in his family of another -_mésalliance_, and the principal clauses of the Royal Marriage Act -forbade the marriage of a member of the royal family under the age -of twenty-five without the consent of the monarch, and above that -age, if the King refused consent, without the permission of both -Houses of Parliament. The Bill was fiercely contested in both Houses -of Parliament; Fox, Burke, and Wedderburn were its most strenuous -opponents in the Commons; Lord Folkestone, in person, and Lord -Chatham, by letter, in the Lords. It was denounced by its opponents -as “un-English, arbitrary, and contrary to the law of God”; and the -objection raised was that it would set the royal family as a caste -apart. So unpopular was it that, in spite of the King’s influence -being exerted in its favour, an amendment limiting it to the reign of -George III. and three years longer was negatived only by a majority of -eighteen. The Bill became law in March 1772. - -Fox began to be recognised as a power in the House, and Lord North soon -made overtures to his erstwhile colleague to rejoin the ministry as a -Lord of the Treasury. This Fox did within a year of his resignation, -but his independence soon brought about another rupture; and when, on a -question of procedure, he caused the defeat of the ministry by pressing -a motion to a division, the King wrote to Lord North: “Indeed, that -young man has so thoroughly cast off every principle of common honour -and honesty that he must become as contemptible as he is odious, and -I hope you will let him know you are not insensible of his conduct -towards you.” The Prime Minister took the hint, and dismissed Fox in -a delightfully laconic note: “Sir, His Majesty has thought proper to -order a new Commission of the Treasury, in which I do not see your -name.” - -In opposition Fox was a vigorous opponent of Lord North’s policy in -connection with the American colonies. In April 1774 he voted for the -repeal of the tea duty, declaring that the tax was the mere assertion -of a right that would force the colonists into open rebellion; and -he attacked the subsequent proceedings of the English government on -account of their manifest injustice. Against the war that ensued he -protested with might and main, and to the utmost of his power tried to -force the ministry into a pacific path. - -“The war of the Americans is a war of passion” (he declared on 26th -November 1778); “it is of such a nature as to be supported by the most -powerful virtues, love of liberty and of country, and at the same time -by those passions in the human heart which give courage, strength and -perseverance to man; the spirit of revenge for the injury you have -done them, of retaliation for the hardships inflicted on them, and of -opposition to the unjust powers you would have exercised over them; -everything combines to animate them to this war, and such a war is -without end; for whatever obstinacy enthusiasm ever inspired man with, -you will now have to contend with in America; no matter what gives -birth to that enthusiasm, whether the name of religion or of liberty, -the effects are the same; it inspires a spirit that is unconquerable -and solicitous to undergo difficulties and dangers; and as long as -there is a man in America, so long will you have him against you in the -field.” - -And in the following year he compared George III. with Henry VI.--“both -owed the Crown to revolutions, both were pious princes, and both lost -the acquisitions of their predecessors”--and so earned the enmity of -the King, who could not differentiate between doctrine and action; -and because Fox supported the rights of the Americans looked upon him -henceforth as a rebel. Later, when of all the colonies only Boston -remained in the hands of the English, and Wedderburn with foolhardy -audacity ventured in the House of Commons to compare North as a War -Minister with Chatham, Fox created a sensation by declaring that “not -Lord Chatham, nor Alexander the Great, nor Cæsar ever conquered so much -territory in the course of all their wars as Lord North had lost in one -campaign!” In January 1781 he made a further effort, in which he was -supported by Pitt, to compel Lord North to abandon the war and make -peace with the colonies. - -“The only objection made to my motion” (he declared) “is that it must -lead to American independence. But I venture to assert that _within six -months of the present day_, Ministers themselves will come forward to -Parliament with some proposition of a similar nature. I know that such -is their intention; I announce it to the House.” - -Of course his resolution was defeated, and the colonies were for ever -lost to the Crown. “I that am born a gentleman,” said George III. to -Lord Thurlow and the Duke of Leeds, “shall never lay my head on my last -pillow in peace and quiet as long as I remember the loss of my American -colonies.” Not the less, the King never forgave Fox for that attitude -which might have averted the disaster. - -Fox, who had declined office in 1780, was two years later appointed -Foreign Secretary when Lord Rockingham became Prime Minister, and in -this position he won golden opinions. - -“Mr Fox already shines as greatly in place as he did in opposition, -though infinitely more difficult a task” (Walpole wrote to Mr Horace -Mann). “He is now as indefatigable as he was idle. He has perfect -temper, and not only good humour and good nature, but, which is the -first quality of a Prime Minister in a free country, has more common -sense than any man, with amazing parts that are neither ostentatious -nor affected.” - -Lord Rockingham died a few months later, when Lord Shelburne was -appointed in his place, and soon after Fox, with some of his -colleagues, withdrew from the Ministry. The cause of his secession -was said to be that Fox wished to grant independence to the American -colonies as a boon, and Lord Shelburne would regard it only as a -bargain; but the underlying reasons were Fox’s hatred of the man and -jealousy aroused by the exclusion from office of the Duke of Portland. -It was to Lord Shelburne, who was most unpopular and suspected of -insincerity, that Goldsmith made his singularly _mal à propos_ remark: -“Do you know, I could never conceive the reason why they call you -Malagrida, for Malagrida was a very good sort of man!” - -Fox allied himself with Lord North, and as they had a large majority -in the House of Commons, Lord Shelburne resigned in February 1784. The -King was furious, but being powerless, was compelled to appoint as -First Minister of the Crown the Duke of Portland, under whom Pitt and -Lord North held office as Secretaries of State. - -In the previous year the Prince of Wales had come of age, and had at -once attached himself to the Opposition, who naturally welcomed so -powerful an ally. - -“The Prince of Wales has thrown himself into the arms of Charles, and -this in the most indecent and undisguised manner” (Walpole wrote to -Sir Horace Mann). “Fox lodged in St James’s Street, and as soon as -he rose, which was very late, held a _levée_ of his followers, and -of the members of the Gambling Club at Brooks’s, all his disciples. -His bristly, black person, and shagged breast quite open, and rarely -purified by any ablutions, was wrapped in a foul linen night-gown, and -his bushy hair dishevelled. In these cynic weeds, and with epicurean -good humour, did he dictate his politics, and in this school did the -heir to the Crown attend his lessons and imbibe them.” - -Fox told his new adherent that a Prince of Wales should have no party, -but, his advice being disregarded, when the opinion was expressed that -the Prince should not attend the debates in the House of Commons, he -intervened in defence of his friend. - -“Is the mind, which may at any hour, by the common changes of -mortality, be summoned to the highest duties allotted to man, to be -left to learn them by accident?” (he asked). “For my part I rejoice to -see this distinguished person disdaining to use the privileges of his -rank and keep aloof from the debates of this House. I rejoice to see -him manfully coming among us, to imbibe a knowledge of the Constitution -within the walls of the Commons of England. I, for my part, see -nothing in the circumstance which has called down so much voluntary -eloquence.” - -There were many, however, who disapproved of this alliance, and many -attacks were made upon Fox, who was the subject of many lampoons. - - “Though matters at present go cross in the realm, - You will one day be K----g, Sir, and I at the helm; - So let us be jovial, drink, gamble and sing, - Nor regard it a straw, tho’ we’re not yet the thing. - Tol de rol, tol, tol, tol de rol.” - -The principal act of the Administration was the introduction of Fox’s -India Bill, by which powers were sought to take away the control of the -great dominion that Warren Hastings had built up from the Honourable -East India Company and transfer it to a board of seven Commissioners, -who should hold office for five years and be removable only on an -Address to the Crown from either House of Parliament. This was bitterly -opposed by the merchant class, who saw in it a precedent for the -revocation of other charters; but the clause that aroused the greatest -bitterness was that in which it was laid down that the appointment of -the first seven Commissioners should be vested in Parliament, and -afterwards in the Crown. This was, of course, equivalent to vesting -the appointments and the enormous patronage attaching thereto in the -Ministry, and “it was an attempt,” said Lord Thurlow, “to take the -diadem from the King’s head and to put it on that of Mr Fox.” The -Bill was fought with every weapon, but it passed the Commons, only, -however, to be defeated by the Lords, upon whom the King had brought -his personal influence to bear. Thereupon, in December 1783, the King -contemptuously dismissed the Ministry. - -In the following May there was a General Election, the chief interest -of which centred round the City of Westminster, for which Fox and Sir -Cecil Wray had sat in the dissolved Parliament. The King, who had -plotted the downfall of the Ministry, had determined to do his utmost -to prevent Fox from sitting in the new Parliament, but the latter, who -had, however, already been elected for Kirkwall, audaciously carried -the war into the enemy’s camp by having himself nominated for his old -constituency. - -“It may fairly be questioned” (Mr Sidney said) “whether any of -the electoral contests of the eighteenth century equalled that -of Westminster in point of the prevalence of corrupt practices, -drunkenness, tumult and disorder. The polling lasted forty days, and, -during the long period over which it extended, the entire western -quarter of the Metropolis and Covent Garden, the immediate vicinity -of the hustings, presented a scene of uproar and disorder which it -is difficult to describe. The latter locality might have been styled -‘Bear Garden’ for the time being, so flagrant were the outrages against -decency, and so riotous was the violence of which it was the scene.” - -At first the two Ministerial candidates, Admiral Hood and Sir Cecil -Wray, forged ahead, and left Fox so far behind that the prospect of his -return appeared hopeless. Then the influence of the many ladies of rank -and fashion who canvassed for the latter made itself felt. The Duchess -of Portland, Countess Carlisle, Countess of Derby, Lady Beauchamp, and -Lady Duncannon were among Fox’s assistants, but the greatest service -was rendered by the beautiful Duchess of Devonshire, whose charms have -been chronicled by every contemporary memorist. - - “Array’d in matchless beauty, Devon’s fair - In Fox’s favour takes a zealous part; - But oh! where’er the pilferer comes, beware: - She supplicates a vote, and steals a heart!” - -A reaction in favour of Fox set in, and when, at three o’clock on 17th -May, the poll closed, the High Bailiff of Westminster declared the -results: - - “Lord Hood 6694 - Hon. C. J. Fox 6234 - Sir Cecil Wray 5998 - ---- - Majority for Fox 236” - -Great were the rejoicings when it became known that “the man of the -people” had snatched the victory from the Court candidate. The Prince -of Wales, who had thrown his influence into the scale, went the same -evening to a supper-party given by Mrs Crewe, where all present were -arrayed in buff and blue, the victor’s colours. The Prince proposed -the health of the hostess with felicitous brevity, “True Blue and Mrs -Crewe,” to which the lady wittily replied, “True Blue, and all of you”; -and the hero of the hour returned thanks to all and sundry. - -It was to Mr Fox and Mrs Armitstead (with whom Fox was then living and -whom he married in 1795), at the latter’s house at St Anne’s, Chertsey, -that the Prince repaired to pour out his woes when, to evade his -compromising attentions, Mrs Fitzherbert went abroad. - -“Mrs Armitstead has repeatedly assured me” (Lord Holland relates in his -“Memoirs of the Whig Party”) “that he came thither more than once to -converse with her and Mr Fox on the subject, that he cried by the hour, -that he testified to the sincerity and violence of his passion and his -despair by the most extravagant expressions and actions, rolling on the -floor, striking his forehead, tearing his hair, falling into hysterics, -and swearing he would abandon the country, forego the Crown, sell his -jewels and plate, and scrape together a competence to fly with the -object of his affections to America.” - -When Mrs Fitzherbert returned to England, Fox implored the Prince not -to marry her, and received from him a reply, “Make yourself easy, my -dear friend! Believe me, the world will soon be convinced that not only -is there not, but never was, any grounds for these reports, which have -been so malevolently circulated.” On the strength of this letter, when -the question was raised in the House of Commons in a debate on the -Prince’s debts, Fox denied the marriage, only to be told by a relative -of the lady at Brooks’s Club, within an hour of his speech, that the -marriage had taken place! It is said that the statesman was furious -at the deception that had been practised upon him; but doubtless his -sense of humour came to his rescue: one can imagine him shrugging his -shoulders with his almost imperturbable good humour, as he reflected -that while his position as a dupe was distressing, what must be the -feeling of him who had duped him. It was, indeed, a case of the biter -bit! Perhaps, too, he was amused at having saved the Prince _malgré -lui_; and certainly it is to his credit that “when urged by his friends -to undeceive Parliament, and thus vindicate himself in the opinion of -the country, he refused to do so at the expense of the heir to the -monarchy.” But there was on his part a coldness towards the Prince for -some time, and he never again trusted that royal personage. - -It is impossible within the limits of this paper to discuss Fox’s -subsequent political career, or to make more than an allusion to -the attacks on Warren Hastings during the famous impeachment, to -his advocacy of the Prince as the rightful Regent during the King’s -illness, and his opposition to many of Pitt’s measures. His remark on -hearing of the taking of the Bastille has become historic: “How much is -this the greatest event that ever happened in the world, and how much -the best”; but he never approved of the excesses that followed, and he -was opposed to all absolute forms of government, and not more averse to -an absolute monarchy or an absolute aristocracy than to an absolute -democracy. From 1792 for five years he seldom attended Parliament, -but devoted himself chiefly to the composition of his “History of the -Revolution of 1688.” In 1798 his name was erased from the list of -Privy Councillors because at a dinner he proposed the toast of “Our -Sovereign, the people.” Later he went abroad, had an interview with -Napoleon, and on his return, in 1803, in a magnificent speech advocated -a peace with France. On Lord Addington’s resignation in the following -year it was proposed that Fox should be a member of the new Cabinet, -but the King intervened to make Pitt promise, firstly, never to support -Catholic Emancipation, and, secondly, to exclude Fox from office. -However, two years later, Fox accepted the portfolio of the Foreign -Office under Grenville, in the “Ministry of all the Talents.” He made -his last appearance in the House of Commons on 10th June 1806, to move -a resolution preparatory to introducing a Bill for the suppression of -the slave trade. - -“So fully am I impressed with the vast importance and necessity -of attaining what will be the object of my motion this night” (he -concluded his farewell speech) “that if, during the almost forty years -that I have had the honour of a seat in Parliament, I had been so -fortunate as to accomplish that, and that only, I should think I had -done enough, and could retire from public life with comfort and the -conscious satisfaction that I had done my duty.” - -A few days after, he was taken ill at the house of the Duke of -Devonshire at Chiswick, and it was soon apparent that his last hours -were near. He was no believer in religion, but, to please his wife, -he consented to have prayers read, though he “paid little attention -to the ceremony, remaining quiescent merely, not liking to refuse any -wish of hers, nor to pretend any sentiments he did not entertain.” “I -die happy,” he said to his wife, “but I pity you.” He died on 13th -September, and was interred in Westminster Abbey, immediately adjoining -the monument of Lord Chatham, and close by the grave of William Pitt, -his great rival, who had predeceased him by a few months. - -As a constructive statesman, Charles James Fox had but little -opportunity to shine. - -“Charles is unquestionably a man of first rate talents, but so -deficient in judgment as never to have succeeded in any object during -his whole life” (said his “candid friend,” Boothby). “He loved only -three things, women, play, and politics. Yet at no period did he ever -form a creditable connection with a woman. He lost his whole fortune at -the gaming table; and, with the exception of about eleven months of his -life, he has remained always in opposition.” - -This is a severe pronouncement upon a great man, who was a great orator -and a splendid debater. - -“Fox delivered his speeches without previous preparation, and their -power lay not in rhetorical adornments, but in the vigour of the -speaker’s thoughts, the extent of his knowledge, the quickness with -which he grasped the significance of each point in debate, the -clearness of his conceptions, and the remarkable plainness with which -he laid them before his audience” (says Professor Harrison). “Even in -the longest speeches he never strayed from the matter in hand; he never -rose above the level of his hearers’ understanding, was never obscure, -and never bored the House. Every position that he took up he defended -by a large number of shrewd arguments, plainly stated and well ordered.” - -His voice was poor, his actions ungainly, and he did not become fluent -until he warmed with his subject; but in attack generally, and -especially in connection with the American War, Grattan thought him the -best speaker he had ever heard. Burke said he was “the most brilliant -and accomplished debater that the world ever saw”; Rogers declared he -“never heard anything equal to Fox’s _speeches in reply_”; while, when -someone abused one of Fox’s speeches to Pitt, the latter remarked, -“Don’t disparage it; nobody could have made it but himself.” - -Fox, however, did not lay undue stress on eloquence, and in a -well-known speech declared that one sometimes paid too dearly for -oratory. - -“I remember” (he said) “a time when the whole of the Privy Council came -away, throwing up their caps, and exulting in an extraordinary manner -at a speech made by the present Lord Rosslyn (Alexander Wedderburn), -and an examination of Dr Franklin (before the Privy Council on the -letters of Hutchinson and Oliver, the Governor and Lieutenant-Governor -of Massachusetts), in which that respectable man was most uncommonly -badgered. But we paid very dear for that splendid specimen of -eloquence, and all its attendant tropes, figures, metaphors, and -hyperbole; for then came the Bill, and in the end we lost all our -American colonies, a hundred millions of money, and a hundred thousand -of our brave fellow subjects.” - -Fox made mistakes occasionally, as when he asserted the _right_ of the -Prince of Wales to the Regency; but he was distinguished in the House -of Commons for his “hopeful sympathy with all good and great causes.” -In a day when politicians were not especially enlightened, he was a -supporter of Parliamentary reform, a champion of Catholic Emancipation, -and an opponent of the slave trade; and, indeed, it was by his advocacy -of these measures that he earned the enmity of the King, and thus was -prevented from carrying out these beneficial schemes. - -It has already been admitted that he was a spendthrift, and had a -passion for gaming which, when taxed with it by Lord Hillsborough in -the House of Commons, he designated as “a vice countenanced by the -fashion of the times, a vice to which some of the greatest characters -had given way in the early part of their lives, and a vice which -carried with it its own punishment.” His weaknesses, however, were -more than balanced by his many splendid qualities. He was a noble -antagonist, and when Pitt made his first speech, and someone remarked -he would be one of the first in Parliament, “He is so already,” said -Fox. Which recalls the story of the Prince of Wales’ remark, on hearing -of the death of the Duchess of Devonshire: “Then we have lost the -best-bred woman in England.” “Then,” said the more generous Fox, “we -have lost the kindest heart in England.” - -Fox was a great-hearted man, with a beautiful disposition, high -spirits, unbounded good-humour, delightful conversation, a great -affection for his friends, an undeniable loyalty to those who trusted -him; and these qualities, combined with his great natural abilities and -an indisputable charm, made him a great, commanding and fascinating -figure. Gibbon, a political opponent, said he possessed “the powers of -a superior man, as they are blended in his attractive character, with -the softness and simplicity of a child,” adding that “perhaps no human -being was ever more perfectly exempt from the taint of malevolence, -vanity or falsehood”; but the greatest tribute came from Burke, who -described him simply and, perhaps, sufficiently as “a man made to be -loved.” - - - - - Philip, Duke of Wharton - - -In the history of every country a few figures stand out conspicuous, -not necessarily for ability or virtue, or even vice, but through the -power of a dominating personality or the strangeness of their career. -In the Georgian annals of England in the forefront of these heroes of -romance stands, head and shoulders above the rest, Charles James Fox, -whose genius and fascinations, indeed, whose very faults, seize the -imagination, and hold it captive, a willing prisoner; but there are -others, minor lights to this great star, yet still shining so brightly -as to dazzle the sober senses of twentieth-century social historians, -a body not given unduly to hero-worship. Such a one was Brummell, -another was “Beau” Nash, both arbiters of fashion, veritable kings in -the eyes of their contemporaries; a third was Elizabeth Chudleigh, -Countess of Bristol, Duchess of Kingston, greater still as Beatrix, -queen of hearts, in “Esmond”; and to a place in this gallery of -adventurous spirits none can deny the right of Philip, Duke of Wharton, -Richardson’s Lovelace, gallant, wit, statesman, satirist, poet and -pamphleteer, like Dryden’s Zimri, “everything by starts and nothing -long,” a man who threw away great gifts, honour, loyalty and love, as -freely, and with as little regard for consequences, as Fox squandered -his gold. - -Philip, born on Christmas Eve, 1698, was the only son of Thomas, fourth -Baron Wharton, by his second wife, Lucy, daughter of Lord Lisburne, who -in that year was a toast at the Kit-Cat Club: - - “When Jove to Ida did the gods invite, - And in immortal toastings pass’d the night, - With more than bowls of nectar were they blest, - For Venus was the Wharton of the feast!” - -Lord Wharton--for his services to William III. created in 1706 earl, -when his heir became known as Viscount Winchendon--was not only a -pleasure-loving man, but also a strenuous politician. He, imbued with -the idea that his boy, in his turn, might add further laurels to the -family name, with this object in view kept a more than paternal eye -upon the direction of the youngster’s studies. To his parents’ great -joy, Philip gave signs of precocious cleverness, and it was decided to -have him educated by private tutors, instructed, after their pupil was -well grounded in the classics, to teach him in a very thorough manner -the history of Europe, with, of course, special reference to that of -his own country; and to train him as an orator by making him read and -recite passages from Shakespeare and from the great speeches of the -most eloquent statesmen of that and bygone ages. - -Philip evinced much readiness, and diligently applied himself to his -studies; but his father’s love of pleasure was in his blood, and while -for some time he submitted to the company of his teachers, with little -or no relaxation from his books, at last, as was only to be expected -from a high-spirited lad, he broke over the traces. Handsome and -graceful, he found his pleasure with women: a fault which his father, -now created Marquis of Wharton, could overlook in consideration of his -son’s promise in other directions. However, the young man destroyed -all the Marquis’s hope of an alliance with some lady of high rank and -vast wealth by secretly espousing, at the Fleet, on 2nd March 1715, -when he was in his seventeenth year, Martha, the penniless daughter -of Major-General Holmes--a proceeding that the Marquis took so much -to heart that, it was said, his death six weeks later was directly -attributable to his grief and anger. - -The effects of this madcap escapade might not have been very serious, -for there was nothing to be urged against the girl except her lack -of money and great connections, if the accomplished fact had been -recognised in the right spirit by the young husband’s family; in -which case, it is more than probable, his career might have been very -different. As it was, however, his mother and his father’s trustees, -Lord Dorchester, Lord Carlisle, and Nicholas Lechmere, thought it -advisable temporarily to separate man and wife, and sent the Marquis -abroad in charge of a French Protestant. - -In this uncongenial company Philip visited Holland and Hanover and -other German courts, and eventually settled down at Geneva. There he -remained for a while, galled by the restrictions upon his personal -liberty by the tutor, and infuriated by the inadequacy of the income -allowed him by his trustees. The latter annoyance he overcame by -raising money at, of course, exorbitant interest; the former by the -simple expedient of running away from Geneva without his companion, -who, a few hours after the flight of his charge, received from the -latter a note: “Being no longer able to bear your ill-usage, I have -thought proper to be gone from you; however, that you may not want -company, I have left you the bear, as the most suitable companion in -the world that could be picked out for you!” - -[Illustration: _Philip, Duke of Wharton_] - -The Marquis made his way to Lyons, where he arrived on 13th October -1716, and from there he sent a complimentary letter to the son of -James II. at Avignon, and with the letter, as a present, a magnificent -horse. The Pretender, delighted by the prospect of being able to detach -from the Hanoverian interest even an eighteen-year-old marquis, -and especially the son of that very pronounced Whig, Thomas Wharton, -graciously despatched one of his Court to invite Philip to Avignon. -There the lad went, stayed a day and night, and received from his -host the dangerous compliment of an offer of the title of the Duke of -Northumberland, after which, to make matters worse, he repaired to -St Germain’s to pay his respects to Mary, Queen Dowager of England. -The folly of his actions is the most remarkable thing about them. -Had he been attached to the cause of the Chevalier de St George, the -visits would have been natural; had he even desired, as so many had -done, to be sufficiently attentive to the Prince so as to be free -from molestation in case the latter should ever ascend the throne of -England, the visits would have been explicable; but since he was not a -Jacobite, and, if not too honest, at least too careless of his personal -interest to be a “trimmer,” the only solution of the matter is that his -actions were dictated by a spirit of revolt, the not unnatural reaction -on escaping from custody. - -How little the Marquis meant by his visits--which, in after days, he -declared were mere personal courtesies--may be deduced from the fact -that, as soon as he arrived at Paris, he called on Lord Stair, the -English Ambassador--at whose table, it is said, in a drunken frolic he -proposed the health of the Pretender! At a time when it was a matter of -vital importance to know who was for and against the home Government, -and when a fortune was spent on spies, Lord Stair, of course, knew that -the Marquis had been to Avignon and St Germain’s; but if he did not -close his ears to the tales of the young man’s doings, at least he did -not avert his countenance from him. On the contrary, he received him -with every attention, realising that here was, so to speak, a brand -to be plucked from the burning. The lad was only eighteen, and so -indiscretions might be dismissed as of no importance; whereas to dwell -on them unduly would perhaps turn him into a Jacobite. Therefore much -show of kindness was diplomatic, coupled, Lord Stair thought, with a -trifle of admonition. - -However, when the Ambassador began to utter a word in season, the -Marquis did not show himself amenable to advice. Indeed, when Lord -Stair, extolling the virtues of his guest’s father, said, “I hope you -will follow so illustrious an example of fidelity to your Prince and -love to your country,” the Marquis retorted, “I thank your Excellency -for your good counsel, and as your Excellency had also a worthy and -deserving father, I hope that you will likewise copy so bright an -original and tread in all his steps”--which reply, though showing -a keen sense of humour, was brutal, for the first Lord Stair had -unhesitatingly betrayed his sovereign! - -As a matter of fact, the Marquis would tolerate no interference, -and when a friend, whether or not set to task by Lord Stair has not -transpired, expostulated with him for having abandoned the principles -of his father, “I have pawned my principles,” he said jauntily, “to -Gordon, the Pretender’s banker, for a considerable sum; and till I have -the money to repay him, I must be a Jacobite; but,” he added, “as soon -as I have redeemed them, I shall be a Whig again!” - -Perhaps this remark was conveyed to the Marquis’s trustees, for it -is to be presumed that the Marquis’s financial obligations were -discharged, since on his arrival in Ireland at the beginning of 1717 -the Government seems to have connived at his taking his seat as Marquis -Castlereagh, in the Irish House of Lords, though only in his nineteenth -year--“which,” Budgell wrote to Mr Secretary Addison, “is the highest -compliment that could have been paid to him.” Here Philip showed an -apparently earnest desire to atone for his misdemeanours abroad, and -his great talents made the task easy. He took a prominent part in -debate, sat on committees, and in his official capacity conducted -himself so that the British Government, congratulating themselves on -their tact in having made light of his doings in France, thought it -well to endeavour to bend him still more closely to their interests, by -bestowing on him, perhaps as a set-off against the ducal title offered -by the Pretender, an English dukedom. - -“As it is the honour of subjects, who are descended from an illustrious -family, to imitate the great examples of their ancestors, we esteem it -no less our glory, as a King, after the manner of our predecessors, -to dignify eminent methods by suitable rewards,” so ran the preamble -to the patent. “It is on this account that we confer a new title -on our right trusty and entirely beloved cousin, Philip Marquis of -Wharton and Malmesbury, who though he be born of a very ancient -noble family, wherein he may reckon as many patriots as forefathers, -has rather chosen to distinguish himself by his personal merit. -The British nation, not forgetful of his father lately deceased, -gratefully remember how much their invincible King William III. owed -to that constant and courageous assistor of the public liberty and the -Protestant religion. The same extraordinary person deserved so well of -us, in having supported our interests by the weight of his councils, -the force of his wit, and the firmness of his mind, at a time when -our title to the succession of this realm was endangered; that in the -beginning of our reign we invested him with the dignity of a Marquis, -as an earnest of our royal favour, the farther marks whereof we were -prevented from bestowing by his death, too hasty, and untimely for -his King and Country. When we see the son of that great man, forming -himself by so worthy an example, and in every action exhibiting a -lively resemblance to his father; when we consider the eloquence which -he has exerted with so much applause in the parliament of Ireland; -and his turn and application, even in early youth, to the serious and -weighty affairs of the public, we willingly decree him honours, which -are neither superior to his merits, nor earlier than the expectation of -our good subjects.” - -Vanity, it is generally assumed, was the moving spirit of the new Duke -of Wharton, and it seems that to have earned a dukedom at twenty years -of age temporarily lulled that passion, for, after the bestowal of that -high honour, the recipient seems to have rested on his oars, and for -the next year to have abandoned himself to unbridled excesses in drink -and profligacy. “Aye, my lord,” said Swift, who admired his talents, -when his Grace had been recounting some of his frolics to the Dean -of St Patrick’s, “Aye, my lord, you have had many frolics; but let me -recommend you one more: take a frolic to be virtuous; I assure you it -will do you more honour than all the rest!” - -Whether caused by Swift’s words, or whether it was the swing of the -pendulum, on coming of age Philip made a complete change in his mode of -living, and for a while led a decent private life. “The Duke of Wharton -has brought his Duchess to town, and is fond of her to distraction; to -break the hearts of all the other women that have any claim on his,” -Lady Mary Wortley Montagu wrote to her sister, Lady Mar. “He has public -devotions twice a day, and assists at them in person with exemplary -devotion; and there is nothing pleasanter than the remarks of some -great pious ladies on the conversion of so great a sinner.” How long -this period of conjugal fidelity might have endured is uncertain, but -it was brought to an untimely end when the Duchess, in defiance of her -husband’s command, came from Winchendon to London, bringing with her -their child, the twelve-months’ old Earl of Malmesbury, who in the -metropolis caught smallpox and died. This, it is said by all loyal -biographers, so affected his Grace that, regarding the bereavement as -caused by the violation of his wishes, he could not bear the sight of -his wife. Persons less prone to sentiment than biographers may perhaps -see in this yet another swing of the pendulum. - -If the Duke’s private life was for a while exemplary, the same cannot -at any time be said of his political career. A young man may change his -opinion once without giving serious offence, he may even be forgiven -for reverting to his earlier beliefs, but he can expect but scant mercy -if he chops and changes with every breath of wind. At Avignon Philip -had accepted a title from the Pretender, in Ireland he had accepted -a dukedom from George I. as a reward for his vigorous support of the -ministry; but now, when he took his seat in the English Parliament, -to the general astonishment, he threw himself into uncompromising -opposition. - -The report of his great talents, his brilliant oratory, and his -powers as a debater had reached Westminster, where his appearance was -eagerly awaited, and he felt it incumbent upon him to show that rumour -had not magnified his gifts; on 24th April 1720 he took part in a -debate on a Bill to give further powers to the South Sea Company, and -made a magnificent onslaught not only on this proposal, but on the -entire policy of the Government, concluding with a terrible attack -on Lord Stanhope, whom he accused of having made, or at least of -having fostered, the breach between the King and the Prince of Wales, -comparing him to Sejanus, “that evil and too powerful minister who made -a division in the Imperial party, and rendered the reign of Tiberius -hateful to the Romans.” Lord Stanhope was not the man to sit quiet -under such castigation, and he turned the tables on his assailant with -undoubted dexterity. “The Romans were most certainly a great people, -and furnished many illustrious examples in their history, which ought -to be carefully read,” he said in reply. “The Romans were likewise -universally allowed to be a wise people, and they showed themselves to -be so in nothing more than by debarring young noblemen from speaking in -the Senate till they understood good manners and propriety of language; -and as the Duke has quoted an instance from this history of a bad -minister, I beg leave to quote from the same history an instance of a -great man, a patriot of his country, who had a son so profligate that -he would have betrayed the liberties of it, on which account his father -himself had him whipped to death.” - -The Minister’s apt retort rankled, and it doubtless did much to -confirm the Duke in his attitude. He spoke against the Government, -not only in the House of Lords, but in the City of London and in -the country; and in the following year, returning to the question -of the South Sea Company’s affairs, he attacked Lord Stanhope in so -brilliant and bitter a speech that the latter, rising in a passion -to reply, broke a blood-vessel, from the effects of which he died on -the following day. It was somewhat later that the Duke attacked Lord -Chancellor Macclesfield, suspected and eventually found guilty of fraud -in connection with the South Sea Company’s affairs, not only by word of -mouth, but also in a satirical ballad entitled “An Epistle from John -Sheppard to the Earl of Macclesfield”: - - “Were thy virtues and mine to be weighed in a scale, - I fear, honest Thomas, that thine would prevail, - For you break through all laws, while I only break jail. - Which nobody can deny. - - When curiosity led you so far - As to send for me, my dear lord, to the bar, - To show what a couple of rascals we were. - Which nobody can deny. - - You’ll excuse me the freedom of writing to thee, - For all the world then agreed they never did see - A pair so well matched as your lordship and me. - Which nobody can deny. - - At the present disgrace, my lord! ne’er repine, - Since fame thinks of nothing but thy tricks and mine, - And our name shall alike in history shine. - Which nobody can deny.” - -Having established his fame as an orator with his speeches on the South -Sea question, Wharton gained yet further distinction by his impassioned -defence of Bishop Atterbury, but what reputation he gained as a speaker -he lost in honour, for he had obtained the material for his oration by -a mean trick. The day before he spoke he went to Sir Robert Walpole, -told him he was sorry for his opposition to the Government and intended -to reinstate himself in favour at Court and with the Ministry by -speaking against the Bishop, and he begged the Prime Minister to give -him some assistance in preparing his arguments. Walpole went carefully -over the ground with his visitor, and showed him the strong and the -weak points of the case. The Duke expressed his thanks, spent the night -in a drinking bout, and, without going to bed, went to the House of -Lords and spoke _for_ the Bishop, making use most effectively of the -information he had obtained on the previous day. Then, when sentence of -banishment was pronounced on the Bishop, he saw him off, and, returning -home, wrote and published some verses on “The Banishment of Cicero,” -in which, of course, the Bishop was Cicero, and George I. Clodius, -concluding: - - “Let Clodius now in grandeur reign, - Let him exert his power, - A short-lived monster in the land, - The monarch of an hour; - Let pageant fools adore their wooden god, - And act against their senses at his nod. - - Pierced by an untimely hand - To earth shall he descend, - Though now with gaudy honours clothed, - Inglorious in his end. - Blest be the man who does his power defy, - And dares, or truly speaks, or bravely die!” - -In the meantime the Duke had reverted to his dissipated habits in -private life, and it amused and annoyed many of his contemporaries -that in public he, the President of the Hell-fire Club, should, on the -ground of morality, inveigh against various measures. Wharton, however, -paid little or no heed to those who held the view that a profligate is -not the proper person to preach virtue; but when the King in council, -on 29th April 1721, issued a proclamation against “certain scandalous -clubs or society, who in the most impious and blasphemous manner insult -the most sacred principles of our holy religion, and corrupt the minds -and morals of one another,” Wharton, as President of the Hell-fire -Club, rose in his place in the House of Lords, declared he was not, -as was thought, a “patron of blasphemy,” and, pulling out a Bible, -proceeded to read several texts. - -He went occasionally to his seat in Westmoreland, and was a frequent -visitor to the seat of his kinsman, Sir Christopher Musgrave, at -Edenhall, where was preserved the great crystal goblet, supposed to -have been seized by some earlier Musgrave from a fairy banquet, and -known as “The Luck of Edenhall.” The legend ran: - - “If this glass do break or fall, - Farewell the luck of Edenhall!” - -but in spite of this warning the Duke, out of sheer devilment, would -toss the goblet high in the air, and once, but for a wary butler, it -would have fallen to the ground and have been smashed to atoms. It was -at Edenhall that the Homeric drinking match took place, which Wharton, -its proposer, celebrated in verse in the form of “An Imitation of -Chevvy-Chace.” - - “God prosper long our noble king, - And likewise _Eden-Hall_; - A doleful Drinking-Bout I sing, - There lately did befal. - - To chace the Spleen with Cup and Can - Duke _Philip_ took his Way; - Babes yet unborn shall never see - Such Drinking as that Day. - - The stout and ever thirsty Duke - A vow to God did make - His pleasure within _Cumberland_ - Three live-long Nights to take. - - Sir _Musgrave_ too of Martindale, - A true and worthy knight, - Eftsoons with him a Bargain made - In drinking to delight. - - The Bumper swiftly pass’d about, - Six in a Hand went round, - And with their Calling for more Wine, - They made the Hall resound.” - -So began the ballad, and it goes on to tell how the news of the battle -spread, how others then hastened to the board, and fell, man by man, -overcome by their potations. - -The Duke, however, did not care for his place in the north, and was -more frequently to be found at Twickenham, a fact duly noted by Horace -Walpole in his “Parish Register” of that village: - - “Twickenham, where frolic Wharton revelled, - Where Montagu, with locks dishevelled, - Conflict of dirt and warmth combin’d, - Invoked,--and scandalised the _Nine_.” - -It was not by accident that Walpole put these names in juxtaposition, -for there was a great intimacy between the two, and it was said, -probably with reason, that it was the Duke’s attentions to the lady -that turned Pope’s affection to hatred and caused the historic breach -between them. But though Lady Mary “Worldly” Montagu, as Philip called -her, may have been attached to the Duke, she was never in any doubt -as to the worthlessness of his professions of love. “In general, -gallantry never was in so elevated a figure as it is at present,” she -told Lady Mar. “Twenty very pretty fellows (the Duke of Wharton being -president and chief director) have formed themselves into a committee -of gallantry. They call themselves _Schemers_; and meet regularly three -times a week, to consult on gallant schemes for the advantage and -advancement of that branch of happiness.” - -Wharton’s gallantries, or, to give them their proper though less -euphonious name, profligacies, were carried to such excess that they, -together with his political infidelities, disgusted even his far from -strait-laced contemporaries; and it was only his great talents that -enabled him to hold his own with them. But his marvellous gift of -oratory and his ingenious but always sound reasoning were appreciated -even by, or, perhaps, it should be said, especially by, his enemies; -while his occasional outbursts of humour made it difficult for anyone -to keep a straight face. Who could help laughing when a certain Bishop -in the House of Lords rose to speak and remarked he should divide what -he had to say into twelve parts, and Wharton, interrupting, begged -he might be permitted to tell a story that could only be introduced -at that moment: “A drunken fellow was passing by St Paul’s at night, -and heard the clock slowly chiming twelve. He counted the strokes, -and when it was finished, looking towards the clock, said, ‘Damn you, -why couldn’t you give us all that at once?’” There was an end of the -Bishop’s speech! - -But not great talents, combined with a keen sense of humour, could save -a person as volatile as the Duke. He founded in 1723 an Opposition -paper, _The True Briton_, written by himself, issued twice weekly, -which secured a large circulation, and for publishing which, Payne, -indicted for libel, and found guilty, was heavily fined; but this may -be regarded as a legitimate political move. As he was known to be in -correspondence with the Pretender, it is not easy to see how he escaped -impeachment, unless it was that the Government was reluctant to proceed -against a young man, the son of a valued supporter and an old friend of -Sir Robert Walpole, and the godson of the two preceding sovereigns of -Great Britain. - -The Government, however, was soon relieved from any anxiety on this -score, for the Duke’s extravagance in money matters had been so great -that his creditors had, for their own benefit, obtained a decree of -the Court of Chancery placing his estates in the hands of trustees -until his liabilities had been liquidated. These trustees allowed his -Grace an income of twelve hundred pounds, upon which, deciding it was -impossible in this country to support his dignity on that sum, he left -England, thus bringing to a close the first act of his wasted life. - -Before the Duke went abroad he had been careful to make his peace with -the Pretender, for the latter, writing in 1725 to Atterbury, then at -Paris, says: “I am very glad you were to send into England ... for -everybody is not so active as Lord Wharton, who writes me often and -wants no spur.” The Pretender had not yet discovered the danger of a -follower so wayward and unreliable as this young man, who did more -harm than good to any cause he espoused; and so, when the Duke arrived -on the Continent in May 1725, he sent him as envoy to Vienna to do -his utmost to promote a good understanding between his master and the -Emperor Charles VI. In this Wharton was not altogether unsuccessful, -and when he reported the result of his mission the Chevalier de St -George, then resident at Rome, rewarded him with the empty title of -Duke of Northumberland and the Order of the Garter. - -In the following April the Duke was sent to Madrid, where his folly -became notorious. “The Duke of Wharton has not been sober, or scarce -had a pipe out of his mouth, since he came back from his expedition -to St Ildefonso,” wrote Mr (afterwards Sir Benjamin) Keene, British -Ambassador at Madrid. “He declared himself to be the Pretender’s Prime -Minister, and Duke of Wharton and Northumberland. Hitherto, added -he, my master’s interest has been managed by the Duke of Perth and -three or four old women, who meet under the portal of St Germain’s. -He wanted a Whig, and a brisk one too, to put them in a right train, -and I am the man. You may now look upon me, Sir Philip Wharton, knight -of the Garter, and Sir Robert Walpole, knight of the Bath, running a -course,--and, by heaven! he shall be pressed hard. He bought my family -pictures, but they shall not be long in his possession; that account is -still open.” In spite of the Duke’s follies, the Court of Spain did not -show itself so unfriendly to him, and to the cause he represented, as -Keene thought it should; and he warned his Government. The reply from -England came in the form of a summons under the Privy Seal to the Duke -to return at once to his own country--a summons which, it is needless -to say, was ignored by the recipient. - -While at Madrid Philip learnt that his wife, whom he had left in -London, had died, and forthwith he proposed to Maria, the daughter of -Colonel Henry O’Beirne, a lady-in-waiting to the Queen of Spain. Her -Majesty raised various objections, but was eventually persuaded to -consent to the alliance, which took place in July 1726, after the Duke -had embraced the Roman Catholic faith, a step he took in spite of the -fact that on 17th June he had written to his sister, Lady Jane Holt, -assuring her he would never forsake the religion in which he had been -born and bred. - -It is probable that the Duke changed his faith to win his bride, but -there may have been at the back of his mind the thought that it would -please his master. If this was so, it was an entirely mistaken idea, -because his conversion--occurring at the same time as that of Lord -North, who had also left England and abjured the Hanoverian cause--gave -the impression that to be in favour with the Chevalier de St George -it was necessary to be of his faith, which in English eyes was a -fatal objection. This, indeed, the Chevalier had realised, as may be -gathered from a letter of the Duchess of Orleans, so far back as 10th -September 1712: “Our King of England, I mean the true one, no longer -dislikes Protestants, for he has taken many of them for his servants.” -What Atterbury thought of the Duke’s action, he said very clearly in a -letter to the Pretender: “The strange turn taken by the Duke of Wharton -gave me such mortifying apprehensions that I have forborne for some -posts to mention him at all. You say, Sir, that he advised with few of -his friends in this matter. I am of opinion he advised with none. It is -easy to suppose you were both surprised and concerned at the account -when it first reached Rome, since it is impossible you should not be -so; the ill consequences are so many, so great, and so evident, that I -am not only afflicted but bewildered when I think of them. The mischief -of one thing you mention is, that he will scarce be believed in what he -shall say in that occasion (so low will his credit have sunk), nor be -able effectually to stop the mouth of malice by any after declaration.” -In England nothing that the Duke of Wharton could do created any -astonishment, such was the estimate in which he was held in his own -country; and popular opinion was expressed by Curll in an epigram: - - _On the Duke of Wharton Renouncing the Protestant Religion_ - - “A _Whig_ He was bred, but at length is turn’d _Papist_, - Pray God send the next Remove be not an _Atheist_. - - “_N.B._--To believe _every Thing_ and _Nothing_ is much the same.” - -After his marriage, the Duke paid a visit to his master at Rome, but -he “could not keep himself within the bounds of the Italian gravity,” -and the Chevalier ordered him and his wife to return to Spain. There he -volunteered to serve with the Spanish army in the siege of Gibraltar. -Hitherto there had been some suspicion of his courage, but that slur -he now wiped off by exposing his person freely; indeed, the story goes -that one day he walked from the Spanish camp to the very walls of -Gibraltar, and, when challenged, declared his identity, and sauntered -back leisurely, the soldiers, unwilling to kill a great nobleman of -their own nationality, holding their fire. - -After the siege, the Duke returned to Madrid, where he was given -the rank of Colonel-Aggregate to the Irish regiment, Hibernia, in -the Spanish service, commanded by the Marquis de Castelar; and then -proposed to settle for a while at the Pretender’s Court. That royal -personage, however, had by this time realised that his adherent’s -gifts were so handicapped by various undesirable qualities that he -showed very plainly that he wished any intimate connection should -cease: he did, indeed, consent to grant a last interview at Parma, but -he neutralised the effect of this favour by taking the opportunity to -refuse to allow the Duke to reside at his Court. - -The Duke took the rebuff in good part, wrote to the Chevalier -reiterating his great and enduring devotion to the Jacobite cause, and, -journeying with his wife to Paris, in that city at once made overtures -to Horace Walpole, the British Ambassador. “I am coming to Paris, to -put myself entirely under your Excellency’s protection, and hope that -Sir Robert Walpole’s good nature will prompt him to save a family, -which his generosity induced him to spare,” he wrote in May 1728. “If -your Excellency would permit me to wait upon you for an hour, I am -certain you would be convinced of the sincerity of my repentance for -my former madness; would become an advocate with his Majesty to grant -me his most gracious pardon, which it is my comfort I shall never be -required to purchase by any step unworthy of a man of honour. I do not -intend, in the case of the king’s allowing me to pass the evening of -my days under the shadow of his royal protection, to see England for -some years, but shall remain in France or Germany, as my friends shall -advise, and enjoy country sports till all former stories are buried -in oblivion. I beg of your Excellency to let me receive your orders -at Paris, which I will send to your hotel to receive. The Duchess of -Wharton, who is with me, desires leave to wait on Mrs Walpole, if you -think proper.” - -Horace Walpole received him, listened to his assurances of future -loyalty, and conveyed his protestations of good behaviour to the Duke -of Newcastle, who replied on 12th July: - -“Having laid before the King your Excellency’s letter, giving an -account of a visit you had received from the Duke of Wharton, and -enclosing a copy of a letter he wrote to you afterwards upon the same -occasion, I am commanded to let you know that his Majesty approves of -what you said to the Duke, and your behaviour towards him; but that -the Duke of Wharton has conducted himself in so extraordinary a manner -since he left England, and has so openly declared his disaffection to -the King and his government, by joining with and serving under his -Majesty’s professed enemies, that his Majesty does not think fit to -receive any application from him.” - -It is unnecessary to give in detail the subsequent actions of the -Duke: how, incensed by the King’s refusal, he printed in _Mist’s -Journal_ a bitter satirical attack on George II. and his ministers; -how he was tried for high treason for having taken up arms against his -country, found guilty, outlawed, and deprived of his property; how at -the eleventh hour unofficial overtures were made to him from England, -which he refused to entertain unless unconditional pardon was granted -him; how he stayed awhile in a monastery, a fervent devotee, and after -a few weeks returned to the world to plunge into greater excesses; how -he publicly proclaimed his attachment to the Pretender and the Catholic -religion. - -His estates being sequestrated, he was now penniless, and reduced to -most miserable straits. “Notwithstanding what my Brother Madman has -done to undo himself, and everybody who was so unlucky as to have the -least concern with him,” wrote a friend who journeyed with him from -Paris to Orleans at the beginning of June 1729, “I could not help being -sensibly moved at so extraordinary a vicissitude of fortune, to see -a great man fallen from that shining light, in which I have beheld -him in the House of Lords, to such a degree of obscurity, that I have -observed the meanest commoner decline his company; and the Jew he -would sometimes fasten on, grow tired of it; for you know he is but -a bad orator in his cups, and of late he has been but seldom sober.” -Eventually, after overcoming great difficulties, the Duke arrived in -Spain, where he joined his regiment, and endeavoured to live upon his -pay of eighteen pistoles a month, and sums of money sent to him by the -Pretender. He devoted his leisure to reading and to the composition of -a play based on the tragic story of Mary Queen of Scots, and, after -an illness of some months, he died on 31st May 1731, at the age of -thirty-two, in the shelter of the Franciscan monastery of Poblet. - -Such is the story of the life of Philip, Duke of Wharton, which, -surely, arouses feelings of pity rather than anger. “Like Buckingham -and Rochester,” says Horace Walpole, “he comforted all the grave -and dull by throwing away the brightest profusion of parts on witty -fooleries, debaucheries, and scrapes, which may mix graces with a great -character, but can never compose one.” He had, indeed, genius, wit, -humour, eloquence, rank, wealth and good looks, but because he lacked -stability and principles, all his great talents went for nothing. Never -was there a character more fitted to point a moral, and if the writers -of Sunday school prize-books have not taken him as their text, this can -only be because they are unacquainted with his history. “The great -abilities of the Duke of Wharton are past dispute,” Atterbury wrote -to the Pretender, in September 1736; “it is he alone who could render -them less useful than they might have been.” And this was kindly put, -for Atterbury might well have said that as an adherent to any cause so -unreliable and faithless a person was an open danger. - -For every man some excuse can be found, but while excuses for the Duke -of Wharton there must be, it is, indeed, not easy to find them. His -early training may have been unsuitable for a character so mercurial, -and the early death of his mother and father probably removed any -change of controlling him. That he was mad is a theory practical -enough, for this would explain many sudden changes of opinion, and -many instances of unfaithfulness, which had not even self-interest to -explain them; and it seems certain that he was intoxicated with vanity. -This last assumption is supported by the testimony of Pope, who has for -all time put on record a character sketch of the Duke, which, in spite -of the poet’s bias, must unfortunately be accepted as a portrait all -too true: - - “Wharton, the scorn and wonder of our days, - Whose ruling passion was the lust of praise: - Born with whate’er could win it from the wise, - Women and fools must like him or he dies; - Though wondering senates hung on all he spoke, - The club must hail him master of the joke. - Shall parts so various aim at nothing new? - He’ll shine a Tully and a Wilmot too, - Then turn repentant, and his God adores - With the same spirit that he drinks and w----; - Enough if all around him but admire, - And now the punk applaud, and now the friar. - Thus with each gift of nature and of art, - And wanting nothing but an honest heart; - Grown all to all, from no one vice exempt; - And most contemptible, to shun contempt: - His passion still, to covet general praise, - His life, to forfeit it a thousand ways; - A constant bounty which no friend has made; - An angel tongue, which no man can persuade; - A fool, with more of wit than half mankind, - Too rash for thought, for action too refined: - A tyrant to the wife his heart approves; - A rebel to the very king he loves; - He dies, sad outcast of each church and state, - And, harder still, flagitious, yet not great. - Ask you why Wharton broke through every rule? - ’Twas all for fear the knaves should call him fool.” - - - - -_Index_ - - - Alvanley, William, Lord, 41, 53–55, 64, 67, 69, 99, 223 - - Anglesea, Lord, 19, 99 - - Archer, Lady, 86 - - Arden, Sir Pepper, 54 - - Argyll, Duke of, 48 - - Armitstead, Mrs, (Mrs Charles James Fox), 241, 245 - - Ashton, Hervey, 48 - - Atterbury, Francis, Bishop of Rochester, 266, 272, 275, 281 - - Aubrey, Colonel, 90 - - - Beauclerk, Topham, 89, 226 - - Beckford, William, of Fonthill, 189–215 - - Bligh, Robert, 84 - - Brummell, George Bryan, 48, 55–74, 84, 85, 253 - - Buckinghamshire, Lady, 86 - - Burke, Edmund, 230, 231 - - - Carlisle, Lord, 89, 227, 256 - - Carlisle, Countess of, 240 - - Carlyle, Dr Alexander, 173, 178 - - Chatham, Lord, 194, 197, 231 - - Cholmondeley, Lord, 90 - - - Damer, Colonel Dawson, 48 - - Dashwood, Sir Francis, 168, 170 - - Dashwood, Sir C., 175, 176 - - De Ferretti, Bailli, 91 - - De Ros, Henry, 48 - - Devonshire, Duchess of, 240 - - D’Orsay, Count, 74, 78, 99 - - Draper, Daniel, 132, 136, 137, 155 - - Draper, Mrs Elizabeth, 129–157 - - Drummond, George Harley, 63 - - Dudley and Ward, Lord, 48, 51 - - - Fife, Lord, 77 - - Fitzpatrick, General, 89 - - Foley, Lord, 47 - - Fox, Charles James, 13, 47, 57, 79, 81, 87, 89, 219–249, 253 - - Fox, Stephen, 224, 227 - - Francis, Sir Philip, 86, 87 - - - Garland, Squire, 173 - - George I., 263, 264, 267 - - George II., 279 - - George III., 56, 85, 93, 107, 108, 121, 233, 235, 236, 239 - - George, Prince of Wales, Regent (afterwards George IV.), 13, 15, 17, - 19, 23–25, 34, 47, 51, 55, 56, 58, 59, 62–66, 69–72, 82, 83, 93, - 113, 121, 122, 237, 241–243, 248, 249 - - Gifford, Lord, 49 - - Gilbert, 173, 175 - - Gordon, Lady Margaret (Mrs Beckford), 203, 204 - - Greville, Charles, 54, 72, 80 - - Gronow, R. H., 56, 59, 74, 82, 92, 97, 223 - - - Hall-Stevenson, John, 161–185 - - Hall, Colonel George Lawson, 173 - - Hamilton, Sir William, 202 - - Hanger, George, 13, 19–33 - - Hanger, William (“Blue”), 25–28 - - Henley, Rev. Samuel, 205 - - Hertford, Lord, 47, 89 - - Hewett, William, 171, 172, 177 - - Holland, Lord, 219, 224, 227, 229 - - Holmes, Martha, Duchess of Wharton, first wife of Philip, Duke of - Wharton, 255, 262, 272 - - Holt, Lady Jane, 274 - - Hood, Admiral, 240 - - Hughes, “Golden Ball,” 76, 77, 97 - - - Irvine, Andrew (“Paddy Andrews”), 173, 176 - - - James, “The Old Pretender,” 256–260, 263, 272–277 - - James, Mr and Mrs William, 133, 134, 135, 138, 139, 140, 151 - - Johnson, Dr Samuel, 14, 16, 17 - - - Keene, Sir Benjamin, 273 - - Knighton, Sir William, 49 - - - Lade, Lady, 17, 18 - - Lade, Sir John, 13–19, 95 - - Lascelles, Rev. Robert (“Panty”), 170, 174–176 - - Lee, Charles, 173 - - Lettice, Rev. John, 195, 196, 197, 201 - - - Mackinnon, Dan, 48 - - Marsh, Charles, 25 - - Mildmay, Sir Henry, 64 - - Montagu, Lady Mary Wortley, 262, 270 - - Montrond, Count, 91 - - Moore, Zachary, 169, 170 - - Morris, Charles, 80, 81 - - Mozart, 195 - - Musgrave, Sir Christopher, 268 - - - Nash, “Beau,” 253 - - North, Lord, 232, 234, 236 - - - O’Beirne, Maria, Duchess of Wharton, second wife of Philip, Duke of - Wharton, 274 - - O’Connell, Morgan, 55 - - - Petersham, Lord, 47, 50, 51 - - Pickering, Mrs Elizabeth, 130, 131, 145 - - Pierrepoint, Henry, 48, 64 - - Pitt, William, 95, 195, 197, 221, 222, 230, 243, 244, 247 - - Pole, Wellesley, 76 - - Portland, Duke of, 89 - - “Pringello, Don,” 167, 170, 171 - - - Queensberry, Duchess of, 197 - - Queensberry, Duke of, 89, 92–96 - - - Raikes, Tom, 26, 67–69, 84 - - Raynal, Abbé, 139 - - Redding, Cyrus, 24, 32, 125, 200, 213 - - - Rigby, Right Honourable Charles, 221 - - Rumbold, Sir Thomas, 79 - - - Saye and Sele, Lord, 223 - - Sclater, Elizabeth. _See_ Draper, Mrs Elizabeth - - Sclater, Richard, Mr and Mrs, 130, 131, 150 - - Sclater, Thomas Matthew, 131, 139, 142, 143, 145, 148, 156 - - Scroope, 173, 175 - - Selwyn, George, 94, 221, 227 - - Sefton, Lord, 89 - - Sheridan, Richard Brinsley, 57, 79, 85, 95, 221, 227 - - Skeffington, Sir Lumley St George, 13, 33–43, 52, 53 - - Smollett, Tobias George, 172 - - Stair, Lord, 257–259 - - Sterne, Lawrence, 129–157, 161–163, 169, 175, 176, 178–182, 185 - - Swift, Jonathan, 261, 262 - - - Talbot, Jack, 223 - - Trotter, Lawson, 163, 164 - - - Upton, General Sir Arthur, 63 - - - Walpole, Horace, 97, 168, 224, 225, 235, 236, 269, 277, 278 - - Walpole, Sir Robert, 266, 271, 273 - - Wellington, Duke of, 72 - - Wharton, Philip, Duke of, 168, 253–282 - - Wilkes, John, 168 - - William III., 254, 260 - - William IV., 73 - - Wolcot, Dr (“Peter Pindar”), 24, 30, 104–126 - - Worcester, Lord, 48 - - Wray, Sir Cecil, 239, 240 - - Wyatt, James, 206 - - - York, Frederick, Duke of, 24, 49, 54, 63, 77, 84, 113 - - - - -THE RIVERSIDE PRESS LIMITED, EDINBURGH - - - - -_IN THE PRESS_ - -The Linleys of Bath - -By CLEMENTINA BLACK - -Fully illustrated with many delightful portraits and miniatures, some -of which have never before been reproduced. - - -The volume of memoirs which Miss Clementina Black has prepared deals -with a family group, nearly all the members of which were personally -interesting, and several of whom were closely connected with the social -and theatrical life of the latter half of the 18th century. Thomas -Linley, the father, who was a musician of distinction and probably the -best singing-master whom England has produced, lived for many years in -Bath, where, from their very early years, his children, all endowed -with both talent and beauty, sang and played with him at his concerts. -The eldest daughter, generally considered to be the finest singer and -most beautiful woman of her day, married Sheridan, and when her husband -entered upon the management of Drury Lane Theatre, Mr. Linley joined -in the undertaking. Both in Bath and in London the family’s circle of -friends was an interesting one, and many well-known names appear in the -various letters. 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- margin-left: 1.5em;} -} - -/* Transcriber's notes */ -.transnote { - background-color: #F5F5F5; - color: black; - font-size: 85%; - padding: 0.5em; - margin-bottom: 5em; - font-family: sans-serif, serif; -} - - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Some Eccentrics & a Woman, by Lewis Melville - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Some Eccentrics & a Woman - -Author: Lewis Melville - -Release Date: December 4, 2015 [EBook #50606] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SOME ECCENTRICS & A WOMAN *** - - - - -Produced by Thiers Halliwell, Clarity and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="transnote"> -<p><b><a id="Transcribers_notes"></a>Transcriber’s notes</b>:</p> -<p>In this e-text a black dotted underline indicates a hyperlink to a page, illustration or footnote; hyperlinks are also highlighted when the mouse pointer hovers over them. Footnotes are located at the end of the book.</p> -<p>A small number of spelling and typographic errors have been corrected silently.</p> -</div> - -<p class="fs240 tac"><i>Some Eccentrics<br /> -& a Woman</i></p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p class="fs100 tac"><i>First Published in 1911</i></p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 479px;"> -<a id="Pump_Room_Bath"></a> -<img src="images/illus_004.jpg" width="479" height="600" alt="" /> -<div><p class="tac fs120">A VIEW from the <span class="smcap">Pump Room, Bath</span>.</p></div> -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h1><i>Some Eccentrics<br /> -& a Woman</i></h1> - -<div class="tp1"><i>By Lewis Melville</i></div> - - -<div class="tp2"><i>London</i></div> - -<div class="tp3"><i>Martin Secker</i></div> - -<div class="tp2"><i>Number Five John Street</i></div> - -<div class="tp2"><i>Adelphi</i></div> - -<hr class="r25" /> -</div> - - -<h2>NOTE</h2> - -<div class="container"> -<div class="content1">Of the eight papers printed here, “Some Eighteenth-Century -Men About Town,” “A Forgotten Satirist: -‘Peter Pindar’,” “Sterne’s Eliza,” and “William -Beckford, of Fonthill Abbey,” have appeared in the -<i>Fortnightly Review</i>; “Charles James Fox” appeared -in the <i>Monthly Review</i>, “Exquisites of the Regency” -in <i>Chambers’s Journal</i>, and “The Demoniacs” in the -American <i>Bookman</i>. To the editors of these periodicals -I am indebted either for permission to reprint, or for -their courtesy in having permitted me to reserve the -right of publication in book form. “Philip, Duke -of Wharton” is now printed for the first time.<br /></div> - -<div class="content2"><span class="smcap">Lewis Melville</span></div> -</div> - -<hr class="r25" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum" title="7"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7"></a></span></p> - - -<h2><i>Contents</i></h2> - - -<div class="center"> -<table width="380" border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Table of Contents"> -<tr><td class="tal"></td><td class="tar vab">PAGE</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tal nowrap">EIGHTEENTH CENTURY MEN ABOUT TOWN</td><td class="tar vab"><a href="#Page_13">13</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tal">SOME EXQUISITES OF THE REGENCY</td><td class="tar vab"><a href="#Page_47">47</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tal">A FORGOTTEN SATIRIST: “PETER PINDAR”</td><td class="tar vab"><a href="#Page_103">103</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tal">STERNE’S ELIZA</td><td class="tar vab"><a href="#Page_129">129</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tal">THE DEMONIACS</td><td class="tar vab"><a href="#Page_161">161</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tal">WILLIAM BECKFORD OF FONTHILL ABBEY</td><td class="tar vab"><a href="#Page_189">189</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tal">CHARLES JAMES FOX</td><td class="tar vab"><a href="#Page_219">219</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tal">PHILIP, DUKE OF WHARTON</td><td class="tar vab"><a href="#Page_253">253</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tal">INDEX</td><td class="tar vab"><a href="#Page_283">283</a></td></tr> -</table></div> - -<hr class="r25" /> - -<div><span class="pagenum" title="9"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9"></a></span></div> - - -<h2><i>List of Illustrations</i></h2> - - -<div class="center"> -<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="List of Illustrations"> -<tr><td class="tal nowrap">“A VIEW FROM THE PUMP ROOM, BATH”<br /> <span class="fs80"><i>A Facsimile Reproduction of a Drawing by Richard Deighton</i></span></td><td class="tar vat"><span class="fs95"><i><a href="#Pump_Room_Bath">Frontispiece</a></i></span></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tal pt08">SIR JOHN LADE<br /> <span class="fs80"><i>From the Painting by Sir Joshua Reynolds</i></span></td><td class="tar vat pt08"><span class="fs95 nowrap ilb"><i>To face page</i></span> <a href="#Page_16">16</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tal pt08">THE PRINCE OF WALES<br /> <span class="fs80"><i>From the Miniature by Cosway</i></span></td><td class="tar vat pt08">"  "  <a href="#Page_48">48</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tal pt08">LUMLEY SKEFFINGTON<br /> <span class="fs80"><i>From a Contemporary Miniature</i></span></td><td class="tar vat pt08">"  "  <a href="#Page_80">80</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tal pt08">PETER PINDAR<br /> <span class="fs80"><i>From the Painting by John Opie</i></span></td><td class="tar vat pt08">"  " <a href="#Page_112">112</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tal pt08">LAURENCE STERNE<br /> <span class="fs80"><i>From the Painting by Sir Joshua Reynolds</i></span></td><td class="tar vat pt08">"  " <a href="#Page_144">144</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tal pt08">WILLIAM BECKFORD<br /> <span class="fs80"><i>From the Painting by Sir Joshua Reynolds</i></span></td><td class="tar vat pt08">"  " <a href="#Page_192">192</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tal pt08">CHARLES JAMES FOX<br /> <span class="fs80"><i>From the Painting by Sir Joshua Reynolds</i></span></td><td class="tar vat pt08">"  " <a href="#Page_224">224</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tal pt08">PHILIP, DUKE OF WHARTON<br /> <span class="fs80"><i>From a Contemporary Painting</i></span></td><td class="tar vat pt08">"  " <a href="#Page_256">256</a></td></tr> -</table></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2>Some Eighteenth-Century Men about Town</h2> - -<p><span class="pagenum" title="13"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13"></a></span></p> - - - -<p class="dropcap">When his Royal Highness George, -Prince of Wales, afterwards George -IV., freed himself from parental -control, and, an ill-disciplined lad, launched -himself upon the town, it is well known that -he was intimate with Charles James Fox, -whom probably he admired more because the -King hated the statesman than for any other -reason. Doubtless the Prince drank with Fox, -and diced with him, and played cards with him, -but from his later career it is obvious he can -never have touched Fox on that great man’s -intellectual side; and, after a time, the royal -scapegrace, who would rather have reigned in -hell than have served in heaven, sought companions -to whom he need not in any way feel -inferior. With this, possibly sub-conscious, desire, -he gathered around him a number of men about -town, notorious for their eccentricities and for the -irregularity of their lives. With these George -felt at home; but, though he was nominally their -leader, there can be little doubt that he was -greatly influenced by them at the most critical -time of a young man’s life, to his father’s disgust -and to the despair of the nation. Of these men -the most remarkable were Sir John Lade, George -Hanger (afterwards fourth Lord Coleraine of the -second creation), and Sir Lumley Skeffington;<span class="pagenum" title="14"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14"></a></span> -and, by some chance, it happens that little has -been written about them, perhaps because what -has been recorded is for the most part hidden in -old magazines and newspapers and the neglected -memoirs of forgotten worthies. Yet, as showing -the temper of the times, it may not be uninteresting -to reconstruct their lives, and, as far as the -material serves, show them in their habit as -they lived.</p> - -<p>Sir John Lade, the son of John Inskipp, who -assumed the name of Lade, and in whose person -the baronetcy that had been in the family was -revived, was born in 1759, and at an early age -plunged into the fast society of the metropolis -with such vigour that he had earned a most -unenviable reputation by the time he came of -age, on which auspicious occasion, Dr Johnson, -who knew him as the ward of Mr Thrale, -greeted him savagely in the satirical verses which -conclude:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent">“Wealth, my lad, was made to wander:</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Let it wander at its will;</div> -<div class="verse">Call the jockey, call the pander,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Bid them come and take their fill.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">When the bonnie blade carouses,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Pockets full and spirits high—</div> -<div class="verse">What are acres? what are houses?</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Only dirt, or wet and dry.</div> -</div> -<span class="pagenum" title="15"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15"></a></span> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Should the guardian friend or mother</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Tell the woes of wilful waste,</div> -<div class="verse">Scorn their counsels, scorn their pother,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">You can hang, or drown, at last.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Sir John became one of the Prince of Wales’s -cronies, and for a while had the management of -his Royal Highness’s racing stable; but while it -has been hinted of him, as of George Hanger, that -during his tenure of that office he had some share -in the transactions that resulted in Sam Chifney, -the Prince’s jockey, being warned off the turf, it -is but fair to state that there is no evidence in existence -to justify the suspicion. Indeed, he seems -to have been honest, except in incurring tradesmen’s -debts that he could never hope to discharge; -but this was a common practice in fashionable -circles towards the end of the eighteenth century, -and was held to throw no discredit on the man -who did so—for was it not a practice sanctioned -by the example of “The First Gentleman of -Europe” himself?</p> - -<p>Sir John’s ambition, apparently, was to imitate -a groom in dress and language. It was his pleasure -to take the coachman’s place, and drive the Prince’s -“German Waggon,<span class="nowrap">”<a id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">1</a></span> and six bay horses from the -Pavilion at Brighton to the Lewes racecourse;<span class="pagenum" title="16"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16"></a></span> -and, in keeping with his <i>pose</i>, he was overheard -on Egham racecourse to invite a friend to return -to dinner in these terms:—“I can give you a trout -spotted all over like a coach dog, a fillet of veal -as white as alabaster, a ‘pantaloon’ cutlet, and -plenty of pancakes as big as coach-wheels—so -help me.”</p> - -<p>Dr Johnson naturally took an interest in Sir -John, and, when Lady Lade consulted him about -the training of her son, “Endeavour, madam,” -said he, “to procure him knowledge, for really -ignorance to a rich man is like fat to a sick sheep, -it only serves to call the rooks round him.” It -is easier, however, to advocate the acquisition of -knowledge than to inculcate it, and knowledge, -except of horses, Sir John Lade never obtained in -any degree. Indeed, his folly was placed on record -by “Anthony Pasquin” in</p> - -<p class="tac width60"> -<span class="smcap">An Epigrammatic Colloquy</span>,<br /> - -Occasioned by Sir John Lade’s Ingenious Method of -Managing his Estates.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Said Hope to Wit, with eager looks,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">And sorrow streaming eyes:</div> -<div class="verse outdent">“In pity, Jester, tell me when,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Will Johnny Lade be—wise?”</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent">“Thy sighs forego,” said Wit to Hope,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">“And be no longer sad;</div> -<div class="verse">Tho’ other foplings grow to men,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">He’ll always be—a <i>Lad</i>.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 440px;"> -<img src="images/illus_019.jpg" width="440" height="401" alt="" /> -<div><p class="tac fs120"><i>Sir John Lade</i></p></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" title="17"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17"></a></span></p> - -<p>When Sir John was little more than a boy, -Johnson, half in earnest, proposed him as a fitting -mate for the author of “Evelina,” so Mrs Thrale -states; and, indeed, Miss Burney herself records -a conversation in 1778 between that lady and the -doctor. The inadvisability of the union, however, -soon became apparent, and when Sir John, a little -later, asked Johnson if he would advise him to -marry, “I would advise no man to marry, sir,” -replied the great man, “who is not likely to -propagate understanding”; but the baronet, who -doubtless thought this was an excellent joke, and -as such intended, crowned his follies by espousing -a woman of more than doubtful character. When -Sir John met his future wife, she was a servant at -a house of ill-fame in Broad Street, St Giles, and, -rightly or wrongly, was credited with having been -the mistress of Jack Rann, the highwayman, better -known as “Sixteen-string Jack,” who deservedly -ended his career on the gallows in 1774. Marriage -did not apparently mend her manners or her morals, -for, according to Huish—who, it must, however, -be admitted, was an arrant scandalmonger—she -was for some time the mistress of the Duke of -York, and also acted as procuress for the Prince of -Wales; while her command of bad language was so -remarkable that the Prince used to say of any foul-mouthed -man: “He speaks like Letty Lade.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" title="18"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18"></a></span></p> - -<p>Like her husband, Lady Lade was a fine whip, -and many stories are told of her prowess as a -driver of a four-in-hand.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent">“More than one steed Letitia’s empire feels,</div> -<div class="verse">Who sits triumphant o’er the flying wheels;</div> -<div class="verse">And, as she guides them through th’ admiring throng,</div> -<div class="verse">With what an air she smacks the silken thong.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Graceful as John, she moderates the reins;</div> -<div class="verse">And whistles sweet her diuretic strains;</div> -<div class="verse"><i>Sesostris</i>-like, such charioteers as these</div> -<div class="verse">May drive six harness’d princes, if they please.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Lady Lade offered to drive a coach against -another tooled by a sister-whip eight miles over -Newmarket Heath for five hundred guineas a -side, but, when it came to the point, no one had -sufficient confidence to take up the wager. There -is, however, an account of another race in which -she participated: “Lady Lade and Mrs Hodges -are to have a curricle race at Newmarket, at the -next Spring Meeting, and the horses are now in -training. It is to be a five-mile course, and great -sport is expected. The construction of the traces -is to be on a plan similar to that of which Lord -March, now Marquis of Queensberry, won his -famous match against time. The odds, at present, -are in favour of Lady Lade. She runs a grey -mare, which is said to be the best horse in the -Baronet’s stalls.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" title="19"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19"></a></span></p> - -<p>Like the rest of his set, Sir John spent his -patrimony and fell upon evil days, which ended, -in 1814, in imprisonment for debt in the King’s -Bench, being, as Creevey happily puts it, “reduced -to beggary by having kept such good -company.” Some arrangement was made with -his creditors, and Sir John was released; whereupon -Lord Anglesea went to the Prince of Wales, -and insisted upon his giving Lade five hundred a -year out of his Privy Purse—no easy task, one -may imagine, for “Prinney” was not given to -providing for his old friends. William IV. continued -the annuity, but reduced it to three -hundred pounds, and it was feared that at his -death it would be discontinued. However, when -the matter was put before Queen Victoria, she, -hearing that Sir John was in his eightieth year, -generously expressed the intention to pay the -pension, which she put as a charge on her Privy -Purse, for the rest of his life. Sir John was thus -freed from anxiety, but he did not long enjoy -her Majesty’s bounty, for he died on 10th -February 1838, having outlived his wife by -thirteen years.</p> - -<p>A more interesting and a more intelligent man -was George Hanger, who born in 1751, and, -after attending a preparatory school, was sent to -Eton and Göttingen, and was gazetted in January<span class="pagenum" title="20"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20"></a></span> -1771, an ensign in the first regiment of Foot -Guards. In the army he distinguished himself -chiefly by his harum-scarum mode of living, and -by his adventures, most of which were of too -delicate a nature to bear repetition, though his -quaint “Memoirs” throw a light upon the -company he kept. He met a beautiful gipsy -girl, styled by him “the lovely Ægyptea of -Norwood,” who, according to his account, had -an enchanting voice, a pretty taste for music, -and played charmingly on the dulcimer. She -won his heart with a song, the refrain of which -ran:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent">“Tom Tinker’s my true love,</div> -<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 1em;">And I am his dear;</span></div> -<div class="verse">And all the world over,</div> -<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 1em;">His budget I’ll bear.”</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>He married her according to the rites of the -tribe, introduced her to his brother officers, and -bragged to them of her love and fidelity; but, -alas! the song which enchanted him was based, -not upon fiction, but upon fact, and after Hanger -had lived in the tents with his inamorata for -a couple of weeks, he awoke one morning to -learn she had run off with a bandy-legged tinker.</p> - -<p>For some years he remained in the Foot -Guards, where he was very popular with his -brother officers; but in 1776 he threw up his<span class="pagenum" title="21"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21"></a></span> -commission in anger at someone being promoted -over his head, unjustly, as he thought. -His early love of soldiering, however, was not -yet abated, and he sought and obtained a captaincy -in the Hessian Jäger corps, which had -been hired by the British Government to go to -America. He was delighted with his new uniform—a -short, blue coat with gold frogs, and -a very broad sword-belt—and, thus attired, -swaggered about the town in great spirits, to -the accompaniment of his friends’ laughter. -During the siege of Charlestown he was aide-de-camp -to Sir Henry Clinton; he was wounded in -an action at Charlottetown in 1780, and two -years later was appointed Major in Tarleton’s -Light Dragoons, which regiment, however, was -disbanded in 1783, when Hanger was given the -brevet rank of Colonel, and placed on half pay.</p> - -<p>At the close of the war Hanger left America -for England, but his affairs were in such an -unsettled state that he thought it advisable to -go direct to Calais, where he remained until his -friend, Richard Tattersall, could arrange his -affairs. Hanger attributed his insolvency at this -time to the fact that the lawyer to whom he -had given a power of attorney having died, his -estate was sold for the benefit of the mortgagee -at half its value. This is probably true, but it is<span class="pagenum" title="22"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22"></a></span> -certainly only a half-truth, for his embarrassment -was mainly caused by his extravagance when he -was in the Foot Guards. He did not often play -cards, but he was passionately fond of the turf, -kept a stable at Newmarket, and bet heavily on -all occasions, though it is said that on the whole -he was a considerable winner, and it is recorded -that he won no less than seven thousand pounds -on the race between Shark and Leviathan. His -pay in the Foot Guards of four shillings a day -did not, of course, suffice even for his mess-bills, -and he wasted much money on dissipation, and -more on his clothes. “I was extremely extravagant -in my dress,” he admitted. “For one winter’s -dress-clothes only it cost me nine hundred pounds. -I was always handsomely dressed at every birthday; -but for one in particular I put myself to a -very great expense, having two suits for that day. -My morning vestments cost me near eighty -pounds, and those for the ball above one hundred -and eighty. It was a satin coat <i>brodé en plain et sur -les coutures</i>, and the first satin coat that had ever -made its appearance in this country. Shortly -after, satin dress-clothes became common among -well-dressed men.<span class="nowrap">”<a id="FNanchor_2" href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">2</a></span></p> - -<p>On his return to England, Hanger stayed with -Tattersall for a year, and then was engaged in<span class="pagenum" title="23"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23"></a></span> -the recruiting service of the Honourable East -India Company at a salary which, with commission, -never amounted to less than six hundred -pounds a year; and he was also appointed, with a -further three hundred pounds a year, an equerry -to the Prince of Wales, with whom he was on -very intimate terms.</p> - -<p>The next few years were the happiest of his -life, but misfortune soon overcame him. His employment -under the East India Company came -to an abrupt end owing to a dispute between the -Board of Control and the Company, relative to -the building of a barrack in this country to receive -the East India recruits prior to embarkation, -which ended in a change of the whole system of -recruiting, when Hanger’s services were no longer -required. This was bad enough, but worse was to -come, for when he had served as equerry for four -years, the Prince of Wales’s embarrassed affairs -were arranged by Parliament, which, making -the essential economies, dismissed Hanger.</p> - -<p>When this happened, having no means whatever -with which to meet some comparatively -trifling debts, he surrendered to the Court of -King’s Bench, and was imprisoned within the -Rules from June 1798 until April in the following -year, when the successful issue of a lawsuit enabled -him to compound with his creditors. “Twice<span class="pagenum" title="24"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24"></a></span> -have I begun the world anew; I trust the present -century will be more favourable to me than the -past,” he wrote in his “Memoirs”; and it is -much to his credit that instead of whining and -sponging on his friends, having only a capital of -forty pounds, he started in the business—he called -it the profession—of coal-merchant.</p> - -<p>According to Cyrus Redding, who used to -meet him at the house of Dr Wolcot (“Peter -Pindar”), Hanger had fallen out of favour with -the Prince by administering a severe reproof to -that personage and to the Duke of York for their -use of abominable language, and was no longer -invited to Carlton House. This, however, does -not ring true, for Hanger’s language was none -of the choicest, and if there was any disagreement, -this can scarcely have been the cause. -Indeed, if at this time there was a quarrel, it -must soon have been made up; and undoubtedly -the twain were on friendly terms long after, for -when Hanger was dealing in coal, the Prince, -riding on horseback, stopped and made friendly -inquiry: “Well, George, how go coals now?” -to which Hanger, who had a pretty wit, replied -with a twinkle, “Black as ever, please your -Royal Highness.” Certainly Hanger felt no -grievance concerning the alleged quarrel, for -in his “Memoirs” he spoke in high terms of<span class="pagenum" title="25"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25"></a></span> -the heir-apparent in a passage that deserves to -be read, as one of the few sincere tributes ever -paid to the merits of that deservedly much-abused -person.</p> - -<p>Whether through the influence of the Prince -of Wales or another, Hanger was in 1806 appointed -captain commissary of the Royal Artillery -Drivers, from which he was allowed to retire on -full pay two years later, a proceeding which drew -some observations from the Commissioners of -Military Inquiry in their seventeenth report, to -which Hanger published an answer. As the years -passed, however, the free manners and the coarse -outspokenness of the Colonel jarred on the Prince, -and slowly the men drifted more and more apart, -after which the former moved in less distinguished -and probably less vicious company.</p> - -<p>The first Lord Coleraine had long since been -dead; Hanger’s eldest brother, the second Baron, -had followed his father to the grave, and the title -was now enjoyed by his second brother, William, -popularly known as “Blue” Hanger, from the -colour of the clothes he wore in his youth. Charles -Marsh declared him to be “perhaps the best-dressed -man of his age,” which is an ambitious -claim for any person in the days when clothes -were more regarded in fashionable society than -anything else in the world; but that there was<span class="pagenum" title="26"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26"></a></span> -some ground for the statement cannot be doubted, -since “Tom” Raikes reiterates it. “He was a <i>beau</i> -of the first water, always beautifully powdered, in -a light green coat, with a rose in his buttonhole. -He had not much wit or talent, but affected the -<i>vieille cour</i> and the manners of the French Court; -he had lived a good deal in Paris before the -Revolution, and used always to say that the -English were a very good nation, but they positively -knew not how to make anything but a -kitchen poker. I remember many years ago, the -Duchess of York made a party to go by water -to Richmond, in which Coleraine was included. -We all met at a given hour at Whitehall Stairs, -and found the Admiralty barge, with the Royal -Standard, ready to receive us, but by some miscalculation -of the tide, it was not possible to -embark for near half-an-hour, and one of the -watermen said to the Duchess, ‘Your Royal -Highness must wait for the tide.’ Upon which -Coleraine, with a very profound bow, remarked, -‘If I had been the tide I should have waited for -your Royal Highness.’ Nothing could have been -more stupid, but there was something in the -manner in which it was said that made everyone -burst out laughing.” “Blue” Hanger, it will be -seen, was as remarkable for his politeness as for his -satire!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" title="27"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27"></a></span></p> - -<p>Heavy losses at the card-table forced William -Hanger to go abroad to avoid his creditors, and -he remained in France until the death of his elder -brother in 1794, when, able to settle his affairs, -he returned, completely transformed in manners -and appearance into a Frenchman. Thereby hangs -the story that, shortly after he arrived in England, -he went to Drury Lane, when, next to him in the -dress circle sat a stranger wearing top-boots. This -would have been regarded as a gross breach of -etiquette in France, and Lord Coleraine was not -inclined to brook this affront to the company because -he was in England.</p> - -<p>“I beg, sir, you will make no apology,” he said, -with an innocent and reassuring air.</p> - -<p>His neighbour stared in blank amazement. -“Apology, sir! Apology for what?” he demanded -angrily.</p> - -<p>“Why,” said “Blue,” pointing to the offending -boots, “that you did not bring your horse with -you into the box.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps it is lucky for you I did not bring my -<i>horsewhip</i>,” retorted the other, in a fine frenzy of -passion; “but I have a remedy at hand, and I -will pull your nose for your impertinence.” -Whereupon he threw himself upon Lord -Coleraine, only to be dragged away by persons -sitting on the other side of him.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" title="28"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28"></a></span></p> - -<p>Cards were exchanged between the combatants, -and a duel seemed imminent. “Blue” went at once -to his brother to beg his assistance. “I acknowledge -I was the first aggressor,” he said, in anything -but a humble frame of mind; “but it was -too bad to threaten to pull my nose. What had I -better do?” To which the unfeeling Colonel -made reply, “<i>Soap it well</i>, and then it will easily -slip through his fingers!”</p> - -<p>This characteristic advice George Hanger was -never weary of repeating, and he insisted that -when anyone wished to calumniate another -gentleman, he ought to be careful to take the -precaution to <i>soap his nose</i> first. “Since I have -taken upon myself the charge of my own sacred -person,” he said, returning to the subject in his -“Memoirs,” “I never have been pulled by the -nose, or been compelled to soap it. Many gentlemen -of distinguished rank in this country are -indebted to the protecting qualities of soap for -the present enjoyment of their noses, it being as -difficult to hold a soaped nose between the fingers -as it is for a countryman, at a country wake, to -catch a pig turned out with his tail soaped and -shaved for the amusement of the spectators.”</p> - -<p>“Blue” Hanger died on 11th December 1814, -when the title and estates devolved upon the -Colonel, who, however, could never be persuaded<span class="pagenum" title="29"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29"></a></span> -to change his name. “Plain George Hanger, sir, -if you please,” he would say to those who -addressed him in the more formal manner. It -has generally been supposed that this was merely -another of the peer’s many eccentricities, but -there was a kindly reason for it. “Among the -few nobility already named,” wrote Westmacott -in the long-forgotten “Fitzalleyne of Berkeley,” -“more than one raised modest birth and merit to -their own rank; one made a marriage of reparation; -nay, even the lord rat-catcher<span class="nowrap">,<a id="FNanchor_3" href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">3</a></span> life-writer -(and it was his own), and vendor of the black -article of trade, was faithful to his engagements -where the law bound him not; and one of his -reasons for forbidding his servants to address him -as ‘My Lord’ was that she might bear his name -as Mrs Hanger.”</p> - -<p>Hanger, now in the possession of a competence, -made little change in his manner of living, and -though death did not claim him until 31st March -1824, at the age of seventy-three, he never -again went into general society. At the time of -his succession to the peerage he was residing, and -during the last years of his life he continued to -reside, at Somers Town, whence he would occasionally -wander, shillelagh in hand, to the “Sol -Arms,” in Tottenham Court Road, to smoke a<span class="pagenum" title="30"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30"></a></span> -pipe. This has been so often repeated, to the exclusion -of almost any other particulars of his life, -that the comparatively few people who have heard -of Hanger think of him as a public-house loafer; -but this was far from being the case, for if he -went sometimes to the “Sol Arms” he would -also go to Dr Wolcot to converse with the veteran -satirist, or to Nollekens, the sculptor; or he would -ride on his grey pony so far as Budd & Calkin’s, -the booksellers in Pall Mall, where, leaving his -horse in charge of a boy—for he never took a -groom with him—he would sit on the counter, -talking with the shopkeepers and their customers.</p> - -<p>Nor was Hanger illiterate, as were so many of -the associates of his early years, and he wrote very -readable letters; but his intelligence does not rest -only on his correspondence, for he was an industrious -writer on military subjects. Reference has -already been made to his autobiography, which -appeared in 1801 under the title of “The Life, -Adventures, and Opinions of Colonel George -Hanger”; but though it was stated on the -title-page that the volumes were “Written by -Himself,” it has since transpired that they were -compiled from his papers and suggestions by -William Combe, the author of “The Tours of -Dr Syntax.” It is an unpleasant work, and deals -frankly with subjects tacitly avoided by present-<span class="pagenum" title="31"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31"></a></span>day -writers; but it is not without value, for it -contains, besides excellent descriptions of debtors’ -prisons and the rogueries of attorneys at the end -of the eighteenth century, common-sense views -on social subjects—views much in advance of the -general opinions of the day—and a frank avowal -of hatred of hypocrisy. This last quality induced -Hanger maliciously to relate a story of a dissenter -who kept a huxter’s shop, where a great variety -of articles were sold, and was heard to say to his -shopman, “John, have you watered the rum?” -“Yes.” “Have you sanded the brown sugar?” -“Yes.” “Have you wetted the tobacco?” -“Yes.” “Then come in to prayers.” The -“Memoirs” will perhaps best be remembered -for Hanger’s famous prophecy that “one of -these days the northern and southern Powers -[of the United States] will fight as vigorously -against each other as they have both united to -do against the British.”</p> - -<p>It is, however, not as a soldier, a pamphleteer, -or a seer that Hanger has come down to posterity; -and while some may recall that in 1772 he distinguished -himself by being one of the gentlemen -who, with drawn swords, forced a passage for the -entry of Mrs Baddeley into the Pantheon, and -eight and thirty years later rode on his grey -palfrey in the procession formed in honour of the<span class="pagenum" title="32"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32"></a></span> -release of Sir Francis Burdett, it is for his eccentricities -and his humour that he is remembered. -Nollekens has related how one day he overheard -Lord Coleraine inquire of the old apple-woman -at the corner of Portland Road, evidently an old -acquaintance, who was packing up her fruit, -“What are you about, mother?” “Why, my -Lord, I am going home to tea.” “Oh! don’t -baulk trade. Leave your things on the table as -they are; I will mind shop till you return”; -and the peer seated himself in the old woman’s -wooden chair, and waited until the meal was -over, when he solemnly handed her his takings, -threepence halfpenny.</p> - -<p>Although Cyrus Redding declared that Hanger -was well known in his day for an original humour -which spared neither friend nor foe, and although -Hanger could sneer at those who accepted the -invitations to dinner that Pitt was in the habit -of sending to refractory members of his party—“The -rat-trap is set again,” he would say when -he heard of such dinner-parties: “is the bait -<i>plaice</i> or paper?”—there were many who found -themselves in a position to praise Hanger’s generosity. -We have it on the authority of Westmacott—and -there can be no surer tribute than this, -since Westmacott would far rather have said a -cruel than a kind thing—that Hanger never<span class="pagenum" title="33"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33"></a></span> -forgot a friend or ignored an acquaintance because -he had fallen upon evil days. When an out-at-elbows -baronet came to see him, Hanger received -him heartily, insisted upon his remaining as his -guest for some time, and, summoning his servants, -addressed them characteristically: “Behold this -man, ye varlets! Never mind me while he is -here; neglect me if ye will, but look upon him -as your master; obey him in all things; the -house, the grounds, the game, the gardens, all -are at his command; let his will be done; make -him but welcome, and I care not for the rest.” -For his kind heart much may be forgiven Hanger; -and who could be angry with a man who possessed -so keen a sense of humour as is revealed -in this story? Late one night he went into his -bedroom at an inn, and found it occupied. The -opening of the door awoke an irate Irishman, the -occupier, who inquired in no measured terms: -“What the devil do you want here, sir? I shall -have satisfaction for the affront. My name is -Johnson.” Aroused by the clamour, a wizen-faced -woman by Johnson’s side raised her head from -the pillow. “Mrs Johnson, I presume?” said -Hanger dryly, bowing to the lady.</p> - -<p>Sir Lumley St George Skeffington had at least -more claim to distinction than most of his brother -fops, though it was their habit to sneer at him,<span class="pagenum" title="34"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34"></a></span> -especially after Byron had given them the cue. -Born on 23rd March 1771, Lumley was educated -at Henry Newcome’s school at Hackney, -where he showed some taste for composition and -poetry, and took part in the dramatic performances -for which that institution had been noted -for above a century. On one occasion there he -delivered an epilogue written by George Keate, -the subject of which was the folly of vanity; but -the lad did not take the lesson to heart, for so -soon as he was his own master he set up as a leader -of fashion. At an early age he began to be talked -about, and such notoriety was the <i>open sesame</i> to -Carlton House. The Prince of Wales condescended -to discuss costume with the young man, who, thus -encouraged, was spurred to fresh efforts, and acquired -fame as the inventor of a new colour, known -during his lifetime as Skeffington brown. Indeed, -Skeffington, who was vain of his personal appearance—though, -it must be confessed, without -much reason—dressed in the most foppish manner; -and as an example may be given a description of -his costume at the Court held in honour of the -King’s birthday in 1794: “A brown spotted silk -coat and breeches, with a white silk waistcoat -richly embroidered with silver, stones, and shades -of silk; the design was large baskets of silver and -stones, filled with bouquets of roses, jonquilles,<span class="pagenum" title="35"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35"></a></span> -etc., the <i>ensemble</i> producing a beautiful and splendid -effect.”</p> - -<p>Though elated at being recognised as a <i>beau</i>, -Skeffington did not desert his first love, and he -mixed much in theatrical society, and became on -intimate terms with many of the leading actors, -including Joseph Munden, John Kemble, Mrs -Siddons, and T. P. Cooke. He was an inveterate -“first-nighter,” and would flit from theatre to -theatre during the evening; but he was not content -to be a hanger-on to the fringe of the -dramatic profession, and desired to be a prominent -member of the <i>coterie</i>. He had abandoned any idea -of following up his youthful successes as an actor, -but he had so early as 1792, at the age of one and -twenty, made his bow as an author, with a prologue -to James Plumptre’s comedy, <i>The Coventry -Act</i>, performed at the latter’s private theatre at -Norwich.</p> - -<p>Spurred by the praise bestowed upon this -trifle, he penned complimentary verses to pretty -actresses; but after a time he aspired to greater -distinction, and endeavoured to secure literary -laurels by the composition of several plays. His -<i>Word of Honour</i>, a comedy in five acts, was produced -at Covent Garden Theatre in 1802, and -in the following year his <i>High Road to Marriage</i> -was staged at Drury Lane; but neither of these<span class="pagenum" title="36"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36"></a></span> -had any sort of success, and it was not until <i>The -Sleeping Beauty</i> was performed at Drury Lane, -in December 1805, that the author could look -upon his efforts with any pride.</p> - -<p>To judge from a contemporary account, -<i>The Sleeping Beauty</i>, with music by Addison, -was an agreeable, albeit an over-rated, entertainment -of the nature of an extravaganza. -“Mr Skeffington,” we are told, “has not confined -himself to the track of probability; but, -giving the rein to his imagination, has boldly -ventured into the boundless region of necromancy -and fairy adventure. The valorous days -of Chivalry are brought to our recollection, -and the tales which warmed the breasts of youth -with martial ardour are again rendered agreeable -to the mind that is not so fastidious as to turn -with fancied superiority from the pleasing delusion. -The ladies in particular would be accused of ingratitude -were they to look coldly upon the Muse -of Mr Skeffington, who had put into the mouths -of his two enamoured knights speeches and -panegyrics upon the sex, which would not discredit -the effusions of Oroondates, or any other -hero of romance.”</p> - -<p>The book of the play was never printed, but -the song, duets, and choruses of this “grand -legendary melodrama” were published, and so it<span class="pagenum" title="37"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37"></a></span> -is possible to form some opinion of the merits of -this production of the author, who is described by -a writer in <i>The Gentleman’s Magazine</i> as “the -celebrated Mr Skeffington <span class="ell">..</span>. a gentleman of -classic genius, [who] it is well known figures high -in the most fashionable circles.” It is to be feared -that Skeffington’s fame as a man of fashion threw -a glamour upon this critic, for to modern eyes the -“classic genius” is nowhere in evidence, although -the verses certainly do not compare unfavourably -with the drivel offered by the so-called lyric -writers whose effusions figure in the musical -comedies of to-day.</p> - -<p>Unexpectedly, however, <i>The Sleeping Beauty</i> -achieved immortality, though not an immortality -of the pleasantest kind, for the piece attracted -the attention of Byron, who pilloried it in his -“English Bards and Scotch Reviewers”:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent">“In grim array though Lewis’ spectres rise,</div> -<div class="verse">Still Skeffington and <span class="nowrap">Goose<a id="FNanchor_4" href="#Footnote_4" class="fnanchor">4</a></span> divide the prize:</div> -<div class="verse">And sure great Skeffington must claim our praise,</div> -<div class="verse">For skirtless coats and skeletons of plays,</div> -<div class="verse">Renown’d alike; whose genius ne’er confines</div> -<div class="verse">Her flight to garnish Greenwood’s gay designs;</div> -<div class="verse">Nor sleeps with ‘sleeping beauties,’ but anon</div> -<div class="verse"><span class="pagenum" title="38"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38"></a></span>In five facetious acts come thundering on,</div> -<div class="verse">While poor John Bull, bewilder’d with the scene,</div> -<div class="verse">Stares, wond’ring what the devil it can mean;</div> -<div class="verse">But as some hands applaud—a venal few—</div> -<div class="verse">Rather than sleep, John Bull applauds it too.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>For years before this satire appeared Skeffington -was a personage in society, and if his plays -secured him undying notoriety at the hands of -the satirist, his costume was to produce the same -result by the attention drawn to it by Gillray, -who represented him, in 1799, as “Half Natural,” -in a Jean de Bry coat, all sleeves and padding, and -in the following year in a second caricature as -dancing, below which is the legend: “So Skiffy -skipt on, with his wonted grace.” In these days, -indeed, his appearance offered a very distinct -mark for the caricaturist. Imagine a tall, spare -man, with large features, sharp, sallow face, and -dark curly hair and whiskers, arrayed in the -glory of a dark blue coat with gilt buttons, -yellow waistcoat, with cord inexpressibles, large -bunches of white ribbons at the knees, and short -top-boots! But in latter years Skeffington went -even further, for he distinguished himself by wearing -a <i>vieux-rose</i> satin suit, and a wig, and rouging -his cheeks and blacking his eyebrows and eyelashes, -until he looked like a French doll; while -the air in his vicinity was made noxious by the -strong perfumes with which he drenched himself.<span class="pagenum" title="39"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39"></a></span> -Horace Smith summed him up as “an admirable -specimen of the florid Gothic,” and Moore -lampooned him in Letter VIII. of <i>The Twopenny -Post Bag</i>, from “Colonel Th-m-s to -Sk-ff-ngt-n, Esq.”:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent">“Come to our <i>fête</i>, and bring with thee</div> -<div class="verse">Thy newest best embroidery,</div> -<div class="verse">Come to our <i>fête</i>, and show again</div> -<div class="verse">That pea-green coat, thou pink of men,</div> -<div class="verse">Which charmed all eyes that last surveyed it;</div> -<div class="verse">When Brummell’s self enquired: ‘Who made it?’</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Oh! come (if haply ’tis thy week</div> -<div class="verse">For looking pale) with paly cheek;</div> -<div class="verse">Though more we love thy roseate days,</div> -<div class="verse">When the rich rouge pot pours its blaze</div> -<div class="verse">Full o’er thy face, and amply spread,</div> -<div class="verse">Tips even thy whisker-tops with red—</div> -<div class="verse">Like the last tints of dying day</div> -<div class="verse">That o’er some darkling grove delay.</div> -<div class="verse">Put all thy wardrobe’s glories on,</div> -<div class="verse">And yield in frogs and fringe to none</div> -<div class="verse">But the great Regent’s self alone.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Skeffington’s success with <i>The Sleeping Beauty</i> -occurred at the time when he was most prominent -in society. “I have had a long and very -pleasant walk to-day with Mr Ilingworth in Kensington -Gardens, and saw all the extreme crowd -there about three o’clock, and between that and -four,” Lord Kenyon wrote to his wife on 1st June<span class="pagenum" title="40"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40"></a></span> -1806. “The most conspicuous figure was Mr -Skeffington, with Miss Duncan leaning on his -arm. He is so great an author that all which is -done is thought correct, and not open to scandal. -To be sure, they looked rather a comical pair, she -with only a cap on, and he with his curious -whiskers and sharp, sallow face.”</p> - -<p>Gradually, however, as time changed, Skeffington -was left behind in the race, and was no longer -regarded as a leader of fashion, and at the same -time he was not fortunate enough to win further -success as a dramatist, for his <i>Mysterious Bride</i> in -1808, his <i>Bombastes Furioso</i> played at the Haymarket -in 1810, and his <i>Lose no Time</i>, performed -three years later at Drury Lane, were each and -all dire failures.</p> - -<p>In January 1815 Sir William Skeffington died, -and Lumley succeeded to the baronetcy. Sir -William, however, had embarrassed his estates, -and Lumley, to save his father from distress, had -generously consented to cut the entail, and so -had deprived himself of a considerable fortune. -The comparatively small amount of money that -now came to him had been forestalled, and he was -compelled to seek refuge for several years within -the rules of the King’s Bench Prison. Eventually, -though he failed in the attempt to regain an -interest in the estates of his maternal family, the<span class="pagenum" title="41"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41"></a></span> -Hubbards, at Rotherhithe, he came into possession -of an estate worth about eight hundred -pounds a year; but when he came again upon -the town his old friends showed a marked disposition -to avoid him; and when one day Alvanley -was asked who was that solitary, magnificently -attired person, “It is a second edition of <i>The -Sleeping Beauty</i>,” he replied wittily; “bound in calf, -richly gilt, and illustrated by many cuts.”</p> - -<p>Skeffington now resided quietly in Southwark, -where he still entertained members of the -theatrical profession, but no longer the leaders -of the calling, only the members of the adjacent -Surrey Theatre. Henry Vizetelly met him towards -the end of his life, and described him as “a quiet, -courteous, aristocratic-looking old gentleman, an -ancient fop who affected the fashions of a past -generation, and wore false hair and rouged his -cheeks,” who had, he might have added, a large -fund of <i>histoires divertissants</i> with which to regale -his visitors.</p> - -<p>He outlived all his brother dandies, but to the -end would wander in the fashionable streets, recalling -the glories of his early manhood, attracting -attention in his long-waisted coat, the skirts of -which descended to his heels, but recognised by -none of the generation that had succeeded his -own. In other circles, however, he found listeners<span class="pagenum" title="42"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42"></a></span> -interested in his stories of the palmy days of -Carlton House, when he was one of the leaders of -fashion in society and prominent in the <i>coulisses</i>. -He died, unmarried, in his eightieth year, and -attributed his long life to the fact that he did -not stir out of doors in the cold, damp winter -months, but moved from room to room so as -never to remain in vitiated air.</p> - -<p>In conclusion it must be pointed out that -Skeffington’s popularity was largely contributed -to by his good humour and vivacity, and by the -fact that in an age when wit spared nobody he -was never known to say an unkind word of anyone; -nor was the reason for this, as was said of -another <i>beau</i>, that he never spoke of anyone but -himself. “As to his manners, the suffrages of the -most polished circles of this kingdom have pronounced -him one of the best bred men of the -present times, blending at once the decorum of -what is called the <i>vieille cour</i> with the careless -gracefulness of the modern school; he seems to -do everything by chance, but it is such a chance -as study could not improve,” so ran a character -sketch of the dandy in <i>The Monthly Review</i> for -1806. “In short, whenever he trifles it is with -elegance, and whenever occasion calls for energy -he is warm, spirited, animated.” He had, however, -his share of the <i>nonchalance</i> affected by the<span class="pagenum" title="43"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43"></a></span> -fashionable folk of his day, and the story is told -that when, on a visit to a gentleman in Leicester, -he was disturbed in the night with the information -that the adjoining house was in flames, his -sole comment was that this was “a great bore”; -and when with difficulty he had been induced to -move quickly enough to escape into the street, -there, standing in his nightdress, bareheaded and -with his hair in papers, he called out, “What -are these horrid creatures about with so much -filthy water, that I cannot step without wetting -my slippers?”</p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" title="47"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47"></a></span></p> -<h2>Some Exquisites of the -Regency</h2> - - -<p class="dropcap">When Almack’s Club, composed of -all the travelled young men who -wore long curls and spying-glasses, -was in 1778 absorbed by Brooks’s, the day of the -Macaronis was past. Then, as Wraxall records, -Charles James Fox and his friends, who might -be said to lead the Town, affecting a style of -neglect about their persons and manifesting a contempt -of all the usages hitherto established, first -threw a sort of discredit on dress. “Fox lodged in -St James’s Street, and as soon as he rose, which -was very late, had a <i>levée</i> of his followers and of -the members of the gambling club at Brooks’s—all -his disciples,” Walpole wrote. “His bristly -black person, and shagged breast quite open and -rarely purified by any ablutions, was wrapped in a -foul linen nightgown, and his bushy hair dishevelled. -In these cynic weeds, and with epicurean -good humour, did he dictate his politics, and in -this school did the heir of the Crown attend his -lessons and imbibe them.”</p> - -<p>The young Prince of Wales might study statecraft -under Fox; but in the matter of dress he -fell in line with the new race of <i>beaux</i>, bucks, or, -to use a word that came into general use at this -time, dandies. The most famous of the latter were -Lord Petersham, Lord Foley, Lord Hertford -(immortalised by Thackeray in “Vanity Fair”<span class="pagenum" title="48"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48"></a></span> -as the Marquis of Steyne, and by Disraeli in -“Coningsby” as Lord Monmouth), the Duke -of Argyll, Lord Worcester, Henry Pierrepoint, -Henry de Ros, Colonel Dawson Darner, Daniel -Mackinnon, Lord Dudley and Ward, Hervey -Ashton, Gronow the memoirist, Sir Lumley -Skeffington, and Brummell.</p> - -<p>These exquisites were disinclined to yield the -palm even to an heir-apparent with limitless resources. -The Prince of Wales, however, contrived -to hold his own. At his first appearance in society -he created a sensation. He wore a new shoe-buckle! -This was his own invention, and differed -from all previous articles of the same kind, insomuch -as it was an inch long and five inches -broad, reaching almost to the ground on either -side of the foot! This was good for an introduction -to the polite world, but it was not -until he attended his first Court ball that he did -himself full justice. Then his magnificence was -such that the arbiters of fashion were compelled -reluctantly to admit that a powerful rival had -come upon the scene. A contemporary was so -powerfully impressed by the splendour of the -Prince’s costume that he placed on record a -description: “His coat was pink silk, with -white cuffs; his waistcoat white silk, embroidered -with various coloured foil, and adorned -<span class="pagenum" title="49"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49"></a></span>with a profusion of French paste; and his hat -was ornamented with two rows of steel beads, -five thousand in number, with a button and loop -of the same metal, and cocked in a new military -style.”</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 370px;"> -<img src="images/illus_053.jpg" width="370" height="409" alt="" /> -<div><p class="tac fs120"><i>George, Prince of Wales</i></p></div> -</div> - -<p>The laurels won in early youth he retained all -the days of his life. Expense was no object to him, -and, indeed, it must be confessed he spent money -in many worse ways than on his clothes. Batchelor, -his valet, who entered his service after the death -of the Duke of York, said that a plain coat, from -its repeated alterations and the consequent journeys -from London to Windsor to Davison the tailor, -would often cost three hundred pounds before it -met with his approbation! George had a mania -for hoarding, and at his death all the coats, vests, -breeches, boots, and other articles of attire which -had graced his person during half-a-century were -found in his wardrobe. It is said he carried the -catalogue in his head, and could call for any -costume he had ever worn. His executors, Lord -Gifford and Sir William Knighton, discovered -in the pockets of his coats, besides innumerable -women’s love letters, locks of hair, and other -trifles of his usually discreditable amours, no less -than five hundred pocket-books, each containing -small forgotten sums of money, amounting in all -to ten thousand pounds! His clothes sold for<span class="pagenum" title="50"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50"></a></span> -fifteen thousand pounds; they cost probably ten -times that amount.</p> - -<p>Lord Petersham was a Mæcenas among the -tailors, and the inventor of an overcoat called -after him. He was famous for his brown carriages, -horses, and liveries, all of the same shade; and his -devotion to this colour was popularly supposed -to be due to the love he had borne a widow of -the name. He never went out before six o’clock -in the evening, and had many other eccentricities. -Gronow has described a visit to his apartments: -“The room into which we were ushered was -more like a shop than a gentleman’s sitting-room. -All around the wall were shelves, upon which -were placed the canisters containing congou, -pekoe, souchong, bohea, gunpowder, Russian, -and many other teas, all the best of their kind; -on the other side of the room were beautiful -jars, with names in gilt letters of innumerable -kinds of snuff, and all the necessary apparatus -for moistening and mixing. Lord Petersham’s -mixture is still well known to all tobacconists. -Other shelves and many of the tables were -covered with a great number of magnificent -snuff-boxes; for Lord Petersham had perhaps -the finest collection in England, and was supposed -to have a fresh box for every day in the -year. I heard him, on the occasion of a delight<span class="pagenum" title="51"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51"></a></span>ful -old light-blue Sèvres box he was using being -admired, say in his lisping way, ‘Yes, it is a nice -summer box, but it would not do for winter -wear.’ ” Queen Charlotte had made snuff-taking -fashionable in England, but the habit began to -die out with the Regency. George IV. carried a -box, but he had no liking for it; and, conveying -it with a grand air between his right thumb and -forefinger, he was careful to drop it before it -reached his nose. He gave up the custom of -offering a pinch to his neighbours, and it was -recognised as a breach of good manners to dip -uninvited into a man’s box. When at the Pavilion -the Bishop of Winchester committed such an -infringement of etiquette, Brummell told a servant -to throw the rest of the snuff into the fire. When -Lord Petersham died, his snuff was sold by auction. -It took three men three days to weigh it, and -realised three thousand pounds.</p> - -<p>Another eccentric was Lord Dudley and Ward, -sometime Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, -who eventually lost his reason. His absence of -mind was notorious, and he had a habit of talking -aloud that frequently landed him in trouble. -Dining at the house of a <i>gourmet</i>, under the impression -he was at home, he apologised for the -badness of the <i>entrées</i>, and begged the company -to excuse them on account of the illness of his<span class="pagenum" title="52"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52"></a></span> -cook! Similarly, when he was paying a visit he -imagined himself to be the entertainer, and when -his hostess had exhausted her hints concerning -the duration of his call, he murmured, “A very -pretty woman. But she stays a devilish long time. -I wish she’d go.” Still more amusing were his -remarks in the carriage of a brother peer who -had volunteered to drive him from the House of -Lords to Dudley House: “A deuce of a bore! -This tiresome man has taken me home, and will -expect me to ask him to dinner. I suppose I must -do so, but it is a horrid nuisance.” This was too -much for his good-natured companion, who, as -if to himself, droned in the same monotonous -tones, “What a bore! This good-natured fellow -Dudley will think himself obliged to invite me -to dinner, and I shall be forced to go. I hope he -won’t ask me, for he gives d——d bad dinners.” -These stories recall another related of an absent-minded -royal duke, who, when during the -service the parson proposed the prayer for rain, -said in a voice audible throughout the church, -“Yes, by all means let us pray, but it won’t be -any good. We sha’n’t get rain till the moon -changes.”</p> - -<p>After Brummell left England, it was to William, -Lord Alvanley that all the witty sayings of the -day were attributed. The son of the famous<span class="pagenum" title="53"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53"></a></span> -lawyer Sir Pepper Arden<span class="nowrap">,<a id="FNanchor_5" href="#Footnote_5" class="fnanchor">5</a></span> he began life in the -Coldstream Guards, of which the colonel was -the Duke of York. He achieved his earliest -success as a wit at the expense of a brother -officer, Gunter, a scion of the famous catering-house. -Gunter’s horse was almost beyond the -control of the rider, who explained that his -horse was too hot to hold. “Ice him, Gunter; -ice him,” cried Alvanley. Thrown into such -company, it was not perhaps unnatural that -Alvanley should be extravagant; but his carelessness -in money matters was notorious. He -never paid ready money for anything, and -never knew the extent of his indebtedness. He -had no sympathy with those who devoted some -time and trouble to the management of their -affairs, and expressed the utmost contempt for a -friend who was so weak as to “muddle away his -fortune paying tradesmen’s bills.” Though very -wealthy, he soon became embarrassed in his -circumstances. He persuaded Charles Greville, -the author of the “Journals,” to put his affairs -in order. The two men spent a day over accounts,<span class="pagenum" title="54"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54"></a></span> -and Greville found that the task he had undertaken -would not be so difficult as he had been -given to understand. His relief was not long-lived, -however, for on the following morning he -received a note from Alvanley saying he had -quite forgotten a debt of fifty thousand pounds!</p> - -<p>Alvanley was famous for his dinners, and indulged -in the expensive taste of having an apricot -tart on his table every day throughout the year. -His dinners were generally acclaimed as the best -in England; certainly he spared no expense in -the endeavour to secure the blue ribbon of the -table. Even Abraham Hayward commented on -his extravagance. “He had his <i>suprême de -volaille</i> made of the oysters, or <i>les sots, les-laissent</i> -of fowls, instead of the fillet from the breast,” -he noted in “The Art of Dining,” “so that it -took a score of birds to complete a moderate -dish.” It was Alvanley who organised a -wonderful freak dinner at White’s Club, at -which the inventor of the most costly dish -should dine at the cost of the others; and he -won easily. His contribution to the feast was -a <i>fricassée</i> made of the <i>noix</i>, or small pieces at -each side of the back, taken from thirteen -different kinds of birds, among them being -a hundred snipe, forty woodcocks, twenty -pheasants—in all some three hundred birds.<span class="pagenum" title="55"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55"></a></span> -The cost of this dish exceeded one hundred -pounds.</p> - -<p>As he was beloved by his friends and vastly -popular, society was enraged when O’Connell in -the House of Commons spoke of him as “a -bloated buffoon.” A challenge was sent at once, -but the Liberator refused to go out. He had been -on the ground once, had killed his man, and had -vowed never to fight another duel. Alvanley would -not forgive the insult, however, and threatened -to thrash the aggressor; whereupon Morgan -O’Connell met him in place of his father, when -several shots were exchanged without result. -“What a clumsy fellow O’Connell must be, to -miss such a fat fellow as I!” said Alvanley -calmly. “He ought to practise at a haystack to -get his hand in.” Driven back to London, he -gave the hackney-coachman a sovereign. “It’s a -great deal,” said the man gratefully, “for having -taken your lordship to Wimbledon.” “No, my -good fellow,” the peer laughed; “I give it you, -not for taking me, but for bringing me back.”</p> - -<p>Beyond all question the greatest dandy of his -day was George Bryan Brummell, generally -called Beau Brummell. This famous personage -dominated all his rivals, and even the Prince of -Wales accepted him at least as an equal. It is -not known with any certainty how his acquaint<span class="pagenum" title="56"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56"></a></span>ance -began with the heir-apparent. Brummell’s -aunt, Mrs Searle, who had a little cottage with -stables for cows at the entrance, opposite Clarges -Street, of the Green Park, in which she had been -installed by George III., related that it was one -day when the Prince of Wales, accompanied by -the beautiful Marchioness of Salisbury, stopped -to see the cows milked that he first met her -nephew, was attracted by him, and, hearing he -was intended for the army, offered him a commission -in his own regiment. Gronow gives -another story, which on the face of it is more -probable. Brummell made many friends among -the scions of good family while he was at Eton, -where he seems to have been regarded as an -Admirable Crichton: “the best scholar, the best -boatman, the best cricketer.” He was invited to -a ball at Devonshire House, became a great -favourite, and was asked everywhere. The Prince -sent for him, and, pleased by his manner and -appearance, gave him a commission. In his seventeenth -year he was gazetted to a cornetcy in the -Tenth Light Dragoons. He resigned soon after -because the regiment was ordered to Manchester<span class="nowrap">!<a id="FNanchor_6" href="#Footnote_6" class="fnanchor">6</a></span></p> - -<p>Brummell threw himself heart and soul into the<span class="pagenum" title="57"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57"></a></span> -social life of the metropolis, and soon his reputation -extended far and wide, until no party was complete -without him, and his presence was regarded -as the hall-mark of fashion. He was the very man -for the part he had set himself. Tall, well made, -with a good figure, he affected an old-world air -of courtesy, picked up probably from the French -refugees, as he had never been out of England -until he left it for good. His affectation of <i>vieille -cour</i> showed itself in the use of powder, which -distinguished him in the days when the custom -was dying out among civilians. His grandfather -was a tradesman, and let lodgings in Bury Street, -St James’s. His father, by the influence of a lodger, -was presented to a clerkship in the Treasury, -became private secretary to Lord North, made -money by speculation, settled down at Donnington, -and became High Sheriff of Berkshire, -where he was visited by Fox and Sheridan. -Though of no rank, Brummell lived with the -highest in the land on terms of equality. His -acquaintance was sought, his intimacy desired; -and, so far from requiring a patron, it was he -who patronised. His influence was unbounded, -his fascination undeniable, his indifference to -public opinion reckless. He was good-natured -and rarely out of humour; neither a drunkard -nor a profligate. He had bright and amusing con<span class="pagenum" title="58"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58"></a></span>versation, -some wit, and a considerable power of -<i>persiflage</i>, which, while it enabled him to laugh -some people out of bad habits, only too frequently -was exerted to laugh others out of good principles.</p> - -<p>He revived the taste for dress. “Clean linen, and -plenty of it” was an important item of his creed. -His great triumph was in connection with the -cravat. Before he came into his own they were -worn without stiffening of any kind; as soon as -he ascended his throne he had them starched<span class="nowrap">!<a id="FNanchor_7" href="#Footnote_7" class="fnanchor">7</a></span> -A revolution would not have attracted more attention. -Thereafter his sway was undisputed, and his -word law in all matters of fashion. The Prince of -Wales used to call on him in the morning at his -house in Chesterfield Street, and, deeply engrossed -in the discussion of costume, would frequently remain -to dinner. “Brummell was always studiously -and remarkably well dressed, never <i>outré</i>; and, -though considerable time and attention were devoted -to his toilet, it never, when once accomplished, -seemed to occupy his attention,” said one -who knew him well. “His manners were easy, -polished, and gentleman-like, and regulated by -that same good taste which he displayed in most<span class="pagenum" title="59"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59"></a></span> -things. No one was a more keen observer of vulgarity -in others, or more <i>piquant</i> in his criticisms, -or more despotic as an <i>arbiter elegantarium</i>; he -could decide the fate of a young man just launched -into the world with a single word.<span class="nowrap">”<a id="FNanchor_8" href="#Footnote_8" class="fnanchor">8</a></span></p> - -<p>The tastes of the Prince of Wales verged on the -florid, but Brummell’s efforts tended to simplicity -of costume. Under Brummell the dandy’s dress -consisted of a blue coat with brass buttons, leather -breeches, and top-boots; with, of course, the deep, -stiff white cravat which prevented you from seeing -your boots while standing. Gronow relates -that while he was in Paris after Waterloo trousers -and shoes were worn by young men, only old -fogies favouring knee-breeches. On his return to -England in 1816, receiving from Lady Hertford -an invitation to Manchester House “to have the -honour of meeting the Prince Regent,” he went -dressed <i>à la Française</i>—white neckcloth, waistcoat, -black trousers, shoes and silk stockings. He -made his bow, and almost immediately afterwards -Horace Seymour came to him: “The great man -is very much surprised that you should have ventured -to appear in his presence without knee-breeches. -He considers it as a want of proper<span class="pagenum" title="60"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60"></a></span> -respect for him.” Gronow went away in high -dudgeon. A month later the Prince adopted the -dress he had censured!</p> - -<p>All the world watched Brummell to imitate -him. He made the fortune of his tailor, Weston, -of Old Bond Street, and of his other tradesmen. -The most noteworthy of these was Hoby, the St -James’s Street bootmaker, an impertinent and -independent man who employed his leisure as a -Methodist preacher. Many good stories are told -of him. It was he who said to the Duke of Kent, -when the latter informed him of the issue of the -great battle at Vittoria, “If Lord Wellington had -had any other bootmaker than myself he would -never have had his great and constant successes, -for my boots and my prayers bring him out of all -his difficulties.” When Horace Churchill entered -his shop and complained in no moderate words of -a pair of boots, vowing he would never employ him -again, Hoby quickly turned the tables. “John, -close the shutters,” he cried to an assistant, affecting -a woebegone look. “It is all over with us. I -must shut up shop. Ensign Churchill withdraws -his custom from me.” Sir John Shelley once -showed him a pair of top-boots that had split in -several places. “How did that happen, Sir John?” -“Why, in walking to my stable,” the customer -explained. “Walking to your stable!” Hoby ex<span class="pagenum" title="61"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61"></a></span>claimed, -not troubling to suppress a sneer. “I -made the boots for riding, not walking.<span class="nowrap">”<a id="FNanchor_9" href="#Footnote_9" class="fnanchor">9</a></span></p> - -<p>It is but a step from boots to blacking, an -article to which the dandies devoted much attention. -Lieutenant-Colonel Kelly, of the First Foot -Guards, was famous for his well-varnished boots. -After his death, which occurred in a fire owing to -his efforts to save his favourite boots, all the men -about town were anxious to secure the services of -his valet, who alone knew the secret of the blacking. -Brummell found the man and asked his wages. -The Colonel had given him a hundred and fifty -pounds a year, but now he required two hundred. -“Well, if you will make it guineas,” said the Beau, -“<i>I</i> shall be happy to attend upon <i>you</i>!” Lord -Petersham spent a great deal of time in making -a particular kind of blacking which he believed -would eventually supersede all others, and Brummell -declared, “My blacking ruins me; it is made -with the finest champagne.” But Brummell must -not be taken too seriously. He was a master <i>poseur</i>, -and many of his critics have fallen into the error -of taking him literally. Thus it has apparently -never occurred to his biographers to think he was -joking when, in reply to a lady who inquired what -allowance she should make her son who was about<span class="pagenum" title="62"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62"></a></span> -to enter the world, he assured her that, <i>with -economy</i>, her son could dress on eight hundred a -year. They merely comment upon his terribly -extravagant ideas. Again, when the Beau, speaking -of a boy, said with apparent earnestness, -“Really, I did my best for the young man; I -once gave him my arm all the way from White’s -to Watier’s”—about a hundred yards—they discuss -his enormous conceit!</p> - -<p>There are several accounts of the cause of the -rupture of the intimacy between Brummell and -the Prince. It is certain, however, that the story -of “Wales, ring the bell,” has no foundation. “I -was on such intimate terms with the Prince that -if we had been alone I could have asked him without -offence to ring the bell,” Brummell said; “but -with a third person in the room I should never -have done so. I knew the Regent too well.” The -story was true in so far as the order, “Wales, -ring the bell,” was given at the royal supper-table -by a lad who had taken too much to drink. The -Prince did ring the bell, and when the servants -came, told them, good-humouredly enough, to -“put that drunken boy to bed.” One authority -says the quarrel arose because Brummell spoke -sarcastically of Mrs Fitzherbert, another because -he spoke in her favour when the Prince was bestowing -his smiles in another quarter. The Beau<span class="pagenum" title="63"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63"></a></span> -believed it was because of remarks concerning both -Mrs Fitzherbert and the Prince. There is no doubt -Brummell did allow himself considerable licence -of speech, and having a ready wit, was not inclined -to forego its use.</p> - -<p>A curious tale was told by General Sir Arthur -Upton to Gronow. It seems that the first estrangement -did not last long. Brummell played whist at -White’s Club one night, and won from George -Harley <span class="nowrap">Drummond<a id="FNanchor_10" href="#Footnote_10" class="fnanchor">10</a></span> the sum of twenty thousand -pounds. The Duke of York told the Prince of the -incident, and the Beau was again invited to Carlton -House. “At the commencement of the dinner -matters went off smoothly; but Brummell, in his -joy at finding himself with his old friend, became -excited, and drank too much wine. His Royal -Highness—who wanted to avenge himself for an -insult he had received at Lady Cholmondeley’s -ball, when the Beau, looking towards the Prince, -said to Lady Worcester, ‘Who is your fat friend?’—had -invited him to dinner merely out of a desire -for revenge. The Prince, therefore, pretended to -be affronted with Brummell’s hilarity, and said to -his brother, the Duke of York, who was present, -‘I think we had better order Mr Brummell’s<span class="pagenum" title="64"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64"></a></span> -carriage before he gets drunk’; whereupon he -rang the bell, and Brummell left the royal -presence.” As Sir Arthur was present at the dinner, -there can be no doubt as to the facts; and, knowing -the character of the royal host as we do, there -is no reason to doubt that he invited a guest to -insult him. That is quite of a piece with his conduct -on other occasions; but it seems certain that -the motive that spurred the Prince on to revenge -was not that attributed to him. Of all the versions -of the “Who’s your fat friend?” episode, that -given by the General is the least likely. Inaccurate, -too, is Raikes when he tells of Brummell -asking the famous question of Jack Lee in St -James’s Street, after the latter had been seen speaking -to the Prince.</p> - -<p>The true story is the following: A dandies’ -ball was to be given by Lord Alvanley, Sir Henry -Mildmay, Henry Pierrepoint and Brummell to -celebrate a great run of luck at hazard. The question -of inviting the Prince was mooted, but it was -negatived because all felt sure it would be declined, -since he was not on friendly terms with Brummell. -The Prince, however, sent an intimation that he -desired to be present, and of course a formal invitation -was despatched. The four hosts assembled -at the door to do honour to their royal guest, -who shook hands with three of them, but looked<span class="pagenum" title="65"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65"></a></span> -Brummell full in the face and passed on without -any sign of recognition. Then it was, before the -Prince was out of hearing, that Brummell turned -to his neighbour and asked with apparent nonchalance, -“Alvanley, who’s your fat friend?”</p> - -<p>After this there was war to the death, and -Brummell, who was a good fighter, did not miss -any opportunity to wound his powerful antagonist. -He was passing down Pall Mall when the Regent’s -carriage drew up at a picture gallery. The sentries -saluted, and, keeping his back to the carriage, -Brummell took the salute as if to himself. The -Prince could not hide his anger from the bystanders, -for he looked upon any slight to his dignity as -rather worse than high treason. The foes met -again later on in the waiting-room at the opera. -An eye-witness has described the <i>rencontre</i>: “The -Prince of Wales, who always came out rather before -the performance concluded, was waiting for -his carriage. Presently Brummell came out, talking -eagerly to some friends, and, not seeing the -Prince or his party, he took up a position near the -checktaker’s bar. As the crowd flowed out, Brummell -was gradually pressed backwards, until he was -all but driven against the Regent, who distinctly -saw him, but of course would not move. In order -to stop him, therefore, and prevent actual collision, -one of the Prince’s suite tapped him on the<span class="pagenum" title="66"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66"></a></span> -back, when Brummell immediately turned sharply -round, and saw there was not much more than a -foot between his nose and the Prince of Wales’s. -I watched him with intense curiosity, and observed -that his countenance did not change in the slightest -degree, nor did his head move; they looked straight -into each other’s eyes, the Prince evidently amazed -and annoyed. Brummell, however, did not quail, -or show the least embarrassment. He receded -quite quietly, and backed slowly step by step -till the crowd closed between them, never once -taking his eyes off those of the Prince.” Moore, -in the <i>Twopenny Post Bag</i>, commemorated the -quarrel in his parody of the letter from the -Prince of Wales to the Duke of York, in which -he says:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent">“I indulge in no hatred, and wish there may come ill</div> -<div class="verse">To no mortal, except, now I think on’t, Beau Brummell,</div> -<div class="verse">Who declared t’other day, in a superfine passion,</div> -<div class="verse">He’d cut me and bring the old King into fashion.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Brummell contrived to hold his own until he -took to card-playing. His patrimony of thirty -thousand pounds was insufficient to justify him in -entering the lists with his companions. It was the -case of the earthenware pot and the iron pots. At -first he was unsuccessful, and as he was not then -addicted to games of chance, his depression was<span class="pagenum" title="67"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67"></a></span> -very great. Walking home from a club with Tom -Raikes, he was lamenting his bad fortune, when -he saw something bright in the roadway. He -stooped and picked up a crooked sixpence. “This,” -he said to his companion with great cheerfulness, -“is the harbinger of good luck.” He drilled a hole -in it and fastened it to his watch-chain. The talisman -worked, and he won thirty thousand pounds -in the next two years.</p> - -<p>Fortune deserted him; but he did not lose -even a third of his winnings, and Raikes, in his -“Memoirs,” remarks that he was never more -surprised than when in 1816, one morning, Brummell -confided to him that his situation had become -so desperate that he must fly the country that night, -and by stealth. He had lived above his income, -had got into debt, and then had fallen into the -hands of the notorious usurers, Howard and Gibbs. -Other money-lenders may have had claims upon -him; for when it was said to Alvanley that if -Brummell had remained in London something -might have been done for him by his friends, the -witty peer made a <i>bon mot</i>: “He has done quite -right to be off; it was Solomon’s judgment.<span class="nowrap">”<a id="FNanchor_11" href="#Footnote_11" class="fnanchor">11</a></span></p> - -<p>He went no farther than Calais. “Here I am -<i>restant</i> for the present, and God knows solitary -enough is my existence; of that, however, I should<span class="pagenum" title="68"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68"></a></span> -not complain, for I can always employ resources -within myself, was there not a worm that will not -sleep, called <i>conscience</i>, which all my endeavours to -distract, all the strength of coffee, with which I -constantly fumigate my unhappy brains, and all -the native gaiety of the fellow who brings it to me, -cannot lull to indifference beyond the moment; -but I will not trouble you upon that subject.” -He wrote to Tom Raikes on 22nd May 1816, soon -after his arrival: “You would be surprised to find -the sudden change and transfiguration which one -week has accomplished in my life and <i>propriâ -personâ</i>. I am punctually off the pillow at half-past -seven in the morning. My first object—melancholy, -indeed, it may be in its nature—is -to walk to the pier-head, and take my distant look -at England. This you may call weakness; but I -am not yet sufficiently master of those feelings -which may be called indigenous to resist the -impulse. The rest of my day is filled up with -strolling an hour or two round the ramparts of -this dismal town, in reading, and the study of that -language which must hereafter be my own, for -never more shall I set foot in my own country. I -dine at five, and my evening has as yet been -occupied in writing letters. The English I have -seen here—and many of them known to me—I -have cautiously avoided; and with the exception<span class="pagenum" title="69"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69"></a></span> -of Sir W. Bellingham and Lord Blessington, who -have departed, I have not exchanged a word. -Prince Esterhazy was here yesterday, and came -into my room unexpectedly without my knowing -he was here. He had the good nature to convey -several letters for me upon his return to London. -So much for my life hitherto on this side of the -water.”</p> - -<p>At first he put up at the famous Dessein’s, but -soon he went into apartments at the house of -M. Leleux. His friends came to the rescue—Alvanley, -Worcester, Sefton, no doubt Raikes -too, and others—and sent him a good round sum -of money. But his habits had grown upon him, -and he could not live economically. If he saw -buhl or marqueterie or Sèvres china that he liked -he bought it; and he could not accustom himself -to the penny-wise economies of life. He would not -give way to despair, and, naturally high-spirited, -he fought bravely against depression. He wished -to be appointed consul at Calais, and his friends’ -influence would have secured him the position, -but no vacancy occurred.</p> - -<p>He had a gleam of hope on hearing of the accession -to the throne of his old companion. “He is -at length King,” he wrote; “will his past resentments -still attach themselves to his Crown? An -indulgent amnesty of former peccadilloes should<span class="pagenum" title="70"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70"></a></span> -be the primary grace influencing newly throned -sovereignty; at least towards those who were once -distinguished by his more intimate protection. -From my experience, however, of the personage -in question, I must doubt any favourable relaxation -of those stubborn prejudices which have, -during so many years, operated to the total exclusion -of one of his <i>élèves</i> from the royal notice: -that unfortunate—I need not particularise. You -ask me how I am going on at Calais. Miserably! -I am exposed every hour to all the turmoil and -jeopardy that attended my latter days in England. -I bear up as well as I can; and when the mercy -and patience of my claimants are exhausted I -shall submit without resistance to bread and water -and straw. I cannot decamp a second time.<span class="nowrap">”<a id="FNanchor_12" href="#Footnote_12" class="fnanchor">12</a></span></p> - -<p>The new King made no sign. But soon came -the news that he was going abroad, and would -stay a night at Calais. The pulse of the exiled -dandy must have beat quickly. It was the time -for forgiveness; and, after all, his offence had -not been very rank. If there were generosity in -the heart of the monarch, surely, surely he would<span class="pagenum" title="71"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71"></a></span> -hold out the right hand of fellowship to the -vanquished foe. The meeting came about unexpectedly. -Brummell went for a walk out of the -town in the opposite direction to that on which -the King would enter it. On his return he tried -to get across the street, but the crowd was so -great that he remained perforce on the opposite -side. The King’s carriage passed close to him. -“Good God, Brummell!” George cried in a loud -voice. Then Brummell, who was hat in hand -at the time, crossed the road, pale as death, and -entered his room.</p> - -<p>George dined in the evening at Dessein’s, and -Brummell sent his valet to make the punch, giving -him to take over a bottle of rare old maraschino, -the King’s favourite liqueur. The next morning -all the suite called except Bloomfield, and each -man tried to persuade him to ask for an audience. -Brummell signed his name in the visitors’ book. -His pride would let him do no more. He had -taken the first steps; would the King send for -him? George left without a word. Afterwards he -actually boasted he had been to Calais without -seeing Brummell! So the men went their ways, -never to meet again. The King had won. He had -seen his old friend, his old foe—which you will—his -old comrade, beaten, bankrupt, humbled, -and he had passed him by. The King had won,<span class="pagenum" title="72"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72"></a></span> -yet perhaps for once it was better to be the vanquished -than to win at such a price. Perhaps in -the last years of his life George thought once more -of Brummell, as himself half blind, half mad, -utterly friendless, he went down to the grave unwept -and unhonoured.</p> - -<p>Others were more generous than the King. -The Duke of Wellington invited two successive -Ministers for Foreign Affairs to do something for -the exile. Both hesitated on the ground that his -Majesty might disapprove, whereupon Wellington -went to Windsor and spoke to the King, “who -had made objections, abusing Brummell—said he -was a damned fellow and had behaved very ill to -him (the old story—<i>moi</i>, <i>moi</i>, <i>moi</i>); but after having -let him run his tether, he had at last extracted -his consent.” Still, nothing was done until after -Charles Greville was at Calais in 1830: “There -I had a long conversation with Brummell about -his consulship, and was moved by his account of -his own distresses to write to the Duke of Wellington -and ask him to do what he could for him. -I found him in his old lodging, dressing—some -pretty pieces of old furniture in the room, an -entire toilet of silver, and a large green macaw -perched on the back of a tattered silk chair with -faded gilding—full of gaiety, impudence, and -misery.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" title="73"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73"></a></span></p> - -<p>The consulate at Caen, to which a salary of -four hundred a year was attached, was secured for -him. Brummell arranged that part of his income -should be set aside to pay his debts (which -amounted to about a thousand pounds), and his -creditors allowed him to leave Calais. He had -not long been installed when he wrote a formal -letter to Lord Palmerston, then Foreign Secretary, -stating that the place was a sinecure and the duties -so trifling that he should recommend its abolition. -It has never been made clear why he took this -remarkable step. Was it in the hope of being -appointed to a better position? Was it in the -desire to evade the payment of his debts? Was -it honesty? Whatever the cause, his action recoiled -on himself. Lord Palmerston was regretfully -compelled to take the consul at his word, -and the place was reduced.</p> - -<p>Brummell continued to live at Caen; but, being -without resources, he sank deeper into debt, and -in 1835 his creditors put him into prison. For the -last time his friends came to his assistance. William -<span class="lowercase smcap">IV.</span> subscribed a hundred pounds. Palmerston -gave twice that amount from the public purse. -Enough was obtained to secure his liberation and -to settle upon him an annuity of one hundred -and twenty pounds. Soon he sank into a state -of imbecility, and he ended his days in the<span class="pagenum" title="74"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74"></a></span> -asylum Bon Sauveur. He died on 30th March -1840.</p> - -<p>A moral can easily be drawn from the story of -this unfortunate man, and many writers have -dwelt upon the lesson it furnishes. Yet there -were many worse than he in the circle of which -he was the arbiter. He lived his life: he paid the -price. Let him rest in peace.</p> - -<p>With the departure from England of Brummell -the cult of the dandy began to decline. -Count D’Orsay the Magnificent, however, galvanised -it into fashion for a while. “He is a grand -creature,” Gronow described him; “beautiful as -the Apollo Belvedere in his outward form; full -of health, life, spirits, wit, and gaiety; radiant -and joyous; the admired of all admirers.”</p> - -<p>He had an amusing <i>naïveté</i> in speaking of his -personal advantages. “You know, my dear friend, -I am not on a par with my antagonist,” he said -to his second on the eve of a duel. “He is a very -ugly man, and if I wound him in the face he -won’t look much the worse for it; but on my -side it ought to be agreed that he shall not aim -higher than my chest, for if my face should be -spoiled <i>ce serait vraiment dommage</i>.”</p> - -<p>The dandies of a later day were but poor things—pinchbeck. -Captain Gronow, in his youth a -<i>beau</i> of no mean order, pours contempt upon<span class="pagenum" title="75"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75"></a></span> -their pretensions in no measured terms. “How -unspeakably odious—with a few brilliant exceptions, -such as Alvanley and others—were the -dandies of forty years ago [1822]! They were -generally middle-aged, some even elderly, men, -had large appetites and weak digestions, gambled -freely, and had no luck. They hated everybody -and abused everybody, and would sit together in -White’s bay window or the pit-boxes at the opera -weaving tremendous crammers. They swore a -good deal, never laughed, had their own particular -slang, looked hazy after dinner, and had most of -them been patronised at one time or other by -Brummell and the Prince Regent<span class="ell">...</span>. They -gloried in their shame, and believed in nothing -good or noble or elevated. Thank Heaven, that -miserable race of used-up dandies has long been -extinct! May England never look upon their like -again!”</p> - -<p>The prayer may well be echoed. The bad influence -of the dandies can scarcely be over-estimated; -and the effect upon their own class of society was -terrible. Their morals were contemptible, and -they were without principle. Prodigality was their -creed, gambling their religion. The list of those -who died beggared is not much longer than the -list of those who died by their own hands. They -indulged in no manly exercises, and devoted their<span class="pagenum" title="76"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76"></a></span> -days to their personal decoration and to the card-table. -Extravagance of all kinds was fashionable. -Clothes, canes, snuff-boxes, must be expensive to -be worthy of such distinguished folk, whose sole -aim it was to outvie each other. A guinea was -the least that could be given to the butler when -dining out; but this was an improvement upon -the day when Pope, finding it cost him five -guineas in tips whenever he dined with the -Duke of Montagu, informed that nobleman he -could not dine with him in future unless he sent -him an order for the tribute-money.</p> - -<p>There was Wellesley Pole, who, after the opera, -gave magnificent dinners at his home at Wanstead, -where rare dishes were served and the greatest -luxury obtained. He married Miss Tylney Pole, -who brought him fifty thousand a year; and -he died a beggar. There was “Golden Ball” -Hughes, with forty thousand a year, who, when -the excitements of the gaming-room were not -to be had, would play battledore and shuttlecock -through the whole night, backing himself -for immense sums. He married a beautiful -Spanish <i>danseuse</i>, Mercandotti, who appeared in -London in 1822. Whereupon Ainsworth made -an epigram:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent">“The fair damsel is gone, and no wonder at all</div> -<div class="verse">That, bred to the dance, she is gone to a Ball.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" title="77"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77"></a></span></p> - -<p>The honeymoon was spent at Oatlands, purchased -from the Duke of York. It was thought to be a -foolish investment; but when Hughes fell upon -evil days he was able to sell the estate for a -large sum, as the new railway skirted it, and -speculative builders were anxious to acquire the -land, and so some of his old prosperity returned. -There was Lord Fife, an intimate friend of the -Regent’s, who spent forty thousand pounds on -Mademoiselle Noblet the dancer. A chapter -would not suffice for an account of the vicious -and foolish habits of these men.</p> - -<p>The clubs were then a far more important -feature in social life than they are to-day. They -were accessible only to those who were in society, -which in those days was exclusive, and consisted -of a comparatively small body in which everyone -knew everyone else, if not personally, at -least by name. There were then no clubs for -professional men save those of the first rank, or -for merchants, or for the <i>hoi polloi</i>.</p> - -<p>In more or less direct rivalry with the clubs -were some of the hotels, and men such as Wellington, -Nelson, Collingwood and Sir John Moore -used them as a meeting-place—at the beginning -of the eighteenth century about fifteen in number, -not including, of course, the large coaching inns, -coffee, eating, and the <i>à la mode</i> beef houses, most<span class="pagenum" title="78"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78"></a></span> -of which had beds for customers. First and foremost -of these, kept by a French <i>chef</i>, Jacquiers, -who had served Louis XVIII. and Lord Darnley, -was the Clarendon, built upon a portion of the -gardens of Clarendon House, between Bond Street -and Albemarle Street, in each of which the hotel -had a frontage. This was the only place in England -where a French dinner was served that was worthy -of mention in the same breath with those obtainable -in Paris at the Maison Doré or Rocher de -Cancalle’s. The prices were very high. Dinner -cost three or four pounds a head, and a bottle of -claret or champagne was not obtainable under a -guinea. A suite of apartments was reserved for -banquets, and it was in these that the famous -dinner, ordered by Count D’Orsay, was given to -Lord Chesterfield when he resigned the office of -Master of the Buckhounds. Covers were laid for -thirty, and the bill, exclusive of wine, came to -one hundred and eighty guineas.</p> - -<p>Limmer’s was another well-known hotel, the -resort of the sporting world and of rich country -squires. It was gloomy and ill-kept, but renowned -for its plain English cooking and world-famous -for gin-punch. The clergy went to Ibbetson’s, -naval men to Fladong’s in Oxford Street, and -army officers and men about town to Stephen’s -in Bond Street. Most of these hostelries had their<span class="pagenum" title="79"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79"></a></span> -regular frequenters, and strangers were not, as a -rule, encouraged to use them as a house of call.</p> - -<p>Clubs were few in number. There was “The -Club” of Johnson; the Cocoa-Tree, which arose -out of the Tory Chocolate House of Anne’s reign; -the Royal Naval Club, a favourite haunt of the -Duke of Clarence; and the Eccentrics, which -numbered among its members such well-known -men as Fox, Sheridan, Lord Petersham, Brougham, -Lord Melbourne, and Theodore Hook. Graham’s -was second rate; nor was Arthur’s in the first -flight. When Arthur died, his son-in-law, -Mackreth, became the proprietor. He prospered, -became a member of Parliament in 1774, and -was afterwards knighted. His name is preserved -in a very good epigram:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent">“When Mackreth served in Arthur’s crew,</div> -<div class="verse">He said to Rumbold, ‘Black my shoe’;</div> -<div class="verse indent2">To which he answered, ‘Ay, Bob.’</div> -<div class="verse">But when return’d from India’s land,</div> -<div class="verse">And grown too proud to brook command,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">He sternly answered, ‘Nay, Bob.’<span class="nowrap">”<a id="FNanchor_13" href="#Footnote_13" class="fnanchor">13</a></span></div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>An institution of a somewhat different class -was the Beefsteak Society, which flourished so<span class="pagenum" title="80"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80"></a></span> -long ago as the early years of the eighteenth -century. The Prince of Wales became a member -in 1785, when the number of the Steaks was increased -from twenty-four to twenty-five in order -to admit him; and subsequently the Dukes of -Clarence and Sussex were elected. The bill of -fare was restricted to beefsteaks, and the beverages -to port wine and punch; but the cuisine on at -least one occasion left something to be desired, -for when, in 1830, the English Opera House -was burnt down, Greville remarked in his diary: -“I trust the paraphernalia of the Beefsteak Club -perished with the rest, for the enmity I bear that -society for the dinner they gave me last year.” -Charles Morris was the bard of the Beefsteak -Society, and he has come down to posterity on -the strength of four lines:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent">“In town let me live then, in town let me die,</div> -<div class="verse">For in truth I can’t relish the country, not I.</div> -<div class="verse">If one must have a villa in summer to dwell,</div> -<div class="verse">Oh, give me the sweet, shady side of Pall Mall!”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>In spite of his prayer, he spent the last years of -his life in the rural retreat of Brockham, in -Surrey, in a little place presented to him by his -fellow-Steak, the Duke of Norfolk. He lived to -the great age of ninety-two, and was so hale and -hearty and cheerful that, not long before his<span class="pagenum" title="81"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81"></a></span> -death, Curran said to him, “Die when you will, -Charles, you will die in your youth.”</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 320px;"> -<img src="images/illus_087.jpg" width="320" height="402" alt="" /> -<div><p class="tac fs120"><i>Lumley S<sup>t</sup>. George Skeffington Esq<sup>r</sup>.</i></p></div> -</div> - -<p>The greatest club of its day was Almack’s, at -5 Pall Mall, founded in 1740 by Macall, a Scotsman. -This institution was nicknamed the “Macaroni -Club,” owing to the fashion of its members; -and Gibbon remarked that “the style of living, -though somewhat expensive, is exceedingly pleasant, -and notwithstanding the rage of play, I have -found more entertainment and rational society -here than in any other club to which I belong.” -The high play, which was the bane of half the -English aristocracy, ruined many members. The -club fell upon evil days, and was absorbed by -Brooks’s.</p> - -<p>White’s and Brooks’s took the place of Almack’s. -The former, established in 1698 as -“White’s Chocolate-House,” five doors from the -bottom of the west side of St James’s Street, -became a club in 1755, when it moved to No. -38, on the opposite side of the street. It was -owned successively by Arthur Mackreth, John -Martindale, and in 1812 by Raggett, whose son -eventually inherited it. Brooks’s was founded by -a wine merchant and money-lender of the name, -who has been described by Tickell in verses -addressed to Sheridan, when Charles James Fox -was to give a supper at his rooms near the club:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" title="82"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82"></a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent">“Derby shall send, if not his plate, his cooks;</div> -<div class="verse">And know, I’ve bought the best champagne from Brooks,</div> -<div class="verse">From liberal Brooks, whose speculative skill</div> -<div class="verse">Is hasty credit and a distant bill;</div> -<div class="verse">Who, nursed in clubs, disdains a vulgar trade,</div> -<div class="verse">Exults to trust, and blushes to be paid.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Both clubs, although more or less instituted for -the purpose of gambling, were at first political. -White’s, however, soon took down the Tory flag -and received members without reference to their -political opinions. Brooks’s, on the other hand, -remained true to its Whig traditions; and it was -to counterbalance the influence of this institution—the -“Reform” of that time—that the Carlton -Club was organised by Lord Clanwilliam and -others. These, with Boodles’, were the great -resorts of the dandies; and the bay window at -White’s, when Brummell was the lion, was one of -the sights of the town. The Prince of Wales was -a member of Brooks’s; but when his boon companions -Tarleton and Jack Payne were blackballed -he withdrew, and on his own account -founded a new club, of which the manager was -Weltzie, his house-steward.</p> - -<p>Watier’s, the great macao gambling-house, was -founded in 1807; but play was very high, and -it lasted only for twelve years. According to -Gronow it came into existence in a somewhat<span class="pagenum" title="83"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83"></a></span> -curious way. When some members of White’s -and Brooks’s were dining at Carlton House, the -Prince of Wales asked what sort of dinners -were served at these institutions. One of the -guests complained: “The eternal joints and -beefsteaks, the boiled fowl with oyster sauce, -and an apple-tart. This is what we have, sir, at -our clubs, and very monotonous fare it is.” The -Prince sent for Watier, his <i>chef</i>, and asked if he -would take a house and organise a club-dinner. -Watier was willing. The scheme was carried -out, and the club was famed for its exquisite -cuisine.</p> - -<p>Another and more circumstantial account of the -founding of the club is given by Raikes. He says -it was originally instituted as a harmonic meeting -by the Maddochs, Calverts and Lord Headfort, -who took a house in Piccadilly, at the -corner of Bolton Street, and engaged Watier -as master of the revels. “This destination of the -club was soon changed. The dinners were so -<i>recherché</i> and so much talked of in town that -all the young men of fashion and fortune became -members of it. The catches and glees were then -superseded by cards and dice; the most luxurious -dinners were furnished at any price, as the deep -play at night rendered all charges a matter of -indifference. Macao was the constant game, and<span class="pagenum" title="84"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84"></a></span> -thousands passed from one to another with as -much facility as marbles.”</p> - -<p>The Duke of York was a member of Watier’s, -and so too was Byron, who christened it “The -Dandy Club.”</p> - -<p>Another member was Robert Bligh, whose -eccentricities were already verging upon insanity. -One night, at the macao-table, Brummell was -losing heavily, and in an affected tone of tragedy -he called to a waiter to bring him a pistol. -Thereupon Bligh, who was his <i>vis-à-vis</i>, produced -from his coat pockets a pair of loaded -pistols, and laying them on the table, said, -“Mr Brummell, if you are really desirous to -put a period to your existence, I am extremely -happy to offer you the means without troubling -the waiter.” The feelings of the members may be -imagined when the knowledge was forced upon -them that in their midst was a madman who -carried loaded firearms.</p> - -<p>Brummell, Raikes has recorded, was the -supreme dictator at Watier’s, “the club’s perpetual -president.” At the height of his prosperity, -one night when he entered, the macao-table was -full. Sheridan was there trying his luck with a few -pounds he could ill spare, for he had fallen upon -evil days. Brummell, whose good luck was -notorious at this time, offered to take Sheridan’s<span class="pagenum" title="85"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85"></a></span> -seat and go shares in his deal. He added two -hundred pounds in counters to the ten pounds in -front of him, took the cards, dealt, and in a -quarter of an hour had won fifteen hundred -pounds. Then he left the table and divided his -gains with Sheridan. “Go home, Sheridan,” he -said quietly; “go home and give your wife and -brats a supper, and never play again.” It is good -to be able to record a generous act, delicately -done, of a much-abused man.</p> - -<p>Of Brummell’s witty insolence mention has -already been made, but the laugh was once at -least against him. He was at the card-table playing -with Combe the brewer, an Alderman who -had passed the chair. “Come, Mashtub,” he -said, being the caster, “what do you set?” -“Twenty-five guineas.” “Well, then, have at the -mare’s pony” (twenty-five guineas). The game -progressed, and Brummell won twelve times in -succession. “Thank you, Alderman,” he said; -“for the future I shall never drink any porter -but yours.” “I wish, sir,” retorted Combe, “that -every other blackguard in London would say the -same.”</p> - -<p>Everybody played cards in those days. Even -at the quiet Court of “Farmer” George the -tables were set out in the Queen’s drawing-rooms. -Ladies gambled with as much zest as their<span class="pagenum" title="86"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86"></a></span> -husbands and brothers, and at the end of the -eighteenth century several held gaming-tables. -“Faro goes on as briskly as ever; those who -have not fortune enough of their own to live on -have recourse to this profitable game in order to -raise contributions on their friends,” wrote -Anthony Storer to Lord Auckland in 1791. -“The ladies are all embarked in banks. Mrs -Strutt, Lady Archer, Mrs Hobart, Lady Elizabeth -Luttrell (sister of the Duchess of Cumberland), -are avowed bankers; others, I suppose, are secretly -concerned.” Information was laid against Lady -Archer and Lady Buckinghamshire, who were -convicted and fined; and Lord Kenyon, delivering -judgment in another case, actually declared that -if any titled ladies were found guilty of the offence -before him they should stand in the pillory. No -one was bold enough to test the sincerity of the -threat. As <i>The Morning Post</i> put it in its issue for -15th January 1800: “Society has reason to rejoice -in the complete downfall of the Faro Dames who -were so long the disgrace of human nature. Their -<i>die</i> is cast, and their <i>odd tricks</i> avail no longer. -The <i>game</i> is up, and very few of them have <i>cut</i> -with <i>honours</i>.”</p> - -<p>Play was taken very seriously, for the stakes -were always heavy, and conversation was resented. -Sir Philip Francis came to Brooks’s wearing for<span class="pagenum" title="87"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87"></a></span> -the first time the ribbon of the Order of the -Bath, for which Fox had recommended him. “So -this is the way they have rewarded you at last,” -remarked Roger Wilbraham, coming up to the -whist-table. “They have given you a little bit of -red ribbon for your services, Sir Philip, have -they? A pretty bit of red ribbon to hang about -your neck; and that satisfies you, does it? Now, -I wonder what I shall have. What do you think -they will give me, Sir Philip?” “A halter, I trust -and hope!” roared the infuriated player.</p> - -<p>It was at Almack’s, and later at White’s, -Brooks’s, Weltzie’s and Watier’s, that the heaviest -play prevailed. It is no exaggeration to say that -during the long sittings at macao, hazard and -faro many tens of thousands changed hands. -Nelson won three hundred pounds at a gaming-table -when he was seventeen; but he was so -horrified when he reflected if he had lost he could -not have paid that he never played again. Pitt -gambled, and George Selwyn, and Fox, who was -always unlucky.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent">“At Almack’s, of pigeons I’m told there are flocks,</div> -<div class="verse">But it’s thought the completest is one Mr Fox.</div> -<div class="verse">If he touches a card, if he rattles a box,</div> -<div class="verse">Away fly the guineas of this Mr Fox.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Fox lost two hundred thousand pounds in a<span class="pagenum" title="88"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88"></a></span> -night. Once he played for twenty-two hours -and lost five hundred pounds an hour. It was he -who said that the greatest pleasure in life, after -winning, was losing. His bad luck was notorious, -and Walpole wondered what he would do when -he had sold the estates of all his friends. How -Fox contrived to make a great reputation as a -statesman, considering his mode of life, is truly -remarkable. It was noticed that he did not -shine in the debate on the Thirty-Nine Articles -(6th February 1772). Walpole thought it could -not be wondered at. “He had sat up playing at -hazard at Almack’s from Tuesday evening, the -4th, till five in the afternoon of Wednesday, 5th. -An hour before, he had recovered twelve thousand -pounds that he had lost, and by dinner, which was -at five o’clock, he had ended losing eleven thousand -pounds. On the Thursday he spoke in the above -debate, went to dinner at half-past eleven at -night, from there to White’s, where he drank -till seven the next morning; thence to Almack’s, -where he won six thousand pounds, and between -three and four in the afternoon he set out for -Newmarket. His brother Stephen lost ten thousand -pounds two nights after, and Charles eleven -thousand pounds more on the 13th, so that in -three nights the two brothers, the eldest not -twenty-five, lost thirty-two thousand pounds.”<span class="pagenum" title="89"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89"></a></span> -One night when Fox had been terribly unlucky, -Topham Beauclerk followed him to his rooms to -offer consolation, expecting to find him perhaps -stretched on the floor bewailing his losses, perhaps -plunged into moody despair. He was surprised -to find him reading Herodotus. “What would -you have me do?” he asked his astonished visitor. -“I have lost my last shilling.”</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent">“But, hark! the voice of battle shouts from far,</div> -<div class="verse">The Jews and Macaronis are at war</div> -<div class="verse">The Jews prevail, and thund’ring from the stocks,</div> -<div class="verse">They seize, they bind, they circumcise Charles Fox.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>They were good losers in those days, and it -was a very necessary quality for the majority to -possess, since all played and most lost. Lord -Carlisle (who complained of <i>cette lassitude de tout -et de moi-même, qu’on appelle ennui</i>), General Fitzpatrick, -“Old Q.,” Lord Hertford, Lord Sefton, -the Duke of York, and many others squandered -vast sums in this amusement. There were not a -great many winners. The Duke of Portland was -one; and his and Canning’s father-in-law, -General Scott, won two hundred thousand -pounds. It was said the success of the latter -was due not only to his knowledge of the game -of whist, but also to his notorious sobriety. -General Fitzpatrick and Lord Robert Spencer<span class="pagenum" title="90"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90"></a></span> -lost all their money at Brooks’s; but, the -members not objecting, with borrowed capital -they kept a faro bank. The bank won, and with -his share of one hundred thousand pounds Lord -Robert bought the estate of Woolbidding, in -Sussex. He had learnt his lesson, and he never -played again. There were few who had the sense -to make or the strength to keep such a resolution. -Mrs Delany, however, tells of a Mr Thynne “who -has won this year so considerably that he has -paid off all his debts, bought a house and furnished -it, disposed of all his horses, hounds, etc., and -struck his name out of all the expensive subscriptions.” -A fortunate man, too, was Colonel -Aubrey, who had the reputation of being the -best whist and piquet player of his day. He -made two fortunes in India and lost them both, -and made a third at play from a five-pound note -which he borrowed.</p> - -<p>Another celebrated faro bank at Brooks’s was -that kept by Lord Cholmondeley, Mr Thompson -of Grosvenor Square, Tom Stepney, and a fourth. -It ruined half the town; and a Mr Paul, who -had come home with a fortune from India, -punting against the bank, lost ninety thousand -pounds in one night, and at once went Eastward -Ho! to make another. Lord Cholmondeley and -Mr Thompson realised between three and four<span class="pagenum" title="91"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91"></a></span> -hundred thousand pounds apiece; but Stepney -so frequently played against his partners that -what he won on one side he lost on the -other, with the result that his gains were inconsiderable.</p> - -<p>Foreigners were made honorary members of -the clubs. The Duke of Orleans (“Vile Égalité,” -Lady Sarah Bunbury wrote him down) carried -off vast sums. During the visit of the Allied -Sovereigns, Blücher, an inveterate gambler, lost -twenty thousand pounds. Count Montrond, on -the other hand, was a winner. “Who the deuce -is this Montrond?” the Duke of York asked -Upton. “They say, sir, that he is the most -agreeable scoundrel and the greatest reprobate -in France.” “Is he, by Jove?” cried the Duke. -“Then let us ask him to dinner immediately.” -Montrond was a witty fellow, and one of his -<i>bon mots</i> has been handed down. The Bailli de -Ferretti was always dressed in knee-breeches, -with a cocked hat and a Court sword, the slender -proportions of which resembled those of his legs. -“Do tell me, my dear Bailli,” said Montrond -one day, “have you got three legs or three -swords?”</p> - -<p>Englishmen were not backward in playing -abroad, and they assembled in great numbers -at the Salon des Étrangers in Paris during the<span class="pagenum" title="92"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92"></a></span> -stay of the army of occupation after Waterloo. -Gronow gives a long list of habitués: Henry -Baring, Tom Sowerby, Henry Broadwood, Bob -Arnold, Steer, Colonel Sowerby, were the most -reckless plungers. Lord Thanet, who had an -income of fifty thousand pounds, lost every -penny he had at the <i>salon</i>. He would not stop -playing when the public tables closed, and used -to invite those present to remain and play hazard -or écarté. One night he lost a hundred and twenty -thousand pounds. His friends told him he had -most probably been cheated. “Then,” he said -with great coolness, “I consider myself lucky -not to have lost twice as much.”</p> - -<p>Prominent among gamblers, and as such deserving -of special mention, was William Douglas, -Earl of March and Ruglen, afterwards fourth and -last Duke of Queensberry<span class="nowrap">.<a id="FNanchor_14" href="#Footnote_14" class="fnanchor">14</a></span> Even making liberal -allowance for the spirit of the age and for the -state of morality in the days when he was young, -he was one of the worst men of his generation; -and his rank and wealth made his vices only more -notorious. He was the “Degenerate Douglas” of -Wordsworth’s muse, and Burns damned him in -verse for all time:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" title="93"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93"></a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent">“How shall I sing Drumlanrig’s Grace,</div> -<div class="verse">Discarded remnant of a race</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Once great in martial story?</div> -<div class="verse">His forebears’ virtues all contrasted,</div> -<div class="verse">The very name of Douglas blasted—</div> -<div class="verse indent2">His that inverted glory.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Hate, envy, oft the Douglas bore;</div> -<div class="verse">But he has superadded more,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">And sunk them in contempt.</div> -<div class="verse">Follies and crimes have stained the name;</div> -<div class="verse">But, Queensberry, thine the virgin claim—</div> -<div class="verse indent2">From aught that’s good exempt.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>He was appointed to the Household of -George III.; but when the King’s malady declared -itself in 1788, he, in common with many other -courtiers, veered round to the side of the Prince -of Wales. George recovered, and the Duke was -dismissed. His profligacy was a byword, and he -pursued pleasure to the end of his days. He built -a palace at Richmond, where many orgies took -place. But he tired of that residence, as he wearied -of most people and most things. “What is there -to make so much of in the Thames? I am quite -tired of it. There it goes, flow, flow, flow, always -the same.” At the end of his days he sat on the -balcony of a ground-floor room of his Piccadilly -mansion, and ogled the passers-by, while a footman -held a parasol over his head, and another -was ready to follow and find out the residence of<span class="pagenum" title="94"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94"></a></span> -any pretty girl that passed. Yet “Old Q.” had wit -in plenty, loved music, and was not without appreciation -of letters and art. One of his greatest -friends was George Selwyn; and, while both -accredited themselves with the paternity, neither -knew which was the father of Maria Fagniani. -This young lady became Selwyn’s ward and the -inheritrix of the greater part of his fortune, while -the Duke left her his residence in Piccadilly, a -villa at Richmond, and a hundred and fifty -thousand pounds; and her husband, Lord Yarmouth, -afterwards third Marquis of Hertford, -as the Duke’s residuary legatee, came into about -two hundred thousand pounds.</p> - -<p>“Old Q.” was a dangerous man at the card-table. -The turf had no mysteries for him. He was ever -ready to bet, and he preferred to bet on something -that was very nearly a certainty. He was full of -resource, and his success was due at least as much -to his cleverness as to his luck. His was the day of -wagers, and at White’s a betting-book was laid -upon a table for all bets made in the building to -be inserted. His name frequently occurs therein:</p> - -<p>“<i>June 1751.</i>—Lord March wagers Captain -Richard Vernon fifty guineas to twenty that Mr -St Leger is married before him.” The bet requires -the explanatory note that “him” stands -for Captain Vernon.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" title="95"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95"></a></span></p> - -<p>“<i>March 1784.</i>—The Duke of Queensberry -bets Mr Grenville ten guineas to five that Mr -Fox does not stand a poll for Westminster if the -Parliament should be dissolved within a month -from the date hereof. <i>N.B.</i>—If a coalition takes -place between Mr Pitt and Mr Fox this bet is to -be off.” It is to be noticed that the Duke was -not convinced of the sincerity of politicians.</p> - -<p>The Duke bet Sir John Lade a thousand guineas -as to which could produce a man to eat the most -at one sitting. The Duke could not be present at -the contest, but he received the result from a representative. -“I have not time to state particulars, -but merely to acquaint your Grace that your man -beat his antagonist by a pig and an apple-pie.” -What must they have eaten!</p> - -<p>White’s betting-book is full of quaint wagers. -“Lord Northington bets Mr C. Fox, June 4, 1774, -that he (Mr. C. F.) is not called to the Bar before -this day four years.” On 11th March 1775 is an -interesting entry: “Lord Bolingbroke gives a -guinea to Mr Charles Fox, and is to receive a -thousand from him whenever the debt of this -country amounts to one hundred and seventy-one -millions. Mr Fox is not to pay the thousand -pounds till he is one of his Majesty’s Cabinet.” -The following is dated 7th April 1792: “Mr -Sheridan bets Lord Lauderdale and Lord Thanet<span class="pagenum" title="96"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96"></a></span> -twenty-five guineas each that Parliament will -not consent to any more lotteries after the present -one voted to be drawn in February next.” Lotteries -were then a regular source of revenue to the State, -the average profit being about three hundred and -fifty thousand pounds a year, besides many -brokers’ annual licences at fifty pounds. Private -lotteries were forbidden by law, and required a -special Act of Parliament to enable them to be -drawn. The result was that the only two private -lotteries were the Pigot Diamond in 1800 and -Boydell’s pictures five years later. Lotteries were -first drawn at Guildhall and later at the Coopers’ -Hall, and the tickets were taken from the wheels -by Bluecoat boys. The last public lottery took -place in October 1826, and so Mr Sheridan lost -his bet.</p> - -<p>On 8th May 1809, “Mr G. Talbot bet Lord -Charles Manners ten guineas that the Duke of -Queensberry is not alive this day two years.” -Another entry records that “Mr C. H. Bouverie -bets Mr Blackford that the Duke of Queensberry -outlives the Duke of Grafton.” “Lord Mountford -bets Sir John Bland twenty guineas that Nash -outlives Cibber.” But the bet was cancelled, because -before either Nash or Cibber died the two -wagerers committed suicide!</p> - -<p>Apparently no subject was thought unfit for a<span class="pagenum" title="97"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97"></a></span> -bet. Wagers were made as to which of two -married ladies would first give birth to a live -child, and as to which of two men would marry -first. They bet with equal heartiness on the -duration of a Ministry or the life of a Minister, -on a horse, or a dog, or a prize-fight, or a cock-fight. -Walpole tells the story of a simple parson -entering White’s on the morning of a severe -earthquake, and hearing bets laid whether the -shock was caused by an earthquake or the blowing -up of powder mills, went away in horror, -protesting that they were such an impious set -that he believed if the Last Trump were to sound -they would bet puppet-show against Judgment!</p> - -<p>All other English clubs where gaming took -place fade into insignificance before Crockford’s. -Crockford was originally a fishmonger at the old -Bulkshop next door to Temple Bar Without, and -later a “leg” at Newmarket. He became part-proprietor -of a gambling-house, and with his -partner, at a twenty-four hours’ sitting, he won -a hundred thousand pounds from five punters, -including Lord Thanet, Lord Granville and Ball -Hughes. He then built the famous palace in -St James’s Street opposite to White’s.</p> - -<p>“No one can describe the splendour and excitement -of the early days of Crockford’s,” Gronow -relates. “A supper of the most exquisite kind,<span class="pagenum" title="98"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98"></a></span> -prepared by the famous Ude, and accompanied by -the best wines in the world, together with every -luxury of the season, was provided gratis. The -members of the club included all the celebrities of -England, from the Duke of Wellington to the -youngest ensign of the Guards; and at the gay -and festive board, which was constantly replenished -from midnight till early dawn, the most brilliant -sallies of wit, the most agreeable conversation, the -most interesting anecdotes, interspersed with grave -political discussions and acute logical reasoning -on every conceivable subject, proceeded from the -soldiers, scholars, statesmen, poets, and men of -pleasure, who, when the House was ‘up’ and -balls and parties at an end, delighted to finish their -evenings with a little supper and a good deal of -hazard at old Crockey’s. The tone of the club was -excellent. A most gentleman-like feeling prevailed, -and none of the rudeness, familiarity, and -ill-breeding which disgrace some of the minor clubs -of the present day would have been tolerated for -a moment.”</p> - -<p>The whole establishment was organised on a -scale of wonderful magnificence; and to keep it -select, the election of members was controlled by -a committee. Talleyrand, Pozzo di Borgo, General -Alava, Esterhazy, and other ambassadors belonged -to it; the Duke of Wellington, Lord Raglan,<span class="pagenum" title="99"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99"></a></span> -Lord Anglesea, Sir Hussey Vivian, Disraeli, -Bulwer, Croker, Horace Twiss, and, as a matter -of course, Lord Alvanley and Count D’Orsay. -Though many members never touched a card, -Crockford with his hazard bank won a sum -estimated at between one million two hundred -thousand and two million pounds, or, as a contemporary -put it very neatly, “the whole of the -ready money of the then existing generation.” -He died worth seven hundred thousand pounds, -after having sustained heavy losses in mining and -other speculations. The retirement of Crockford -marks an epoch, for after that date the craze for -gambling on a vast scale slowly but surely died -out. By this time, however, it had done as much -harm to the aristocracy as the South Sea Bubble -did to the general public.</p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" title="103"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103"></a></span></p> -<h2>A Forgotten Satirist: “Peter Pindar”</h2> - - -<p class="dropcap">The amusing banter of Mr E. V. Lucas -and Mr C. L. Graves, and the delightful -parody of Mr Owen Seaman, are -the nearest approach that England can now show -to the satirical productions for which it was once -famous. Indeed, we are becoming an amiable race, -developing, or at least feigning, the milk of -human kindness to such an extent that even -modern caricature can scarcely be distinguished -from portraiture, and only Mr Max Beerbohm -flings the tomahawk of pictorial satire. A study -of the lampoons and the vigorous personal onslaughts -in prose and verse of the Georgian days, -however, gives us pause for reflection whether -we refrain from such practices because of our -improved manners or increasing effeminacy: -though, perhaps, it may be attributed largely to -the signed review which makes it difficult, in -these days of numerous literary associations, for -a sociable or a nervous scholar to gibbet his -erring brethren with an acerbity once general. -Certain it is that current criticism is for the most -part the art of saying pleasant things graciously, -while our excursions into the personal element -are usually headed “Appreciations.” Whatever -the cause, it is a sad thought for militant spirits -that a wave of politeness has engulfed the heretofore -blunt, outspoken John Bull, that typical<span class="pagenum" title="104"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104"></a></span> -figure, of which—it is pathetic to note in these -days of unsuppressed emotion—we are still so -proud.</p> - -<p>The most casual incursion into Georgian history -reveals a great mass of almost forgotten satirical -productions, all of it trenchant, most of it coarse -and not a little scurrilous, indeed, but much of it -readable and amusing. There were scores of virile -pamphleteers in the pay of Ministers and Oppositions, -as well as a number of independent writers -of lampoons on all sorts and conditions of men -and things. The best of the latter class was Charles -Churchill, the famous author of “The Rosciad” -and of those terrible onslaughts on Hogarth and -Sandwich, on Martin and other small fry. His -mantle was in due course assumed by Wolcot, -who, though scarcely remembered to-day, was a -man of considerable talent and extensive knowledge, -and, though of course without the genius -of his predecessor, was widely read, enjoyed a -vast popularity, and undoubtedly influenced a -great body of people.</p> - -<p>John Wolcot, the son of a country surgeon, -was born in May 1738. He was educated at -various schools of no great repute, and in the -early twenties paid a lengthy visit to France, for -the inhabitants of which land he conceived the -insular prejudice usual in his day:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" title="105"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105"></a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent">“I never will put Merit on the rack:</div> -<div class="verse">No; yet, I own, I hate the shrugging dogs.</div> -<div class="verse">I’ve lived among them, eat their frogs,</div> -<div class="verse">And vomited them up, thank God, again.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>He studied medicine in London until 1764, -when he went as assistant to his uncle, John -Wolcot of Fowey, taking a Scotch Degree of -Doctor of Medicine three years later, immediately -after which, his distant connection, Sir William -Trelawny, going to Jamaica as Governor, he accompanied -him as physician. In that island he -saw little or no prospect of securing a paying -practice, and paid a flying visit to England in -1769 to take holy orders. On his return to Jamaica -he found that the lucrative living for which he -had been destined, had, contrary to expectation, -not been vacated, whereupon, after holding a minor -clerical post for a few months, he reverted to his -old profession, and obtained the post of physician-general -to the troops. Sir William Trelawny died -at Spanish Town in 1772, and Wolcot again came -to England, where he established himself as a -doctor at Truro, but, after disputes with his medical -<i>confrères</i> and the Corporation, removed in 1779 to -Helstone and then to Exeter.</p> - -<p>Wolcot abandoned the practice of medicine in -1781, when he came to London, urged to this -step partly by the desire to advance the prospects<span class="pagenum" title="106"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106"></a></span> -of his <i>protégé</i>, Opie, the painter, and partly by the -desire to establish himself there as a man of -letters. The last project was not so mad as it may -have appeared to his country neighbours, for under -the pseudonym of “Peter Pindar” he had already -obtained some success with the publication of a -“Poetical Epistle to Reviewers” in 1778, in -which he declared:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent">“In Sonnet, Ode, and Legendary Tale,</div> -<div class="verse">Soon will the press my tuneful Works display.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>He fulfilled this promise, and in 1782 -issued “Lyric Odes to the Royal Academicians -for 1782,” by “Peter Pindar, Esq., a distant -relative of the Poet of Thebes and Laureat to the -Academy,” which were at once so successful, that -in quick succession came from his fertile pen, -“More Lyric Odes to the Royal Academicians -for 1783,” “Lyric Odes for 1785,” and, in 1786, -“Farewell Odes to Academicians.” These vigorous -verses attracted much attention, for the critic was -outspoken in his dislikes, and lashed with the -utmost contempt “George’s idol,” West, and other -fashionable artists; though he showed his discrimination -by praising the works of Gainsborough, -Reynolds (“Of whose fine art I own myself a -lover”), and of the unfairly neglected Richard -Wilson (“By Britain left in poverty to pine”):</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" title="107"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107"></a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse indent1">“But honest Wilson, never mind;</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Immortal praises thou shalt find,</div> -<div class="verse">And for a dinner have no cause to fear.</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Thou start’st at my prophetic rhymes:</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Don’t be impatient for those times;</div> -<div class="verse">Wait till thou hast been dead a hundred year.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>It was not because Wolcot had exhausted this -vein (for he returned to it again and again, even -in 1808 having “One more Peep at the Royal -Academy”) that he looked for another theme, but -that he discovered, so long as he wrote on art and -artists, let him be never so humorous, he would -have to be content with praise alone for his reward. -No man cared less for money than he, but he -certainly thought the labourer worthy of his hire, -and, since he depended for his livelihood on his -pen, it behoved him to select a subject that would -appeal to a larger public. To the exceeding joy -of his own and subsequent generations, he decided -to exercise his humour at the expense of the King -and Queen, with an occasional playful blow at a -Minister.</p> - -<p>No satirist could ask for better subjects for his -wit than George III. and Queen Charlotte. The -slow-witted monarch and his parsimonious consort -offered every conceivable temptation to Wolcot’s -nimble humour, and he was not slow to take advantage -of this rare chance. Of course, he was not<span class="pagenum" title="108"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108"></a></span> -the first in the field, but he was head and shoulders -over his rivals in talent and wit, and, if he did -not silence, at least he succeeded in eclipsing them. -He was especially fortunate in having accurate -information concerning the internal economy of -the royal palaces, and, though he took a poet’s -licence to embroider the facts, there was always -some foundation for his lampoons. Thus, when -the King found a noxious insect in his plate at -dinner and gave orders that everyone in the kitchens, -from <i>chef</i> to scullion, should be shaved, “Peter -Pindar” wrote a “heroi-comic poem,” “The -Lousiad,” in which he gave a version of the story. -“I had this (incident),” he wrote to a friend, -“from the cooks themselves, with whom I dined -several times at Buckingham House and Windsor, -immediately after the ‘shave’ took place.”</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent2">“ ‘Some spirit whispers that to Cooks I owe</div> -<div class="verse">The precious Visitor that crawls below;</div> -<div class="verse">Yes, yes, the whispering Spirit tells me true,</div> -<div class="verse">And soon that vengeance all the locks pursue.</div> -<div class="verse">Cooks, Scourers, Scullions, too, with Tails of Pig,</div> -<div class="verse">Shall lose their coxcomb Curls and wear a Wig.’</div> -<div class="verse">Thus roared the King, not Hercules so big;</div> -<div class="verse">And all the Palace echoed, ‘Wear a Wig!’ ”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>So successful was the first canto of “The -Lousiad,” which appeared in 1785, that during -the next ten years four additional cantos were<span class="pagenum" title="109"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109"></a></span> -written, in which members of the Household and -Ministers were introduced, scarified and dismissed; -but the gem of the collection is the lengthy -“Petition of the Cooks,” which, after references -to France, the Schwellenberg and Wilkes, concludes:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent2">“ ‘O King, our Wives are in the Kitchen roaring,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">All ready in rebellion now to rise;</div> -<div class="verse">They mock our humble methods of imploring,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">And bid us guard against a wig surprise:</div> -<div class="verse">“<i>Yours</i> is the hair,” they cry, “th’ Almighty gave ye,</div> -<div class="verse">And not a King in Christendom should shave you.’ ”</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">‘Lo! on th’ event the World impatient looks,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">And thinks the joke is carried much too far;</div> -<div class="verse">Then pray, Sir, listen to your faithful Cooks,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Nor in the Palace breed a Civil War:</div> -<div class="verse">Loud roar our Band; and, obstinate as Pigs,</div> -<div class="verse">Cry, “Locks and Liberty and damn the Wigs!” ’ ”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Eventually the attention of the Privy Council -was drawn to this poem, and that body, according -to Wolcot, decided to prosecute the author, and -refrained from doing so only when it discovered -that the poem had its foundation in fact. “Are -you sure of a verdict?” it is stated that Chancellor -Thurlow inquired; “for, if not so, we shall look -like a parcel of fools.” Huish states emphatically -that the idea of prosecuting the poet did not -originate with the King; and Galt says that the<span class="pagenum" title="110"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110"></a></span> -effusions of the satirist produced on George “no -other effect than a smile of wonder at the perverse -ingenuity of the man: and the most serious thing -he was ever known to say of them was on the -occasion of Peter’s lampooning General Carpenter, -when his Majesty observed, that ‘for himself he -cared nothing; but he was hurt to see a worthy -man calumniated, because he happened to be one -of his servants.’ As far as they were capable of -exciting a good-natured laugh, the King enjoyed -that laugh as much as any man; and when they -were otherwise, as was but too often the case, -he observed a dignified forbearance, leaving the -author to enjoy all the triumph there might be in -making a base attack on a party whom he knew -to be precluded, by his dignity, from descending -into the arena in his own defence.”</p> - -<p>It may, however, he doubted whether Hazlitt -was accurate in stating that “the King as well as -the nation delighted in the bard,” for George had -not a spark of humour in his composition, and -was the last man in the nation to take a joke at -his own expense in good part.</p> - -<p>If, however, the King suffered in silence, the -Queen was determined not to submit to similar -attacks, and her solicitor warned Wolcot that if -he exercised his wit against her Majesty, proceedings -would at once be taken—representations that<span class="pagenum" title="111"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111"></a></span> -had the desired effect, although they furnished the -subject for one of Peter’s verses:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent">“Great was the Bard’s desire to sing the Queen,</div> -<div class="verse">Vast in her soul, majestic in her mien;</div> -<div class="verse">But fierce George Hardinge swore, if pens or pen</div> -<div class="verse">Of woman, women, man or men,</div> -<div class="verse">In any wise or shape, in Ode or Tale,</div> -<div class="verse">Dared mention that <i>superior</i> Lady, lo!</div> -<div class="verse">The law should deal them <i>such</i> a blow!</div> -<div class="verse">Hang, pillory, or confine for life in jail.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>When the Doctor was once reproved by an -acquaintance for the liberties he took with his -sovereign, “I confess there exists this difference -between the King and me,” he replied; “the King -has been a good subject to me, but I have been a -bad subject to him.” This he admitted, but that -he was guilty in any sense of serious offence he -pooh-poohed:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent">“Such is the Song: and do not thou, severe,</div> -<div class="verse">With ‘Treason! Treason!’ fill a royal ear;</div> -<div class="verse">For gentle jokes, at times, on Queens and Kings,</div> -<div class="verse">Are pleasant, taking, nay, <i>instructive</i> things.</div> -<div class="verse">Yet <i>some</i> there are who relish not the sport,</div> -<div class="verse">That flutter in the sunshine of a Court;</div> -<div class="verse">Who, fearful Song might mar their high ambition,</div> -<div class="verse">Loose the gaunt Dogs of State, and bawl ‘Sedition.’ ”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Wolcot was clever enough usually to take for his -verse topics in which the public were interested,<span class="pagenum" title="112"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112"></a></span> -and it was to this acuteness his success with his -contemporaries must be largely attributed. He -attacked Lord Lonsdale when that nobleman -showed a great disregard of his neighbour’s rights, -and “expostulated” with Hannah More, when in -her “Strictures on Female Education,” she wrote, -“The Poets again, to do them justice, are always -ready to lend a helping hand when any mischief -is to be done.” He inveighed against the strict -enforcement of Sunday Observance, which to -some extent resulted from Lady Huntingdon’s -petition to the King, and the Puritanism of the -Methodists:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent2">“ ‘No,’ roars the Huntingdonian Priest; ‘no, no:</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Lovers are liars; love’s a damned trade.</div> -<div class="verse">Kissing is damnable; to Hell they go:</div> -<div class="verse indent2">The <i>Devil claws</i> away the rogue and jade.’ ”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>And he gave a fanciful description of the result -of the unpopular Hair-Tax, which, according to -him, evoked so much disgust that, “the male sex -have already sacrificed their favourite curls, to disappoint -the rapacity of a minister.”</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 390px;"> -<img src="images/illus_121.jpg" width="390" height="473" alt="" /> -<div><p class="tac fs120"><i>Peter Pindar Esq.</i></p></div> -</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent">“See groups of Hairdressers all idle stand,</div> -<div class="verse">A melancholy, mute, and mournful band;</div> -<div class="verse">And Barbers <i>eke</i>, who lift the crape-clod Pole,</div> -<div class="verse">And round and round their eyes of horror roll;</div> -<div class="verse">Desponding, pale, like Hosier’s Ghost so white,</div> -<div class="verse"><span class="pagenum" title="113"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113"></a></span>Who told their sorrows ’mid the morning light.</div> -<div class="verse">But see! each hopeless wight with fury foams;</div> -<div class="verse">His curling-irons breaks, and snaps his combs:</div> -<div class="verse">Ah! doom’d to shut their <i>mouths</i> as well as <i>shops</i>;</div> -<div class="verse">For dead is Custom, ’mid the world of <i>crops</i>.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Wolcot, as a defender of Mrs Fitzherbert, -thought no words too strong in which to express -his opinion of those who attacked her, and when -John Rolle introduced the question of her -marriage to the Prince of Wales in the House of -Commons, he fell foul of him, and of Pitt, who -supported him:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent">“Sick at the name of Rolle (to thee tho’ dear),</div> -<div class="verse">The name abhorr’d by Honour’s shrinking ear,</div> -<div class="verse">I draw reluctant from thy venal throng,</div> -<div class="verse">And give it mention, though it blacks my song.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">How could’st thou bid that Rolle, despised by all,</div> -<div class="verse">On helpless beauty, like a mastiff fall;</div> -<div class="verse">Then meanly to correct the brute pretend,</div> -<div class="verse">And claim the merit of the Fair One’s friend?”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>He had the courage to say a good word for -Paine and “The Rights of Man”:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent">“O Paine! thy vast endeavour I admire.</div> -<div class="verse">How brave the hope, to set a realm on fire!</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Ambition smiling praised thy giant wish.</div> -<div class="verse">Compared to <i>thee</i>, the man, to gain a name,</div> -<div class="verse">Who to Diana’s temple put the flame,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">A simple Minnow to the Prince of Fish.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>He was fearless in his denunciation of the Duke -of York, when it transpired that during the<span class="pagenum" title="114"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114"></a></span> -latter’s occupation of the position of Commander-in-Chief, -his mistress had been selling commissions -and offices, and he voiced the public clamour:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent">“Heavens, what a dire confusion beauty makes!</div> -<div class="verse">The Horse Guards tremble, and old Windsor shakes.</div> -<div class="verse">Like bees, the mob around St Stephen’s swarms;</div> -<div class="verse">And every street and alley feels alarms:</div> -<div class="verse">Men, women, coaches, gigs, each other jostle;</div> -<div class="verse">And thou the cause of all this horrid bustle!</div> -<div class="verse">Hotels and tap-rooms sound with mingled din,</div> -<div class="verse">And every coffee-house is on the grin.</div> -<div class="verse">From morn to eve, from eve to midnight dark,</div> -<div class="verse">Naught strikes the ear but ‘Duke and Mistress Clarke.’</div> -<div class="verse">Nay, too, the parrot and the simple starling</div> -<div class="verse">Cry from their cages naught but ‘Duke and Darling’!”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>When, as a consequence of the inquiry, the -Duke resigned, Wolcot drew a malicious picture -of his loneliness:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent">“No longer now the Duke excites our wonder,</div> -<div class="verse">’Midst gun, drum, trumpet, blunderbuss and thunder;</div> -<div class="verse">Amidst his hosts, no more with rapture dwells</div> -<div class="verse">On Congreve’s rockets, and on Shrapnell’s shells;</div> -<div class="verse">But quits with scornful mien the field of Mars,</div> -<div class="verse">And to Sir David’s genius leaves the wars.</div> -<div class="verse">Now in dull Windsor rides the youth is seen;</div> -<div class="verse">Now, in dull walks to Frogmore with the Queen;</div> -<div class="verse">At Oaklands, where pigs and poultry charm,</div> -<div class="verse">Like Cincinnatus on his Sabine farm;</div> -<div class="verse">Now, o’er a lonely dish in Stable Yard,</div> -<div class="verse">Without a friend, and (strange!) without a card!”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" title="115"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115"></a></span></p> - -<p>Wolcot sometimes contrived to combine his -attacks upon art and royalty, as in “Subjects for -Painters,” in the introduction to which he explained -that the rage for historical pictures, -“so nobly rewarded by Messieurs Boydell and -Macklin,” tempted him to offer subjects that -would be useful when the painters had exhausted -Shakespeare and Milton.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent">“Pitt trying to unclench Britannia’s fist,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Imploring money for a King;</div> -<div class="verse">Telling <i>most mournful</i> tales of Civil List,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">The Lady’s <i>tender</i> heart to wring:</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Tales of expense in doctors’ bills,</div> -<div class="verse">High price of blisters, boluses, and pills;</div> -<div class="verse">Long journey to Saint Paul’s t’<i>oblige</i> the Nation,</div> -<div class="verse">And give thanks for Restoration:—</div> -<div class="verse">Britannia, with arch look the while,</div> -<div class="verse">Partaking strongly of a smile,</div> -<div class="verse">Pointing to that huge Dome<span class="nowrap">,<a id="FNanchor_15" href="#Footnote_15" class="fnanchor">15</a></span> the Nation’s wealth;</div> -<div class="verse">Where <i>people</i> sometimes place their Cash by <i>stealth</i>,</div> -<div class="verse">And, all so modest with their secret store,</div> -<div class="verse">Inform the World they’re <i>poor</i>, ah! <i>very poor</i>!”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>As a rule, however, Wolcot directed his -lampoons against the King, whose foibles he most -unmercifully laid bare. He was never weary of -decrying a monarch who preferred farming to -art, and whose economies were a source of scandal<span class="pagenum" title="116"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116"></a></span> -to the whole nation. It is said that the bitterness -on this latter score arose from the King having -purchased a picture from a friend of the satirist -and having given him only half the market value. -This, indeed, was only one instance out of many -of George’s meanness. He would put an artist to -the expense of bringing his pictures to Windsor, -and not offer to pay the carriage, even when, in -the case of one such command, the cost was -twenty-five pounds. He would invite eminent -singers and actors to perform at Court functions -and give them never a sou, thinking the honour -sufficient reward.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent">“At length the Actress ceased to read and spout,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Where Generosity’s a crying Sin:</div> -<div class="verse">Her curtsey dropp’d, was nodded to; came out.</div> -<div class="verse indent2">So rich! How rich? As rich as she went in.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Should Mara call it cruelty, and blame</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Such royal conduct, I’d cry, Fie upon her!</div> -<div class="verse">To Mistress Siddons freely say the same:</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Sufficient for <i>such people</i> is the <i>honour</i>.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Wolcot was never weary of harping upon this -unroyal quality that was common to both the -sovereigns. He returned to it in the “Odes to -Kien Long, Emperor of China.”</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent">“Give nothing from the Privy Purse away, I say:</div> -<div class="verse">Nay, should thy coffers and thy bags run o’er;</div> -<div class="verse"><span class="pagenum" title="117"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117"></a></span>Neglect, or pension Merit on the Poor.</div> -<div class="verse">Give not to Hospitals; thy Name’s enough:</div> -<div class="verse">To death-face Famine, not a pinch of snuff.</div> -<div class="verse">On Wealth, thy Quarry, keep a Falcon-view,</div> -<div class="verse">And from the very children steal their due!”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The King’s love of farming for profit—a king -with a Civil List of eight hundred thousand pounds -and occasional special grants amounting to millions—was -a subject much discussed, and not likely to -escape the attention of our satirist.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent">“<span class="ell">..</span>. the note is, ‘How go sheep a score?</div> -<div class="verse indent2">What, what’s the price of Bullocks? How sells Lamb?</div> -<div class="verse">I want a Boar, a Boar, I want a Boar;</div> -<div class="verse indent2">I want a Bull, a Bull; I want a Ram!’</div> -<div class="verse">Whereas it should be this: ‘I want a Bard,</div> -<div class="verse">To cover him with honour and reward.’ ”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Indeed, nothing that the King did was allowed -to pass without comment. Did he go to Weymouth, -“Peter Pindar” accompanied him in -spirit:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent">“See! Cæsar’s off: the dust around him hovers;</div> -<div class="verse">And gathering, lo, the King of Glory covers!</div> -<div class="verse">The Royal hubbub fills both eye and ear,</div> -<div class="verse">And wide-mouth’d Wonder marks the wild career.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Did George visit Samuel Whitebread’s brewery, -the event was duly recorded:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent">“Now moved the King, Queen, and Princesses, so grand,</div> -<div class="verse"><span class="pagenum" title="118"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118"></a></span>To visit the first Brewer in the land;</div> -<div class="verse">Who sometimes swills his beer and grinds his meat,</div> -<div class="verse">In a snug corner christen’d Chiswell Street;</div> -<div class="verse">But oftener, charmed with <i>fashionable</i> air,</div> -<div class="verse">Amidst the gaudy Great of Portman Square.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Popular as such verses were, and wide as was -their circulation, they were easily eclipsed in -both respects by those in which the stupidity of -the King was chronicled, and people, being so -much amused by them, forgot that the foundation -of truth was often so built upon as to obscure -it. “Peter Pindar” was in his element poking fun -at George’s ignorance, as shown when looking -through Lord Pembroke’s treasures at Wilton -House.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent2">“ ‘Who’s this? Who’s this? Who’s this fine fellow here?’</div> -<div class="verse">‘Sesostris,’ bowing low, replied the Peer.</div> -<div class="verse">‘<i>Sir Sostris</i>, hey? <i>Sir Sostris?</i> ‘Pon my word!</div> -<div class="verse">Knight or a Baronet, my Lord?</div> -<div class="verse">One of <i>my making</i>? what, my Lord, <i>my making</i>?’</div> -<div>•  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •</div> -<div class="verse">‘Pray, pray, my Lord, who’s that big fellow there?’</div> -<div class="verse">‘’Tis Hercules,’ replied the <i>shrinking</i> Peer.</div> -<div class="verse">‘Strong fellow, hey, my Lord? strong fellow, hey?</div> -<div class="verse">Clean’d stables; crack’d a Lion like a flea;</div> -<div class="verse">Kill’d Snakes, great Snakes, that in a cradle found him—The</div> -<div class="verse">Queen, Queen’s coming: wrap an apron round him.’ ”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The best thing that Wolcot ever wrote, and -one that provoked a laugh all over England, was -“The King and the Apple-Dumplings,” in which<span class="pagenum" title="119"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119"></a></span> -he described George’s astonishment at first seeing -a dumpling, one of which he took into his hand -to examine:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent2">“ ‘’Tis monstrous, monstrous hard, indeed,’ he cried:</div> -<div class="verse">‘What makes it, pray, so hard?’ The Dame replied,</div> -<div class="verse">Low curtseying, ‘Please your Majesty, the Apple!’</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">‘Very astonishing indeed! Strange thing!’</div> -<div class="verse">(Turning the Dumpling round, rejoined the King).</div> -<div class="verse indent2">‘’Tis most extraordinary then, all this is;</div> -<div class="verse indent2">It beats Pinetti’s conjuring all to pieces:</div> -<div class="verse">Strange I should never of a Dumpling dream!</div> -<div class="verse">But, Goody, tell me where, where, where’s the seam?’</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">‘Sir, there’s no Seam,’ quoth she, ‘I never knew</div> -<div class="verse">That folks did Apple-Dumplings <i>sew</i>.’</div> -<div class="verse">‘No!’ said the staring Monarch with a grin:</div> -<div class="verse">‘How, how the devil got the Apple in?’ ”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Since it was thought unwise to prosecute -Wolcot, after a time an endeavour was made -to silence him by gentler means, and, through -the instrumentality of Yorke, the Government -offered the satirist a pension of three hundred -a year, at which he professed to be much -astonished:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent">“Great is the shout indeed, Sir, all abroad,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">That you have order’d me this handsome thing;</div> -<div class="verse">On which, with lifted eyes, I’ve said, ‘Good God!</div> -<div class="verse indent2"><span class="pagenum" title="120"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120"></a></span>Though great my merits, yet how great the King!’</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">And yet, believe me, Sir, I lately heard</div> -<div class="verse">That all your doors were doubly lock’d and barr’d</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Against the Poet for his tuneful art;</div> -<div class="verse">And that the tall, stiff, stately, red Machines,</div> -<div class="verse">Your Grenadiers, the guards of Kings and Queens,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Were ordered all to stab me to the heart:</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">That if to the House of Buckingham I came,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Commands were given to Mistress Brigg,</div> -<div class="verse">A comely, stout, two-handed Dame,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">To box my ears and pull my wig;</div> -<div class="verse">The Cooks to spit me; curry me, the Grooms;</div> -<div class="verse">And Kitchen queans to baste me with their brooms.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">You’re told that in my ways I’m very evil;</div> -<div class="verse indent2">So ugly, fit to travel for a show;</div> -<div class="verse indent2">And that I loot all grimly where I go,</div> -<div class="verse indent4">Just like a devil;</div> -<div class="verse">With horns, and tail, and hoop, that make folks start,</div> -<div class="verse">And in my breast a Mill-stone for a Heart.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Nothing came of the proposal, for it fell -through owing to a difference of opinion as to -the conditions which it would carry with it.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent">“This pension was well meant, O glorious King,</div> -<div class="verse">And for the Bard a very pretty thing:</div> -<div class="verse">But let me, Sir, refuse it, I implore;</div> -<div class="verse">I ought not to be rich while you are poor.</div> -<div class="verse">No, Sir, I cannot be your humble Hack:</div> -<div class="verse">I fear your Majesty would break my back.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Wolcot then made a bid for the favour of the -Prince of Wales in the “Expostulatory Odes.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" title="121"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121"></a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent">“Elate, to Carlton House my rhymes I sent,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Before the Poem met the public eye:</div> -<div class="verse">Which gain’d <i>applause</i>, the Poet’s great intent</div> -<div class="verse indent2">But naught <i>besides</i>, I say it with a sigh.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Thereafter, but not necessarily because of this, -he found the Prince nearly as useful a subject for -his scathing verses as the King, and when the -former was appointed Regent, “Peter Pindar” -was ready with “The Royal First-Born, or, The -Baby out of his Leading Strings.”</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent">“The P[rince] he promised to <i>be good</i>,</div> -<div class="verse">And do as every R[egen]t should,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Nor give vile slander cause to say things:</div> -<div class="verse">He owned with grief his conduct <i>wildish</i>,</div> -<div class="verse">And swore no longer to be <i>childish</i>,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">But part with his <i>Imperial Playthings</i>.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">This is the day when Britain’s pride</div> -<div class="verse">Shall throw his leading-strings aside,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">And pass a solemn confirmation;</div> -<div class="verse">And, being now arrived at age,</div> -<div class="verse">From hence shall for himself engage</div> -<div class="verse indent2">To do his duty to the nation.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">No longer like a baby toss</div> -<div class="verse indent2">The bold M[aho]n as his ball,</div> -<div class="verse">Make S[heri]d[a]n his rocking horse,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Himself a laughing stock for all.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">When he no more in many a frolic</div> -<div class="verse"><span class="pagenum" title="122"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122"></a></span>Shall give to Decency the Cholic,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Hang Truth in his imperial garters,</div> -<div class="verse">Butchers good-breeding at a jerk,</div> -<div class="verse">And crucify (O Parricide and Turk!)</div> -<div class="verse">Poor Virtue and Morality, like Martyrs.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>He often returned to administer castigation to -the Prince, whose profligacies were notorious, and -when the heir-apparent was said to be suffering -from a sprained ankle, he voiced the general -opinion that the confinement was the result of -a thrashing from Lord Yarmouth, whose wife -had been insulted by “The First Gentleman of -Europe.”</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent">“Ye Princes, as you love your lives,</div> -<div class="verse">Ne’er meddle with <i>your neighbours’ wives</i>,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">But keep your brittle hearts from tripping;</div> -<div class="verse">Lest some rude <i>Lord</i>, to scare beholders,</div> -<div class="verse">Should compliment your princely shoulders,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">With such another <i>royal</i> whipping.</div> -<div class="verse">So let us sing, Long live the King,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">The Regent long live he;</div> -<div class="verse">And when again he gets a <i>sprain</i>,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">May I be there to see.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Wolcot’s sight began to fail, and in 1811 he was -nearly blind, but he still contrived to continue his -literary work almost until his death, which took -place on 14th January 1819. By his express desire -he was buried in St Paul’s Church, Covent -Garden, by the side of the coffin which contained<span class="pagenum" title="123"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123"></a></span> -the mortal remains of Samuel Butler, of whom, -perhaps, and not without some reason, he considered -himself a humble disciple.</p> - -<p>He was a very sane man, sensible of his -limitations, and not given to value his work -unduly. Indeed, in his first work, “The Epistle -to Reviewers,” he stated the position to which he -aspired:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent">“I am no cormorant for Fame, d’ye see;</div> -<div class="verse indent2">I ask not <i>all</i> the laurel, but a <i>sprig</i>:</div> -<div class="verse">Then hear me, Guardian of the sacred Tree,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">And stick a Leaf or two about my wig.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>At the same time, he was by no means inclined to -hide his light under a bushel, and his verses contain -many deliberately humorous references to -his talents. “Had I not stepped forward as the -Champion of my own Merit (which is deemed so -necessary now-a-days for the obtention of public -notice, not only by Authors, but by tête-makers, -perfumers, elastic truss and Parliament-speech -makers, &c., who, in the daily newspapers, are -the heralds of <i>their own</i> splendid abilities),” he -wrote in “Subjects for Painters,” “I might -possibly be passed by without observation; and -thus a great part of a poetical Immortality be -sacrificed to a pitiful <i>mauvaise honte</i>.”</p> - -<p>Of course he made many enemies, as every<span class="pagenum" title="124"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124"></a></span> -satirist must, but he bore attacks unflinchingly, -as, indeed, every satirist should.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent">“Great are my Enemies in Trade, God knows:</div> -<div class="verse indent2">There’s not a Poet but would stop my note;</div> -<div class="verse">With such a world of Spite their venom flows,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">With such <i>good-will</i> the knaves would cut my throat.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>As a rule he treated his revilers with good-humoured -banter, but once a critic raised his ire -by an unmerciful attack on his “Nil Admirari, or, -A Smile at a Bishop,” in <i>The Anti-Jacobin</i>, in which -he was styled, “this disgraceful subject, the profligate -reviler of his sovereign and impudent -blasphemer of his God.” Gifford at once issued -as a counterblast, “An Epistle to Peter Pindar,” -the savagery of which made the subject so sore -that he endeavoured to thrash the author, who, -however, had the best of the struggle.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent">“False fugitive! back to thy vomit flee—</div> -<div class="verse">Troll the lascivious song, the fulsome glee;</div> -<div class="verse">Truck praise for lust, hunt infant genius down,</div> -<div class="verse">Strip modest merit of its last half-crown;</div> -<div class="verse">Blow from thy mildew’d lips, on virtue blow,</div> -<div class="verse">And blight the goodness thou canst never know.</div> -<div>•  •  •  •  •  •  •  •</div> -<div class="verse">But what is he that with a Mohawk’s air,</div> -<div class="verse">Cries havock, and lets slip the dogs of war?</div> -<div class="verse">A blotted mass, a gross unkneaded clod,</div> -<div class="verse">A foe to man, a renegade from God,</div> -<div class="verse">From noxious childhood to pernicious age,</div> -<div class="verse">Separate to infamy, through every stage.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" title="125"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125"></a></span></p> - -<p>Yet the man of whom these words were spoken -was described by his friends as of “a kind and -hearty disposition,” with little or no malice in -his composition, a lover of flowers, music and -art. Not even his blindness or the infirmities of -age soured his temper, and in his last years he -said to Cyrus Redding, “You have seen something -of life in your time. See and learn all you -can more. You will fall back upon it when -you grow old—an old fool is an inexcusable -fool to himself and others—store up all; our -acquirements are most useful when we become -old.” Yet he did not suffer age gladly, and when -on his death-bed John Taylor asked, “Is there -anything I can do for you?” the reply—Wolcot’s -last words on earth—came. “Bring -me back my youth.”</p> - -<p>“The historian of <i>Sir Joseph Banks</i> and <i>The -Emperor of Morocco</i>, of the <i>Pilgrims and the Peas</i>, -of the <i>Royal Academy</i>, and of <i>Mr Whitebread’s -Brewing-Vat</i>, the bard in whom the nation and -the King delighted,” Hazlitt wrote the year -before the satirist died, “is old and blind, but -still merry and wise; remembering how he has -made the world laugh in his time, and not repenting -of the mirth he has given; with an -involuntary smile lighted up at the mad pranks -of his Muse, and the lucky hits of his pen—<span class="pagenum" title="126"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126"></a></span>‘faint -pictures of those flashes of his spirit, that -were wont to set the table in a roar’; like his -own expiring taper, bright and fitful to the last; -tagging a rhyme or conning his own epitaph; -and waiting for the last summons, grateful and -contented.” Indeed, while the coarseness and -offensiveness of many of Wolcot’s works must -be admitted and deplored, it is impossible not to -like the man, for he was such a jovial wight, so -well able to appreciate a joke against himself and -ready to join in the laugh, a very prince of good -fellows in an age of less severe restrictions in taste -and morality.</p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" title="129"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129"></a></span></p> -<h2>Sterne’s Eliza</h2> - - -<p class="dropcap">Not Swift so loved his Stella, Scarron -his Maintenon, or Waller his Sacharissa, -as I will love, and sing thee, my bride -elect! All these names, eminent as they were, -shall give place to thine, Eliza.” Thus Sterne -in a letter to Mrs Elizabeth Draper, written in -the early part of the year 1767; and though, in -spite of this fervent protestation, not Stella, nor -Maintenon, nor Sacharissa has paled before Eliza, -yet most assuredly Eliza has come to be ranked -with them among the heroines of romance.</p> - -<p>Of the antecedents of Mrs Draper nothing -apparently was generally known to writers on the -subject until 1897, when Mr Thomas Seccombe, -in the article in the <i>Dictionary of National -Biography</i> on William Sclater, Rector of Pitminster, -showed that her descent could be traced -from William’s father, Anthony. Anthony Sclater, -born in 1520, was appointed in 1570 Rector of -Leighton Buzzard, which benefice he held until -his death in 1620, when he was succeeded in this -clerical office by a younger son, Christopher. -Christopher’s son William served in the Civil -Wars as a Cornet of Horse, and subsequently -entered the Church. He was presented in 1666 -to the living of St James’s, Clerkenwell, and later -became Rector of Hadley. He died in 1690, -having outlived by five years his son Francis.<span class="pagenum" title="130"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130"></a></span> -Francis had a son Christopher, born in 1679, who -held the livings of Loughton and Chingford, in -Essex, married in 1707 Elizabeth, daughter of -John May, of Working, Hants, and by her had -thirteen children. The tenth son, May, born on -29th October 1719, went out to India, probably -as a cadet in the service of the East India Company, -and there married a Miss Whitehall, who -bore him three daughters, Elizabeth (Sterne’s -Eliza), born on 5th April 1744, Mary, and -Louisa. The only other children of Christopher -with which this narrative is concerned are -Elizabeth, who married Dr Thomas Pickering, -Vicar of St Sepulchre’s, and Richard, the fourth -son, born in 1712, who became an alderman of -the City of London<span class="nowrap">.<a id="FNanchor_16" href="#Footnote_16" class="fnanchor">16</a></span></p> - -<p>When his daughters were born, May Sclater -was factor of Anjengo, on the Malabar coast, and -it was long assumed that his girls were brought up -there. Even so late as 1893, Mr James Douglas, -the author of “Bombay and Western India,” gave -credence to the legend, and after stating that there -were very few Europeans at Anjengo, “it seems<span class="pagenum" title="131"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131"></a></span> -a marvel,” he added, “how, never having been in -Europe, Eliza should yet have been able to carry -herself and attract so much attention there from -men who, whatever were their morals, claimed a -first position in society and letters.” However, as -a matter of fact, like most children born in India -of English parents, Eliza and her sisters were at an -early age sent home for the sake of their health.</p> - -<p>In England Eliza stayed alternately with her -aunt, Mrs Pickering, and with her uncle, Richard, -for whose eldest children, Thomas Mathew and -Elizabeth, she conceived an enduring affection. -Not until she was in her fourteenth year did she -return to her father, now a widower, and she -arrived two days after Christmas, 1757, at -Bombay, where he then resided.</p> - -<p>“I was never half so much rejoiced at going to -any ball in my life as when we first saw the land,” -(she wrote to her cousin in England, Elizabeth -Sclater, 13th March 1758). “The Dutch people -are white, but their servants are all black, they -wear nothing at all about them but a little piece -of rag about their waist which to us at first -appeared very shocking.”</p> - -<p>“My Papa’s house is the best in Bombay, and -where a great deal of company comes every day -after dinner.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" title="132"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132"></a></span></p> - -<p>Among the company that came to May -Sclater’s house was Daniel Draper, who, entering -the East India Company’s service in or about -1749, had in the intervening nine years risen -to a fairly good position. In those days lads -went out to India at an early age, and Draper, in -1757, may well have been no more than thirty, -though Dr Sidney Lee has suggested that he was -at least four years older. Draper fell in love with -Eliza, and married her on 28th July 1758, she -being then but fourteen. Such marriages, however, -were not then uncommon in India. Two -children were born of this union, a boy in 1759, -and a girl in October 1761.</p> - -<p>Mrs Draper suffered from ill-health, and in -1765, with her husband and children, she came -to England. The children were taken to an -establishment at Enfield, where Anglo-Indian -children were cared for during the absence of their -parents in the tropical zone, and presently Draper -had to return to his post in Bombay. Mrs Draper, -however, remained in England to recover her -strength. She stayed with relatives of her mother -and father, but with her movements we are not -here concerned until she was temporarily domiciled -in London during the winter of 1766. It -was not until December of that year that she met -Sterne, probably at the town house in Gerrard<span class="pagenum" title="133"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133"></a></span> -Street, Soho, of William James and his wife—the -“Mr and Mrs J.” of Sterne’s published -correspondence.</p> - -<p>William James, Commodore of the Bombay -Marine, having amassed a fortune by prize-money -and mercantile enterprises, retired from the service -at the age of eight and thirty, and came to England -in 1759, when he purchased an estate at Eltham, -near Blackheath, and married Anne, daughter of -Edmund Goddard, of Hartham, in Wiltshire. -Presently he became chairman of the East India -Company, and in 1778, five years before his death, -he was made a baronet. When Sterne first became -acquainted with the Jameses cannot now be determined, -but probably it was not earlier than -after his return from the second visit to the -Continent. It is evident, however, that he was on -very intimate terms with them at the end of -1766, as his references to them in his letters to -Mrs Draper show, though they are mentioned -for the first time to his daughter, then with her -mother at Marseilles, in a letter dated 23rd February -1767. In this letter we learn that the gossips -were already busy coupling Sterne’s name with -Mrs Draper’s.</p> - -<p>“I do not wish to know who was the busy fool, -who made your mother uneasy about Mrs Draper.<span class="pagenum" title="134"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134"></a></span> -’Tis true I have a friendship for her, but not to -infatuation—I believe I have judgment enough -to discern hers, and every woman’s faults. I honour -thy mother for her answer—‘that she wished -not to be informed, and begged him to drop the -subject.’ ”</p> - -<p>Nor was Mrs Sterne’s informant the only person -who disapproved of the relations of Sterne and -Mrs Draper.</p> - -<p>“The ——’s, by heavens, are worthless! I -have heard enough to tremble at the articulation of -the name.—How could you, Eliza, leave them (or -suffer them to leave you, rather), with impressions -the least favourable? I have told thee enough -to plant disgust against their treachery to thee, -to the last hour of thy life! Yet still, thou toldest -Mrs James at last, that thou believest they affectionately -love thee.—Her delicacy to my Eliza, -and true regard to her ease of mind, have saved -thee from hearing more glaring proofs of their -baseness.—For God’s sake write not to them; nor -foul thy fair character with such polluted hearts. -<i>They</i> love thee! What proof? Is it their actions -that say so? or their zeal for those attachments, -which do thee honour, and make thee happy? -or their tenderness for thy fame? No.—But they<span class="pagenum" title="135"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135"></a></span> -<i>weep</i>, and say <i>tender things</i>.—Adieu to such for -ever. Mrs James’s honest heart revolts against -the idea of ever returning them one visit. I honour -her, and I honour thee, for almost every act of -thy life, but this blind partiality for an unworthy -being.”</p> - -<p>The remonstrances of these friends of Eliza -were not so outrageous as Sterne deemed them. -There was, indeed, some ground for gossip, though -perhaps not for scandal—enough, certainly, to -alarm people interested in the lady: Sterne’s -visits to Mrs Draper were too frequent, and Mrs -Draper was so indiscreet as to visit Sterne at his -lodgings in Old Bond Street and dine there with -him <i>tête-à-tête</i>. There has been much discussion -as to whether the relations of the Brahmin and -the Brahmine, as they loved to call each other, -were innocent or guilty; but there can be no -doubt that the intimacy was not carried to the -last extreme. “I have had no commerce whatever -with the sex—not even with my wife—these -fifteen years,” Sterne told his physicians shortly -after Eliza had returned to India. This in itself -would not be conclusive evidence, though there -could have been no reason for him to lie to these -people; but the fact that he wrote down this -conversation in a Journal intended exclusively<span class="pagenum" title="136"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136"></a></span> -for the eye of Mrs Draper makes it certain that -his assertion was accurate—at least, so far as he -and she were concerned. A man would scarcely -trouble falsely to tell his mistress in confidence -that he had had no intimacy with her. The -Jameses most certainly believed in the innocence -of the friendship, else they could scarcely have -countenanced it; and not even Thackeray, who -shares with John Croft the distinction of being -Sterne’s most envenomed critic, could have -believed that the following letter (whether ultimately -despatched or not) could have been written -by a guilty man.</p> - - -<p class="tac width50 mt2em">LAURENCE STERNE TO DANIEL DRAPER</p> - -<p>“Sir, I own it, Sir, that the writing a Letter to -a gentleman I have not the honour to be known -to, and a Letter likewise upon no kind of business -(in the Ideas of the World) is a little out of the -common course of Things—but I’m so myself—and -the Impulse which makes me take up my -pen is out of the Common way too—for it arises -from the honest pain I should feel in avowing in -so great esteem and friendship as I bear Mrs -Draper—If I did not wish and hope to extend it -to Mr Draper also. I fell in Love with your -Wife—but ’tis a Love you would honour me for—<span class="pagenum" title="137"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137"></a></span>for -’tis so like that I bear my own daughter -who is a good creature, that I scarce distinguish -a difference betwixt it—the moment I had—that -Moment would have been the last. I wish it had -been in my power to have been of true use to -Mrs Draper at this Distance from her best Protector—I -have bestowed a great deal of pains (or -rather I should say pleasure) upon her head—her -heart needs none—and her head as little as -any Daughter of Eve’s—and indeed less than any -it has been my fate to converse with for some -years.—I wish I could make myself of any Service -to Mrs Draper whilst she is in India—and I in -the world—for worldly affairs I could be of none.—I -wish you, dear Sir, many years’ happiness. -’Tis a part of my Litany to pray for her health -and Life—She is too good to be lost—and I would -out of pure zeal take a pilgrimage to Mecca to -seek a Medicine.<span class="nowrap">”<a id="FNanchor_17" href="#Footnote_17" class="fnanchor">17</a></span></p> - -<p>If the intimacy was, as is here contended, not -carried to the last extreme, there is no doubt of -the vigour with which Sterne and his Brahmine -flirted, and therefore Sterne cannot be acquitted -of insincerity when he wrote to Daniel Draper -that he looked upon Eliza as a daughter. But if -there is little that is paternal in the few letters of<span class="pagenum" title="138"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138"></a></span> -his to Mrs Draper that have been preserved, on -the other hand there is nothing from which the -conclusion of undue intimacy can be built up.</p> - -<p>It may be taken for granted that Mrs Draper’s -feelings were not very deeply engaged by Sterne. -A woman of three and twenty does not often find -such enduring attraction in a man of four and fifty -as a man of that age does in a woman more than -thirty years his junior. But Sterne had fame and -undoubted powers of fascination, and Mrs Draper -had in her composition an innocent vanity that -induced her to encourage him. The homage of -one of the most famous men in England was a -compliment not lightly to be ignored; and, being -flattered, Eliza, unhappy at home, was far from -unwilling to enjoy herself abroad. She was clever -and bright—perhaps a little bitter, too, remembering -that she had been married before she was old -enough to know what marriage meant, to a man -with uncongenial tastes, dour, and bad-tempered. -It is to her credit that she never told Sterne of -her marital infelicity, though candid friends left -him in no doubt as to her relations with her husband. -“Mrs James sunk my heart with an infamous -account of Draper and his detested -character,” Sterne wrote in the “Journal to Eliza” -on 17th April 1767, a few weeks after the lady -to whom it was addressed had sailed for India.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" title="139"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139"></a></span></p> - -<p>Eliza is a figure so fascinating to the world -interested in the personal side of literary history -that a few pages may perhaps be devoted to tracing -her life after her acquaintance with Sterne. She -was undoubtedly an attractive woman, and made -conquest of others than the author of “Tristram -Shandy” during this visit to England. The Abbé -Raynal, a man about the same age as Sterne, fell -a victim to her charms, and expressed his passion -in a strange and wild piece of bombast, which he -inserted in the second edition of his “History of -the Indies.”</p> - -<p>It was not only to men of middle age that -Mrs Draper appealed, for her cousin and playmate -of her youth, Thomas Mathew Sclater, was -one of her most devoted admirers. That she was -fascinating may be taken for granted, but wherein -lay her attractiveness is not so clear. Raynal laid -more stress on the qualities of her mind than on -her appearance. Sterne, too, by his own not too -artless confession, was in the first instance drawn -to her by something other than her good looks.</p> - -<p>“I have just returned from our dear Mrs James’s, -where I have been talking of thee for three hours” -(he wrote to her when they had become well -acquainted). “She has got your picture, and likes -it; but Marriot, and some other judges, agree<span class="pagenum" title="140"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140"></a></span> -that mine is the better, and expressive of a sweeter -character. But what is that to the original? yet -I acknowledge that hers is a picture for the -world, and mine is calculated only to please a -very sincere friend, or sentimental philosopher.—In -the one, you are dressed in smiles, and with -all the advantage of silks, pearls, and ermine;—in -the other, simple as a vestal—appearing the -good girl nature made you: which, to me, -conveys an idea of more unaffected sweetness, -than Mrs Draper, habited for conquest, in a birthday -suit, with her countenance animated, and her -dimples visible.—If I remember right, Eliza, you -endeavoured to collect every charm of your person -into your face, with more than <i>common</i> care, the -day you sat for Mrs James.—Your colour, too, -brightened; and your eyes shone with more than -usual brilliancy. I then requested you to come -simple and unadorned when you sat for me—knowing -(as I see with <i>unprejudiced</i> eyes) that you -could receive no addition from the silk-worm’s -aid, or jeweller’s polish. Let me now tell you -a truth, which, I believe, I have uttered before. -When I first saw you, I beheld you as an object -of compassion, and as a very plain woman. The -mode of your dress (though fashionable) disfigured -you. But nothing now could render you such, -but the being solicitous to make yourself admired<span class="pagenum" title="141"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141"></a></span> -as a handsome one.—You are not handsome, -Eliza, nor is yours a face that will please the tenth -part of your beholders—but are something more; -for I scruple not to tell you, I never saw so intelligent, -so animated, so good a countenance; -nor was there (nor ever will be) that man of -sense, tenderness, and feeling, in your company -three hours, that was not (or will not be) your -admirer, or friend, in consequence of it; that is, -if you assume, or assumed, no character foreign -to your own, but appeared the artless being nature -designed you for. A something in your eyes, and -voice, you possess in a degree more persuasive than -any woman I ever saw, read, or heard of. But it -is that bewitching sort of nameless excellence that -men of nice sensibility alone can be touched with.”</p> - -<p>While all are agreed that Mrs Draper had -beauty of expression rather than perfectly formed -features, there was given a description of her as -having “an appearance of artless innocence, a -transparent complexion, consequent upon delicate -health, but without any sallowness, brilliant eyes, -a melodious voice, an intellectual countenance, -unusually lighted up with much animation and -expressing a sweet gentleness of disposition.<span class="nowrap">”<a id="FNanchor_18" href="#Footnote_18" class="fnanchor">18</a></span><span class="pagenum" title="142"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142"></a></span> -She had, we are told, engaging manners and -numerous accomplishments. She talked well and -wrote well, and could play the piano and the -guitar. Her faults were a tendency to pecuniary -extravagance and a liking for admiration—which -latter trait, in her correspondence, she admitted -and bewailed. She was also, it must be admitted, -a most arrant flirt.</p> - -<p class="tac width50 mt2em">MRS DRAPER TO HER COUSIN, THOMAS MATHEW SCLATER</p> - -<p class="address">“<i>Earl Chatham</i>, May 2nd, 1767.<br /> -(<span class="smcap">Off Santiago.</span>)   -</p> - -<p>“<span class="ell">..</span>. From the vilest spot of earth I ever -saw, and inhabited by the ugliest of Beings—I -greet my beloved cousin—St Jago the place—a -charming passage to it—fair winds and fine -weather all the way. Health, too, my friend, is -once more returned to her enthusiastic votary. I -am all Life, air, and spirits—who’d have thought -it—considering me in the light of an Exile. And -how do you, my Sclater?—and how sat the -thoughts of my departure on your Eyes? and -how the reality of it? I want you to answer me -a thousand questions, yet hope not for an answer -to them for many, many months. I am<span class="ell">...</span>. Did -you receive a letter I wrote you from the Downs,<span class="pagenum" title="143"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143"></a></span> -with a copy of one enclosed from Sterne to me -with his sermons and ‘Shandy’? I sent such to -you, notwithstanding the Bagatelle airs I give -myself—my heart heaves with sighs, and my -eyes betray its agitating emotions, every time I -think of England and my valuable connections -there—ah, my Sclater, I almost wish I had not -re-visited that charming country, or that it had -been my fate to have resided in it for ever, but -in the first instance the Lord’s will be done, mine -I hope may be accomplished in the second.”</p> - -<p class="tac width50 mt2em">MRS DRAPER TO THOMAS MATHEW SCLATER</p> - -<p class="address">“<i>Earl Chatham</i>, November 29th, 1767.<br /> -(<span class="smcap">Off the Malabar Coast.</span>)   -</p> - -<p>“They all tell me I’m so improved—nothing—I -say to what I was in England—nobody can -contradict the assertion—and if it adds to my consequence, -you know—it is good policy. Always -self to be the subject of your pen (you say) Eliza—why -not, my dear cousin? Why have I not as -good a right to tell you of my perfections as -Montaigne had to divulge to the World he loved -white wine better than red? with several other -Whims, Capricios, bodily complaints, infirmities -of temper, &c., &c.—of the old Gascoignes, not -but I love his essays better than most modern ones—and -think those that have branded him with -the name of Egotist—deserve to be Debar’d the -pleasure of speaking of—or looking at themselves—how -is it we love to laugh, and yet we do not -often approve the person who feeds that voracious -passion? Human nature this! vile rogue!—’tis -a bad picture—however there’s a great resemblance<span class="ell">...</span>. -Once a year is tax enough on a tender -Conscience, to sit down premeditatedly to write -fibs—and let it not enter your imagination that -you are to correspond with me in such terms as -your heart dictates. No, my dear Sclater—such -a conduct though perfectly innocent (and to -me worth all the studied periods of Labour’d -Eloquence) would be offensive to my Husband—whose -humour I now am resolved to study—and -if possible conform to if the most punctilious -attention—can render me necessary to his happiness <span class="ell">..</span>. -be so—Honour—prudence—and the -interest of my beloved children <span class="ell">..</span>. and the -necessary Sacrifice—and <i>I will make it</i>. Opposing -his will will not do—let me now try, if the -conforming to it, in every particular will better -my condition—it is my wish, Sclater—it is my -ambition (indeed it is)—to be more distinguished -as a good wife than as the agreeable woman I am -in your partial Eyes even—’tis true I have vanity -enough to think I have understanding sufficient -<span class="pagenum" title="144"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144"></a></span><br /><span class="pagenum" title="145"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145"></a></span>to give laws to my Family, but as that cannot be, -and Providence for wise purposes constituted the -male the Head—I will endeavour to act an underpart -with grace. ‘Where much is given, much -is required.’ I will think of this proverb and -learn humility.”</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 340px;"> -<img src="images/illus_155.jpg" width="340" height="434" alt="" /> -<div><p class="tac fs120"><i>Laurence Sterne</i></p></div> -</div> - - -<p class="tac width50 mt2em">MRS DRAPER TO HER AUNT, MRS PICKERING</p> - -<p class="address">“<span class="smcap">Bombay, High Meadow</span>, <i>March 21st, 1768</i>. -</p> - -<p>“I found my Husband in possession of health, -and a good post. Providence will, I hope, continue -to him the blessing of the one and the -Directors at home, that of the other. My agreeable -sister is now a widow, and so much improved -in mind and person, as to be a very interesting -object. May she be so far conscious of her own -worth as to avoid throwing herself away a second -time.”</p> - -<p class="tac width50 mt2em">MRS DRAPER TO THOMAS MATHEW SCLATER</p> - -<p class="address">“<span class="smcap">Tellichery</span>, <i>May 1769</i>. -</p> - -<p>“Mr D. has lost his beneficial post at Bombay, -and is, by order of the Company, now Chief in -one of the Factories subordinate to it. This -was a terrible blow to us at first, but use has in -some measure reconciled the mortifying change,<span class="pagenum" title="146"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146"></a></span> -though we have no prospect of acquiring such an -independence here as will enable us to settle in -England for many, very many years, as the country -for some time has been the seat of war, and still -continues subject to frequent alarms from the -growing power of an ambitious usurper. I’ve no -doubt but a general massacre of the English will -ensue, if he once more visits this coast. Our -fortifications are a wretched burlesque upon such. -Troops not better soldiers than trained Bands, and -too few in number to cope with so able a general -and politician.</p> - -<p>“I was within an hour once of being his prisoner, -and cannot say but I thought it a piece of good -fortune to escape that honour, though he has -promised to treat all English ladies well that -cheerfully submit to the laws of his seraglio. The -way of life I’m now in is quite new to me, but not -utterly unpleasant. I’m by turns the wife of a -Merchant, Soldier, and Innkeeper, for in such -different capacities is the Chief of Tellichery -destined to act. The War is a bar to Commerce, -yet I do a great deal of business in the mercantile -way, as my husband’s amanuensis. You know his -inability to use the pen, and as he has lost his -Clerks and Accountant, without any prospect of -acquiring others, I’m necessitated to pass the -greatest part of my time in his office, and con<span class="pagenum" title="147"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147"></a></span>sent -to do so, as it gives me consequence and him -pleasure. I really should not be unhappy here if -the Motive for which we left England could be -as easily accomplished as at Bombay, but that -cannot be without an advantageous place—then -indeed we should do very well.</p> - -<p>“The country is pleasant and healthy (a second -Montpelier), our house (a fort and property of -the Company) a magnificent one, furnished, too, -at our Master’s expense, and the allowance for -supporting it creditably, what you would term -genteelly, though it does not defray the charge of -Liquors, which alone amount to six hundred a -year, and such a sum, vast as it seems, does not -seem extravagant in our situation. For we are -obliged to keep a public table, and six months in -the year have a full house of shipping Gentry, -that resort to us for traffic and intelligence from -all parts of India, China, and Asia. Our Society -at other times is very confined, as it only consists -of a few factors, and two or three families: and -such we cannot expect great intercourse with on -account of the heavy rains and terrible thunder -with lightning to which this Coast is peculiarly -subject six months in the year<span class="ell">...</span>. I flatter myself -I’m beloved by such of the Malabars as are -within reach of my notice. I was born upon their -coast, which is an argument in my favour<span class="ell">...</span>.<span class="pagenum" title="148"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148"></a></span> -I never go out without a guard of six Sepoys -(Mahomedan soldiers) armed with drawn sabres -and loaded pistols, as some of the natives are -treacherous and might be induced to insult a -woman of <i>my Consequence</i> without a Veil.”</p> - -<p class="tac width50 mt2em">MRS DRAPER TO THOMAS MATHEW SCLATER</p> - -<p class="address">“<span class="smcap">Surat</span>, <i>April 5th, 1771</i>. -</p> - -<p>“<span class="ell">..</span>. I received your affectionate letter, my -dear Coz, and I prophecy that I shall answer -it very stupidly for I danced last night—supped -on a cool terrace, and sat up till three o’clock -this morning. This may appear nothing very -extraordinary to you, my spirits and love of the -graceful movement considered, but it was a very -great undertaking, the climate, my plan of temperance -and exercise considered; for you must know -that I find it necessary to live simply mechanical, -in order to preserve the remains of a broken constitution -and some traces of my former appearance. -I rise with the lark daily, and as constantly amble -some eight or sixteen miles—after the fox too, -occasionally, but field sports have something -Royal with them here. What think you of hunting -the Antelope with Leopards? This I have -frequently done, and a noble diversion it is. Early -hours and abstemious Diet are absolutely necessary<span class="pagenum" title="149"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149"></a></span> -to the possession of health in India, and I generally -conform to the one, and invariably practise the -other. Ten or eleven o’clock at the latest, is the -usual time of retiring, and soup or vegetables with -sherbet and milk constitutes the whole of my -regimen. Still I cannot acquire anything like -confirmed health or strength here; but if this -mode of living preserves my being, my cheerfulness -and natural disposition to make the best of -things will I hope teach me to bear it<span class="ell">...</span>. At -least I will not thro’ any fault of my own, return -to Europe with the dregs of life only, but endeavour -by every honest means to preserve such -a position of animating spirit as may qualify me -for the character of an agreeable companion; and -then, who knows but cool weather, fashionable -society and the animating presence of those I love -may enable me</p> - -<p> -‘Formed by their converse happily to steer<br /> -From grave to gay, from lively to severe.’<br /> -</p> - -<p>“Do you know that I begin to think all praise -foreign but that of true desert. It was not always -so, but this same solitude produces reflection, and -reflection is good.</p> - -<p>“It is an enemy to everything that is not -founded on truth, consequently I grow fond of -my own approbation and endeavour to deserve it<span class="pagenum" title="150"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150"></a></span> -by such a mode of thinking and acting as may -enable me to acquire it. Seriously, my dear Sclater, -I believe I shall one day be a good moralist.”</p> - -<p class="tac width50 mt2em">MRS DRAPER TO MRS RICHARD SCLATER</p> - -<p class="address">“<span class="smcap">Bombay</span>, <i>February 6th, 1772</i>. -</p> - -<p>“I cannot say that we have any immediate hopes -of returning to England as independent people. -India is not what it was, my dear Madam, nor is -even a moderate fortune to be acquired here, -without more assiduity and time than the generality -of English persons can be induced to believe -or think of as absolutely necessary; but -this Idea, painful as it is to many adventurers -who’ve no notion of the difficulties they are to -encounter in the road to wealth, would not affect -me considerably, if I had not some very material -reasons for wishing to leave the Climate expeditiously. -My health is much prejudiced by a Residence -in it, my affection for an only child, strongly -induces me to bid farewell to it before it is too -late to benefit by a change of scene. Mr Draper -will in all probability be obliged to continue here -some years longer, but, as to myself, I hope to -be permitted to call myself an inhabitant of your -country before I am two years older.”</p> -<p><span class="pagenum" title="151"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151"></a></span></p> - -<p class="tac width50 mt2em">MRS DRAPER TO MRS ANNE JAMES</p> - -<p class="address">“<span class="smcap">Bombay</span>, <i>April 15th, 1772</i>. -</p> - -<p>“You wonder, my dear, at my writing to Becket—I’ll -tell you why I did so. I have heard some -Anecdotes extremely disadvantageous to the Characters -of the Widow and Daughter [of Sterne], -and that from Persons who said they had been -personally acquainted with them, both in France -and England<span class="ell">...</span>. Some part of their Intelligence -corroborated what I had a thousand times -heard from the Lips of Yorick, almost invariably -repeated<span class="ell">...</span>. The Secret of my Letters -being in her hands, had somehow become extremely -Public: it was noticed to me by almost -every Acquaintance I had in the Ships, or at this -Settlement—this alarmed me, for at that time I -had never communicated the circumstance and -could not suspect you of acting by me in any -manner which I would not have acted in by -myself—One Gentleman in particular told me -that both you and I should be deceived, if -we had the least reliance on the Honor or -Principles of Mrs Sterne, for that, when she had -secured as much as she could for suppressing the -Correspondence she was capable of selling it to -a Bookseller afterwards—by either refusing to -return it to you—or taking Copies of it, without<span class="pagenum" title="152"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152"></a></span> -our knowledge—and therefore He advised me, if I -was averse to its Publication, to take every means -in my Power of Suppressing it—this influenced -me to write to Becket and promise Him a reward -equal to his Expectations if He would deliver the -letters to you<span class="ell">...</span>.</p> - -<p>“My dear Friend, that stiffness you complain’d -of, when I called you Mrs James I said I could -not accost you with my usual Freedom entirely -arose from a Depression of Spirits, too natural -to the mortified, when severe Disappointments -gall the Sense—You had told me that Sterne was -no more—I had heard it before, but this Confirmation -of it truly afflicted me; for I was almost -an Idolator of his Worth, while I found Him the -Mild, Generous, Good Yorick, We had so often -thought Him to be—to add to my regret for his -loss his Widow had my letters in her Power (I -never entertained a good opinion of her), and -meant to subject me to Disgrace and Inconvenience -by the Publication of them. You know -not the contents of these letters, and it was -natural for you to form the worst judgment -of them, when those who had seen ’em reported -them unfavourably, and were disposed -to dislike me on that Account. My dear -girl! had I not cause to feel humbled so -Circumstanced—and can you wonder at my<span class="pagenum" title="153"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153"></a></span> -sensations communicating themselves to my -Pen?</p> - -<p>“Miss Sterne’s did indeed, my dear, give me a -great deal of pain—it was such a one as I by no -means deserved in answer to one written in the -true Spirit of kindness, however it might have -been constructed.—Mr Sterne had repeatedly -told me, that his Daughter was as well acquainted -with my Character as he was with my Appearance—in -all his letters wrote since my leaving -England this Circumstance is much dwelt upon. -Another, too, that of Mrs Sterne being in too -precarious a State of Health, to render it possible -that she would survive many months. Her violence -of temper (indeed, James, I wish not to -recriminate or be severe just now) and the hatefulness -of her Character, are strongly urged to -me, as the Cause of his Indifferent Health, the -whole of his Misfortunes, and the Evils that -would probably Shorten his Life—the visit Mrs -Sterne meditated, some time antecedent to his -Death, he most pathetically lamented, as an -adventure that would wound his Peace and -greatly embarrass his Circumstances—the former -on account of the Eye Witness He should be to -his Child’s Affections having been alienated from -Him by the artful Misrepresentations of her -Mother under whose Tutorage she had ever been—<span class="pagenum" title="154"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154"></a></span>and -the latter, from the Rapacity of her Disposition—for -well do I know, says he, ‘that the -sole Intent of her Visit is to plague and fleece -me—had I Money enough, I would buy off this -Journey, as I have done several others—but till -my Sentimental Work is published I shall not -have a single sou more than will Indemnify People -for my immediate Expenses.’ The receipt of this -Intelligence I heard of Yorick’s Death. The very -first Ship which left us Afterwards, I wrote to -Miss Sterne by—and with all the freedom which -my Intimacy with her Father and his Communications -warranted—I purposely avoided speaking -of her Mother, for I knew nothing to her Advantage, -and I had heard a great deal to the -reverse—so circumstanced—how could I with -any kind of Delicacy Mention a Person who was -hateful to my departed Friend, when for the sake -of that very Friend I wished to confer a kindness -on his Daughter—and to enhance the value of it, -Solicited her Society and consent to share my -Prospects, as the highest Favor which could be -shown to Myself—indeed, I knew not, but Mrs -Sterne, from the Description I had received of -her, might be no more—or privately confined, if -in Being, owing to a Malady, which I have been -told the violence of her temper subjects her to.<span class="nowrap">”<a id="FNanchor_19" href="#Footnote_19" class="fnanchor">19</a></span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" title="155"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155"></a></span></p> - -<p>It has been stated by many writers that the -cause of the unhappy life led by the Drapers at -Bombay was the fault of Sterne, whose insidious -flatteries undermined the lady’s moral rectitude. -This, not to put too fine a point on it, is a conclusion -as absurd as it is unwarrantable. Mrs -Draper was far too intelligent not to realise that -Sterne was a sentimentalist, and not to understand -that such allusions as to her being his second wife -were, if in bad taste, at least meant to be playful, -seeing that he was, and knew he was, standing -on the threshold of the valley of the shadow of -death. Mrs Draper left her husband six years -after she had said farewell to Sterne, not because -of the author’s influence on her, but because her -patience, weakened by a long course of unkind -behaviour, was finally outraged by her husband’s -obvious partiality for her maid, Mrs Leeds. She -had long desired to leave Draper, and now a -legitimate excuse was furnished, which in the -eyes of all unprejudiced persons justified the -step.</p> - -<p>Draper, who seems to have had some suspicion -of her intention, watched her closely, and for a -while it was impossible for her to get away. At -last she escaped from Mazagon on board a King’s -cutter, and it was stated that she had eloped with -one of her admirers, Sir John Clark. The truth<span class="pagenum" title="156"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156"></a></span> -was that she accepted his escort to the house -of her uncle, Thomas Whitehall, who lived -at Masulipatam.</p> - - -<p class="tac width50 mt2em">MRS DRAPER TO THOMAS MATHEW SCLATER</p> - -<p class="address"> -“<span class="smcap">Rajahmundy</span>, 80 miles from <span class="smcap">Masulipatam</span>,<br /> -“<i>January 20th, 1774</i>.   -</p> - -<p>“<span class="ell">..</span>. I will let you into my present situation. -I live entirely with my uncle, and I shall continue -to do so to the last hour of my life if he continues -to wish it as much as he does at present.”</p> - -<p>Whether her uncle did not continue to desire -her company, or whether she tired of the life, -cannot be determined, but later, in the year 1774, -Mrs Draper returned to England. There she took -up her friendship with the Jameses from the point -at which it had been interrupted by her departure -seven years earlier for India, and she was soon the -centre of a distinguished circle. The publication, -in 1775, of some of Sterne’s letters to her made -her somewhat unpleasantly notorious, and she -withdrew from London to the comparative seclusion -of Bristol, where she remained until her -death, three years later. She was buried in Bristol -Cathedral, where a monument, depicting two -classical figures bending over a shield, one bearing<span class="pagenum" title="157"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157"></a></span> -a torch, the other a dove, was erected in her -honour. The shield bore the inscription:</p> - -<p class="tac"> -Sacred<br /> -To the Memory<br /> -of<br /> -<span class="smcap">Mrs Eliza Draper</span>,<br /> -in whom<br /> -Genius and Benevolence<br /> -were united.<br /> -She died August 3, 1778,<br /> -aged 35. -</p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" title="161"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161"></a></span></p> -<h2>The Demoniacs</h2> - -<p class="dropcap">’Twas at Jesus College, Cambridge,” -Sterne wrote in the last year of his -life, “I commenced a friendship with -Mr <span class="nowrap">H——</span>, which has been most lasting on both -sides.” This “Mr <span class="nowrap">H——</span>” was the notorious John -Hall, who added to his patronymic the name of -Stevenson after his marriage in 1739 with an heiress, -Anne, daughter of Ambrose Stevenson of Manor -House, in the parish of Lanchester, county Durham. -Born in 1718, the second son of Joseph Hall, -counsellor-at-law of Durham, by his wife, -Catherine, eldest daughter of Edward Trotter of -Skelton Castle, near Guisborough, John Hall-Stevenson, -to call him by the name by which he -is best known, went in his eighteenth year to -the University, for which, though he did not -there distinguish himself, he cherished to the end -of his days a sincere regard. “I should recommend -Cambridge as a place infinitely preferable to the -Temple,” he wrote to his eldest grandson, on -17th February 1785, “and particularly on account -of the connections you may form with young -gentlemen of your own age, of the first rank, men -that you must live with hereafter: it is the only -time of life to make lasting, honourable, and useful -friendships. These advantages were lost to me -and blasted by premature marriage, the scantiness -of my fortune forced me to vegetate in the country,<span class="pagenum" title="162"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162"></a></span> -and precluded me from every laudable pursuit -suggested by ambition.”</p> - -<p>The friendship between Sterne and Hall-Stevenson -must have been of rapid growth, as -Hall-Stevenson went to Jesus College in June -1835, and Sterne left the University when he -took his degree in the following January. Hall-Stevenson -has been, no doubt accurately, described -as a very precocious lad, with Rabelaisian tastes, -and again and again his influence with Sterne has -been made an excuse for the humorist’s lapses -from morality and decency. This, however, is -most unfair, for when the young men became -acquainted Hall-Stevenson was only seventeen -years of age, whereas Sterne was two-and-twenty. -Be this as it may, of their intimacy at this -time there is no doubt, and tradition tells how -they studied together—it would be interesting in -the light of subsequent events to know what they -studied. They called each other cousin, though -the relationship, if any, was most remote. -“Cousin Anthony Shandy,” Hall-Stevenson in -days to come signed himself, and Sterne, in the -famous dog-Latin letter written a few months -before he died, addressed him: “<i>mi consobrine, -consobrinis meis omnibus carior</i>.”</p> - -<p>Hall-Stevenson remained at Cambridge until -1838, then went abroad for a year, and on his<span class="pagenum" title="163"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163"></a></span> -return made the “premature marriage” to which -allusion has been made. When he and Sterne met -again is a problem not easy to solve. Sterne, writing -to Bishop Warburton in June 1760, mentioned that -he did not know Hall-Stevenson’s handwriting. -“From a nineteen years’ total interruption of all -correspondence with him,” he said, “I had forgot -his hand.” Since Sterne is so precise in giving -the number of years, it would seem as if he and -his college friend had written to each other until -1741, and that in this year the youthful intimacy, -after the manner of its kind, had lapsed. Probably -for some years they may have drifted apart, but -there is an abundance of evidence to show that -long before 1760 they were again on the best -terms.</p> - -<p>The threads of the college friendship, it has -generally been stated, were gathered together -when Skelton Castle came into the possession -of Hall-Stevenson, who thenceforth resided -there. As to when this happened the writers -on Sterne only agree in remarking that it was -not until after 1745, in which year, after the -rebellion, Lawson Trotter, the owner of the -castle and a noted Jacobite, fled the country; -some say that then the property passed to his -sister, Hall-Stevenson’s mother, and at her death -to her son; others that it passed direct to the<span class="pagenum" title="164"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164"></a></span> -nephew as the next in tail. All these statements -are inaccurate. Lawson Trotter sold Skelton -Castle to Joseph Hall in 1727, and Hall-Stevenson, -his elder brother having died in -childhood, inherited the estate at the death of -his father six years later.</p> - -<p>Skelton Castle, which is believed to date back -before the Conquest, had been added to, a square -tower here, a round tower there, by many of its -occupiers, Bruces, Cowpers, Trotters, until, when -it came into the hands of Hall-Stevenson, it was -a quaint patchwork edifice, erected on a platform -supported by two buttressed terraces, which raised -it high above the surrounding moat. Hall-Stevenson, -amused by the picture presented by -its medley of architectural styles, christened it -“Crazy Castle,” and wrote some humorous -verses descriptive of it, well worthy to be preserved, -especially as they are almost the only -lines from his pen that can be printed in this -respectable age:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent">“There is a Castle in the North,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Seated upon a swampy clay,</div> -<div class="verse">At present but of little worth,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">In former times it had its day.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">This ancient Castle is call’d <span class="smcap">Crazy</span>,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Whose mould’ring walks a moat environs,</div> -<div class="verse">Which moat goes heavily and lazy,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Like a poor prisoner in irons.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" title="165"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165"></a></span></p> - -<p>Skelton Castle was at this date more than half -ruined, as the owner was at some pains to indicate:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent">“Many a time I’ve stood and thought,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Seeing the boat upon this ditch,</div> -<div class="verse">It look’d as if it had been brought</div> -<div class="verse indent2">For the amusement of a witch,</div> -<div class="verse">To sail amongst applauding frogs,</div> -<div class="verse">With water-rats, dead cats and dogs.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">The boat so leaky is, and old,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">That if you’re fanciful and merry,</div> -<div class="verse">You may conceive, without being told,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">That it resembles Charon’s wherry.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">A turret also you may note,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Its glory vanish’d like a dream,</div> -<div class="verse">Transform’d into a pigeon-coat,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Nodding beside the sleepy stream.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">From whence, by steps with moss o’ergrown,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">You mount upon a terrace high,</div> -<div class="verse">Where stands that heavy pile of stone,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Irregular, and all awry.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">If many a buttress did not reach</div> -<div class="verse indent2">A kind and salutary hand,</div> -<div class="verse">Did not encourage and beseech,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">The terrace and the house to stand,</div> -<div class="verse">Left to themselves, and at a loss,</div> -<div class="verse">They’d tumble down into the foss.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Over the Castle hangs a Tow’r,</div> -<div class="verse">Threat’ning destruction every hour;</div> -<div class="verse"><span class="pagenum" title="166"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166"></a></span>Where owls, and bats, and the jackdaw,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Their vespers and their Sabbath keep,</div> -<div class="verse">All night scream horribly, and caw,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">And snore all day in horrid sleep.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Oft at the quarrels and the noise</div> -<div class="verse">Of scolding maids or idle boys,</div> -<div class="verse">Myriads of rooks rise up and fly,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Like legions of damn’d souls,</div> -<div class="verse indent4">As black as coals,</div> -<div class="verse">That foul and darken all the sky.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Hall-Stevenson was, as has been remarked, a -poor man, and could not afford to undertake the -task of repairing the vast structure, though once -he thought of making an effort to do so. When -Sterne heard of this he wrote protesting against -any interference with the fine old structure, and -seasoned his letter with a touch of worldly -wisdom that comes quaintly from him:</p> - -<p>“But what art thou meditating with axes and -hammers?—‘<i>I know the pride and the naughtiness -of thy heart</i>,’ and thou lovest the sweet visions of -architraves, friezes and pediments with their -tympanums, and thou hast found out a pretence, -<i>à raison de cinq livres sterling</i> to be laid out in four -years, &c. &c. (so as not to be felt, which is -always added by the d——l as a bait) to justify -thyself unto thyself. It may be very wise to do<span class="pagenum" title="167"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167"></a></span> -this—but ’tis wiser to keep one’s money in one’s -pocket, whilst there are wars without and rumours -of wars within. St —— advises his disciples to -sell both coat and waistcoat—and go rather without -shirt or sword, than leave no money in their -scrip to go to Jerusalem with. Now those <i>quatre -ans consecutifs</i>, my dear Anthony, are the most -precious morsels in thy <i>life to come</i> (in this world), -and thou wilt do well to enjoy that morsel without -cares, calculations, and curses, and damns, and -debts—for as sure as stone is stone, and mortar is -mortar, &c., ’twill be one of the many works of -thy repentance.—But after all, if the Fates have -decreed it, as you and I have some time supposed -it on account of your generosity, ‘<i>that you -are never to be a monied man</i>,’ the decree will be -fulfilled whether you adorn your castle and line -it with cedar, and paint it within side and without -side with vermilion, or not—<i>et cela étant</i> (having -a bottle of Frontiniac and glass at my right hand) -I drink, dear Anthony, to thy health and happiness, -and to the final accomplishments of all thy -lunary and sublunary projects.”</p> - -<p>Notwithstanding this sage counsel, Hall-Stevenson -called in an architect, presently to -be referred to as “Don Pringello,” who, to his -credit, declined to tamper with the building, and<span class="pagenum" title="168"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168"></a></span> -succeeded in inducing the owner to abandon the -plan of reconstruction.</p> - -<p>Hall-Stevenson from time to time visited -London, and made acquaintance with Horace -Walpole, and also with Sir Francis Dashwood -and John Wilkes, who introduced him to the -Monks of Medmenham and also gave him a taste -for politics, that afterwards found vent in some -satirical verses. Lack of means, however, prevented -his taking any considerable part in metropolitan -gaieties, and he lived most of his life on -his estate, making an occasional stay at Scarborough -or some other northern watering-place. -At Skelton, as William Hutton phrased it happily, -he “kept a full-spread board, and wore down the -steps of his cellar.” Steeped in Rabelaisian literature, -he caught something of the spirit of the -books he had perused; and, inspired by the example -of the deceased Duke of Wharton and of -his friend Dashwood, he gathered round him a -body of men with similar tastes, and founded, in -imitation of the Hell-fire Club and the Monks -of Medmenham, a society which has passed into -history as the Demoniacs.</p> - -<p>The number of members of this convivial -community cannot have been considerable. Hall-Stevenson -in “Crazy Tales” gives eleven stories, -each supposed to have been told by one of the<span class="pagenum" title="169"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169"></a></span> -band, the identity of the narrator being veiled -under a nickname; and if this may be accepted -as a guide, then there were but eleven Demoniacs -in 1862—though, in a later edition, were added, -“Old Hewett’s Tale,” and “Tom of Colesby’s -Tale.” In most cases it has been easy to discover -the names of the members. “Anthony” of the -“Crazy Tale” was, of course, the host; and -“My Cousin” Sterne, though he was also known -among the fraternity as “The Blackbird,” probably -because of his clerical attire, and under this -<i>sobriquet</i> was made the subject of one of Hall-Stevenson’s -“Makarony Fables.” “Zachary” was -Zachary Moore, of Lofthouse, a fashionable man -about town, who spent a great fortune in riotous -living; though the only story of his extravagance -that has been handed down is, that his horses -were always shod with silver, and that when a -shoe fell off or was loose, he would have it replaced -with a new one. He was a jovial fellow, -and popular.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent">“What sober heads hath thou made ache!</div> -<div class="verse indent2">How many hath thou kept from nodding!</div> -<div class="verse">How many wise ones, for thy sake,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Have flown to thee, and left off plodding.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Thus he was apostrophised by Hall-Stevenson, -who subsequently indited an epitaph for him,<span class="pagenum" title="170"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170"></a></span> -which while it does much credit to the writer’s -heart, does less to his head: such a prodigal as -Moore was lucky to be presented with an ensigncy.</p> - -<p>“Z. M. Esq.” (thus runs the epitaph), “A Living -Monument, of the Friendship and Generosity -of the Great; After an Intimacy of Thirty Years -With most of The Great Personages of these -Kingdoms, Who did him the Honour to assist -him, In the laborious Work, Of getting to the -far End of a great Fortune; These his Noble -Friends, From Gratitude For the many happy -Days and Nights Enjoyed by his means, Exalted -him, through their Influence, In the forty-seventh -year of his Age, To an Ensigncy; which he actually -enjoys at present at Gibraltar.”</p> - -<p>The “Privy Counsellor” of the “Tales” has -been said to be Sir Francis Dashwood, but upon -what grounds this statement has been made is not -clear: if the assumption is accurate, the “Privy -Counsellor” cannot often have attended the gatherings -of the brethren, being usually otherwise engaged -in London. “Panty,” an abbreviation of -Pantagruel, is known to have been the Rev. -Robert Lascelles, subsequently the incumbent of -Gilling, in the West Riding; and “Don Pringello,”<span class="pagenum" title="171"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171"></a></span> -whose name has not transpired<span class="nowrap">,<a id="FNanchor_20" href="#Footnote_20" class="fnanchor">20</a></span> has his niche in -“Tristram Shandy,” where it is mentioned: “I -am this moment in a handsome pavilion built by -Pringello upon the banks of the Garonne.” Don -Pringello also receives honourable mention in a -scholium to the Tale inscribed to his name by -“Cousin Anthony.”</p> - -<p>“Don Pringello” (Hall-Stevenson wrote) “was -a celebrated Spanish Architect, of unbounded -generosity. At his own expense, on the other -side of the Pyrenean Mountains, he built many -noble castles, both for private people and for the -<i>public</i>, out of his own funds; he repaired several -palaces, situated upon the pleasant banks of that -delightful river, the Garonne, in France, and came -over on purpose to rebuild <span class="smcap">Crazy-Castle</span>; but, -struck with its venerable remains, he could -only be prevailed upon to add a few ornaments, -suitable to the stile and taste of the age it was -built in.”</p> - -<p>“Old Hewett” was that eccentric William -Hewett, or Hewitt, introduced into “Humphrey<span class="pagenum" title="172"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172"></a></span> -Clinker” by Smollett, who prophesied that, “his -exit will be as odd as his life has been extravagant.” -Smollett’s anticipation was justified, even -before the novel was published, as the author -mentions in a footnote. Hewett in 1767, being -then over seventy years of age, was attacked by -an internal complaint, and, to quote Smollett,</p> - -<p>“he resolved to take himself off by abstinence; -and this resolution he executed like an ancient -Roman. He saw company to the last, cracked -his jokes, conversed freely, and entertained his -guests with music. On the third day of his fast, -he found himself entirely freed from his complaint; -but refused taking sustinence. He said the -most disagreeable part of the journey was past, -and he should be a cursed fool indeed to put about -ship when he was just entering the harbour. In -these sentiments he persisted, without any marks -of affectation; and thus finished his course with -such ease and serenity, as would have done honour -to the firmest stoic of antiquity.”</p> - -<p>There are still unaccounted for, “Captain -Shadow,” “The Student of Law,” “The Governor -of Txlbury,” “The Lxxb,” “The Poet,” and -“Tom of Colesby”; and against these may be -placed other frequenters of Skelton Castle—<span class="pagenum" title="173"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173"></a></span>though -it is possible some may not have been -of the brotherhood. There were Garland, a -neighbouring squire; and Scroope, whom Sterne -referred to as “Cardinal S.” and who was probably -a parson; and “G.” of the printed letters, -whose name in the originals is given as Gilbert. -More likely to have been Demoniacs were Hall-Stevenson’s -younger brother, Colonel George -Lawson Hall (who married a daughter of Lord -William Manners), and Andrew Irvine, called -by his familiars “Paddy Andrews,” master of the -Grammar School at Kirkleatham. Because Dr -Alexander Carlyle met at Harrogate in the company -of Hall-Stevenson that Charles Lee who -subsequently became a general in the American -army, and fought against his countrymen in the -War of Independence, Lee has been written -down one of the society; but it is improbable he -was enrolled, if only because, leaving England in -1751 at the age of twenty, he was not again in -his native land before “Crazy Tales” was written, -except for a few months in the spring of 1761.</p> - -<p>The Demoniacs (and the title may for the -nonce be taken to include all the frequenters of -Skelton Castle) have been damned by each succeeding -writer who has taken them for his subject; -but it is extremely doubtful if they were as black -as they have been painted. Had they been merely<span class="pagenum" title="174"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174"></a></span> -vulgar debauchees, it is inconceivable that Sterne -would have let them make the acquaintance, not -only of his wife, but also of the young daughter -he cherished so tenderly; and it is only one -degree less unlikely that they would have won -and retained his affectionate regard for a score -of years, or that he would have read to them -“Tristram Shandy” and have desired their -opinion of the various instalments of that -work. His letters are full of references to the -Demoniacs, and he rarely wrote to “dear Cousin -Anthony” without sending greetings to his -associates, and expressing the wish that he was -with them.</p> - -<p>“Greet the Colonel [Hall] in my name, and -thank him cordially from me for his many -civilities to Madame and Mademoiselle Sterne, -who send all due acknowledgments” (he wrote -from Toulouse, 12th August 1762; adding in a -postscript:) “Oh! how I envy you all at Crazy -Castle! I would like to spend a month with you—and -should return back again for the vintage<span class="ell">...</span>. -Now farewell—remember me to my beloved -Colonel—greet Panty most lovingly on my -behalf, and if Mrs <span class="nowrap">C——</span> and Miss <span class="nowrap">C——</span>, &c. -are at G[uisborough], greet them likewise with -a holy kiss—So God bless you.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" title="175"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175"></a></span></p> - -<p>A couple of months later, Sterne, still at -Toulouse, addressed Hall-Stevenson:</p> - -<p>“If I had nothing to stop me I would engage -to set out this morning, and knock at Crazy Castle -gates in three days less time—by which time I -should find you and the Colonel, Panty, &c. all -alone—the season I most wish and like to be -with you.”</p> - -<p>Again and again are allusions to the Crazelites, -as Sterne often called them:</p> - -<p>“I send all compliments to Sir C. D[ashwoo]d -and <span class="nowrap">G——</span>s. I love them from my soul. If G[ilber]t -is with you, him also” (he wrote from Coxwold, -4th September 1764; and from Naples, two -years later:). “Give my kind services to my friends—especially -to the household of faith—my dear -Garland—to the worthy Colonel—to Cardinal -S[croope], and to my fellow-labourer Pantagruel.”</p> - -<p>Even in the last year of his life he looked -forward to being present at a reunion at the castle: -“We shall all meet from the east, and from the -south, and (as at the last) be happy together.”</p> - -<p>Faults the Demoniacs certainly had; but there -is no reason to believe, indeed there is not a jot -or tittle of evidence to support the suggestion, -that they performed the blasphemous rites as<span class="pagenum" title="176"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176"></a></span>sociated -with the more famous institutions that -served as their model. Their indulgences were -limited to coarse stories and deep potations; -which, after all, were regarded as venial sins in -the eighteenth century. Even so, of course, it -must be admitted they were not fit company for -clergymen, and it is a matter for regret that Sterne -should have been of the party. Doubtless Laurence -told his story of “A Cock and a Bull” with the -best of them; but he was no drunkard, and tried -to induce Hall-Stevenson to give up the habit of -heavy drinking.</p> - -<p>“If I was you, quoth Yorick, I would drink -more water, Eugenius” (so runs a passage in -“Tristram Shandy”). “And, if I was you, Yorick, -replied Eugenius, so would I.”</p> - -<p>On the other hand, several of the Demoniacs -were men of intelligence. With all his vices, -Dashwood had brains of no mean order; Irvine, -the schoolmaster, and a Cambridge D.D., had, -at least, some reading; and Lascelles, a keen fisherman, -could write verses—not very good verses, -it is true—in Latin and English. It is doubtful, -however, if he was that Robert Lascelles who -in 1811 wrote the “Letters on Sporting,” in -which he treated of angling, shooting, and cours<span class="pagenum" title="177"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177"></a></span>ing; -although this rare work has been attributed -to him. William Hewett, too, was a cultured -man; he had been tutor to the Marquis of Granby, -and was a friend of Voltaire. He had a pretty wit. -It has been told how being in the Campidoglio at -Rome, Hewett, who owned “no religion but -that of nature,” made up to the bust of Jupiter, -and, bowing very low, exclaimed in the Italian -language, “I hope, sir, if ever you get your head -above water again, you will remember that I paid -my respects to you in your adversity.” Indeed that -carousals at Skelton Castle were confined to the -evening is shown by Hall-Stevenson’s account of -his guest’s occupations during the day.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent">“Some fell to fiddling, some to fluting,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Some to shooting, some to fishing,</div> -<div class="verse">Some to pishing and disputing,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Or to computing by wishing.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">And in the evening when they met</div> -<div class="verse indent2">(To think on’t always does me good,)</div> -<div class="verse">There never met a jollier sett,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Either before, or since the Flood.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Nor was Hall-Stevenson a mere voluptuary. -Even though the critic may have exaggerated -who wrote of him: “He could engage in the -grave discussions of criticism and literature with -superior power; he was qualified to enliven<span class="pagenum" title="178"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178"></a></span> -general society with the smile of Horace, the -laughter of Cervantes; or he could sit on Fontaine’s -easy chair, and unbosom his humour to his chosen -friends”; yet there is no doubt that he was a good -classical scholar, and, for an Englishman, exceptionally -well read in the <i>belles lettres</i> of Europe, -in a day when such knowledge was rare.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent">“<span class="smcap">Anthony</span>, Lord of <span class="smcap">Crazy</span> Castle,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Neither a fisher, nor a shooter,</div> -<div class="verse">No man’s, but any woman’s vassel,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">If he could find a way to suit her”;</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>so he wrote himself down; and the description -is good so far as it goes. But though “My Cousin -Anthony” thus indicates that, unlike Sterne, he -has no liking for field sports, he does not mention -that he found his pleasure at home in the great -library, that was so rich in what Bagehot has described -as “old folio learning and the amatory reading -of other days.” There the owner browsed for -hours together, and he wrought better than he -knew when he introduced his friend Sterne to -the apartment and made him free of it, for there -it was that Sterne found in many quaint forgotten -volumes much of that strange lore with which -the elder Shandy’s mind was packed. Dr Carlyle -found Hall-Stevenson a “highly-accomplished -and well-bred gentleman,” and Sterne’s opinion<span class="pagenum" title="179"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179"></a></span> -of his old college friend is clearly shown not only -in his letters but in the character of “Eugenius” -in “Tristram Shandy.” There must have been -virtues in the man who stood for Eugenius, else -Sterne, who had as keen an eye for the weaknesses -of his fellows as any author that ever lived, -would not have immortalised him as the wise, -kindly counsellor of Yorick. How tenderly Sterne -rallied “Cousin Anthony” upon his hypochondria.</p> - -<p>“And so you think this [letter] cursed stupid—but -that, my dear H., depends much upon the -quotâ horâ of your shabby clock, if the pointer -of it is in any quarter between ten in the morning -or four in the afternoon—I give it up—or if the -day is obscured by dark engendering clouds of -either wet or dry weather, I am still lost—but -who knows but it be five—and the day as fine a -day as ever shone upon the earth since the destruction -of Sodom—and peradventure your honour -may have got a good hearty dinner to-day, and -eat and drink your intellectuals into a placidulish -and blandulish amalgama—to bear nonsense, so -much for that.”</p> - -<p>So he wrote from Coxwould in August 1761; -and rather more than a year later, when he was -at Toulouse, he reverted to the subject:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" title="180"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180"></a></span></p> - -<p>“I rejoice from my heart, down to my reins, that -you have snatched so many happy and sunshiny -days out of the hands of the blue devils. If we live to -meet and join our forces as heretofore, we will give -these gentry a drubbing—and turn them for ever -out of their usurped citadel—some legions of them -have been put to flight already by your operations -this last campaign—and I hope to have a hand -in dispersing the remainder the first time my dear -cousin sets up his banners again under the square -tower.”</p> - -<p>Once, indeed, Sterne tried to cure his friend. -Hall-Stevenson had a great fear of the effect of -the east wind upon his health, and he had a -weather-cock placed so that he could see it from -the window of his room, and he would consult -it every morning. When the wind blew from -that quarter he would not get up, or, being up, -would retire to bed. During one of Sterne’s -visits to Skelton Castle he bribed a lad to climb -up one night and tie the vane to the west; and -Hall-Stevenson, after the customary inspection of -the weather-cock, joined his guests the next day -without any ill effect, although as a matter of -fact an east wind was blowing. The trick was -subsequently explained; but it is doubtful if it -cured the <i>malade imaginaire</i>.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" title="181"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181"></a></span></p> - -<p>Hall-Stevenson was as devoted to Sterne as -Sterne to him, and he made agreeable reference -to their affection:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent">“In this retreat, whilom so sweet,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Once <i>Tristram</i> and his cousin dwelt,</div> -<div class="verse">They talk of <i>Crazy</i> when they meet,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">As if their tender hearts would melt.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>When the first two volumes of “Tristram -Shandy” were published, Hall-Stevenson indicted -a lyric epistle “To my Cousin Shandy, on -his coming to Town,” that, through its indecency, -brought in its train more annoyance than pleasure -to Sterne; and subsequently (in 1768) parodied -the style of the book under the title of “A Sentimental -Dialogue between two Souls in the Palpable -Bodies of an English Lady of Quality and -an Irish Gentleman,” introduced by a note: -“Tristram Shandy presents his compliments to -the Gentlemen of Ireland, and begs their acceptance -of a Sentimental Offering, as an acknowledgment -due to the Country where he was born.” -A year after Sterne’s death Hall-Stevenson, over -the signature of “Eugenius,” issued a continuation -of “A Sentimental Journey,” for which he made -the following excuse:</p> - -<p>“The Editor has compiled this Continuation of -his Sentimental Journey, from such motives, and<span class="pagenum" title="182"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182"></a></span> -upon such authority, as he flatters himself will -form a sufficient apology to his readers for its -publication.</p> - -<p>“The abrupt manner in which the Second -Volume concluded, seemed forcibly to claim a -sequel; and doubtless if the author’s life had -been spared, the world would have received it -from his own hand, as he had materials already -prepared. The intimacy which subsisted between -Mr Sterne and the Editor, gave the latter frequent -occasion of hearing him relate the most remarkable -incidents of the latter part of his last journey, -which made such an impression on him, that he -thinks he has retained them so perfectly as to be -able to commit them to paper. In doing this, he -has endeavoured to imitate his friends stile and -manner, but how far he has been successful in -this respect, he leaves the reader to determine. -The work may now, however, be considered as -complete; and the remaining curiosity of the -readers of Yorick’s Sentimental Journey, will at -least be gratified with respect to facts, events, and -observations.”</p> - -<p>The book opens with an apostrophe to his -dead friend:</p> - -<p>“Delightful Humourist! thine were unaccountable -faculties. Thy Muse was the Muse of<span class="pagenum" title="183"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183"></a></span> -joy and sorrow,—of sorrow and joy. Thou didst so -exquisitely blend fancy with feeling, mirth with -misfortune; thy laughter was so laughable; and -thy sighs so sad; that—thou never wast, never -will be equalled.—Thou hadst the <i>Key of the -Heart</i>.—Lend it to a Friend.</p> - -<p>“O Yorick, hear me! <i>Half</i> thy work is left -unfinished, and <i>all</i> thy spirit is fled.—Send part -of it back. Drop one remnant of it to a Friend.”</p> - -<p>The prayer was not granted. The mantle of -Yorick did not fall upon Eugenius, who had -neither the power of humour or pathos, but only -the indelicacy a hundredfold increased, of the -great man. Indeed, the writings of Hall-Stevenson -rendered poor service to his friends, for it was -their publication that brought about the forcible -condemnation of the Demoniacs: the flagrant -indecency of “Crazy Tales” being accepted as -a clue to the thoughts and actions of the members -of the society. Yet of that little production, which -appeared in 1762, the author thought very highly.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent">“As long as <span class="smcap">Crazy</span> Castle lasts,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Their Tales will never be forgot,</div> -<div class="verse">And <span class="smcap">Crazy</span> may stand many blasts,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">And better Castles go to pot.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Thus Hall-Stevenson in his Prologue, doubtless -reflecting that since Skelton Castle had endured<span class="pagenum" title="184"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184"></a></span> -through seven centuries, it might well brave the -breeze for many generations to come. His prophecy -was not falsified, for “Crazy Tales” were -not forgot until the Castle went to pot—which -event, however, took place three years after his -death, when his grandson substituted for the -unique and picturesque structure a house in -which it was possible to live in comfort. Nay, -the “Tales” outlived the Castle, being reprinted -in 1796, and again four and twenty years later, -when they were assigned on the title-page to -Sheridan. A glance at the catalogue of the British -Museum Library shows that some singularly ill-advised -person thought fit in 1896 to reissue the -book for private circulation.</p> - -<p>That Sterne should find a word of praise for -“Crazy Tales” was but natural:</p> - -<p>“I honour the man who has given the world an -idea of our parental seat—’tis well done—I look -at it ten times a day with a <i>quando te aspiciam</i>” -(he wrote to his friend from Toulouse soon after -the publication of the volume; adding), “I felicitate -you upon what messr. the Reviewers allow -you—they have too much judgment themselves -not to allow you what you are actually possessed -of, ‘talents, wit, and humour.’—Well, write on, -my dear cousin, and be guided by thy fancy.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" title="185"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185"></a></span></p> - -<p>It is more surprising to find Horace Walpole -enlisting himself among Hall-Stevenson’s admirers. -“They entertained me extremely,” he -wrote to a friend, returning some verses, “as -Mr Hall’s works always do. He has a vast deal -of original humour and wit, and nobody admires -him more than I do<span class="ell">...</span>. If all authors had as -much parts and good sense as he has, I should -not be so sick of them as I am.” The critics as a -body were not so kind, and incurred the resentment -of the author, who lashed them in “Two -Lyric Epistles,” which Gray, writing to the Rev. -James Brown,thought “seemed to be absolute madness.” -The works, which were collected in 1795, -were declared by Sir Walter Scott to be witty; -but even that tribute has since been denied them. -Bagehot dismissed them as having “licence without -humour, and vice without amusement,” and -Whitwell Elwin, in his masterly essay on Sterne, -stigmatised the “Crazy Tales” as infamous.</p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" title="189"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189"></a></span></p> -<h2>William Beckford of Fonthill Abbey</h2> - - -<p class="dropcap">It may be said with truth that there were -few famous men born in the eighteenth -century of whom less is known than of -William Beckford of Fonthill, the author of -“Vathek.” There is an abundance of legend, as -little trustworthy as most legends, but of the -man as he was few people have even a remote -conception. This may be partly because there -has been no biography of him worthy of the -name; but it is, probably, due even more largely -to the fact that he led a secluded life. It is certain -that stories concerning him, invariably defamatory -and usually libellous, were circulated so far back -as the days of his minority; and that these were -revived when, after his Continental tours, he -settled at Fonthill. Then the air of mystery -that enveloped him created grave suspicion in -the minds of his fox-hunting neighbours. Everything -he said was misrepresented and regarded as -evidence against him, until so strong was the -feeling that it was looked upon by his country -neighbours as disgraceful to visit him. This, -however, did not prevent Nelson or Sam Rogers -or Sir William Hamilton from going to Fonthill, -nor, later, did it prevent his acquaintance with -Benjamin Disraeli. Notwithstanding, Beckford -was accused of almost every conceivable crime, -and John Mitford, in one of his unpublished<span class="pagenum" title="190"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190"></a></span> -note-books, solemnly recorded that Beckford -was accused of poisoning his wife at Cintra. -There was no more truth in any other accusation -than in this of causing the death of a woman -to whom he was deeply attached and whose loss -he sincerely mourned. Thirty years after her -death, Rogers noticed that there were tears in -Beckford’s eyes while he was talking of her.</p> - -<p>This, however, was but one of many slanders. -It was said that Beckford built the high wall -round his estate of Fonthill that his orgies might -be carried on unperceived—the wall was built -because no mere request would keep the hunters -off his land, and he could not bear to see the -death agonies of a fox. It was said that he kept -a number of dwarfs, and with their aid performed -blasphemous rites and indulged in magical incantations—he -had in his service one dwarf, -Piero, whom he had rescued in some Italian -town from a cruel father. Even so recently as -nine years ago an anonymous writer thought it -worth while to record in a literary journal the -reminiscences of an elderly lady, who lived at -Bath when Beckford resided in that city, who -was a child then, and who had no acquaintance -with him. This elderly lady stated that “a species -of paroxysm would seize Beckford if he saw a -woman”—yet a line before she speaks of his<span class="pagenum" title="191"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191"></a></span> -riding through the streets of Bath! Were the -women of Bath on these occasions, it is legitimate -to ask, commanded, like the inhabitants of -Coventry when Lady Godiva took her famous -airing, to keep out of sight? or was Beckford -seen to have paroxysm after paroxysm as his -horse took him through the narrow streets of -the quaint old city? The same authority relates -that at Beckford’s house in Lansdown Crescent -(Bath) niches were constructed in the walls of -the staircase, so that the female servants could -conceal themselves when they heard their master’s -footsteps; and that one girl, to satisfy her curiosity -as to what Beckford would do if he saw her, had -her curiosity fully satisfied, for the “woman-hater, -in a paroxysm of fury, seized her by the -waist and threw her over the banisters.” This suggests -a new version of the Peeping Tom episode, -and also brings to mind the nursery rhyme,</p> - -<p class="tac">“He took her by the left leg and threw her down the stairs.” -</p> - -<p>It is pleasant to be told that the misogynist -generously bestowed on the injured maid a -pension for life. The story is nearly as good, -and doubtless quite as true, as that of the gentleman -who killed a waiter at an inn and told the -landlord, who thought he must send for the police, -to charge it in the bill.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" title="192"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192"></a></span></p> - -<p>The fact is that the majority of writers on Beckford -have been willing to recount what they have -heard, without making any attempt at verification, -even when such a task would not have been difficult. -Beckford, we are told, was as likely to thrash -a beggar in the streets as to give him alms. This -is really the most truthful of all the charges -brought against him, for it actually has for its -foundation the fact that he once did strike a -beggar! Here is the story: When Beckford was -riding one day to Weston, a suburb of Bath, a -man near his gates begged from him and received -a coin; delighted with his success, the beggar -watched which way the donor was going, took -a short cut, and at another place again asked for -alms, only to be recognised and struck with a -whip.</p> - -<p>The calumnies that pursued Beckford during -his life, and his memory since his death, were -bad enough, but the excuses that are made for -him nowadays are worse. The writer already -referred to as retailing the elderly lady’s gossip, -unable to account for Beckford’s mysterious -seclusion and other peculiarities, fell back upon -the convenient suggestion of “a mental derangement.” -“We learn,” he said, in support of his -contention, “that at his death he showed scarcely -a sign of age, a peculiarity frequently noticed, of -course, among those with similar mental aberrations.” -Another peculiarity frequently noticed, -among those with similar mental aberrations, we -may add, is that at their death many show every -sign of age.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 360px;"> -<img src="images/illus_205.jpg" width="360" height="477" alt="" /> -<div><p class="tac fs120"><i>William Beckford</i></p></div> -</div> - -<p>Many of those who do not suggest that Beckford -was mad love to dwell upon his eccentricities; -but an examination of their arguments -shows that these eccentricities were limited to -the building of Fonthill and a love of seclusion. -His seclusion has been vastly exaggerated, and -Fonthill was but the whim of a millionaire—a -whim, moreover, prompted by a laudable desire -to provide employment for the poor of the -countryside. What a genius he had “Vathek” -proves conclusively; how sane he was to the end -of his days may be discerned from the letters -written in the last years, even in the last month, -of his long life.</p> - -<p>The keynote of Beckford’s character was enthusiasm. -If he undertook anything it must be -done forthwith; if he had a desire, he must -satisfy it with the least possible delay. Thus, -when he built Fonthill he had five hundred men -working day and night; when he collected books, -he did so with such vigour that in a few years he -brought together one of the finest private libraries -in the world. That last passion never deserted him,<span class="pagenum" title="193"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193"></a></span> -and in his eighty-fourth year he studied catalogues -as keenly, and was as impatient for news as to the -success that had attended his agent, as when he -began half-a-century earlier. Like most men he -did not suffer bores gladly, but, unlike the -majority, he would not have aught to do with -them. Having a genius and a million, he lived -his life as he pleased; while welcoming his -friends, and opening wide his doors to distinguished -writers, artists and musicians, he held -the rest of the world at bay, and spent his days -with his books and pictures, playing the piano, -and superintending his gardens. So well did he -order his life that when in his eighty-fifth year -the flame was burning out, he could say truthfully, -“I have never known a moment’s <i>ennui</i>.”</p> - -<p>Beckford was born with a silver spoon in his -mouth. Wealth came to him from his father, the -Alderman, and aristocratic connections from his -mother, the daughter and co-heir of the Hon. -George Hamilton, second surviving son of the -Sixth Earl of Abercorn. Lord Chatham was his -godfather, and when the Alderman died in 1770, -not only did Lord Chatham, but also “the good -Lord Lyttelton” and Lord Camden, interest -themselves in the education of the ten-years-old -lad, who, if he lived to attain his majority, would -be the wealthiest commoner in England. The<span class="pagenum" title="194"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194"></a></span> -Rev. John Lettice was his tutor; Sir William -Chambers, who was then rebuilding Somerset -House, taught him architecture; and he studied -music under Mozart. He learnt declamation, too, -and at an early age won the approval of his godfather -by reciting with correct emphasis a passage -from Thucydides which he had previously translated -into English. “May you,” the aged statesman -said to his son William, “some day make as -brilliant a speaker.” The cynical may trace from -this remark the dislike that subsequently existed -between the younger Pitt and Beckford.</p> - -<p>“Great pains were bestowed upon my education,” -Beckford said in his old age. “I was living -amidst a fine collection of works of art, under -competent tutors. I was studious and diligent -from inclination. I was fond of reading whatever -came in my way. After my classical studies were -finished, and while I worked hard at Persian, I read -French and English biographies of all sorts.” How -much he profited by his education, and how well -he remembered what he read, is shown conclusively -by the numerous allusions to men and -books in the letters written when he was still a -lad. He seems, indeed, to have been taught, or to -have acquired by reading, some knowledge of -most subjects, except, as he subsequently admitted -regretfully, astronomy. Like most boys, he pre<span class="pagenum" title="195"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195"></a></span>ferred -the subjects of his own choosing to those -he was compelled to study. A chance discussion -as to whether the Abercorn branch of the -Hamilton family from which his mother was -descended was older than the ducal branch sent -him early to books of genealogy, and his reading -in this byway of history imbued him with a pride -of race that nothing could eradicate. His father’s -ancestry did not satisfy him, and he studied the -pedigree of his mother, and declared he could -trace it to John of Gaunt. He claimed the distinction -of being descended from all the barons -(of whom any issue remained) who signed Magna -Charta. At a very early age he came across a copy -of “The Arabian Nights”—and this chance find -had more effect upon his life and character than -any other incident. He read and re-read these -stories with avidity, and the impression they -made on him was so strong that Lord Chatham -instructed Lettice that the book must be kept from -the boy. The precaution came too late, for, though -the injunction was obeyed and for some years -“The Arabian Nights” was withheld from him, -the Oriental tales had taken possession of the -impressionable reader to such an extent that he -could never forget them. They had fired his -youthful mind and held his imagination captive; -their influence over him never waned all the days<span class="pagenum" title="196"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196"></a></span> -of his life; and while they inspired him with the -idea of “Vathek,” they also fostered in him the -love of magnificence, inherited from his father, -that resulted in the erection of Fonthill Abbey -and other extravagances. As a lad, owing to the -hold the stories had over him, he became a -dreamer and lived in an unreal world; and it is -not surprising, therefore, that, though of an -amiable disposition, he became wilful and capricious. -“Little Beckford was really disappointed -at not being in time to see you—a good mark -for my young <i>vivid</i> friend,” Lord Chatham wrote -to William Pitt, 9th October 1773. “He is just -as much compounded of the elements of <i>air and -fire</i> as he was. A due proportion of <i>terrestrial</i> -solidity will, I trust, come and make him -perfect.”</p> - -<p>A boy of thirteen who is all “air and fire” is -certain to be spoilt by a doting mother and made -much of by visitors to the house, and Beckford’s -wit was so much encouraged by almost all of -them that, in spite of Lettice’s admonitions, he -frequently got out of hand. Only his relative, the -old Duchess of Queensberry—Gay’s Duchess—who -lived in the neighbourhood, ventured to rebuke -him: when he treated her with some lack -of respect at her house, without making any -reply, she sent a servant for the great family<span class="pagenum" title="197"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197"></a></span> -Bible, and made the boy read a passage from the -Book of Solomon: “There it was, young man, -that I learnt <i>my</i> manners,” she said impressively; -“I hope you will remember what you have -read.”</p> - -<p>Mrs Beckford had refused to allow her son to -go to school, and she objected as strongly to send -him to a university, regarding the temptations -that would there be held out to a young man of -enormous wealth as more than counterbalancing -the advantages. Eventually it was decided that -the lad, now in his seventeenth year, should stay -with his relatives, Colonel and Miss Hamilton, -who lived at Geneva. Though for the first time -emancipated from maternal control, Beckford, -happy in his daydreams, showed no desire to -kick over the traces. It was at this time that -Beckford first gave expression to his intention to -adopt a mode of life different from that led by -most fashionable young men.</p> - -<p>“To receive Visits and to return them, to be -mighty civil, well-bred, quiet, prettily Dressed, -and smart is to be what your old Ladies call in -England a charming Gentleman, and what those -of the same stamps abroad know by the appellation -of <i>un homme comme il faut</i>. Such an Animal -how often am I doomed to be” (he wrote at the<span class="pagenum" title="198"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198"></a></span> -age of seventeen, in a letter hitherto unpublished). -“To pay and to receive fulsome Compliments from -the Learned, to talk with modesty and precision, -to sport an opinion gracefully, to adore Buffon -and d’Alembert, to delight in Mathematics, -logick, Geometry, and the rule of Right, the -<i>mal morale</i> and the <i>mal physique</i>, to despise poetry -and venerable Antiquity, murder Taste, abhor -imagination, detest all the charms of Eloquence -unless capable of mathematical Demonstration, -and more than all, to be vigorously incredulous, -is to gain the reputation of good sound Sense. -Such an Animal I am sometimes doomed to be. To -glory in Horses, to know how to knock up and -how to cure them, to smell of the stable, swear, -talk bawdy, eat roast beef, drink, speak bad -French, go to Lyons, and come back again with -manly disorders, are qualifications not despicable -in the Eyes of the English here. Such an Animal -I am determined not to be.”</p> - -<p>After a year and a half’s absence Beckford was -summoned to England, where he stayed for some -months, visiting various cities and country houses, -and composing his first book, “Biographical -Memoirs of Extraordinary Painters.” It was well -in keeping with the curious contradictions of -Beckford’s character, that, while his letters before<span class="pagenum" title="199"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199"></a></span> -and after, and even while he was engaged upon -the “Memoirs,” were so full of dreams, this work -should be an amusing burlesque. “I will explain -the origin of the ‘Memoirs,’ ” Beckford said to -Cyrus Redding in 1835, fifty-five years after its -publication. “The housekeeper at old Fonthill, -as is customary, used to get her fee by exhibiting -the pictures to those who came to see the building. -Once or twice I heard her give the most extraordinary -names to different artists. I wondered how -such nonsense could enter the brain of woman. -More than this, in her conceit she would at times -expatiate upon excellencies of which the picture -before her had no trace. The temptation was irresistible -in my humour. I was but seventeen. My -pen was quickly in hand composing the ‘Memoirs.’ -In future the housekeeper had a printed guide in -aid of her descriptions. She caught up my phrases; -the fictitious names of the wives, too, whom I -had given to my imaginary painters, were soon -learned in addition; her descriptions became -more picturesque, her language more graphic -than ever, to the sight-seeing people. Mine was -the text-book, whoever exhibited the paintings. -The book was soon on the tongues of all the -domestics. Many were the quotations current -upon the merits of Og of Basan and Watersouchy -of Amsterdam. Before a picture of Rubens<span class="pagenum" title="200"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200"></a></span> -or Murillo there was often a charming dissertation -upon the pencil of Herr Sucrewasser of -Vienna, or that great artist, Blunderbussiana of -Venice. I used to listen unobserved until I was -ready to kill myself with laughter, at the authorities -quoted to the squires and farmers of Wiltshire, -who took all for gospel. It was the most ridiculous -thing in effect you can conceive. Between sixty -and seventy years ago people did not know as -much of the fine arts as they do now. Not -but that they have still much to learn.” The -biographies of Aldrovandus Magnus of Bruges, -of Andrew Guelph and Og of Basan, disciples of -the former, of Sucrewasser of Vienna, Blunderbussiana -of Dalmatia, and Watersouchy of -Amsterdam, make up, as the author said in -his last years, “a laughable book”; but, indeed, -it is more than that, for it contains much brilliant -satire on the Dutch and Flemish schools, showing -that the writer, although so young, had profited -by his early training in art. “[It is] a performance,” -Lockhart wrote in 1834, “in which the -buoyancy of juvenile spirits sees of the results of -already extensive observation, and the judgments -of a refined (though far too fastidious and exclusive) -taste.”</p> - -<p>In June 1780 Beckford, with Lettice again as -his companion, went abroad for the second time,<span class="pagenum" title="201"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201"></a></span> -and visited Holland, Germany, Austria and Italy, -staying for a while at Naples with his relative, Sir -William Hamilton, whose first wife was then -living. During this tour the young traveller made -notes that soon after he expanded and printed -under the title of “Dreams, Waking Thoughts, -and Incidents.” This book is composed of impressionist -sketches made as his mind dictated, and -nowhere did he allow himself to be shackled by -the rules laid down by the compilers of works of -travel. If anyone wants full particulars of a town, -either topographical or historical, it is not to -“Dreams, Waking Thoughts, and Incidents” he -must turn; but if he desires exquisite word-pictures -inspired by a brilliant imagination and -conveyed with great literary skill, these he can -find to his heart’s content. The story goes that -the book was suppressed by the author acting -on the advice of his friends, who represented that -the brilliant imagination therein displayed would -create a prejudice against him when he should -enter the practical field of public life, but it can -scarcely be contended that this was the reason -why at the eleventh hour it was withdrawn. As -a matter of fact there were rumours, started no one -knows how, of grave misconduct on Beckford’s -part, and probably it was thought that the tendency -to romance laid bare in the work might give<span class="pagenum" title="202"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202"></a></span> -some colour to them. These rumours endured -through Beckford’s life, and the scandal was -certainly widely circulated, but there seems to -have been absolutely no grounds whatever for the -charges. That Beckford should deny the charges -was a matter of course, and, indeed, he protested -passionately against them; but even John Mitford, -an envenomed critic of his brother-author, had to -admit that Samuel Richard White, Beckford’s -solicitor, who knew more about the matter than -anyone else, after his client’s death as during -his life, declared his firm belief in Beckford’s -innocence.</p> - -<p>In due course there were the coming-of-age -festivities at Fonthill, and then another Continental -tour, when Beckford was accompanied -by so large a suite that at Augsburg he was -mistaken for the Emperor of Austria, who at the -time was known to be travelling incognito to Italy. -Early in 1783, when he was two and twenty years -of age, he came to England, saw, wooed, and -married Lady Margaret Gordon, the sole surviving -daughter of the Fourth Earl of Aboyne.</p> - -<p>The years 1783 to 1786 make little call upon -Beckford’s biographer. The honeymoon had been -spent in travelling, and when it was over the -bride and bridegroom, still ardent lovers, stayed -for a while at Cologny, near Geneva. Towards<span class="pagenum" title="203"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203"></a></span> -the end of the year, having made up their minds -to sojourn for an indefinite period under southern -skies, they decided to rent a more commodious -residence, and took up their quarters at the -Château de la Tour, near Vevey. There, in -June 1784, was born a daughter, Susan Euphemia, -and, on 14th May 1786, another, Margaret Maria -Elizabeth. A fortnight later the young mother -died. The marriage had been an ideal union, and -Beckford’s grief was terrible. His friends, fearful -of his losing his reason or taking his life, moved -him from place to place, hoping that change -of scene might distract his thoughts, even -momentarily, from the loss. To some extent this -plan was successful, for after some weeks Beckford -became again a reasonable being. He allowed -arrangements to be made for his children to live -with his mother, then residing at West End, -between the villages of Hampstead and Kilburn; -but himself continued to move restlessly from town -to town, seeking, not change of place so much as -change of thought. Though time mercifully -mitigated the transports of his grief, it never -ousted from his mind the memory of his gracious, -beautiful wife. Rarely he spoke of her, but when -he did mention her it was in a way which made it -clear that she was always in his mind; though -his wealth and genius made him the target of<span class="pagenum" title="204"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204"></a></span> -fortune-hunters, he never even thought to marry -again; and his tender memories of her, enduring -through the passage of years, acting upon an -emotional nature, may have had more to do -with his subsequent retirement than is generally -supposed.</p> - -<p>Before Beckford left England for his second -Continental tour he had begun the composition -of a “Suite des Contes arabes.” Of this the -principal story was “Vathek,” which he completed -while he was abroad. He sent the manuscript -in 1783 to his friend, the Rev. Samuel -Henley, who was delighted with it, and volunteered -to translate it into English. The offer was -accepted, but Henley proceeded leisurely with -the work, which, with the notes added by him, -was not finished until early in 1786. Beckford, -however, was desirous to insert in “Vathek” the -stories of the Princes whom his hero met in the -Hall of Eblis, and he told Henley that on no -account must the publication of the translation -precede that of the original. Henley, however, -ignored the author’s injunction, and issued the -translation later in the year, and made matters -worse by stating that the tale was of Eastern -origin: Beckford hereupon made the only rejoinder -in his power, and issued the French -original at Lausanne.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" title="205"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205"></a></span></p> - -<p>After bringing his children to England Beckford -returned to the Continent, where he remained -until 1794, visiting Spain and Portugal, where he -wrote another book of travels, and staying for -some time in Paris, where he witnessed the fall -of the Bastille and the execution of Louis XVI. -At Paris he was at one time mistaken for an -English spy, and he was in danger of arrest, from -which he was saved by the devotion of the -second-hand bookseller, Chardin, who contrived -his escape in disguise to England, for which -he was rewarded by Beckford with a pension. -Subsequently Beckford endeavoured, through -his agent at Paris, to set on foot, in 1797, -negotiations for a peace between France and -this country.</p> - -<p>After 1794 Beckford seldom left England -except to pay brief visits to Paris. At Fonthill -he employed James Wyatt, the architect, to -make improvements in the house his father had -built; and subsequently he erected a new house, -the famous Fonthill Abbey, a magnificent but -unsubstantial Gothic structure. Once Beckford -was asked if the Abbey was built from his own -plan. “No, I have sins enough to answer for, -without having that laid to my charge,” he -answered. “Wyatt had an opportunity of raising -a splendid monument to his fame, but he missed<span class="pagenum" title="206"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206"></a></span> -it.” But whatever was said against the Abbey, no -one had anything but praise for the gardens and -park, which were, indeed, beautiful. Beckford -lived at Fonthill until 1822, when, owing to the -depreciation of his property in the West Indies, -he sold the place and moved to Bath, where he -remained until his death twenty-two years later.</p> - -<p>Though Beckford had many visitors at Fonthill, -he was singularly independent of company, -having more resources in himself than usually falls -to the lot of a man. “I love building, planting, -gardening, whatever will keep me employed in -the open air,” he said; and, while the Abbey -was being built and the grounds laid out, he -might have been seen at all hours of the day, -and sometimes, too, at night, watching the -progress of the operations. He charged himself -with the welfare of his workmen, of whom -there were never less than two hundred in his -employ; he visited the poor on his estates, and -made provision for those who could not help -themselves.</p> - -<p>Beckford’s indoor occupations were numerous. -It has been said, and with some show of reason, -that he was the most accomplished man of his -time. He was a good musician, he could sketch, -he spoke five modern European tongues, and could -write three of them with elegance, he was well<span class="pagenum" title="207"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207"></a></span> -acquainted with Persian, Arabic, and, of course, -the Latin and Greek classics; while his reading -was at least as extensive as that of any of his -contemporaries. Anyone who has these accomplishments -can scarcely be dull, and Beckford, in -addition, was an enthusiastic collector of books, -pictures, and other treasures, in pursuit of which -he frequently went to London to inspect the -dealers’ stocks of scarce volumes and fine paintings. -Though he yielded to none in his love of -tall copies, splendid bindings and rare editions, -he was student as well as collector: and it was -characteristic of his tastes that while, in later -life, he sometimes disposed of a picture, he never -sold a book. Even as in his youth he secluded -himself at Lausanne to read Gibbon’s library, -which he had purchased, so afterwards he rarely -put on his shelves any volume until he had made -himself acquainted with its contents; and, large -as his library was, to the end of his days he could -without a moment’s hesitation put his hand on -any book or print he possessed. It was his habit -to annotate his books, and to write some brief -criticism on the fly-leaf. Sometimes his comments -covered three or four pages, and one of the most -valuable items offered at the sale of his library, -in 1882–1883, was this item, knocked down to -Quaritch for forty-two pounds: “Beckfordiana.<span class="pagenum" title="208"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208"></a></span> -Transcript from the autograph notes written by -Mr Beckford on the fly-leaves of various works -in his library, 7 vols., Manuscript (folio).” His -comments were unusually shrewd, and often so -caustic as to suggest that had he been obliged to -earn his living he might well have turned an -honest penny by contributing to one or other of -the quarterlies in the days when severity was the -motto of these periodicals.</p> - -<p>In Wiltshire Beckford rarely went beyond -the limits of his estate, except when driving to -London; but at Bath he might occasionally be -seen at a concert or a flower show, and not infrequently -riding on his cream-coloured Arabian, -either alone, attended by three grooms, two -behind and one in front as an outrider, or in -company with the Duke of Hamilton or a friend. -He was always dressed in a great-coat with cloth -buttons, a buff-striped waistcoat, breeches of the -same kind of cloth as the coat, and brown top -boots, the fine cotton stockings appearing over -them, in the fashion of thirty or forty years -before. He wore his hair powdered, and with his -handsome face and fine eyes looked every inch the -fine old English gentleman.</p> - -<p>These appearances in public were the only -difference between the life Beckford led at -Fonthill and at Bath. In fine weather it was<span class="pagenum" title="209"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209"></a></span> -his invariable custom to rise early, ride to the -tower he had erected at Lansdown, look at the -flowers, and walk back to his house for breakfast. -He would then read until noon, transact business -with his steward, and afterwards ride out for -exercise, again visiting the tower, if there was -any planting or building going on. After dinner, -which in those days was served in the afternoon, -unless he had a visitor, he would retire to his -library, and occupy himself with his correspondence, -his books and his prints, and the examination -of catalogues of sales sent to him by the -London dealers. This routine was seldom varied, -except when he went to London, where by this -time he had removed from No. 22 Grosvenor -Square to a house, No. 127 Park Street, -overlooking Hyde Park, which, owing to its -somewhat unwholesome insanitary condition, he -styled, and dated from, “Cesspool House.” In -1841, because of its many defects, he gave up -this residence.</p> - -<p>The Bath aristocracy and the fashionable folk -who flocked to the watering-place could not -understand how books and pictures, music and -gardens, could occupy anyone to the exclusion of -participation in the gaieties of the town; and -the rumours that had been current in Wiltshire -society were revived with interest in the little<span class="pagenum" title="210"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210"></a></span> -Somersetshire valley. The most awful crimes -were placed to his account, and with them -accusations of devil-worship and the study of -astrology. Nothing was too terrible or too absurd -with which to charge the man of mystery, and, -we are told, “surmises were current about a brood -of dwarfs that vegetated in an apartment built -over the archway connecting his two houses; -and the vulgar, rich and poor alike, gave a sort -of half-credit to cabalistical monstrosities invoked -in that apartment.”</p> - -<p>Though in his later years Beckford rarely indulged -in the pleasures of authorship, he did not -underrate his literary gifts, and he saw with -pleasure that “Vathek” was taking the place in -English literature to which it was entitled. New -editions were called for, and in 1834 it took its -place among Bentley’s Standard Novels. The -venture must have been profitable, for Bentley -became Beckford’s publisher-in-chief. He at once -took over the “Biographical Memoirs of Extraordinary -Painters,” and in 1834 issued “Italy, -with Sketches of Spain and Portugal”—a work -that appeared in the same year also in Baudry’s -European Library, published in Paris. In 1835 -Bentley brought out “Alcobaça and Batalha,” -and five years later republished this and the earlier -book of travels in one volume—the last edition<span class="pagenum" title="211"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211"></a></span> -of any of Beckford’s books issued in the author’s -lifetime. Beckford’s interest in the various publications -was very considerable, and his annoyance -with adverse critics is only to be compared with -the anger he displayed when rival collectors at -auction sales snatched treasures from his grasp. -The adverse critics of “Italy, with Sketches of -Spain and Portugal,” however, were few and far -between. It was, indeed, received with a chorus -of praise, and no one cried “Bravo!” louder -than Lockhart, who reviewed the work in <i>The -Quarterly Review</i>.</p> - -<p>Though Beckford lived to the patriarchal age -of eighty-four, almost to the last hour of his life -he enjoyed good health. It has already been said -that when nearly eighty he declared he had never -known a moment’s <i>ennui</i>: few men have been able -to say so much; yet there is no doubt this was -true, for he had stumbled upon the secret that -only the idle man is bored. Beckford was never -idle; he had made so many interests for himself -that every moment of his day was occupied. A -man of his age who, in his last weeks, retains all -his enthusiasms for his books, his prints and his -gardens, may well claim that he has made a -success of life. His intellectual power never waned, -his sight was preserved to him unimpaired, and -at seventy-eight he could read from manuscript<span class="pagenum" title="212"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212"></a></span> -for an hour and a half without resting. When -his last illness overtook him, he was busily engaged -in marking a catalogue of M. Nodier’s -library, the sale of which at Paris his agent was -to attend to make purchases: he was as enthusiastic -about his collections at the age of eighty-four -as he had been when he took up his residence -at Fonthill fifty years before.</p> - -<p>Physically, too, considering his great age, he -was wonderfully active, and until within a few -days of his death he took regular exercise on foot -and on horseback. When he was seventy-seven -he astonished a friend by mentioning that he -had on the previous day at dusk ridden from -Cheapside to his house in Park Street; and a -year later he stated, “I never feel fatigue. I can -walk twenty to thirty miles a day; and I only -use my carriage (in London) on account of its -being convenient to put a picture or book into -it, which I happen to purchase in my rambles.” -At seventy-five his activity was so great that he -could mount rapidly to the top of the tower at -Lansdown without halting—“no small exertion,” -comments Cyrus Redding feelingly, “for many -who were fifteen or twenty years younger”: and -even eight years later, during his visits to London, -he would ride to Hampstead Heath, or through -Hyde Park, and along the Edgware Road to<span class="pagenum" title="213"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213"></a></span> -West End, and pull up his horse opposite the -spot where once had been the entrance to his -mother’s house.</p> - -<p>Most men who live to an advanced age have -some theory to account for it. Beckford had none, -beyond believing that his days had probably been -prolonged by the fact that his life had been -temperate, and that, as he grew older, he took -reasonable care of himself. “I enjoy too good -health, feel too happy, and am too much pleased -with life to have any inclination to throw it away -for want of attention,” he said. “When I am -summoned I must go, though I should not much -mind living another hundred years, and, as far -as my health goes at present, I see no reason why -I should not.” Thus, when going out he would -put on an overcoat, even if there were only the -slightest wind stirring; and, however interested -or amused he might be, he would always retire -early; but while he took such precautions as -these, he was in no sense a valetudinarian. His -love of fresh air, and his activity, together with -the regular life he led, undoubtedly had much -to do with his attaining his great age.</p> - -<p>Until the last week of April 1844, Beckford -occupied himself in his usual way, walking and -riding, and working in his library. Then influenza -laid hold of him, and though he struggled man<span class="pagenum" title="214"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214"></a></span>fully -against it, at last there was no doubt that -the end was near. He sent a last laconic note to -his surviving daughter, the Duchess of Hamilton, -“Come quick! quick!” and a day or two after -her arrival, on 2nd May, he expired, with perfect -resignation, and, we are told, so peacefully that -those by his side could not tell the moment when -he passed away.</p> - -<p>His mortal remains were, on 11th May, interred -in the Bath Abbey Cemetery; but soon after they -were removed, and reburied, more appropriately, -at Lansdown, under the shadow of his tower. On -one side of his tomb is a quotation from “Vathek,” -“Enjoying humbly the most precious gift of -heaven to man—Hope”; and on another these -lines from his poem, “A Prayer”:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse indent12">“Eternal Power!</div> -<div class="verse">Grant me, through obvious clouds one transient gleam</div> -<div class="verse">Of thy bright essence in my dying hour.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" title="219"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219"></a></span></p> -<h2>Charles James Fox</h2> - - -<p class="dropcap">Charles James Fox, one of the -most brilliant personalities, if not, indeed, -the most brilliant personality, -that flourished in the last decades of the eighteenth -century, was the third son of Henry Fox, afterwards -Baron Holland of Foxley, and Lady -Georgiana Lennox, daughter of Charles, second -Duke of Richmond, a grandson of Charles II. -The future statesman was born on 24th January -1749, and as he grew up it was thought that -a resemblance to his royal ancestor could be -traced in his dark, harsh and saturnine features, -that “derived a sort of majesty from the addition -of two black and shaggy eyebrows, which sometimes -concealed, but more frequently developed, -the workings of his mind.” He was a bright, -lively and original child, but subject to violent -excesses of temper. “Charles is dreadfully passionate,” -said his mother. “What shall we do with -him?” “Oh, never mind. He is a very sensible -little fellow, and he will learn to cure himself,” -replied his father, who perceived and was proud -of the lad’s unusual ability. “Let nothing be -done to break his spirit; the world will effect -that business soon enough.”</p> - -<p>At a private school at Wandsworth, and subsequently -at Eton, where Dr Philip Francis was -his private tutor, the lad showed himself both<span class="pagenum" title="220"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220"></a></span> -intelligent and diligent. His education was interrupted -in 1763, when his father took him to -Paris and Spa, and at that early age initiated him -into the mysteries of gaming, the passion for -which was subsequently to exercise a most adverse -influence on him. On his return to Eton -his newly acquired knowledge of the world -demoralised his companions, and he gave himself -airs and thought himself a man until the -headmaster birched him, and so brought him -down to earth. In 1764 he went to Hertford -College, Oxford, preceded by a reputation for -Latin verse, a considerable knowledge of French, -and a power of oratory unusual in one so young, -but which he attributed to the fact that at home -he had always been encouraged to think freely, -and as freely to express his opinions. At the -University he read deeply in classics and history, -and the taste then developed endured through -life, for, while he indulged in many frivolities, -he would in the midst of them steal a few hours -to devote to the books of which he never wearied. -Towards the end of his days he put his learning -into harness, and wrote a history of the reign of -James II. and an account of the Revolution of -1688 that do not deserve to be relegated to -obscurity.</p> - -<p>Much has been written about the faults of<span class="pagenum" title="221"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221"></a></span> -Fox, but some of them, at least, should not be -held greatly to his discredit, since they were the -faults of the age. Wine, women and cards were -the occupations of his companions, and not of -the unintelligent only. Everybody drank and -drank deeply, drank in pursuit of pleasure, drank -to drown sorrow.</p> - -<p>“I dined at Holland House” (wrote the Right -Honourable Charles Rigby upon one occasion to -George Selwyn), “where, though I drank claret -with the master of it from dinner till two in the -morning, I could not wash away the sorrow he is -in at the shocking condition his eldest boy is in.”</p> - -<p>Fox, Sheridan, Pitt and, notably, Professor -Porson were three-bottle men, and it was not -unusual for politicians to go to Westminster Hall -in a state of insobriety.</p> - -<p>“Fox drinks what I should call a great deal, -though he is not reckoned to do so by his companions; -Sheridan, excessively, and Grey more -than any of them; while Pitt, I am told, drinks -as much as anybody, generally more than any of -his company, and is a pleasant, convivial man at -table,”</p> - -<p>Sir Gilbert Elliot has recorded; and Lord -Bulkeley wrote to the Marquis of Buckingham<span class="pagenum" title="222"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222"></a></span> -à propos of Pitt bringing in the Declaratory Bill -of the powers of the Board of Control:</p> - -<p>“It was an awkward day for him (owing to the -defection of some friends), and he felt it the -more because he himself was low-spirited, and -overcome by the heat of the House, in consequence -of having got drunk the night before at -your house in Pall Mall, with Mr Dundas and -the <i>Duchess of Gordon</i>! They must have had a -hard bout of it, for even Dundas, who is well -used to the bottle, was affected by it, and spoke -remarkably ill, dull and tedious.”</p> - -<p>One reads with amazement of a Chancellor of -the Exchequer, a Lord Chancellor and a -Treasurer of the Navy—Pitt, Thurlow and -Dundas—excited by wine galloping through a -turnpike gate without paying the toll, and the -man, mistaking them for highwaymen, discharging -his blunderbuss. This exploit was duly -noted in “The Rolliad.”</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent">“Ah! think what danger on debauch attends!</div> -<div class="verse">Let Pitt o’er wine preach temperance to his friends,</div> -<div class="verse">How, as he wandered darkling o’er the plain,</div> -<div class="verse">His reason drowned in Jenkinson’s champagne,</div> -<div class="verse">A rustic’s hand, but righteous fate withstood,</div> -<div class="verse">Had shed a Premier’s for a robber’s blood.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" title="223"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223"></a></span></p> - -<p>A great drinker, too, was Jack Talbot of the -Coldstream Guards, and it was of him, when the -doctor said: “My lord, he is in a bad way, for I -was obliged to make use of the lancet this -morning,” that the witty Alvanley remarked: -“You should have <i>tapped</i> him, Doctor, for I am -sure he has more claret than blood in his veins.” -Another was the eccentric Twistleton Fiennes, -Lord Saye and Sele, a famous epicure, who -drank large quantities of absinthe and curaçoa. -Gronow recommended him a servant, who, -arriving as Fiennes was going to dinner, asked -his new master if he had any orders, only to -receive these instructions: “Place two bottles -of sherry by my bedside, and call me the day -after to-morrow!”</p> - -<p>Gambling vied with drinking as an amusement -of the aristocracy, and the one was as ruinous to -their purses as the other to their health. Everyone -played cards in those days, and even ladies -gambled with as much zest as their husbands and -brothers. There was much card-playing in private -houses, but more in the clubs, especially at -White’s, Brooks’s and Almack’s.</p> - -<p>“As the gambling and extravagance of the young -men of fashion has arrived now at a pitch never -heard of, it is worth while to give some account<span class="pagenum" title="224"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224"></a></span> -of it” (Walpole wrote in 1772). “They have a -club at Almack’s in Pall Mall, where they played -only for rouleaus of fifty pounds each rouleau; and -generally there was ten thousand pounds in specie -on the table. Lord Holland had paid about -twenty thousand pounds for his two sons. Nor -were the manners of the gamesters, or even their -dresses for play, undeserving notice. They began -by pulling off their embroidered clothes, and put -on frieze great-coats, or turned their coats inside -outwards for luck. They put on pieces of leather -(such as is worn by footmen when they clean -knives) to save their lace ruffles; and to guard -their eyes from the light and prevent tumbling -their hair, wore high-crowned straw hats with -broad brims, and adorned with flowers and -ribbons; masks to conceal their emotions when -they played at quinze. Each gamester had a small, -neat stand by him, with a large rim, to hold their -tea, or a wooden bowl with an edge of ormolu -to hold their rouleaus. They borrowed great -sums of the Jews at exorbitant premiums. Charles -Fox called his outward room, where those Jews -waited till he rose, the Jerusalem Chamber. His -brother Stephen was enormously fat; George -Selwyn said he was in the right to deal with -Shylocks, as he could give them ‘pounds of -flesh.’ ”</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 440px;"> -<img src="images/illus_239.jpg" width="440" height="570" alt="" /> -<div><p class="tac fs120"><i>Charles James Fox</i></p></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" title="225"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225"></a></span></p> - -<p>It is not exaggeration to say that during the -long sittings at macao, hazard, and faro many -tens of thousands exchanged hands.</p> - -<p>Fox was a magnificent player of piquet and -whist, but in the evenings, when he had dined -well and wined well, he would play only games -of chance, at which he was always unlucky.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent">“At Almack’s of pigeons I’m told there are flocks,</div> -<div class="verse">But it’s thought the completest is one Mr Fox.</div> -<div class="verse">If he touches a card, if he rattles a box,</div> -<div class="verse">Away fly the guineas of this Mr Fox.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Once, before delivering a speech in defence of -the Church, he played for twenty-two hours, and -lost five hundred pounds an hour; and then declared -that the greatest pleasure in life, after -winning, was losing! His bad luck was notorious, -but again and again his intimates came to his -assistance, and Walpole wondered what he would -do when he had sold the estates of all his friends! -It was noticed that he did not do himself justice -in a debate on the Thirty-Nine Articles (6th -February 1772), and Walpole thought it was -not to be wondered at.</p> - -<p>“He had sat up playing at hazard at Almack’s -from Tuesday evening, the 4th, till five in the -afternoon of Wednesday, 5th. An hour before, he<span class="pagenum" title="226"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226"></a></span> -had recovered twelve thousand pounds that he -had lost, and by dinner, which was at five o’clock, -he had ended losing eleven thousand pounds. -On the Thursday he spoke in the above debate, -went to dinner at half-past eleven at night, from -there to White’s, where he drank till seven the -next morning, thence to Almack’s, where he won -six thousand pounds, and between three and four -in the afternoon he set out for Newmarket. His -brother Stephen lost ten thousand pounds two -nights after, and Charles eleven thousand pounds -more on the 13th, so that in three nights the two -brothers, the eldest not twenty-four, lost thirty-two -thousand pounds.”</p> - -<p>The wonder is, not that Fox spoke ill, but that -he spoke at all.</p> - -<p>They were good losers in those days, and stoicism -was a very necessary quality to be possessed -by the majority, since all played and few won. -One night, when Fox had been terribly unfortunate -at the faro-table, Topham Beauclerk -followed him to his rooms to offer consolation, -expecting to find him perhaps stretched on the -floor bewailing his losses, perhaps plunged -in moody despair. He was surprised to see him -reading Herodotus. “What would you have me -do?” Fox asked the astonished visitor. “I have<span class="pagenum" title="227"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227"></a></span> -lost my last shilling.” “Charles tells me he has -not now, nor has had for some time, one guinea,” -Lord Carlisle told George Selwyn, “and is happier -on that account.”</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent">“But hark! the voice of battle shouts from far,</div> -<div class="verse">The Jews and Macaronis are at war;</div> -<div class="verse">The Jews prevail, and, thund’ring from the stocks,</div> -<div class="verse">They seize, they bind, they circumcise Charles Fox.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The money-lenders were most obliging to -Fox at the time when he was heir-apparent to -the barony of Holland, but the holder of the -title had an heir, which destroyed his prospects; -whereupon Fox, unperturbed, made it the subject -of a joke against his creditors: “My brother Ste’s -son is a second Messiah, born for the destruction -of the Jews.” He lived on credit for some time, -and so notorious was this fact that when he gave -a supper-party at his rooms in St James’s Street, -close by Brooks’s Club, Tickell addressed verses -thereon to Sheridan:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent">“Derby shall send, if not his plate, his cooks;</div> -<div class="verse">And know, I’ve bought the best champagne from Brooks,</div> -<div class="verse">From liberal Brooks, whose speculative skill</div> -<div class="verse">Is hasty credit and a distant bill;</div> -<div class="verse">Who, nursed on clubs, disdains a vulgar trade,</div> -<div class="verse">Exults to trust, and blushes to be paid.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Lord Holland had already paid his son’s debts<span class="pagenum" title="228"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228"></a></span> -on several occasions, and apparently some remonstrance -was addressed to the latter.</p> - -<p>“In regard to what you say of my father’s feelings, -I am sure if you could have known how -very miserable you have made me you would -not have said it” (Fox wrote in 1773 to Lady -Holland, in a letter in which there is the true -note of sincerity). “To be loved by you and him -has always been (indeed, I am no hypocrite, -whatever I may be) the first desire of my life. -The reflection that I have behaved ill to you is -almost the only painful one I have ever experienced. -That my extreme imprudence and dissipation -has given both of you uneasiness is what I -have long known, and I am sure I may call those -who really know me to witness how much that -thought has embittered my life. I own I lately -began to flatter myself that, particularly with -you, and in a great measure with my father, I -had regained that sort of confidence which was -once the greatest pride of my life; and I am sure -I don’t exaggerate when I say that, since I formed -those flattering hopes, I have been the happiest -being in the universe. I hate to make professions, -and yet I think I may venture to say that my -conduct in the future shall be such as to satisfy -you more than my past. Indeed, indeed, my dear<span class="pagenum" title="229"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229"></a></span> -mother, no son ever loved a father and mother -as I do. Pray, my dear mother, consider how very -miserable you have made me, and pity me. I do -not know what to write, so have to leave off -writing, but you may be assured that no son ever -felt more duty, respect, gratitude, or love than I -do for both of you, and that it is in your power, -by restoring me to your usual confidence and -affection, or depriving me of it, to make me the -most unhappy or contented of men.”</p> - -<p>Once again Lord Holland took upon himself -the settlement of Charles’s debt, and just before -his death, in 1774, satisfied his son’s creditors—at -a cost of £140,000! Even this was not a -sufficient lesson to the young man, who incurred -fresh liabilities, to pay which he sold a sinecure -place of £2000 a year for life—the Clerkship of -the Peels in Ireland, and the superbly decorated -mansion and estate at Kingsgate in the Isle of -Thanet, both of which had been left him by his -father.</p> - -<p>Fox in his twentieth year entered Parliament -as member for the pocket borough of Midhurst -in Sussex, and, at his father’s request, supported -the Duke of Grafton’s administration. He took -his seat in May 1768, and distinguished himself -in the following year by a speech opposing the<span class="pagenum" title="230"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230"></a></span> -claim of Wilkes to take his seat as member for -Middlesex. “It was all off-hand, all argumentative, -in reply to Mr Burke and Mr Wedderburn, -and excessively well indeed,” Lord Holland said -proudly. “I hear it spoken of as an extraordinary -thing, and I am, as you see, not a little pleased -with it.” This was the age of young men, for -Fox’s lifelong antagonist, Pitt, entered the House -when he was twenty-two, accepted the Chancellorship -of the Exchequer twelve months later, and -became Prime Minister in his twenty-fifth year! -The careers of these statesmen must have delighted -another precocious genius, Benjamin -Disraeli, who reverenced youth. “The only -tolerable thing in life is action, and action is -feeble without youth,” he wrote. “What if you -do not obtain your immediate object? You always -think you will, and the detail of the adventure -is full of rapture.” The blunders of youth, -that great man thought, are preferable to the -triumph of manhood or the successes of old -age.</p> - -<p>In February 1770 Fox took office under Lord -North as Lord of the Admiralty, when, owing -to his attitude in the debates on the Press laws, -he became so unpopular with a section of the -public as actually to be attacked in the streets, -and rolled in the mud. It has already been men<span class="pagenum" title="231"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231"></a></span>tioned -how, in February 1772, he spoke against -the clerical petition for relief from subscription -to the Thirty-Nine Articles; and later, in the -same month, he resigned his office so as to be -free to oppose the Royal Marriage Bill, which -was introduced by the King’s command after the -announcement of the Duke of Cumberland’s -marriage with Mrs Horton. The King was determined, -so far as it lay in his power, to prevent -the occurrence in his family of another <i>mésalliance</i>, -and the principal clauses of the Royal Marriage -Act forbade the marriage of a member of the -royal family under the age of twenty-five without -the consent of the monarch, and above that age, -if the King refused consent, without the permission -of both Houses of Parliament. The Bill was -fiercely contested in both Houses of Parliament; -Fox, Burke, and Wedderburn were its most -strenuous opponents in the Commons; Lord -Folkestone, in person, and Lord Chatham, by -letter, in the Lords. It was denounced by its -opponents as “un-English, arbitrary, and contrary -to the law of God”; and the objection raised -was that it would set the royal family as a caste -apart. So unpopular was it that, in spite of the -King’s influence being exerted in its favour, an -amendment limiting it to the reign of George III. -and three years longer was negatived only by a<span class="pagenum" title="232"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232"></a></span> -majority of eighteen. The Bill became law in -March 1772.</p> - -<p>Fox began to be recognised as a power in the -House, and Lord North soon made overtures to -his erstwhile colleague to rejoin the ministry as -a Lord of the Treasury. This Fox did within a -year of his resignation, but his independence soon -brought about another rupture; and when, on a -question of procedure, he caused the defeat of the -ministry by pressing a motion to a division, the -King wrote to Lord North: “Indeed, that young -man has so thoroughly cast off every principle of -common honour and honesty that he must become -as contemptible as he is odious, and I hope you -will let him know you are not insensible of his -conduct towards you.” The Prime Minister took -the hint, and dismissed Fox in a delightfully -laconic note: “Sir, His Majesty has thought -proper to order a new Commission of the -Treasury, in which I do not see your name.”</p> - -<p>In opposition Fox was a vigorous opponent of -Lord North’s policy in connection with the -American colonies. In April 1774 he voted for -the repeal of the tea duty, declaring that the tax -was the mere assertion of a right that would force -the colonists into open rebellion; and he attacked -the subsequent proceedings of the English government -on account of their manifest injustice.<span class="pagenum" title="233"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233"></a></span> -Against the war that ensued he protested with -might and main, and to the utmost of his power -tried to force the ministry into a pacific path.</p> - -<p>“The war of the Americans is a war of passion” -(he declared on 26th November 1778); “it is of -such a nature as to be supported by the most -powerful virtues, love of liberty and of country, -and at the same time by those passions in the -human heart which give courage, strength and -perseverance to man; the spirit of revenge for -the injury you have done them, of retaliation for -the hardships inflicted on them, and of opposition -to the unjust powers you would have exercised -over them; everything combines to animate -them to this war, and such a war is without -end; for whatever obstinacy enthusiasm ever -inspired man with, you will now have to contend -with in America; no matter what gives -birth to that enthusiasm, whether the name of -religion or of liberty, the effects are the same; -it inspires a spirit that is unconquerable and -solicitous to undergo difficulties and dangers; -and as long as there is a man in America, so long -will you have him against you in the field.”</p> - -<p>And in the following year he compared -George III. with Henry VI.—“both owed the<span class="pagenum" title="234"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234"></a></span> -Crown to revolutions, both were pious princes, and -both lost the acquisitions of their predecessors”—and -so earned the enmity of the King, who could -not differentiate between doctrine and action; and -because Fox supported the rights of the Americans -looked upon him henceforth as a rebel. Later, -when of all the colonies only Boston remained -in the hands of the English, and Wedderburn -with foolhardy audacity ventured in the House -of Commons to compare North as a War Minister -with Chatham, Fox created a sensation by declaring -that “not Lord Chatham, nor Alexander -the Great, nor Cæsar ever conquered so much -territory in the course of all their wars as Lord -North had lost in one campaign!” In January -1781 he made a further effort, in which he was -supported by Pitt, to compel Lord North to -abandon the war and make peace with the -colonies.</p> - -<p>“The only objection made to my motion” (he -declared) “is that it must lead to American independence. -But I venture to assert that <i>within six -months of the present day</i>, Ministers themselves will -come forward to Parliament with some proposition -of a similar nature. I know that such is their -intention; I announce it to the House.”</p> - -<p>Of course his resolution was defeated, and the<span class="pagenum" title="235"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235"></a></span> -colonies were for ever lost to the Crown. “I that -am born a gentleman,” said George III. to Lord -Thurlow and the Duke of Leeds, “shall never -lay my head on my last pillow in peace and quiet -as long as I remember the loss of my American -colonies.” Not the less, the King never forgave -Fox for that attitude which might have averted -the disaster.</p> - -<p>Fox, who had declined office in 1780, was two -years later appointed Foreign Secretary when -Lord Rockingham became Prime Minister, and -in this position he won golden opinions.</p> - -<p>“Mr Fox already shines as greatly in place as -he did in opposition, though infinitely more -difficult a task” (Walpole wrote to Mr Horace -Mann). “He is now as indefatigable as he was -idle. He has perfect temper, and not only good -humour and good nature, but, which is the first -quality of a Prime Minister in a free country, -has more common sense than any man, with -amazing parts that are neither ostentatious nor -affected.”</p> - -<p>Lord Rockingham died a few months later, -when Lord Shelburne was appointed in his place, -and soon after Fox, with some of his colleagues, -withdrew from the Ministry. The cause of his<span class="pagenum" title="236"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236"></a></span> -secession was said to be that Fox wished to -grant independence to the American colonies as -a boon, and Lord Shelburne would regard it only -as a bargain; but the underlying reasons were -Fox’s hatred of the man and jealousy aroused by -the exclusion from office of the Duke of Portland. -It was to Lord Shelburne, who was most unpopular -and suspected of insincerity, that Goldsmith -made his singularly <i>mal à propos</i> remark: -“Do you know, I could never conceive the -reason why they call you Malagrida, for Malagrida -was a very good sort of man!”</p> - -<p>Fox allied himself with Lord North, and as -they had a large majority in the House of -Commons, Lord Shelburne resigned in February -1784. The King was furious, but being -powerless, was compelled to appoint as First -Minister of the Crown the Duke of Portland, -under whom Pitt and Lord North held office as -Secretaries of State.</p> - -<p>In the previous year the Prince of Wales had -come of age, and had at once attached himself -to the Opposition, who naturally welcomed so -powerful an ally.</p> - -<p>“The Prince of Wales has thrown himself into -the arms of Charles, and this in the most indecent -and undisguised manner” (Walpole wrote to Sir<span class="pagenum" title="237"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237"></a></span> -Horace Mann). “Fox lodged in St James’s Street, -and as soon as he rose, which was very late, held -a <i>levée</i> of his followers, and of the members of -the Gambling Club at Brooks’s, all his disciples. -His bristly, black person, and shagged breast -quite open, and rarely purified by any ablutions, -was wrapped in a foul linen night-gown, and his -bushy hair dishevelled. In these cynic weeds, and -with epicurean good humour, did he dictate his -politics, and in this school did the heir to the -Crown attend his lessons and imbibe them.”</p> - -<p>Fox told his new adherent that a Prince of -Wales should have no party, but, his advice -being disregarded, when the opinion was expressed -that the Prince should not attend the -debates in the House of Commons, he intervened -in defence of his friend.</p> - -<p>“Is the mind, which may at any hour, by the -common changes of mortality, be summoned to -the highest duties allotted to man, to be left to -learn them by accident?” (he asked). “For my -part I rejoice to see this distinguished person disdaining -to use the privileges of his rank and keep -aloof from the debates of this House. I rejoice to -see him manfully coming among us, to imbibe a -knowledge of the Constitution within the walls<span class="pagenum" title="238"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238"></a></span> -of the Commons of England. I, for my part, see -nothing in the circumstance which has called -down so much voluntary eloquence.”</p> - -<p>There were many, however, who disapproved -of this alliance, and many attacks were made -upon Fox, who was the subject of many lampoons.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent">“Though matters at present go cross in the realm,</div> -<div class="verse">You will one day be <span class="nowrap">K——</span>g, Sir, and I at the helm;</div> -<div class="verse">So let us be jovial, drink, gamble and sing,</div> -<div class="verse">Nor regard it a straw, tho’ we’re not yet the thing.</div> -<div class="verse indent4">Tol de rol, tol, tol, tol de rol.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The principal act of the Administration was -the introduction of Fox’s India Bill, by which -powers were sought to take away the control of -the great dominion that Warren Hastings had -built up from the Honourable East India Company -and transfer it to a board of seven Commissioners, -who should hold office for five years -and be removable only on an Address to the Crown -from either House of Parliament. This was -bitterly opposed by the merchant class, who saw -in it a precedent for the revocation of other -charters; but the clause that aroused the greatest -bitterness was that in which it was laid down -that the appointment of the first seven Commissioners -should be vested in Parliament, and<span class="pagenum" title="239"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239"></a></span> -afterwards in the Crown. This was, of course, -equivalent to vesting the appointments and the -enormous patronage attaching thereto in the -Ministry, and “it was an attempt,” said Lord -Thurlow, “to take the diadem from the King’s -head and to put it on that of Mr Fox.” The Bill -was fought with every weapon, but it passed the -Commons, only, however, to be defeated by the -Lords, upon whom the King had brought his -personal influence to bear. Thereupon, in December -1783, the King contemptuously dismissed -the Ministry.</p> - -<p>In the following May there was a General -Election, the chief interest of which centred -round the City of Westminster, for which Fox -and Sir Cecil Wray had sat in the dissolved -Parliament. The King, who had plotted the -downfall of the Ministry, had determined to do -his utmost to prevent Fox from sitting in the -new Parliament, but the latter, who had, however, -already been elected for Kirkwall, audaciously -carried the war into the enemy’s camp by having -himself nominated for his old constituency.</p> - -<p>“It may fairly be questioned” (Mr Sidney said) -“whether any of the electoral contests of the -eighteenth century equalled that of Westminster -in point of the prevalence of corrupt practices,<span class="pagenum" title="240"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240"></a></span> -drunkenness, tumult and disorder. The polling -lasted forty days, and, during the long period -over which it extended, the entire western -quarter of the Metropolis and Covent Garden, -the immediate vicinity of the hustings, presented -a scene of uproar and disorder which it is difficult -to describe. The latter locality might have been -styled ‘Bear Garden’ for the time being, so -flagrant were the outrages against decency, and -so riotous was the violence of which it was the -scene.”</p> - -<p>At first the two Ministerial candidates, -Admiral Hood and Sir Cecil Wray, forged -ahead, and left Fox so far behind that the prospect -of his return appeared hopeless. Then the -influence of the many ladies of rank and fashion -who canvassed for the latter made itself felt. -The Duchess of Portland, Countess Carlisle, -Countess of Derby, Lady Beauchamp, and Lady -Duncannon were among Fox’s assistants, but the -greatest service was rendered by the beautiful -Duchess of Devonshire, whose charms have been -chronicled by every contemporary memorist.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent">“Array’d in matchless beauty, Devon’s fair</div> -<div class="verse indent2">In Fox’s favour takes a zealous part;</div> -<div class="verse">But oh! where’er the pilferer comes, beware:</div> -<div class="verse indent2">She supplicates a vote, and steals a heart!”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" title="241"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241"></a></span></p> - -<p>A reaction in favour of Fox set in, and when, -at three o’clock on 17th May, the poll closed, the -High Bailiff of Westminster declared the results:</p> - - -<div class="center pbia"> -<table width="200" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poll results"> -<tr><td class="tal"><span class="ilb">“Lord Hood</span></td><td class="tar">6694 </td></tr> -<tr><td class="tal"><span class="ilb"> Hon. C. J. Fox</span></td><td class="tar">6234 </td></tr> -<tr><td class="tal"><span class="ilb"> Sir Cecil Wray</span></td><td class="tar">5998 </td></tr> -<tr><td class="tal"></td><td class="tar">—— </td></tr> -<tr><td class="tal"><span class="ilb">  Majority for Fox</span></td><td class="tar"> 236”</td></tr> -</table></div> - - -<p>Great were the rejoicings when it became -known that “the man of the people” had -snatched the victory from the Court candidate. -The Prince of Wales, who had thrown his -influence into the scale, went the same evening -to a supper-party given by Mrs Crewe, where all -present were arrayed in buff and blue, the victor’s -colours. The Prince proposed the health of the -hostess with felicitous brevity, “True Blue and -Mrs Crewe,” to which the lady wittily replied, -“True Blue, and all of you”; and the hero of -the hour returned thanks to all and sundry.</p> - -<p>It was to Mr Fox and Mrs Armitstead (with -whom Fox was then living and whom he married -in 1795), at the latter’s house at St Anne’s, -Chertsey, that the Prince repaired to pour out -his woes when, to evade his compromising attentions, -Mrs Fitzherbert went abroad.</p> - -<p>“Mrs Armitstead has repeatedly assured me” -(Lord Holland relates in his “Memoirs of the<span class="pagenum" title="242"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242"></a></span> -Whig Party”) “that he came thither more than -once to converse with her and Mr Fox on the -subject, that he cried by the hour, that he -testified to the sincerity and violence of his -passion and his despair by the most extravagant -expressions and actions, rolling on the floor, -striking his forehead, tearing his hair, falling -into hysterics, and swearing he would abandon -the country, forego the Crown, sell his jewels -and plate, and scrape together a competence to -fly with the object of his affections to America.”</p> - -<p>When Mrs Fitzherbert returned to England, Fox -implored the Prince not to marry her, and received -from him a reply, “Make yourself easy, -my dear friend! Believe me, the world will soon -be convinced that not only is there not, but never -was, any grounds for these reports, which have -been so malevolently circulated.” On the strength -of this letter, when the question was raised in -the House of Commons in a debate on the -Prince’s debts, Fox denied the marriage, only -to be told by a relative of the lady at Brooks’s -Club, within an hour of his speech, that the -marriage had taken place! It is said that the -statesman was furious at the deception that -had been practised upon him; but doubtless -his sense of humour came to his rescue:<span class="pagenum" title="243"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243"></a></span> -one can imagine him shrugging his shoulders -with his almost imperturbable good humour, as -he reflected that while his position as a dupe -was distressing, what must be the feeling of -him who had duped him. It was, indeed, a -case of the biter bit! Perhaps, too, he was -amused at having saved the Prince <i>malgré lui</i>; -and certainly it is to his credit that “when urged -by his friends to undeceive Parliament, and thus -vindicate himself in the opinion of the country, -he refused to do so at the expense of the heir to -the monarchy.” But there was on his part a coldness -towards the Prince for some time, and he -never again trusted that royal personage.</p> - -<p>It is impossible within the limits of this paper -to discuss Fox’s subsequent political career, or to -make more than an allusion to the attacks on -Warren Hastings during the famous impeachment, -to his advocacy of the Prince as the rightful -Regent during the King’s illness, and his -opposition to many of Pitt’s measures. His remark -on hearing of the taking of the Bastille -has become historic: “How much is this the -greatest event that ever happened in the world, -and how much the best”; but he never approved -of the excesses that followed, and he was opposed -to all absolute forms of government, and not more -averse to an absolute monarchy or an absolute<span class="pagenum" title="244"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244"></a></span> -aristocracy than to an absolute democracy. From -1792 for five years he seldom attended Parliament, -but devoted himself chiefly to the composition -of his “History of the Revolution of 1688.” -In 1798 his name was erased from the list of -Privy Councillors because at a dinner he proposed -the toast of “Our Sovereign, the people.” -Later he went abroad, had an interview with -Napoleon, and on his return, in 1803, in a -magnificent speech advocated a peace with -France. On Lord Addington’s resignation in -the following year it was proposed that Fox -should be a member of the new Cabinet, but the -King intervened to make Pitt promise, firstly, -never to support Catholic Emancipation, and, -secondly, to exclude Fox from office. However, -two years later, Fox accepted the portfolio of -the Foreign Office under Grenville, in the -“Ministry of all the Talents.” He made his -last appearance in the House of Commons on -10th June 1806, to move a resolution preparatory -to introducing a Bill for the suppression of the -slave trade.</p> - -<p>“So fully am I impressed with the vast importance -and necessity of attaining what will be the -object of my motion this night” (he concluded -his farewell speech) “that if, during the almost<span class="pagenum" title="245"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245"></a></span> -forty years that I have had the honour of a seat -in Parliament, I had been so fortunate as to accomplish -that, and that only, I should think I -had done enough, and could retire from public -life with comfort and the conscious satisfaction -that I had done my duty.”</p> - -<p>A few days after, he was taken ill at the house -of the Duke of Devonshire at Chiswick, and it -was soon apparent that his last hours were near. -He was no believer in religion, but, to please his -wife, he consented to have prayers read, though he -“paid little attention to the ceremony, remaining -quiescent merely, not liking to refuse any wish -of hers, nor to pretend any sentiments he did -not entertain.” “I die happy,” he said to his -wife, “but I pity you.” He died on 13th September, -and was interred in Westminster Abbey, -immediately adjoining the monument of Lord -Chatham, and close by the grave of William -Pitt, his great rival, who had predeceased him -by a few months.</p> - -<p>As a constructive statesman, Charles James Fox -had but little opportunity to shine.</p> - -<p>“Charles is unquestionably a man of first rate -talents, but so deficient in judgment as never to -have succeeded in any object during his whole<span class="pagenum" title="246"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246"></a></span> -life” (said his “candid friend,” Boothby). “He loved -only three things, women, play, and politics. Yet -at no period did he ever form a creditable connection -with a woman. He lost his whole fortune -at the gaming table; and, with the exception of -about eleven months of his life, he has remained -always in opposition.”</p> - -<p>This is a severe pronouncement upon a great -man, who was a great orator and a splendid -debater.</p> - -<p>“Fox delivered his speeches without previous -preparation, and their power lay not in rhetorical -adornments, but in the vigour of the speaker’s -thoughts, the extent of his knowledge, the quickness -with which he grasped the significance of -each point in debate, the clearness of his conceptions, -and the remarkable plainness with which -he laid them before his audience” (says Professor -Harrison). “Even in the longest speeches he never -strayed from the matter in hand; he never rose -above the level of his hearers’ understanding, was -never obscure, and never bored the House. Every -position that he took up he defended by a large -number of shrewd arguments, plainly stated and -well ordered.”</p> - -<p>His voice was poor, his actions ungainly, and -he did not become fluent until he warmed with<span class="pagenum" title="247"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247"></a></span> -his subject; but in attack generally, and especially -in connection with the American War, Grattan -thought him the best speaker he had ever heard. -Burke said he was “the most brilliant and accomplished -debater that the world ever saw”; Rogers -declared he “never heard anything equal to Fox’s -<i>speeches in reply</i>”; while, when someone abused -one of Fox’s speeches to Pitt, the latter remarked, -“Don’t disparage it; nobody could have made -it but himself.”</p> - -<p>Fox, however, did not lay undue stress on -eloquence, and in a well-known speech declared -that one sometimes paid too dearly for oratory.</p> - -<p>“I remember” (he said) “a time when the whole -of the Privy Council came away, throwing up -their caps, and exulting in an extraordinary -manner at a speech made by the present Lord -Rosslyn (Alexander Wedderburn), and an examination -of Dr Franklin (before the Privy -Council on the letters of Hutchinson and Oliver, -the Governor and Lieutenant-Governor of Massachusetts), -in which that respectable man was most -uncommonly badgered. But we paid very dear for -that splendid specimen of eloquence, and all its -attendant tropes, figures, metaphors, and hyperbole; -for then came the Bill, and in the end we -lost all our American colonies, a hundred millions<span class="pagenum" title="248"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248"></a></span> -of money, and a hundred thousand of our brave -fellow subjects.”</p> - -<p>Fox made mistakes occasionally, as when he -asserted the <i>right</i> of the Prince of Wales to the -Regency; but he was distinguished in the House -of Commons for his “hopeful sympathy with all -good and great causes.” In a day when politicians -were not especially enlightened, he was a supporter -of Parliamentary reform, a champion of Catholic -Emancipation, and an opponent of the slave trade; -and, indeed, it was by his advocacy of these -measures that he earned the enmity of the King, -and thus was prevented from carrying out these -beneficial schemes.</p> - -<p>It has already been admitted that he was a -spendthrift, and had a passion for gaming which, -when taxed with it by Lord Hillsborough in the -House of Commons, he designated as “a vice -countenanced by the fashion of the times, a vice -to which some of the greatest characters had given -way in the early part of their lives, and a vice -which carried with it its own punishment.” His -weaknesses, however, were more than balanced -by his many splendid qualities. He was a -noble antagonist, and when Pitt made his first -speech, and someone remarked he would be one -of the first in Parliament, “He is so already,”<span class="pagenum" title="249"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249"></a></span> -said Fox. Which recalls the story of the Prince -of Wales’ remark, on hearing of the death of the -Duchess of Devonshire: “Then we have lost -the best-bred woman in England.” “Then,” said -the more generous Fox, “we have lost the kindest -heart in England.”</p> - -<p>Fox was a great-hearted man, with a beautiful -disposition, high spirits, unbounded good-humour, -delightful conversation, a great affection for his -friends, an undeniable loyalty to those who trusted -him; and these qualities, combined with his -great natural abilities and an indisputable charm, -made him a great, commanding and fascinating -figure. Gibbon, a political opponent, said he -possessed “the powers of a superior man, as they -are blended in his attractive character, with the -softness and simplicity of a child,” adding that -“perhaps no human being was ever more perfectly -exempt from the taint of malevolence, vanity or -falsehood”; but the greatest tribute came from -Burke, who described him simply and, perhaps, -sufficiently as “a man made to be loved.”</p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" title="253"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253"></a></span></p> -<h2>Philip, Duke of Wharton</h2> - - -<p class="dropcap">In the history of every country a few figures -stand out conspicuous, not necessarily for -ability or virtue, or even vice, but through -the power of a dominating personality or the -strangeness of their career. In the Georgian -annals of England in the forefront of these -heroes of romance stands, head and shoulders -above the rest, Charles James Fox, whose genius -and fascinations, indeed, whose very faults, seize -the imagination, and hold it captive, a willing -prisoner; but there are others, minor lights to -this great star, yet still shining so brightly as to -dazzle the sober senses of twentieth-century social -historians, a body not given unduly to hero-worship. -Such a one was Brummell, another was -“Beau” Nash, both arbiters of fashion, veritable -kings in the eyes of their contemporaries; a third -was Elizabeth Chudleigh, Countess of Bristol, -Duchess of Kingston, greater still as Beatrix, -queen of hearts, in “Esmond”; and to a place -in this gallery of adventurous spirits none can -deny the right of Philip, Duke of Wharton, -Richardson’s Lovelace, gallant, wit, statesman, -satirist, poet and pamphleteer, like Dryden’s -Zimri, “everything by starts and nothing long,” -a man who threw away great gifts, honour, loyalty -and love, as freely, and with as little regard for -consequences, as Fox squandered his gold.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" title="254"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254"></a></span></p> - -<p>Philip, born on Christmas Eve, 1698, was the -only son of Thomas, fourth Baron Wharton, by -his second wife, Lucy, daughter of Lord Lisburne, -who in that year was a toast at the Kit-Cat -Club:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent">“When Jove to Ida did the gods invite,</div> -<div class="verse">And in immortal toastings pass’d the night,</div> -<div class="verse">With more than bowls of nectar were they blest,</div> -<div class="verse">For Venus was the Wharton of the feast!”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Lord Wharton—for his services to William III. -created in 1706 earl, when his heir became known -as Viscount Winchendon—was not only a pleasure-loving -man, but also a strenuous politician. He, -imbued with the idea that his boy, in his turn, -might add further laurels to the family name, -with this object in view kept a more than paternal -eye upon the direction of the youngster’s studies. -To his parents’ great joy, Philip gave signs of -precocious cleverness, and it was decided to have -him educated by private tutors, instructed, after -their pupil was well grounded in the classics, -to teach him in a very thorough manner the -history of Europe, with, of course, special reference -to that of his own country; and to train -him as an orator by making him read and recite -passages from Shakespeare and from the great -speeches of the most eloquent statesmen of that -and bygone ages.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" title="255"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255"></a></span></p> - -<p>Philip evinced much readiness, and diligently -applied himself to his studies; but his father’s -love of pleasure was in his blood, and while for -some time he submitted to the company of his -teachers, with little or no relaxation from his -books, at last, as was only to be expected from -a high-spirited lad, he broke over the traces. -Handsome and graceful, he found his pleasure -with women: a fault which his father, now -created Marquis of Wharton, could overlook in -consideration of his son’s promise in other directions. -However, the young man destroyed all the -Marquis’s hope of an alliance with some lady of -high rank and vast wealth by secretly espousing, -at the Fleet, on 2nd March 1715, when he was -in his seventeenth year, Martha, the penniless -daughter of Major-General Holmes—a proceeding -that the Marquis took so much to heart that, -it was said, his death six weeks later was directly -attributable to his grief and anger.</p> - -<p>The effects of this madcap escapade might not -have been very serious, for there was nothing to -be urged against the girl except her lack of money -and great connections, if the accomplished fact -had been recognised in the right spirit by the -young husband’s family; in which case, it is -more than probable, his career might have been -very different. As it was, however, his mother and<span class="pagenum" title="256"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256"></a></span> -his father’s trustees, Lord Dorchester, Lord Carlisle, -and Nicholas Lechmere, thought it advisable temporarily -to separate man and wife, and sent the -Marquis abroad in charge of a French Protestant.</p> - -<p>In this uncongenial company Philip visited -Holland and Hanover and other German courts, -and eventually settled down at Geneva. There -he remained for a while, galled by the restrictions -upon his personal liberty by the tutor, and infuriated -by the inadequacy of the income allowed -him by his trustees. The latter annoyance he -overcame by raising money at, of course, exorbitant -interest; the former by the simple expedient -of running away from Geneva without -his companion, who, a few hours after the flight -of his charge, received from the latter a note: -“Being no longer able to bear your ill-usage, I -have thought proper to be gone from you; however, -that you may not want company, I have -left you the bear, as the most suitable companion -in the world that could be picked out for you!”</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 410px;"> -<img src="images/illus_273.jpg" width="410" height="505" alt="" /> -<div><p class="tac fs120"><i>Philip, Duke of Wharton</i></p></div> -</div> - -<p>The Marquis made his way to Lyons, where -he arrived on 13th October 1716, and from there -he sent a complimentary letter to the son of -James II. at Avignon, and with the letter, as a -present, a magnificent horse. The Pretender, -delighted by the prospect of being able to detach -from the Hanoverian interest even an eighteen-<span class="pagenum" title="257"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257"></a></span>year-old -marquis, and especially the son of that very -pronounced Whig, Thomas Wharton, graciously -despatched one of his Court to invite Philip to -Avignon. There the lad went, stayed a day and -night, and received from his host the dangerous -compliment of an offer of the title of the Duke -of Northumberland, after which, to make matters -worse, he repaired to St Germain’s to pay his -respects to Mary, Queen Dowager of England. -The folly of his actions is the most remarkable -thing about them. Had he been attached to the -cause of the Chevalier de St George, the visits -would have been natural; had he even desired, -as so many had done, to be sufficiently attentive -to the Prince so as to be free from molestation -in case the latter should ever ascend the throne -of England, the visits would have been explicable; -but since he was not a Jacobite, and, if not -too honest, at least too careless of his personal -interest to be a “trimmer,” the only solution of -the matter is that his actions were dictated by a -spirit of revolt, the not unnatural reaction on -escaping from custody.</p> - -<p>How little the Marquis meant by his visits—which, -in after days, he declared were mere -personal courtesies—may be deduced from the -fact that, as soon as he arrived at Paris, he called -on Lord Stair, the English Ambassador—at whose<span class="pagenum" title="258"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258"></a></span> -table, it is said, in a drunken frolic he proposed -the health of the Pretender! At a time when it -was a matter of vital importance to know who -was for and against the home Government, and -when a fortune was spent on spies, Lord Stair, -of course, knew that the Marquis had been to -Avignon and St Germain’s; but if he did not -close his ears to the tales of the young man’s -doings, at least he did not avert his countenance -from him. On the contrary, he received him -with every attention, realising that here was, so -to speak, a brand to be plucked from the burning. -The lad was only eighteen, and so indiscretions -might be dismissed as of no importance; whereas -to dwell on them unduly would perhaps turn -him into a Jacobite. Therefore much show of -kindness was diplomatic, coupled, Lord Stair -thought, with a trifle of admonition.</p> - -<p>However, when the Ambassador began to utter -a word in season, the Marquis did not show himself -amenable to advice. Indeed, when Lord -Stair, extolling the virtues of his guest’s father, -said, “I hope you will follow so illustrious an -example of fidelity to your Prince and love to -your country,” the Marquis retorted, “I thank -your Excellency for your good counsel, and as -your Excellency had also a worthy and deserving -father, I hope that you will likewise copy so<span class="pagenum" title="259"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259"></a></span> -bright an original and tread in all his steps”—which -reply, though showing a keen sense of -humour, was brutal, for the first Lord Stair had -unhesitatingly betrayed his sovereign!</p> - -<p>As a matter of fact, the Marquis would tolerate -no interference, and when a friend, whether or -not set to task by Lord Stair has not transpired, -expostulated with him for having abandoned the -principles of his father, “I have pawned my -principles,” he said jauntily, “to Gordon, the -Pretender’s banker, for a considerable sum; and -till I have the money to repay him, I must be -a Jacobite; but,” he added, “as soon as I have -redeemed them, I shall be a Whig again!”</p> - -<p>Perhaps this remark was conveyed to the -Marquis’s trustees, for it is to be presumed that -the Marquis’s financial obligations were discharged, -since on his arrival in Ireland at the -beginning of 1717 the Government seems to -have connived at his taking his seat as Marquis -Castlereagh, in the Irish House of Lords, though -only in his nineteenth year—“which,” Budgell -wrote to Mr Secretary Addison, “is the -highest compliment that could have been paid -to him.” Here Philip showed an apparently -earnest desire to atone for his misdemeanours -abroad, and his great talents made the task easy. -He took a prominent part in debate, sat on com<span class="pagenum" title="260"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260"></a></span>mittees, -and in his official capacity conducted -himself so that the British Government, congratulating -themselves on their tact in having made -light of his doings in France, thought it well to -endeavour to bend him still more closely to their -interests, by bestowing on him, perhaps as a set-off -against the ducal title offered by the Pretender, -an English dukedom.</p> - -<p>“As it is the honour of subjects, who are -descended from an illustrious family, to imitate -the great examples of their ancestors, we esteem -it no less our glory, as a King, after the manner -of our predecessors, to dignify eminent methods -by suitable rewards,” so ran the preamble to the -patent. “It is on this account that we confer a -new title on our right trusty and entirely beloved -cousin, Philip Marquis of Wharton and Malmesbury, -who though he be born of a very ancient -noble family, wherein he may reckon as many -patriots as forefathers, has rather chosen to distinguish -himself by his personal merit. The -British nation, not forgetful of his father lately -deceased, gratefully remember how much their -invincible King William III. owed to that constant -and courageous assistor of the public liberty -and the Protestant religion. The same extraordinary -person deserved so well of us, in having -supported our interests by the weight of his<span class="pagenum" title="261"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261"></a></span> -councils, the force of his wit, and the firmness -of his mind, at a time when our title to the -succession of this realm was endangered; that -in the beginning of our reign we invested him -with the dignity of a Marquis, as an earnest of -our royal favour, the farther marks whereof we -were prevented from bestowing by his death, too -hasty, and untimely for his King and Country. -When we see the son of that great man, forming -himself by so worthy an example, and in -every action exhibiting a lively resemblance to -his father; when we consider the eloquence -which he has exerted with so much applause -in the parliament of Ireland; and his turn and -application, even in early youth, to the serious -and weighty affairs of the public, we willingly -decree him honours, which are neither superior -to his merits, nor earlier than the expectation of -our good subjects.”</p> - -<p>Vanity, it is generally assumed, was the moving -spirit of the new Duke of Wharton, and it seems -that to have earned a dukedom at twenty years of -age temporarily lulled that passion, for, after the -bestowal of that high honour, the recipient seems -to have rested on his oars, and for the next year -to have abandoned himself to unbridled excesses in -drink and profligacy. “Aye, my lord,” said Swift, -who admired his talents, when his Grace had<span class="pagenum" title="262"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262"></a></span> -been recounting some of his frolics to the Dean -of St Patrick’s, “Aye, my lord, you have had -many frolics; but let me recommend you one -more: take a frolic to be virtuous; I assure -you it will do you more honour than all the -rest!”</p> - -<p>Whether caused by Swift’s words, or whether -it was the swing of the pendulum, on coming of -age Philip made a complete change in his mode -of living, and for a while led a decent private life. -“The Duke of Wharton has brought his Duchess -to town, and is fond of her to distraction; to -break the hearts of all the other women that -have any claim on his,” Lady Mary Wortley -Montagu wrote to her sister, Lady Mar. “He -has public devotions twice a day, and assists at -them in person with exemplary devotion; and -there is nothing pleasanter than the remarks of -some great pious ladies on the conversion of so -great a sinner.” How long this period of conjugal -fidelity might have endured is uncertain, but it -was brought to an untimely end when the -Duchess, in defiance of her husband’s command, -came from Winchendon to London, bringing -with her their child, the twelve-months’ old -Earl of Malmesbury, who in the metropolis -caught smallpox and died. This, it is said by -all loyal biographers, so affected his Grace that,<span class="pagenum" title="263"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263"></a></span> -regarding the bereavement as caused by the -violation of his wishes, he could not bear the -sight of his wife. Persons less prone to sentiment -than biographers may perhaps see in this yet -another swing of the pendulum.</p> - -<p>If the Duke’s private life was for a while -exemplary, the same cannot at any time be said -of his political career. A young man may change -his opinion once without giving serious offence, -he may even be forgiven for reverting to his -earlier beliefs, but he can expect but scant -mercy if he chops and changes with every breath -of wind. At Avignon Philip had accepted a title -from the Pretender, in Ireland he had accepted -a dukedom from George I. as a reward for his -vigorous support of the ministry; but now, when -he took his seat in the English Parliament, to the -general astonishment, he threw himself into uncompromising -opposition.</p> - -<p>The report of his great talents, his brilliant -oratory, and his powers as a debater had reached -Westminster, where his appearance was eagerly -awaited, and he felt it incumbent upon him to -show that rumour had not magnified his gifts; -on 24th April 1720 he took part in a debate on -a Bill to give further powers to the South Sea -Company, and made a magnificent onslaught not -only on this proposal, but on the entire policy<span class="pagenum" title="264"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264"></a></span> -of the Government, concluding with a terrible -attack on Lord Stanhope, whom he accused of -having made, or at least of having fostered, the -breach between the King and the Prince of -Wales, comparing him to Sejanus, “that evil -and too powerful minister who made a division -in the Imperial party, and rendered the reign of -Tiberius hateful to the Romans.” Lord Stanhope -was not the man to sit quiet under such castigation, -and he turned the tables on his assailant -with undoubted dexterity. “The Romans were -most certainly a great people, and furnished many -illustrious examples in their history, which ought -to be carefully read,” he said in reply. “The -Romans were likewise universally allowed to be -a wise people, and they showed themselves to -be so in nothing more than by debarring young -noblemen from speaking in the Senate till -they understood good manners and propriety -of language; and as the Duke has quoted an -instance from this history of a bad minister, -I beg leave to quote from the same history -an instance of a great man, a patriot of his -country, who had a son so profligate that he -would have betrayed the liberties of it, on which -account his father himself had him whipped to -death.”</p> - -<p>The Minister’s apt retort rankled, and it<span class="pagenum" title="265"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265"></a></span> -doubtless did much to confirm the Duke in -his attitude. He spoke against the Government, -not only in the House of Lords, but in the City -of London and in the country; and in the following -year, returning to the question of the South -Sea Company’s affairs, he attacked Lord Stanhope -in so brilliant and bitter a speech that the -latter, rising in a passion to reply, broke a blood-vessel, -from the effects of which he died on the -following day. It was somewhat later that the -Duke attacked Lord Chancellor Macclesfield, -suspected and eventually found guilty of fraud -in connection with the South Sea Company’s -affairs, not only by word of mouth, but also in -a satirical ballad entitled “An Epistle from John -Sheppard to the Earl of Macclesfield”:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent">“Were thy virtues and mine to be weighed in a scale,</div> -<div class="verse">I fear, honest Thomas, that thine would prevail,</div> -<div class="verse">For you break through all laws, while I only break jail.</div> -<div class="verse indent6">Which nobody can deny.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">When curiosity led you so far</div> -<div class="verse">As to send for me, my dear lord, to the bar,</div> -<div class="verse">To show what a couple of rascals we were.</div> -<div class="verse indent6">Which nobody can deny.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">You’ll excuse me the freedom of writing to thee,</div> -<div class="verse">For all the world then agreed they never did see</div> -<div class="verse">A pair so well matched as your lordship and me.</div> -<div class="verse indent6">Which nobody can deny.</div> -</div> -<div class="verse"><span class="pagenum" title="266"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266"></a></span></div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">At the present disgrace, my lord! ne’er repine,</div> -<div class="verse">Since fame thinks of nothing but thy tricks and mine,</div> -<div class="verse">And our name shall alike in history shine.</div> -<div class="verse indent6">Which nobody can deny.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Having established his fame as an orator with -his speeches on the South Sea question, Wharton -gained yet further distinction by his impassioned -defence of Bishop Atterbury, but what reputation -he gained as a speaker he lost in honour, for he had -obtained the material for his oration by a mean -trick. The day before he spoke he went to Sir -Robert Walpole, told him he was sorry for his -opposition to the Government and intended to -reinstate himself in favour at Court and with the -Ministry by speaking against the Bishop, and he -begged the Prime Minister to give him some -assistance in preparing his arguments. Walpole -went carefully over the ground with his visitor, -and showed him the strong and the weak points -of the case. The Duke expressed his thanks, -spent the night in a drinking bout, and, without -going to bed, went to the House of Lords and -spoke <i>for</i> the Bishop, making use most effectively -of the information he had obtained on the previous -day. Then, when sentence of banishment was -pronounced on the Bishop, he saw him off, and, -returning home, wrote and published some verses -on “The Banishment of Cicero,” in which, of<span class="pagenum" title="267"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267"></a></span> -course, the Bishop was Cicero, and George I. -Clodius, concluding:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent">“Let Clodius now in grandeur reign,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Let him exert his power,</div> -<div class="verse">A short-lived monster in the land,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">The monarch of an hour;</div> -<div class="verse">Let pageant fools adore their wooden god,</div> -<div class="verse">And act against their senses at his nod.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Pierced by an untimely hand</div> -<div class="verse indent2">To earth shall he descend,</div> -<div class="verse">Though now with gaudy honours clothed,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Inglorious in his end.</div> -<div class="verse">Blest be the man who does his power defy,</div> -<div class="verse">And dares, or truly speaks, or bravely die!”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>In the meantime the Duke had reverted to -his dissipated habits in private life, and it amused -and annoyed many of his contemporaries that in -public he, the President of the Hell-fire Club, -should, on the ground of morality, inveigh against -various measures. Wharton, however, paid little -or no heed to those who held the view that -a profligate is not the proper person to preach -virtue; but when the King in council, on -29th April 1721, issued a proclamation against -“certain scandalous clubs or society, who in the -most impious and blasphemous manner insult the -most sacred principles of our holy religion, and -corrupt the minds and morals of one another,”<span class="pagenum" title="268"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268"></a></span> -Wharton, as President of the Hell-fire Club, -rose in his place in the House of Lords, declared -he was not, as was thought, a “patron of blasphemy,” -and, pulling out a Bible, proceeded to -read several texts.</p> - -<p>He went occasionally to his seat in Westmoreland, -and was a frequent visitor to the seat of his -kinsman, Sir Christopher Musgrave, at Edenhall, -where was preserved the great crystal goblet, -supposed to have been seized by some earlier -Musgrave from a fairy banquet, and known as -“The Luck of Edenhall.” The legend ran:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -“If this glass do break or fall,<br /> -Farewell the luck of Edenhall!”<br /> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>but in spite of this warning the Duke, out of -sheer devilment, would toss the goblet high in -the air, and once, but for a wary butler, it would -have fallen to the ground and have been smashed -to atoms. It was at Edenhall that the Homeric -drinking match took place, which Wharton, its -proposer, celebrated in verse in the form of “An -Imitation of Chevvy-Chace.”</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent">“God prosper long our noble king,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">And likewise <i>Eden-Hall</i>;</div> -<div class="verse">A doleful Drinking-Bout I sing,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">There lately did befal.</div> -<div><span class="pagenum" title="269"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269"></a></span></div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">To chace the Spleen with Cup and Can</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Duke <i>Philip</i> took his Way;</div> -<div class="verse">Babes yet unborn shall never see</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Such Drinking as that Day.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">The stout and ever thirsty Duke</div> -<div class="verse indent2">A vow to God did make</div> -<div class="verse">His pleasure within <i>Cumberland</i></div> -<div class="verse indent2">Three live-long Nights to take.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Sir <i>Musgrave</i> too of Martindale,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">A true and worthy knight,</div> -<div class="verse">Eftsoons with him a Bargain made</div> -<div class="verse indent2">In drinking to delight.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">The Bumper swiftly pass’d about,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Six in a Hand went round,</div> -<div class="verse">And with their Calling for more Wine,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">They made the Hall resound.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>So began the ballad, and it goes on to tell how -the news of the battle spread, how others then -hastened to the board, and fell, man by man, -overcome by their potations.</p> - -<p>The Duke, however, did not care for his place -in the north, and was more frequently to be -found at Twickenham, a fact duly noted by -Horace Walpole in his “Parish Register” of -that village:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent">“Twickenham, where frolic Wharton revelled,</div> -<div class="verse">Where Montagu, with locks dishevelled,</div> -<div class="verse">Conflict of dirt and warmth combin’d,</div> -<div class="verse">Invoked,—and scandalised the <i>Nine</i>.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>It was not by accident that Walpole put these<span class="pagenum" title="270"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270"></a></span> -names in juxtaposition, for there was a great -intimacy between the two, and it was said, -probably with reason, that it was the Duke’s -attentions to the lady that turned Pope’s affection -to hatred and caused the historic breach -between them. But though Lady Mary “Worldly” -Montagu, as Philip called her, may have been -attached to the Duke, she was never in any -doubt as to the worthlessness of his professions of -love. “In general, gallantry never was in so elevated -a figure as it is at present,” she told Lady -Mar. “Twenty very pretty fellows (the Duke of -Wharton being president and chief director) have -formed themselves into a committee of gallantry. -They call themselves <i>Schemers</i>; and meet regularly -three times a week, to consult on gallant schemes -for the advantage and advancement of that branch -of happiness.”</p> - -<p>Wharton’s gallantries, or, to give them their -proper though less euphonious name, profligacies, -were carried to such excess that they, together -with his political infidelities, disgusted even his -far from strait-laced contemporaries; and it -was only his great talents that enabled him to -hold his own with them. But his marvellous gift -of oratory and his ingenious but always sound -reasoning were appreciated even by, or, perhaps, -it should be said, especially by, his enemies; while<span class="pagenum" title="271"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271"></a></span> -his occasional outbursts of humour made it difficult -for anyone to keep a straight face. Who could -help laughing when a certain Bishop in the House -of Lords rose to speak and remarked he should -divide what he had to say into twelve parts, and -Wharton, interrupting, begged he might be -permitted to tell a story that could only be introduced -at that moment: “A drunken fellow -was passing by St Paul’s at night, and heard the -clock slowly chiming twelve. He counted the -strokes, and when it was finished, looking towards -the clock, said, ‘Damn you, why couldn’t you -give us all that at once?’ ” There was an end of -the Bishop’s speech!</p> - -<p>But not great talents, combined with a keen -sense of humour, could save a person as volatile -as the Duke. He founded in 1723 an Opposition -paper, <i>The True Briton</i>, written by himself, issued -twice weekly, which secured a large circulation, -and for publishing which, Payne, indicted for libel, -and found guilty, was heavily fined; but this may -be regarded as a legitimate political move. As -he was known to be in correspondence with the -Pretender, it is not easy to see how he escaped -impeachment, unless it was that the Government -was reluctant to proceed against a young man, -the son of a valued supporter and an old -friend of Sir Robert Walpole, and the godson<span class="pagenum" title="272"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272"></a></span> -of the two preceding sovereigns of Great -Britain.</p> - -<p>The Government, however, was soon relieved -from any anxiety on this score, for the Duke’s -extravagance in money matters had been so great -that his creditors had, for their own benefit, obtained -a decree of the Court of Chancery placing -his estates in the hands of trustees until his liabilities -had been liquidated. These trustees -allowed his Grace an income of twelve hundred -pounds, upon which, deciding it was impossible -in this country to support his dignity on that -sum, he left England, thus bringing to a close -the first act of his wasted life.</p> - -<p>Before the Duke went abroad he had been -careful to make his peace with the Pretender, -for the latter, writing in 1725 to Atterbury, -then at Paris, says: “I am very glad you were to -send into England <span class="ell">..</span>. for everybody is not so -active as Lord Wharton, who writes me often -and wants no spur.” The Pretender had not yet -discovered the danger of a follower so wayward -and unreliable as this young man, who did more -harm than good to any cause he espoused; and -so, when the Duke arrived on the Continent in -May 1725, he sent him as envoy to Vienna to -do his utmost to promote a good understanding -between his master and the Emperor Charles VI.<span class="pagenum" title="273"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273"></a></span> -In this Wharton was not altogether unsuccessful, -and when he reported the result of his mission -the Chevalier de St George, then resident at -Rome, rewarded him with the empty title of -Duke of Northumberland and the Order of the -Garter.</p> - -<p>In the following April the Duke was sent to -Madrid, where his folly became notorious. “The -Duke of Wharton has not been sober, or scarce had -a pipe out of his mouth, since he came back from -his expedition to St Ildefonso,” wrote Mr (afterwards -Sir Benjamin) Keene, British Ambassador -at Madrid. “He declared himself to be the Pretender’s -Prime Minister, and Duke of Wharton -and Northumberland. Hitherto, added he, my -master’s interest has been managed by the Duke -of Perth and three or four old women, who meet -under the portal of St Germain’s. He wanted a -Whig, and a brisk one too, to put them in a right -train, and I am the man. You may now look upon -me, Sir Philip Wharton, knight of the Garter, -and Sir Robert Walpole, knight of the Bath, -running a course,—and, by heaven! he shall be -pressed hard. He bought my family pictures, -but they shall not be long in his possession; that -account is still open.” In spite of the Duke’s -follies, the Court of Spain did not show itself so -unfriendly to him, and to the cause he represented,<span class="pagenum" title="274"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274"></a></span> -as Keene thought it should; and he warned his -Government. The reply from England came in the -form of a summons under the Privy Seal to the -Duke to return at once to his own country—a -summons which, it is needless to say, was ignored -by the recipient.</p> - -<p>While at Madrid Philip learnt that his wife, -whom he had left in London, had died, and -forthwith he proposed to Maria, the daughter of -Colonel Henry O’Beirne, a lady-in-waiting to -the Queen of Spain. Her Majesty raised various -objections, but was eventually persuaded to consent -to the alliance, which took place in July -1726, after the Duke had embraced the Roman -Catholic faith, a step he took in spite of the fact -that on 17th June he had written to his sister, -Lady Jane Holt, assuring her he would never -forsake the religion in which he had been born -and bred.</p> - -<p>It is probable that the Duke changed his faith -to win his bride, but there may have been at the -back of his mind the thought that it would please -his master. If this was so, it was an entirely mistaken -idea, because his conversion—occurring at -the same time as that of Lord North, who had -also left England and abjured the Hanoverian -cause—gave the impression that to be in favour -with the Chevalier de St George it was necessary<span class="pagenum" title="275"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275"></a></span> -to be of his faith, which in English eyes was a -fatal objection. This, indeed, the Chevalier had -realised, as may be gathered from a letter of the -Duchess of Orleans, so far back as 10th September -1712: “Our King of England, I mean the true -one, no longer dislikes Protestants, for he has taken -many of them for his servants.” What Atterbury -thought of the Duke’s action, he said very clearly -in a letter to the Pretender: “The strange turn -taken by the Duke of Wharton gave me such -mortifying apprehensions that I have forborne -for some posts to mention him at all. You say, -Sir, that he advised with few of his friends in -this matter. I am of opinion he advised with -none. It is easy to suppose you were both surprised -and concerned at the account when it first -reached Rome, since it is impossible you should -not be so; the ill consequences are so many, so -great, and so evident, that I am not only afflicted -but bewildered when I think of them. The mischief -of one thing you mention is, that he will -scarce be believed in what he shall say in that -occasion (so low will his credit have sunk), nor -be able effectually to stop the mouth of malice -by any after declaration.” In England nothing -that the Duke of Wharton could do created -any astonishment, such was the estimate in -which he was held in his own country; and<span class="pagenum" title="276"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276"></a></span> -popular opinion was expressed by Curll in an -epigram:</p> - -<p class="tac"><i>On the Duke of Wharton Renouncing the Protestant Religion</i> -</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza1"> -<div class="verse outdent">“A <i>Whig</i> He was bred, but at length is turn’d <i>Papist</i>,</div> -<div class="verse">Pray God send the next Remove be not an <i>Atheist</i>.</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="tac">“<i>N.B.</i>—To believe <i>every Thing</i> and <i>Nothing</i> is much the same.” -</p> - -<p>After his marriage, the Duke paid a visit to -his master at Rome, but he “could not keep -himself within the bounds of the Italian gravity,” -and the Chevalier ordered him and his wife to -return to Spain. There he volunteered to serve -with the Spanish army in the siege of Gibraltar. -Hitherto there had been some suspicion of his -courage, but that slur he now wiped off by -exposing his person freely; indeed, the story goes -that one day he walked from the Spanish camp -to the very walls of Gibraltar, and, when -challenged, declared his identity, and sauntered -back leisurely, the soldiers, unwilling to kill a -great nobleman of their own nationality, holding -their fire.</p> - -<p>After the siege, the Duke returned to Madrid, -where he was given the rank of Colonel-Aggregate -to the Irish regiment, Hibernia, in the -Spanish service, commanded by the Marquis de -Castelar; and then proposed to settle for a while -at the Pretender’s Court. That royal personage,<span class="pagenum" title="277"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277"></a></span> -however, had by this time realised that his adherent’s -gifts were so handicapped by various -undesirable qualities that he showed very plainly -that he wished any intimate connection should -cease: he did, indeed, consent to grant a last interview -at Parma, but he neutralised the effect -of this favour by taking the opportunity to refuse -to allow the Duke to reside at his Court.</p> - -<p>The Duke took the rebuff in good part, wrote -to the Chevalier reiterating his great and enduring -devotion to the Jacobite cause, and, -journeying with his wife to Paris, in that city -at once made overtures to Horace Walpole, the -British Ambassador. “I am coming to Paris, to -put myself entirely under your Excellency’s protection, -and hope that Sir Robert Walpole’s good -nature will prompt him to save a family, which -his generosity induced him to spare,” he wrote -in May 1728. “If your Excellency would permit -me to wait upon you for an hour, I am certain -you would be convinced of the sincerity of my -repentance for my former madness; would become -an advocate with his Majesty to grant me -his most gracious pardon, which it is my comfort -I shall never be required to purchase by any -step unworthy of a man of honour. I do not intend, -in the case of the king’s allowing me to -pass the evening of my days under the shadow of<span class="pagenum" title="278"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278"></a></span> -his royal protection, to see England for some -years, but shall remain in France or Germany, as -my friends shall advise, and enjoy country sports -till all former stories are buried in oblivion. I beg of -your Excellency to let me receive your orders at -Paris, which I will send to your hotel to receive. -The Duchess of Wharton, who is with me, desires -leave to wait on Mrs Walpole, if you think proper.”</p> - -<p>Horace Walpole received him, listened to his -assurances of future loyalty, and conveyed his -protestations of good behaviour to the Duke of -Newcastle, who replied on 12th July:</p> - -<p>“Having laid before the King your Excellency’s -letter, giving an account of a visit -you had received from the Duke of Wharton, -and enclosing a copy of a letter he wrote to you -afterwards upon the same occasion, I am commanded -to let you know that his Majesty approves -of what you said to the Duke, and your behaviour -towards him; but that the Duke of Wharton has -conducted himself in so extraordinary a manner -since he left England, and has so openly declared -his disaffection to the King and his government, -by joining with and serving under his Majesty’s -professed enemies, that his Majesty does not -think fit to receive any application from him.”</p> - -<p>It is unnecessary to give in detail the subsequent<span class="pagenum" title="279"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279"></a></span> -actions of the Duke: how, incensed by the King’s -refusal, he printed in <i>Mist’s Journal</i> a bitter -satirical attack on George II. and his ministers; -how he was tried for high treason for having -taken up arms against his country, found guilty, -outlawed, and deprived of his property; how at -the eleventh hour unofficial overtures were made -to him from England, which he refused to entertain -unless unconditional pardon was granted -him; how he stayed awhile in a monastery, a -fervent devotee, and after a few weeks returned -to the world to plunge into greater excesses; -how he publicly proclaimed his attachment to -the Pretender and the Catholic religion.</p> - -<p>His estates being sequestrated, he was now -penniless, and reduced to most miserable straits. -“Notwithstanding what my Brother Madman -has done to undo himself, and everybody who -was so unlucky as to have the least concern with -him,” wrote a friend who journeyed with him -from Paris to Orleans at the beginning of June -1729, “I could not help being sensibly moved -at so extraordinary a vicissitude of fortune, to see -a great man fallen from that shining light, in -which I have beheld him in the House of Lords, -to such a degree of obscurity, that I have observed -the meanest commoner decline his company; -and the Jew he would sometimes fasten on, grow<span class="pagenum" title="280"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280"></a></span> -tired of it; for you know he is but a bad orator -in his cups, and of late he has been but seldom -sober.” Eventually, after overcoming great difficulties, -the Duke arrived in Spain, where he -joined his regiment, and endeavoured to live upon -his pay of eighteen pistoles a month, and sums -of money sent to him by the Pretender. He devoted -his leisure to reading and to the composition -of a play based on the tragic story of Mary -Queen of Scots, and, after an illness of some -months, he died on 31st May 1731, at the age -of thirty-two, in the shelter of the Franciscan -monastery of Poblet.</p> - -<p>Such is the story of the life of Philip, Duke of -Wharton, which, surely, arouses feelings of pity -rather than anger. “Like Buckingham and -Rochester,” says Horace Walpole, “he comforted -all the grave and dull by throwing away the -brightest profusion of parts on witty fooleries, -debaucheries, and scrapes, which may mix graces -with a great character, but can never compose -one.” He had, indeed, genius, wit, humour, -eloquence, rank, wealth and good looks, but because -he lacked stability and principles, all his -great talents went for nothing. Never was there -a character more fitted to point a moral, and if -the writers of Sunday school prize-books have -not taken him as their text, this can only be be<span class="pagenum" title="281"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281"></a></span>cause -they are unacquainted with his history. -“The great abilities of the Duke of Wharton -are past dispute,” Atterbury wrote to the Pretender, -in September 1736; “it is he alone who -could render them less useful than they might -have been.” And this was kindly put, for Atterbury -might well have said that as an adherent -to any cause so unreliable and faithless a person -was an open danger.</p> - -<p>For every man some excuse can be found, but -while excuses for the Duke of Wharton there -must be, it is, indeed, not easy to find them. -His early training may have been unsuitable for -a character so mercurial, and the early death of -his mother and father probably removed any -change of controlling him. That he was mad is -a theory practical enough, for this would explain -many sudden changes of opinion, and many instances -of unfaithfulness, which had not even -self-interest to explain them; and it seems certain -that he was intoxicated with vanity. This last -assumption is supported by the testimony of -Pope, who has for all time put on record a -character sketch of the Duke, which, in spite of -the poet’s bias, must unfortunately be accepted -as a portrait all too true:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse outdent">“Wharton, the scorn and wonder of our days,</div> -<div><span class="pagenum" title="282"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282"></a></span>Whose ruling passion was the lust of praise:</div> -<div class="verse">Born with whate’er could win it from the wise,</div> -<div class="verse">Women and fools must like him or he dies;</div> -<div class="verse">Though wondering senates hung on all he spoke,</div> -<div class="verse">The club must hail him master of the joke.</div> -<div class="verse">Shall parts so various aim at nothing new?</div> -<div class="verse">He’ll shine a Tully and a Wilmot too,</div> -<div class="verse">Then turn repentant, and his God adores</div> -<div class="verse">With the same spirit that he drinks and w——;</div> -<div class="verse">Enough if all around him but admire,</div> -<div class="verse">And now the punk applaud, and now the friar.</div> -<div class="verse">Thus with each gift of nature and of art,</div> -<div class="verse">And wanting nothing but an honest heart;</div> -<div class="verse">Grown all to all, from no one vice exempt;</div> -<div class="verse">And most contemptible, to shun contempt:</div> -<div class="verse">His passion still, to covet general praise,</div> -<div class="verse">His life, to forfeit it a thousand ways;</div> -<div class="verse">A constant bounty which no friend has made;</div> -<div class="verse">An angel tongue, which no man can persuade;</div> -<div class="verse">A fool, with more of wit than half mankind,</div> -<div class="verse">Too rash for thought, for action too refined:</div> -<div class="verse">A tyrant to the wife his heart approves;</div> -<div class="verse">A rebel to the very king he loves;</div> -<div class="verse">He dies, sad outcast of each church and state,</div> -<div class="verse">And, harder still, flagitious, yet not great.</div> -<div class="verse">Ask you why Wharton broke through every rule?</div> -<div class="verse">’Twas all for fear the knaves should call him fool.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum" title="283"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283"></a></span></p> - - - - -<h2><i>Index</i></h2> - -<p> -Alvanley, William, Lord, <a href="#Page_41">41</a>, <a href="#Page_53">53–55</a>, <a href="#Page_64">64</a>, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>, <a href="#Page_69">69</a>, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>, <a href="#Page_223">223</a><br /> -Anglesea, Lord, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>, <a href="#Page_99">99</a><br /> -Archer, Lady, <a href="#Page_86">86</a><br /> -Arden, Sir Pepper, <a href="#Page_54">54</a><br /> -Argyll, Duke of, <a href="#Page_48">48</a><br /> -Armitstead, Mrs, (Mrs Charles James Fox), <a href="#Page_241">241</a>, <a href="#Page_245">245</a><br /> -Ashton, Hervey, <a href="#Page_48">48</a><br /> -Atterbury, Francis, Bishop of Rochester, <a href="#Page_266">266</a>, <a href="#Page_272">272</a>, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>, <a href="#Page_281">281</a><br /> -Aubrey, Colonel, <a href="#Page_90">90</a><br /> -<br /> -Beauclerk, Topham, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>, <a href="#Page_226">226</a><br /> -Beckford, William, of Fonthill, <a href="#Page_189">189–215</a><br /> -Bligh, Robert, <a href="#Page_84">84</a><br /> -Brummell, George Bryan, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>, <a href="#Page_55">55–74</a>, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>, <a href="#Page_253">253</a><br /> -Buckinghamshire, Lady, <a href="#Page_86">86</a><br /> -Burke, Edmund, <a href="#Page_230">230</a>, <a href="#Page_231">231</a><br /> -<br /> -Carlisle, Lord, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>, <a href="#Page_256">256</a><br /> -Carlisle, Countess of, <a href="#Page_240">240</a><br /> -Carlyle, Dr Alexander, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a><br /> -Chatham, Lord, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>, <a href="#Page_197">197</a>, <a href="#Page_231">231</a><br /> -Cholmondeley, Lord, <a href="#Page_90">90</a><br /> -<br /> -Damer, Colonel Dawson, <a href="#Page_48">48</a><br /> -Dashwood, Sir Francis, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>, <a href="#Page_170">170</a><br /> -Dashwood, Sir C., <a href="#Page_175">175</a>, <a href="#Page_176">176</a><br /> -De Ferretti, Bailli, <a href="#Page_91">91</a><br /> -De Ros, Henry, <a href="#Page_48">48</a><br /> -Devonshire, Duchess of, <a href="#Page_240">240</a><br /> -D’Orsay, Count, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>, <a href="#Page_78">78</a>, <a href="#Page_99">99</a><br /> -Draper, Daniel, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>, <a href="#Page_136">136</a>, <a href="#Page_137">137</a>, <a href="#Page_155">155</a><br /> -<a id="Draper"></a>Draper, Mrs Elizabeth, <a href="#Page_129">129–157</a><br /> -Drummond, George Harley, <a href="#Page_63">63</a><br /> -Dudley and Ward, Lord, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>, <a href="#Page_51">51</a><br /> -<br /> -Fife, Lord, <a href="#Page_77">77</a><br /> -Fitzpatrick, General, <a href="#Page_89">89</a><br /> -Foley, Lord, <a href="#Page_47">47</a><br /> -Fox, Charles James, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>, <a href="#Page_219">219–249</a>, <a href="#Page_253">253</a><br /> -Fox, Stephen, <a href="#Page_224">224</a>, <a href="#Page_227">227</a><br /> -Francis, Sir Philip, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_87">87</a><br /> -<br /> -Garland, Squire, <a href="#Page_173">173</a><br /> -George I., <a href="#Page_263">263</a>, <a href="#Page_264">264</a>, <a href="#Page_267">267</a><br /> -George II., <a href="#Page_279">279</a><br /> -George III., <a href="#Page_56">56</a>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>, <a href="#Page_233">233</a>, <a href="#Page_235">235</a>, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>, <a href="#Page_239">239</a><br /> -George, Prince of Wales, Regent (afterwards George IV.), <a href="#Page_13">13</a>, <a href="#Page_15">15</a>, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>, <a href="#Page_23">23–25</a>, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>, <a href="#Page_51">51</a>, <a href="#Page_55">55</a>, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>, <a href="#Page_59">59</a>, <a href="#Page_62">62–66</a>, <a href="#Page_69">69–72</a>, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>, <a href="#Page_122">122</a>, <a href="#Page_237">237</a>, <a href="#Page_241">241–243</a>, <a href="#Page_248">248</a>, <a href="#Page_249">249</a><br /> -Gifford, Lord, <a href="#Page_49">49</a><br /> -Gilbert, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>, <a href="#Page_175">175</a><br /> -Gordon, Lady Margaret (Mrs Beckford), <a href="#Page_203">203</a>, <a href="#Page_204">204</a><br /> -Greville, Charles, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>, <a href="#Page_80">80</a><br /> -Gronow, R. H., <a href="#Page_56">56</a>, <a href="#Page_59">59</a>, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>, <a href="#Page_92">92</a>, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>, <a href="#Page_223">223</a> -<span class="pagenum" title="284"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284"></a></span><br /> -<br /> -Hall-Stevenson, John, <a href="#Page_161">161–185</a><br /> -Hall, Colonel George Lawson, <a href="#Page_173">173</a><br /> -Hamilton, Sir William, <a href="#Page_202">202</a><br /> -Hanger, George, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>, <a href="#Page_19">19–33</a><br /> -Hanger, William (“Blue”), <a href="#Page_25">25–28</a><br /> -Henley, Rev. Samuel, <a href="#Page_205">205</a><br /> -Hertford, Lord, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>, <a href="#Page_89">89</a><br /> -Hewett, William, <a href="#Page_171">171</a>, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>, <a href="#Page_177">177</a><br /> -Holland, Lord, <a href="#Page_219">219</a>, <a href="#Page_224">224</a>, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>, <a href="#Page_229">229</a><br /> -Holmes, Martha, Duchess of Wharton, first wife of Philip, Duke of - Wharton, <a href="#Page_255">255</a>, <a href="#Page_262">262</a>, <a href="#Page_272">272</a><br /> -Holt, Lady Jane, <a href="#Page_274">274</a><br /> -Hood, Admiral, <a href="#Page_240">240</a><br /> -Hughes, “Golden Ball,” <a href="#Page_76">76</a>, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>, <a href="#Page_97">97</a><br /> -<br /> -Irvine, Andrew (“Paddy Andrews”), <a href="#Page_173">173</a>, <a href="#Page_176">176</a><br /> -<br /> -James, “The Old Pretender,” <a href="#Page_256">256–260</a>, <a href="#Page_263">263</a>, <a href="#Page_272">272–277</a><br /> -James, Mr and Mrs William, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>, <a href="#Page_134">134</a>, <a href="#Page_135">135</a>, <a href="#Page_138">138</a>, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>, <a href="#Page_140">140</a>, <a href="#Page_151">151</a><br /> -Johnson, Dr Samuel, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>, <a href="#Page_17">17</a><br /> -<br /> -Keene, Sir Benjamin, <a href="#Page_273">273</a><br /> -Knighton, Sir William, <a href="#Page_49">49</a><br /> -<br /> -Lade, Lady, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>, <a href="#Page_18">18</a><br /> -Lade, Sir John, <a href="#Page_13">13–19</a>, <a href="#Page_95">95</a><br /> -Lascelles, Rev. Robert (“Panty”), <a href="#Page_170">170</a>, <a href="#Page_174">174–176</a><br /> -Lee, Charles, <a href="#Page_173">173</a><br /> -Lettice, Rev. John, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>, <a href="#Page_196">196</a>, <a href="#Page_197">197</a>, <a href="#Page_201">201</a><br /> -<br /> -Mackinnon, Dan, <a href="#Page_48">48</a><br /> -Marsh, Charles, <a href="#Page_25">25</a><br /> -Mildmay, Sir Henry, <a href="#Page_64">64</a><br /> -Montagu, Lady Mary Wortley, <a href="#Page_262">262</a>, <a href="#Page_270">270</a><br /> -Montrond, Count, <a href="#Page_91">91</a><br /> -Moore, Zachary, <a href="#Page_169">169</a>, <a href="#Page_170">170</a><br /> -Morris, Charles, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>, <a href="#Page_81">81</a><br /> -Mozart, <a href="#Page_195">195</a><br /> -Musgrave, Sir Christopher, <a href="#Page_268">268</a><br /> -<br /> -Nash, “Beau,” <a href="#Page_253">253</a><br /> -North, Lord, <a href="#Page_232">232</a>, <a href="#Page_234">234</a>, <a href="#Page_236">236</a><br /> -<br /> -O’Beirne, Maria, Duchess of Wharton, second wife of Philip, Duke of - Wharton, <a href="#Page_274">274</a><br /> -O’Connell, Morgan, <a href="#Page_55">55</a><br /> -<br /> -Petersham, Lord, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>, <a href="#Page_50">50</a>, <a href="#Page_51">51</a><br /> -Pickering, Mrs Elizabeth, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>, <a href="#Page_145">145</a><br /> -Pierrepoint, Henry, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>, <a href="#Page_64">64</a><br /> -Pitt, William, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>, <a href="#Page_197">197</a>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>, <a href="#Page_222">222</a>, <a href="#Page_230">230</a>, <a href="#Page_243">243</a>, <a href="#Page_244">244</a>, <a href="#Page_247">247</a><br /> -Pole, Wellesley, <a href="#Page_76">76</a><br /> -Portland, Duke of, <a href="#Page_89">89</a><br /> -“Pringello, Don,” <a href="#Page_167">167</a>, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>, <a href="#Page_171">171</a><br /> -<br /> -Queensberry, Duchess of, <a href="#Page_197">197</a><br /> -Queensberry, Duke of, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>, <a href="#Page_92">92–96</a><br /> -<br /> -Raikes, Tom, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, <a href="#Page_67">67–69</a>, <a href="#Page_84">84</a><br /> -Raynal, Abbé, <a href="#Page_139">139</a><br /> -Redding, Cyrus, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>, <a href="#Page_125">125</a>, <a href="#Page_200">200</a>, <a href="#Page_213">213</a> -<span class="pagenum" title="285"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285"></a></span><br /> -Rigby, Right Honourable Charles, <a href="#Page_221">221</a><br /> -Rumbold, Sir Thomas, <a href="#Page_79">79</a><br /> -<br /> -Saye and Sele, Lord, <a href="#Page_223">223</a><br /> -Sclater, Elizabeth. <i>See</i> <a href="#Draper">Draper, Mrs Elizabeth</a><br /> -Sclater, Richard, Mr and Mrs, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>, <a href="#Page_150">150</a><br /> -Sclater, Thomas Matthew, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>, <a href="#Page_145">145</a>, <a href="#Page_148">148</a>, <a href="#Page_156">156</a><br /> -Scroope, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>, <a href="#Page_175">175</a><br /> -Selwyn, George, <a href="#Page_94">94</a>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>, <a href="#Page_227">227</a><br /> -Sefton, Lord, <a href="#Page_89">89</a><br /> -Sheridan, Richard Brinsley, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>, <a href="#Page_227">227</a><br /> -Skeffington, Sir Lumley St George, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>, <a href="#Page_33">33–43</a>, <a href="#Page_52">52</a>, <a href="#Page_53">53</a><br /> -Smollett, Tobias George, <a href="#Page_172">172</a><br /> -Stair, Lord, <a href="#Page_257">257–259</a><br /> -Sterne, Lawrence, <a href="#Page_129">129–157</a>, <a href="#Page_161">161–163</a>, <a href="#Page_169">169</a>, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178–182</a>, <a href="#Page_185">185</a><br /> -Swift, Jonathan, <a href="#Page_261">261</a>, <a href="#Page_262">262</a><br /> -<br /> -Talbot, Jack, <a href="#Page_223">223</a><br /> -Trotter, Lawson, <a href="#Page_163">163</a>, <a href="#Page_164">164</a><br /> -<br /> -Upton, General Sir Arthur, <a href="#Page_63">63</a><br /> -<br /> -Walpole, Horace, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>, <a href="#Page_224">224</a>, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>, <a href="#Page_235">235</a>, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>, <a href="#Page_269">269</a>, <a href="#Page_277">277</a>, <a href="#Page_278">278</a><br /> -Walpole, Sir Robert, <a href="#Page_266">266</a>, <a href="#Page_271">271</a>, <a href="#Page_273">273</a><br /> -Wellington, Duke of, <a href="#Page_72">72</a><br /> -Wharton, Philip, Duke of, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>, <a href="#Page_253">253–282</a><br /> -Wilkes, John, <a href="#Page_168">168</a><br /> -William III., <a href="#Page_254">254</a>, <a href="#Page_260">260</a><br /> -William IV., <a href="#Page_73">73</a><br /> -Wolcot, Dr (“Peter Pindar”), <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>, <a href="#Page_104">104–126</a><br /> -Worcester, Lord, <a href="#Page_48">48</a><br /> -Wray, Sir Cecil, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>, <a href="#Page_240">240</a><br /> -Wyatt, James, <a href="#Page_206">206</a><br /> -<br /> -York, Frederick, Duke of, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>, <a href="#Page_113">113</a> -</p> - - -<p class="tac fs70 mtb6em">THE RIVERSIDE PRESS LIMITED, EDINBURGH</p> - - -<div class="frame"> - -<p class="tac mt1em"><i>IN THE PRESS</i></p> - -<p class="tac fs240 ls01em">The Linleys of Bath</p> - -<p class="tac fs120"><span class="smcap">By</span> CLEMENTINA BLACK</p> - -<p class="tac fs110 width90">Fully illustrated with many delightful portraits -and miniatures, some of which have never before been reproduced.</p> - -<div class="box fs80 mt2em"> -<p>The volume of memoirs which Miss Clementina Black has prepared -deals with a family group, nearly all the members of which -were personally interesting, and several of whom were closely -connected with the social and theatrical life of the latter half of the -18th century. Thomas Linley, the father, who was a musician of -distinction and probably the best singing-master whom England has -produced, lived for many years in Bath, where, from their very early -years, his children, all endowed with both talent and beauty, sang -and played with him at his concerts. The eldest daughter, generally -considered to be the finest singer and most beautiful woman of her -day, married Sheridan, and when her husband entered upon the -management of Drury Lane Theatre, Mr. Linley joined in the -undertaking. Both in Bath and in London the family’s circle of -friends was an interesting one, and many well-known names appear -in the various letters. One series of these, which are now published -for the first time, contains the history of the courtship of Miss Jane -Linley (who married in the year 1800) and presents a vivid picture -of social and family life from the point of view of a young lady in -the days of Jane Austen.</p> - -<p>As, in addition to writing good letters, the family had a habit -of sitting for good portraits, their features have been recorded by -Reynolds, Gainsborough, Laurence, Westall and Cosway, and the -volume will be amply illustrated.</p> -</div> - -<p class="tac mtb2em"><i>PRICE SIXTEEN SHILLINGS NET</i></p> - -<p class="tac bt"><span class="smcap">Number Five John Street, Adelphi, London</span></p> -</div> - -<div class="frame mt4em"> - -<p class="tac mt1em"><i>SECOND THOUSAND</i></p> - -<p class="tac fs240 ls01em">People and Questions</p> - -<p class="tac fs120"><i>By</i> G. S. STREET</p> - -<p class="fs85"><span class="l-align"><i>Wide Crown 8vo.</i></span> <span class="r-align"><i>Five Shillings net</i></span></p> - - -<p class="tac mt1em"><i>OPINIONS OF THE PRESS</i></p> - -<div class="box fs80 mt1em"> -<p><span class="smcap">Times.</span>—“This captivating book.”</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Morning Post.</span>—“<span class="ell">..</span>. the fine appreciations of Lord Randolph Churchill, of -Haydon the painter, and of Oscar Wilde. They are all three brilliant, -eloquent, and sympathetic.”</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Daily News.</span>—“Once more we welcome a volume of essays, not topical in the -narrow sense, but always apposite and actual. We welcome, too, the work -of a writer who has a scholarly sense for words, and allows himself—and us—the -luxury of a literary conscience.”</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Evening Standard.</span>—“Altogether charming; we should have to mention some -great names to get a comparison with it.”</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Globe.</span>—“Mr. Street has something to say that is worth saying and worth -reading.”</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Observer.</span>—“There is such charm, so fine a substratum of humour and fancy, -rippling through these little pieces.”</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Outlook.</span>—“Where all are praiseworthy, it is difficult to discriminate.”</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Nation.</span>—“The present volume gives proof that he has been nourished in the -best traditions of the English Essay.”</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">World.</span>—“Mr. Street has had the artistic restraint to give us only his best, with -the result that every essay is of the same excellence.”</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Bystander</span> (<span class="smcap">Mr. Robert Ross</span>).—“We are fascinated by Mr. Street’s inimitable -style.”</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Graphic</span> (<span class="smcap">Mr. Thomas Seccombe</span>).—“I know of no finer literary bouquet -attainable at the present day than that which may be disengaged from these -select papers.”</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">English Review.</span>—“Of a quality only too rare in these days of commercial -writing.”</p> -</div> - -<p class="tac bt"><span class="smcap">Number Five John Street, Adelphi, London</span></p> -</div> - - - -<div class="footnotes mt3em"> - -<h2>FOOTNOTES:</h2> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1" class="label">1</a> -Barouches were so described on their first introduction into -England.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_2" href="#FNanchor_2" class="label">2</a> -“Life, Adventures, and Opinions of Colonel George Hanger.”</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_3" href="#FNanchor_3" class="label">3</a> -Hanger wrote a pamphlet on rat-catching.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_4" href="#FNanchor_4" class="label">4</a> -Dibdin’s <i>Mother Goose</i>, which ran for a hundred nights at -Covent Garden.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_5" href="#FNanchor_5" class="label">5</a> -Sir Pepper Arden was a man of very violent temperament. One -day, when he was haranguing a jury, a Frenchman who was paying a -visit to the Law Courts asked who was the irascible advocate. His -companion translated the name literally, “<i>Le Chevalier Poivre Ardent</i>.” -“<i>Parbleu!</i>” replied the other, “<i>il est très bien nommé</i>.”</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_6" href="#FNanchor_6" class="label">6</a> -At a grand review at Brighton he was thrown from his horse and -broke his classical Roman nose.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_7" href="#FNanchor_7" class="label">7</a> -A visitor to Brummell met the great man’s valet on the stair -having on his arm a number of crumpled ties. In answer to an inquiring -look, the latter explained, “They are our failures.”</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_8" href="#FNanchor_8" class="label">8</a> -The Duke of Bedford asked his opinion of a new coat; Brummell -looked at it carefully in front and, telling him to turn round, at the back. -Then he asked earnestly, “Bedford, do you call this thing a coat?”</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_9" href="#FNanchor_9" class="label">9</a> -Hoby died worth one hundred and twenty thousand pounds. He -was the first man in London to drive a Tilbury.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_10" href="#FNanchor_10" class="label">10</a> -Drummond was a partner in the great banking-house of that name, -and the episode caused his retirement from the firm. This was the -only occasion on which he had played whist at White’s Club.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_11" href="#FNanchor_11" class="label">11</a> -Solomon was a well-known money-lender.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_12" href="#FNanchor_12" class="label">12</a> -Brummell still interested himself in fashion. He wrote in 1818 -from Calais to Raikes: “I heard of you the other day in a waistcoat -that does you indisputable credit, spick and span from Paris, a broad -stripe, salmon colour and cramoisi. Keep it up, my dear fellow, and -don’t let them laugh you into a relapse so Gothic as that of your -former English simplicity.”</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_13" href="#FNanchor_13" class="label">13</a> -It was said Sir Thomas Rumbold was originally a waiter at -White’s, obtained an appointment in India, and rose to be Governor -of Madras. This, however, has been demonstrated to be merely a -legend by his descendant, Sir Horace Rumbold.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_14" href="#FNanchor_14" class="label">14</a> -Born 1724; succeeded to the Earldom of March, 1731, and, on -his mother’s death, to the Earldom of Ruglen; inherited the dukedom, -1778; died 23rd December 1810.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_15" href="#FNanchor_15" class="label">15</a> -The Bank of England.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_16" href="#FNanchor_16" class="label">16</a> -From Alderman Richard Sclater is descended the present Lord -Basing, by whose generous courtesy the present writer has had access -to the unpublished letters, preserved at Hoddington House, written -from India by Elizabeth Sclater, afterwards Mrs Draper, to members -of her family in England. Passages from these letters are printed in this -article.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_17" href="#FNanchor_17" class="label">17</a> -British Museum, Add. MSS. 34527.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_18" href="#FNanchor_18" class="label">18</a> -<i>Bombay Quarterly Review</i>, January 1857, p. 191. The article is -anonymous, and can scarcely have been written by one who knew Mrs -Draper, though he may well have been acquainted with those who had.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_19" href="#FNanchor_19" class="label">19</a> -British Museum, Add. MSS. 34527.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_20" href="#FNanchor_20" class="label">20</a> -It has hitherto been assumed that “Don Pringello” was the -playful form given by the Demoniacs to one Pringle. The present -writer has been so fortunate as to enlist the kind offices of Mr -W. J. Locke and Mr Rudolf Dircks in an endeavour to trace this -architect; but neither an English Pringle nor a Spanish Don Pringello -has been discovered.</p></div> -</div> -</div> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Some Eccentrics & a Woman, by Lewis Melville - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SOME ECCENTRICS & A WOMAN *** - -***** This file should be named 50606-h.htm or 50606-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/0/6/0/50606/ - -Produced by Thiers Halliwell, Clarity and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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